Hidden - Laura Griffin Page 0,6
T-shirts and baseball caps read the menu board and placed a semicoherent order.
When Bailey and Jacob reached the window, he gestured for her to go first.
“Chips and salsa and a Coke,” she told the attendant.
Jacob frowned. “That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
He ordered a beef-and-cheese taco basket and a water. He took out his wallet, and Bailey held out some cash, but he waved her off.
She claimed an empty picnic table beneath a swag of rainbow lights, and Jacob scanned the area with a sharp look before sitting down across from her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
Jacob’s gaze settled on her as she sipped her soda. It was cold and syrupy, and she didn’t realize how thirsty she’d been.
He was watching her with a look she couldn’t read. He had strong cheekbones and thick stubble along his jaw, which was exactly her thing, and she wished they were on their way to a bar together tonight instead of working.
He took a sip of water, then set the bottle on the table and looked at her expectantly. “Well?”
“Well, what?” she asked, picking up a chip.
“I’m waiting for the questions.”
“Relax. I already filed my story.”
He lifted an eyebrow skeptically and unwrapped his food.
“I will say your PR guy was pretty tight-lipped.”
“Yep.” He chomped into his taco, and she watched the muscles of his jaw as he chewed.
“So . . . does it look like a homicide?”
“The autopsy’s tomorrow. We’ll have something official then.”
“What about unofficial?”
He just looked at her, and Bailey tamped down her frustration.
“How about ID?” she asked.
“None.”
“You mean she didn’t have one with her? Or you didn’t find her prints in the system?”
“Both.”
Bailey tipped her head to the side. He’d just told her a lot, and she wondered if he realized it. The fact that they could even get prints from the victim meant she couldn’t have been in the water that long.
“So . . . it’s possible her ID was stolen during the incident?”
He sighed and looked at her. “Anyone ever tell you you’re very stubborn?”
She smiled. “Yes. But not usually in those words.”
He crumpled his foil wrapper and dropped it into the carboard tray. “She had no ID on her,” he said. “No phone, no money, no keys.”
Finally, she was getting somewhere. “And does it look like she was jogging on the trail when it happened?”
“Possibly.”
“A lot of people don’t take valuables with them when they exercise. Still . . . you’d expect her to at least have a key with her, right? To a car or an apartment, if she lived close.”
He didn’t comment.
“You think this is related to the muggings from last month?” she asked. “Maybe the assailant is escalating?”
He shook his head. “Don’t know yet.”
“Or maybe someone took her keys and stole her car?”
“Don’t know yet.”
“What about timing?” she asked.
“What about it?”
“Well, the trail is a high-traffic area.”
“Not today it isn’t.”
“Yeah, that’s my point. Maybe it happened last night or this morning, before all the rain, and that’s why no one found her until this evening?”
Again, no comment.
“The juice bar is open seven to seven,” she said. “But Alvaro said he didn’t hear any gunshots.”
“You interviewed Alvaro?” He sounded ticked off.
“He also didn’t see any unusual cars parked behind the shop today. When the other lots get full, people sometimes park there and use the cut-through to the trail.”
Jacob finished off his taco and didn’t offer to support or refute anything she’d said.
“So, you still haven’t nailed down the time frame?” she asked.
“The ME should be able to help with that.”
Bailey itched to get out her notepad and write all this down, but she sensed he’d clam up on her. She was lucky to have him here at all. She munched on her chips and decided to change the subject for a while.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Does it matter if I say no?” He smiled slightly, and she got a warm flutter in the pit of her stomach.
“I’ve been covering the crime beat for almost a year. How come I haven’t crossed paths with you?”
He shook his head. “Don’t know.”
But something told her he did know. He seemed like the type who avoided reporters at all costs. Some cops liked to talk to the media, and they got all puffed up when they were interviewed—especially by a woman. Others said nothing and directed questions to the PR people.
A whoop went up across the street, and Bailey turned to see a pair of young-looking guys laughing and shoving back and forth. They seemed to be vying for the attention of two blond