Gone Too Far (Devlin & Falco #2) - Debra Webb Page 0,65
on, it’s way wrong.”
“It is, and I can’t confirm enough facts to make any movement in the right direction,” Kerri admitted. “I feel like I’m spinning my wheels.”
“How’s Tori holding up?”
“She’s sad, depressed, scared.” Kerri should be at home with her right now. Damn this job!
“Look.” Falco reached for her arm, gave it a squeeze. “You can’t do this alone or even with just my help. This thing just gets bigger and creepier. You need to take what you’ve learned to the LT.”
Kerri shook her head. “He’ll be pissed I’ve been nosing around.”
“He’ll get over it. If something else happens with this Alice girl, no one can say you didn’t do all within your power to head it off.”
He was right. “Okay. I’ll go see the LT; then I’m going home to my daughter. Did you learn anything else from McGill that might substantiate Cross’s suspicions?”
He scrubbed at his unshaven chin. That was something else about her partner that had driven her crazy at first. He didn’t shave every day like the other male detectives in MID. He seemed to prefer that scruffy look. Not that it was a bad look on him, just not the norm for his current position.
“I think she’s trying to play me.”
“Play you or play with you?” Kerri teased.
“Ha ha, Devlin. She has all these elaborate excuses and alibis. You were just talking about vague; hers are too full of detail. She’s covering her skinny ass. I just don’t know if her motive is murder.”
“Sounds like she has something to hide. She was the last person to see Kurtz alive—besides his shooter, I mean.” Kerri squared her shoulders, ignored the exhaustion pulling at her. “Anything else I need to know?”
“Not yet. Go.” He jerked his head toward her Wagoneer. “Talk to the LT.”
“I’m going. I’ll catch up with you later.”
He gave her a two-fingered salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
Kerri laughed as she climbed into the driver’s seat. Her partner was right. It was better to give her thoughts to the LT than risk more trouble by keeping potentially significant information to herself.
Birmingham Police Department
First Avenue North, 5:00 p.m.
“You just caught me, Devlin,” Brooks said as he shouldered into his jacket.
Kerri closed the door behind her, giving them privacy from anyone else who might stroll by the LT’s office. “I have some information I need to pass along.” She braced herself and said the rest. “It’s about the Brendal Myers case.”
Pushing back the sides of the jacket he’d only just slipped into, Brooks sat his hands on his hips. “Devlin, I warned you to stay clear.”
“I know, but a friend who was concerned about my daughter called me,” she improvised. Lied. Whatever. At this point all that mattered was ensuring this aspect of the case was investigated thoroughly. “She and I went to school together. She’s the librarian over at Walker Academy. Has been for years.”
“All right, I’ll bite. What did this friend have to say that you feel I need to hear?”
“Alice Cortez attended Walker Academy last semester. There was trouble, and she transferred to Brighton at the beginning of the new semester. January.”
The LT stopped prepping to leave the office. “What kind of trouble?”
She had his attention now. “Two girls attempted suicide. Thankfully they weren’t successful.” Before he could ask how that tied into the Brighton Academy situation, she told him the rest of what Sue had shared with her.
“If I’m understanding you correctly,” he said, sounding dubious, “you think this Alice Cortez might be playing some sort of cultlike games to prompt other students into doing her bidding.”
When he said it that way, it sounded like something from a Scooby-Doo episode. “I’m saying there was trouble last fall when Alice attended Walker Academy, and now there’s trouble at Brighton. She was friends with the girls involved in the incident at Walker, and she’s friends with the girls involved at Brighton. Coincidence? Maybe. But it’s something Sykes and Peterson need to check out.”
Brooks mulled over her story for a bit, his brow lined in concentration. The LT was barreling toward sixty, but he looked like a forty-year-old. The man was a health nut and addicted to working out. More importantly, he was a good listener, a fair leader, and a damned good cop.
“What you’re telling me is an interesting twist and one that bears further investigation,” he agreed. “I’ll have Sykes and Peterson give it a go. I appreciate the heads-up, Devlin, as I am sure they will.”
Kerri managed her first decent breath since walking into