Crash Into Me - L.A. Fiore Page 0,19

one he wanted every outlet to pick up.”

“Killer discovers the phone calls to the media, takes out Frank and Emily, takes the hard drive and torches the rest of the research and the secret of Katrina Dent’s death is, once again, buried.”

Zac and I had the same thought when I said, “There’s a chance that Milton could be in danger.” But Zac was already reaching for his phone.

“Jamison is going to put a car on him,” Zac said, as he disconnected the call.

I dropped down in my chair. “So, if Samantha, Frank and Emily were all murdered because of Katrina Dent, then was her death a suicide? And if not, who the hell killed her? Why did they kill her? And how is it still relevant thirty-one years later?”

“All good questions,” Zac said. “I think we need to take a trip.”

“Another one?”

“This all went down in LA. Seems like we need to start at the beginning.”

“Will the captain clear that?” I asked.

“We’ve got three deaths and the only thing that links them is an old case from LA. I don’t see how he can’t clear it, but let’s go ask.”

Donald Darling had been a semi-professional boxer, who took too many hits to the head, so he changed career paths to law enforcement. He worked his way up from beat cop. He was hard and he was fair and he had his officers’ backs…always.

He was on the phone when we reached his office. He waved us in. “Make it happen,” he said, before he hung up. “You read my mind,” he said, gesturing to the chairs in his office. “Talk to me about this case.”

The captain’s once brown hair was mostly gray, but his face looked younger than his age of sixty-one. He was tall, over six feet, and big in the shoulders and chest. It wasn’t hard to believe he’d once been a boxer. He had dark blue eyes that were sharp, intelligence burned behind them.

Zac gave the captain a rundown.

“So the only link is this old case?” Cap asked.

“Yeah. It’s thin, but it’s all we’ve got right now,” Zac replied.

“Katrina Dent’s case was ruled a suicide,” Cap confirmed.

“Yeah. The investigating detective was a Laurence Breen. He’s a senator now.”

Cap stood and paced. “So our three murder cases are linked to a thirty-one year old suicide case that may have been a murder.” He rubbed a hand over his head. “That is thin.”

“Very, but it’s all we got. We’d like to go to LA. Katrina Dent still has family there. We can ask around. Get the files on the case, maybe even talk to Breen and get his gut feeling on it.”

“There are no other leads?” Cap asked.

“Nothing. Emily was collateral damage. Frank and Samantha have no other points that cross. We’ve already talked to Milton Teller. He wasn’t able to give us much, and, digging deeper into him, there are no links to Harris,” I offered.

“But we’ve got a killer who isn’t afraid of taking out an entire apartment building to destroy evidence,” Cap said. “Okay. I’ll call the LAPD, to clear the way. And will work to get you in with Breen.”

“How you going to do that, Cap?” Zac asked.

“By calling in a few favors.” He moved back to his desk, reached for his phone. “Make the arrangements.”

“Thanks, Cap,” Zac said, as we stood.

We were halfway to our desks, when he called after us, “Economy class!”

Zac grabbed his chest in feigned pain. “So close.”

Los Angeles was like a different world. A uniform officer met us at the airport. LAX was pretty spectacular, and the drive to headquarters was incredible: palm trees, beautiful people, and the Hollywood sign. I couldn’t help looking into some of the fancy cars we passed, hoping to see celebrities. We pulled into a building that was all glass and looked like a high-tech computer firm. Inside was light and spacious, nothing like our station house.

We were brought to the homicide division, stopping at the break room. Whereas ours had vending machines and old coffeemakers that burned coffee if it sat too long, theirs had an espresso machine, a smoothie maker and plates of pastries. I looked at our escort and asked, “What’s the occasion?”

I knew by the way he glanced back that there was no occasion. They always had fresh pastries.

“I think I might need to make a change,” I teased.

We got our coffee before we were led to their captain, a Timothy Carson. He greeted us with a smile. “Welcome to Los Angeles,”