Shattered by Death (A Jo Oliver Thriller Book 2) (11 page)

“Ain’t that an interesting little coinkydink?” Contron had slithered to the front of Garrett’s computer and stood there, slouching like a seedy gangster. Trickles of defiance leaked from his dull eyes.

“What, you gonna offer us the butthead special again today, Contron?”

Garrett leaping to my defense in front of the guys? Now that was an interesting turn of events.

“Boys, much as I enjoyed my junior high experiences, let’s just leave them in the past for a moment, shall we? So Mitch, what might this mean? Put it together for me.” My own brain had gone all fuzzy and soft after reading the print out. What did it mean? Whatever it was—and there
was
something—danced a toe’s breadth beyond my reach. If anyone could put the pieces together, it was Mitch.

“Well, you’d busted him, what—four, five times?” She’d moved over to the no-longer-little group of us clustered around Garrett’s computer.

“Less than that. Way less—more like two. I only
wished
it’d been four or five. Mostly, I wished I could’ve gotten him off the street for good. Before something bad happened.” My voice trailed off.

“Something worse than this?” Contron’s voice was menacing.

“Much worse than this—yes. He could’ve put the hurt on other kids. Peter—think of Peter. He’s
safe
. You think that isn’t worth Deter’s death a hundred times over? Heck, I’d have killed him myself to keep him from hurting another kid.” That should not have left my mouth. But I couldn’t take the words back any more than I could’ve stopped them from falling off my tongue.

It was true: I hated Deter. He had scarred families and ruined lives without an ounce of remorse. He escalated as he got older. His death was the only real way to know he’d never harm another child. Fireworks erupted as I pictured the scales of justice, and smiled. Deter’d earned the right to die. And what about Richardson?

“Mitch, dig up everything you can on Corey Richardson. Is there any connection at all between Richardson and Deter? I want to know where he was at the time of each murder and what else is lurking in his background. Garret, head up the foot soldiers. Let’s make sure we talk to every neighbor, delivery person, family members, the works.”

Heads popped up, and a renewed energy sparked through the bullpen.
Good.
I nodded at Mitch, grateful to pass her the baton, and make my escape. Weariness fell over me like an electric blanket. I had to get some rest or I’d fall asleep and never wake up. I headed down the hallway, toward the parking lot.

The light pressed in, and I scrunched up my eyes. Starbursts lit up against a black backdrop as a wave of nausea floated through my gut. Great. In short order, I’d be visited by the mother of all migraines.

The shrill sound of my home phone snapped me out of a deep sleep. “Chief Oliver here.”

“Josie.” Nick’s smooth voice poured over me like gold silk. My pulse quickened, and warmth shot through me, head to toes. And slammed into an impenetrable wall of ice.
What about Nick?

I pushed the foul thought aside.

“Nick?” Did my voice sound as breathy as it felt?

“There’s been another one.”

“Another murder?” I’d known him too long not to know his shorthand.

“Another murder.” Slower, relaxing into whatever he wanted to tell me.

“And?”

“And it doesn’t look good.” His voice warmed, but he seemed more detached with each phrase.

Hot Italian super-agent or not, he needed to get to the point before he stepped on my last nerve. “Does murder ever look good?”

“This one doesn’t look good—for
you
.” Staccato words thrown out of his perfectly chiseled lips.

“Nick?”
What was he hiding?

“It’s Schlichting.” The urgency in his voice must’ve been a kind of glee. Dirty cops were the worst kind of criminal in both of our books, and we’d been tracking this lout at the station for months. He’d been impossible to bust.

“
Schlichting
? Our Detective Glenn Schlichting is the killer?” I yelled into the phone, right leg bouncing. I loved a good hunt—especially when we caught our prey.
Way to go, Nick!

“He’s dead, Jo. It feels like our guy, but the M.O.’s off a little. Made it look like he ate a bullet. Just over the line, south of Kenosha. Since this could be our guy, and he’s crossed state lines, I’ll be officially making this a federal case and taking over.”

“What the…?” It was all coming at me too fast to process. It was all I could do to focus, to recall his words well enough to fashion them back into a sentence.

“Schlichting? Dead?” Well, not
much
of a sentence.

“In your wildest imagination, could you see him taking himself out?” Nick put his FBI secret agent voice back on.

“Not a chance.” My words were icy and firm.

“Exactly. And it looks like he took himself out with a department-issued Glock.”

“You already said that.” I sat on the edge of my bed.

“Just like
your
department-issued Glock.” His words grew narrow, distant.

“But mine’s been in the department safe since I turned it over.” I stood up, stars dancing before my eyes, stomach growing light and queasy.

“Exactly.”

“What does this even
mean
?” A long sigh eased out as I sat back down.

“It means I have to see you.
Now
.” His voice had taken on the
he-who-must-be obeyed
tone. My throat tightened.

