Crash Into Me - L.A. Fiore Page 0,3

did smoke, I turned a blind eye.

“Hey, Detective.”

“Morning, Ethan.”

“How was your date?”

My apartment building wasn’t super big, and most were elderly who loved to talk and crack open their doors to snoop on their neighbors. “I’d like to forget it.”

“That’s too bad. You know…” He knocked his shoulder into mine. “You and me really should get a bite.”

I played along, even leaned into him a bit and said, “And when it’s over, we’ll live right across the hall from each other.”

He went pale, and I laughed out loud.

He was a charmer, and there was always a different girl leaving his place in the morning. He wasn’t hurting for company. And me…I had my cat. We stepped outside, a breeze brought goosebumps to my skin. “Catch ya later, Ethan.”

“You make a valid point, but I’m not discouraged, Detective.” He called back, walking backward, so he could keep me in his sights.

I laughed, turned from him and waved my hand over my head.

I’d been a homicide detective for six years. I wasn’t the first woman detective, didn’t want that responsibility. I didn’t have a traumatic childhood or life-changing event that got me interested in law and order. I liked puzzles, liked solving them to uncover the story. And I liked being a voice for those who no longer had one. It wasn’t the easiest job, downright sucked at times, but when we brought the perp to justice, it felt damn good.

It was my turn to bring in coffee, so I caught a cab and stopped at the corner café, before meeting up with Zac. He was already at his desk, head down, pen scratching over paper. I placed his large black coffee on his desk. He didn’t even look up. “Thanks.”

“What are you working on?” I asked.

“Retracing Samantha’s last steps.”

“Did you call her parents?”

He stopped working, his head lifted. It hit him hard, too. “Yeah.” He leaned back in his chair and pulled a hand through his hair. “They’re making arrangements, coming into the city to identify…” He blew out a breath. “Julia said she’d greet them when they arrived.”

I dropped my hand on his shoulder. “It never gets easy.”

“No, it doesn’t. The story is out, too, printed in time for the morning run.”

That was fast, but, sadly, a stabbing in the park wasn’t uncommon.

My desk faced his. I sat down and took a sip of my coffee. “Why was she out running last night? Those receptions go well into the evening.”

“Don’t know, but she had a salon appointment yesterday and met someone by the name of Frank Harris at The Plaza for tea.”

“The salon makes sense because she did go to a fancy reception. What did you learn about Frank?”

“Reporter for some online publication.” Zac leafed through his notes. “Daily Examiner.”

“Never heard of it. So what’s his interest in Samantha James?”

“We’ll have to ask him, but first, let’s go to her apartment.”

Zac drove. Traffic wasn’t too bad because it was early. I’d called ahead; the super was waiting for us, an elderly man, kind eyes. “Is Sam okay?”

Zac and I shared a look. Samantha James had only been in the city for two months, but her super knew her, which meant she was either a pest, based on the concern looking back at us that was unlikely, or she was social…friendly.

“I’m sorry, but Samantha is dead. She was found last night in the park.”

His expression fell; he reached out for the wall to steady himself. “I can’t believe it.”

“Did you know her?” I asked.

“She’d only been here a couple of months, but she had that kind of personality, you couldn’t help but like her. Always had a smile and a hello. Nice kid.”

“Do you know why she might have been out running last night?”

“She did it often. I warned her, but she was religious with her exercise. She liked to run in the morning, but if she missed it, she’d run at night. Yesterday, she said something about a salon day when she was leaving.” He took a deep breath. “You’ll find out who hurt her?”

“Yes,” I answered, without hesitation. “We’d like to see inside her apartment.”

He pulled the key ring linked to his belt and unlocked her door. He stepped back, and I handed him my card. “You remember anything, please call me.”

“I will.”

I closed the door, Zac was already moving through the apartment that was remarkably neat. “Whoever killed her wasn’t looking for something, or if they were, she was carrying it,” Zac observed.

He was right because otherwise the