Cyn laughed. “Thanks, Nick. I'll stay in touch."
"You do that. And take care of that sweet ass."
Cyn disconnected, then raced upstairs to rummage through her closet. She found the paper Hartzler had shoved into her pocket and unfolded it. He'd written his name and a cell phone number in neat block letters. She checked her watch. It was too early to call a guy who worked nights. Maybe she'd take that run on the beach after all, get some daylight and fresh air for a change. By the time she got back, showered and dressed, Mr. Ian Hartzler should be getting ready for his shift at the County's very special para facility. Which was precisely where Cyn wanted him.
Chapter Twenty-nine
The sun was a smear of light in the fog shrouded sunset when Cyn parked again in front of the two-story brick building. The day had been cold and damp, the sun completely obscured by low hanging clouds. She'd taken a steaming shower after her run, staying extra long beneath the hot water, trying to warm up.
The security cameras swiveled as she made her way up the walk to the para facility. The cameras were much more obvious in daylight, their movements almost distracting as they tracked her progress. The door opened before she could push the buzzer.
"Ms. Leighton.” Hartzler's voice held an excited tremble. He'd been more than eager when Cyn had called earlier, telling her in a hushed voice of his honor at this opportunity to help Lord Raphael. He was trying for cool now, with limited success. Cyn was still a little creeped out, but gave him a friendly smile. After all, he had volunteered to help her, knowing fully well it could cost him his job if anyone found out.
"Mr. Hartzler. Thank you for agreeing to meet me."
"Oh, of course.” He closed the door carefully behind her. “As I said on the phone, I'm honored to be asked."
"Well. Thank you anyway. As I mentioned, what I'd really like is another chance to review the files you have on the victims. Of course, the case files would be ideal, but I understand you probably don't have access—"
"But I have those too,” he said eagerly. “Well, not the latest ones, of course, and not the detective's murder book, but I've got all the initial reports, the crime scene photos, witness statements. I have a friend...” He paused, as if aware he was about to admit something that was definitely against procedure and possibly criminal. “Well, let's say I'm not the only one who wishes to serve."
Cyn blinked. Wishes to serve? “Great, that's great,” she said, trying to conceal her discomfort. “Downstairs, then?"
Hartzler had been standing there staring at her, pale eyes glowing with excitement. He smiled. “Yes, of course. We'll take the stairs."
Downstairs, back in his own domain, the morgue tech became the efficient and knowledgeable professional once again. His eyes still watched her a little too closely and a smile kept playing around his lips, but for the most part, he was all business.
"Bodies or files first?” There was a hint of challenge in his words. As if Cyn had anything to prove to this guy.
"The files, I think."
He opened a desk drawer and withdrew several folders. “These are my own files, a combination of the ME's records and what I've been able to glean from other sources. They're confidential, you understand, and don't exist in any official sense."
"Of course,” Cyn murmured. She took the folders, glancing around for a place to sit.
"Use my desk,” Hartzler said, sweeping the chair out grandly. “Take all the time you need."
* * * *
Cyn wrote a final note and closed the last file. She'd filled an entire yellow pad with notes and sketches and Hartzler had long since gotten bored and wandered away to his own duties. Apparently watching Cyn read the case files wasn't all that much of an honor after all.
He was nowhere to be found when she pushed through the double doors to the hallway, so she went on upstairs, figuring that's where he'd be. She might not like the guy much, but his files had been amazingly complete, so complete that she wondered exactly where he'd gotten some of it. Not that it mattered. The information had been tremendously helpful to her which was all she cared about.
The door at the top of the stairs swung shut behind her and she heard voices down the hall. Figuring it must be Hartzler, she headed in that direction, already digging her keys out of her backpack.
"What the f**k is she doing here?"
Cyn recognized the voice and spun around with a deceptive smile. “Lovely to see you too, Santillo."
"I say again,” Detective Charlie Santillo said, ignoring her to glare at Hartzler. “What the f**k is she doing here?"
Cyn spoke up before Hartzler could get them both in trouble. “I'm a licensed Private Investigator, Santillo, looking for a missing girl. I requested and received through proper channels permission to view the bodies of the Jane Does in this facility in case one of them was my girl. I'm happy to say she's not here."
Santillo gave her an unfriendly look. “Next time you want to see a body on one of my cases, Leighton, you call me, understand? I don't give a shit what strings your daddy pulled to get you in here, I know who you work for and I don't want you mucking around my case."
"You have no idea who I work for, Santillo. But then you're pretty clueless about a lot of things, especially these murders.” She turned away from him deliberately. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Hartzler. I'm sorry I wasn't able to help.” She started down the hallway toward the door, but Santillo's meaty hand grabbed her arm, holding her back.
"What the f**k does that mean?"