“No, it may mean a lotta things, but it doesn’t mean that. Not now, Nick. Not while I’m working.”
And not until I know I can trust you
. “It’s way too soon. I’m just getting back into the swing of things. The last thing I need is…” This
was
still my police department, wasn’t it? Was his interest professional, or personal? It was getting hard to follow the fuzzy lines between us.

“…Is to try to figure it all out by yourself.” He ratcheted up his insistent tone. But not enough to wash out hints of his extreme hotness.

Down girl.
That wasn’t real life, and any romance between us happened long ago, in the Land of Way Before. All but forgotten, and it needs to
stay
forgotten. Was Kira back in his life? The last thing I needed was the enormous distraction of Nick, up close and personal. Not a great idea.
Not now, not until I’m certain he’s in the clear on this.
And certainly not when I was in certain, uh,
moods.
Let’s leave it at vulnerable, not exactly immune to his charms. And judging from the thickness of my throat and the warmth spreading through my belly, I was
not
in a Nick-proof state of mind. Definitely not. Might as well leave me alone with an open box of dark chocolate truffles.

“Jo? Where’d you go? Please tell me you took me with you.” His laughter was low and seductive.

Explains why he’s the super-agent man. Still… reading my mind, even through a wireless phone?
Focus girl
!

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve got murder on my mind.” I kept my tone crisp, businesslike. Maybe.

His laughter returned, spreading the deep, rising heat through me like a smooth mug of dark hot chocolate laced with peppermint.
What’s he doing calling me about this murder? Why not Mitch?

“Really? I’ve got something else entirely on mine.” He chuckled, deep and rich.

He knew
. He knew the power he wielded over me.

“Knock it off, knucklehead. If you want to play the Fed card and run this investigation, it’s going to be on my terms, on my turf. You’ve got to show me some respect in front of my men, or this is never going to work. You think you can handle that? ‘Cause I really don’t want you around if you can’t. I’m serious. I could use your help, but not the drama.”

I wasn’t being fair, nor was I in any position to be making demands, but heck, I
was
the Chief of Police, and this
was
my department. So a little poetic license wouldn’t hurt anybody. Right?

Nick laughed a little louder in response. His breathing deepened.

“If that’s how you want to play it, Chief. I’m all in. Where shall we meet? Your place or mine?” He was smiling through the phone.

I snorted.

“Meet me at the Grab and Go just over the border.” A favorite old rendezvous we’d both frequented for business with various colleagues—in my case—and operatives—in his—over the years. And it would give me the option of sorting out my thoughts away from him.

“I won’t grab if you don’t go.” He laughed, hung up, and texted me.

MEET YOU IN 30, BEAUTIFUL.

I thought of Richardson. And his strong dislike of cops, and his philandering wife. Could she have also had an affair with Schlichting? I called Mitch to review my motive theory with her as I dressed. Five minutes later I was heading back to the station, lights on, sirens off.

Mitch stood in my office doorway, smirking.

“Sit, Mitch. You’re going to need to.” My flat tone drilled the words down deep. I sighed, staring at the cell phone on my glossy mahogany desktop.

“Chief?”

“We got trouble.” I continued my trance-like staring at the cell phone. What, did I expect it to jump up and start singing out the answer to this killer riddle?

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Dark ideas tumbled over one another in the far reaches of my mind. Snatches of truth from the murder scene photos swirled around, with connections I couldn’t yet see.

“What kind of trouble?”

“One more murder—or a death at the very least. And it all keeps circling back here. To us. To me. And possibly to Richardson.”
And hopefully not Nick
.

“
What?
”

“Not what,
who
. Schlichting.” I snatched up the cell phone and rose from my desk. At the mention of his name, her eyes darkened. “He’s dead, Mitch. Nick just called to say that Detective Glenn Schlichting was found dead this morning. Evidence suggests the idiot took his own life.” Saying it out loud did nothing to enhance my belief. There were seven kinds of wrong at play here.

“
What
?” Mitch’s mouth hung open. Not a good look for the stunning red head.

“I know. That’s where we’re headed. North of the border. To the Grab N’ Go to meet Nick. He’ll catch us up with whatever else he knows, and we’ll go to the crime scene from there.”

I pulled out of the parking lot and headed to the highway.

“And neither one of you wants to go there alone?” Mitch pieced it together.

Nick hated Schlichting almost as much as I did and had found creative ways to express his feelings over the years. None of that would bode well in the face of a murder investigation. If this
was
a murder.

“And if it
is
murder, and not a suicide, you’re going to want to have solid alibis on either side of you.” She stared at me for several seconds.
Wrestling with her doubts again?

“I guess you could say that. Safety in numbers and all.” I kept my eyes on the road, voice texting Nick we’d be there in twenty as we turned north.

Mitch looked at me for several long, quiet seconds. When she spoke, it was more of a whisper. “And then there were five.”