hurt her anymore.”
“But...all those people. All those powerful people. And those women. Dead. Horribly.” She shook her head. “But I’m safe. I’m careful. I don’t open my door. I watch what I’m doing... I’m lying. I’m scared silly. The woman in the basement...to get into the mansion, she had to be one of our girls.”
“Most probably. Tania, as you know the police and crime-scene units have been through the house. No one will know that you ever said anything to anyone,” Keenan assured her. “If you fear immediate danger, call 9-1-1. We’ll leave you our cards. If you’re suspicious of anyone, don’t hesitate to call us.”
He produced his card, and Stacey handed over one of her own.
As Stacey caught Tania’s gaze, she asked, “Who is Coffee Boy?”
“Coffee Boy?” Tania repeated, sounding strangled.
“Does that refer to Colin Smith?” Stacey pressed gently.
Tania nodded. “The congressman really likes coffee,” she said.
“Where did the two of them meet—if not at the house?” Keenan asked.
“He almost never came to the house,” Tania said. “Billie would meet him. At the old Victory Inn, out on the Beltway. I honestly don’t know quite what their business was. I think that he had her encouraging investors for a clothing line. Yes, she made all the tabloids, physical and online, but Billie was stylish, and she held a lot of sway.” She looked at Stacey. “I’m sure you don’t approve. But Billie was honestly a nice person.”
“Tania, I’m not going to judge her—we’re going to try to find her killer,” Stacey said.
“And whoever killed the woman in the basement,” Tania said, burying her face in her hands. “What if... Oh! It could have been me!”
Stacey reached out and touched her hands, gently leading them from her face. “Tania, it wasn’t you. And this is painful and horrible. But if you’re afraid, dial 9-1-1 immediately. And if you think of anything, if you’re worried about someone trying to contact you or see you...call one of us. Okay?”
She nodded. “I’m scared.”
“That’s understandable. You’ll be very careful,” Keenan said.
Again, Tania nodded. “I won’t leave. I’ll send out for groceries. Just groceries—no other deliveries. And I’ll have a friend in the building be with me.”
“Smart. Very smart,” Keenan told her.
Her eyes widened. “You’ll catch him fast, right? I won’t be a prisoner forever?”
“We’ll do our best,” Keenan promised.
Stacey smiled weakly. They rose to leave. Stacey stretched out a hand to Tania. “You call if you need us,” she reminded her.
Keenan stretched out a hand, too. Tania didn’t take his hand; she threw her arms around him again, holding so tightly he had to disentangle himself.
He managed to eventually get out the door with Stacey behind him.
She was smirking.
He groaned as they entered the elevator. “Don’t!” he warned her.
“Hey. You’re a big, strong guy. You make her feel safe...” He gave her a warning glare. She was still grinning. “You can’t help being a stud, Special Agent Wallace.”
He stopped, hands on his hips, amused and ready to turn the tables. “Jealous, Special Agent Hanson?”
“She’s a pretty woman,” Stacey countered. “But not my gender of choice.”
“Uh, I meant jealous that she was all over me.”
“Sure. Because you’re so charming and good to me.”
“Well, you did just call me a stud.”
“You’re tall. Being tall can go a long way for a man.” She strode out of the elevator and across the lobby.
He realized they were both grinning. In the midst of it all. And yet, he knew that if you didn’t take time out to smile and laugh and appreciate things—and people—in this vocation, you would end up burning out.
“Hmm, if only you weren’t such a warty little thing,” he said, keeping pace with her.
“Little?” she protested. “Five-five is quite respectable. And come on, I try to hide the warts.”
“You know that you’re beautiful,” he told her, surprising even himself with the serious tone he had taken. “You don’t play against it, though you don’t play it up.”
She arched a brow slowly. He wondered why he had lost the teasing banter, and now he didn’t know where to go from here. They had stopped walking and were standing close. And it was occurring to him that his words were true: she was beautiful—and electric, and smart as a whip. He forced a broad smile and turned to the car.
His phone rang.
It was Jackson.
“Dr. Simpson says you might want to get into the autopsy,” Jackson said.
“We might have an ID,” Keenan told him. “Lindsey Green. It’s the name the woman was going by, at any rate.”
“Lindsey Green.