Deadly Row, A - By Casey Mayes Page 0,32

can’t do it if you’re focused on how much there is to accomplish. Trust me, you need a break.”

He shrugged. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get out of here for a little while. Let’s go.”

As we left the room, he pulled out a key and locked the door. “What’s wrong, don’t you trust your officers?”

“That’s the problem, I know them too well. I don’t want anyone snooping around and walking through my evidence.”

Steve was startled to find us out in front of the station waiting on him. “What’s wrong? Did I take too long?”

“No, we decided to eat outside today.”

He shrugged, then he handed Zach our lunches. “I’ll wait upstairs. There’s more work I can do while you’re eating.”

“Why don’t you take off, and I’ll catch up with you later.”

“You got it, Chief,” he said.

Zach and I walked across the street and found a weathered old wooden bench. It wasn’t exactly a park, but there was grass and some trees around us, and it felt like we were getting away from it all.

Zach immediately dove into the bag and pulled out a sandwich. To his credit, he handed the first one to me before he retrieved the other one for himself. As we ate, we enjoyed the day and tried not to talk about murder. After we finished, Zach collected our trash, but he made no move to leave.

“This sunshine feels great, doesn’t it?”

“I bet it’s not as humid at home,” I said.

Zach laughed. “You don’t have to sell me on it, Savannah. I wouldn’t mind being back there myself right now.”

“I thought you were looking for a little excitement in your life.”

“I would at least like to have a chance to solve this,” he said. “The problem with investigating these murders is that I have to push some powerful people to get answers, and I still can’t be sure they’re telling me the truth. Hank and Cindy deserve better than that.”

It wasn’t odd to hear my husband talk about the victims as though he knew them personally. He’d been trained by a woman who was an expert in the criminal thought process, and she’d stressed the need for the detective to distance himself from the victims, but it went against Zach’s nature. By personalizing the victims, he worked that much harder to find their killers.

I just hoped he could do it before the murderer struck again.

Chapter 9

WHEN WE WALKED BACK INTO THE POLICE STATION, Davis was waiting for us by the front door.

“What’s going on, Chief?” my husband asked. “You’re not going to bust my chops about taking a lunch break with my wife, are you?”

Davis frowned. “Zach, while you were gone, we got another note from the killer.”

“It wasn’t about me, was it?” I asked, suddenly getting the insane impulse that I was the killer’s next victim, even though I had no real ties to the case. I didn’t know either victim, though we had a mutual friend in Grady. The photo the killer had sent of me in Grady’s truck had shaken me more than I’d realized.

Davis said, “Of course not. Why, did something happen today?”

“No, I had breakfast with Lorna Gaither, and then I created a puzzle and faxed it to my editor from the hotel. I haven’t even had time to get into trouble yet.”

“Let’s see the note,” Zach said.

“It’s in my office.”

We walked back to Davis’s office, where Zach had spent so much time over the years. It had been completely redecorated since his time there, and while my husband had enjoyed dark woodwork and muted colors, Davis had redone the place into a bright and airy space with modern furniture, something I never would have pegged him for liking. Though mostly neat, I saw an open newspaper on one corner of his desk. As I glanced at it, I saw that there was a puzzle open, though not one of my own. It was partially completed, and I had to smile when I realized that he’d been working in pen.

“What do you think?” Davis asked as he watched Zach’s expression as he took the changes in.

“It looks good,” Zach said. “It suits you.”

I looked at my husband to see if he was teasing, but his expression was serious.

“Thanks.” It was clear that Davis had been holding his breath a little, and he released it with my husband’s approval.

“Here’s a copy,” Davis said as he handed a sheet of paper to Zach.

“Could I see the original?” my husband asked. “I can’t get a