know what you mean. This is the new me. I’m on the straight and narrow. It’s all clean living from here on out. I’m squeaky clean or whatever other cliché you care to use.”
“You’re not fooling anyone,” Poulter said acidly.
Kyle smiled sympathetically, ignoring the blond, muscular guy who walked past the three of them in a T-shirt and shorts.
“I’m not trying to fool anyone, Agent,” he said patiently. “I’m just trying to lead my life. Did it ever occur to you that I felt bad about you guys having to sit outside my townhouse in near hundred degree heat? I could have checked out those books and read them at home. But instead I studied them in the cool, air-conditioned library so you two could get a little reprieve. And this is thanks I get, to be accosted and insulted?”
Neither agent had an immediate response to that. Seeing them stand there mutely filled him with glee. He tried to rein in the snark as he continued.
“To make it easier on you guys, here’s my plan for the rest of the day. I’m going to stop off at the market, pick up some sushi and maybe some wine if I’m feeling wild. Then I’m going to binge a few episodes of Mindhunter and crash early. You can let your night replacements know. In the meantime, I promise to drive slowly.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. Instead he turned and headed for the parking garage. As he walked, he went over the plan for the night in his head. It was true that he would be having sushi but there would be no wine.
He needed to keep his head clear because he was going out tonight.
*
Jessie was so anxious that she could barely eat.
They were in a holding pattern right now, unable to take any tangible steps until they heard back from others. They were waiting for any results from the fingerprinting and DNA testing at Carl’s place.
They’d convinced the local D.A. to ask a judge to approve a warrant to search all the unoccupied homes on the Strand but the Homeowners Association was fighting it. Apparently they didn’t think that the police marching up and down the Strand searching homes was a great look. Meanwhile Jessie was waiting for a call from an eager young MBPD researcher named Jamil Winslow, who was following up on a hunch she had.
In the interim, they’d decided to have a light bite in sight of the Pacific Ocean. They sat on the outside patio at a hipster gastropub, waiting for their food.
“I feel like, even though we’re only in our thirties, everyone here is looking at us like we’re old-timers,” Ryan said, trying to break the tension.
Jessie smiled tightly. She didn’t feel chatty but she didn’t want to be rude. They both sipped iced tea silently. She tried to give herself a mental break and appreciate the slightly lower temperature that arrived as late afternoon began to bleed into early evening. The break didn’t last long.
Ryan got a call just as their food came.
“Bad news,” he said when he hung up. “There were no unusual prints found at the Landingham house and DNA results won’t be back until tomorrow.”
Jessie shook her head in amazement.
“That’s stunning if he was squatting there,” she said. “It means he’s been extremely diligent about wearing gloves and wiping surfaces down.”
“He can wipe up prints,” Ryan agreed. “But not DNA. Remember, I ordered the killer’s clothes and shoes be sent to forensics. Between that and whatever they pull from the bed sheets and stocking, it’s not crazy to think we’ll have something to go on tomorrow.”
Jessie sensed a note of uncertainty ion his voice.
“But…” she prodded.
“But if what they find doesn’t match someone already in the system, we’ll still be stuck.”
Jessie took a bite of her turkey wrap and chewed slowly.
“How is it?” Ryan asked.
“Not bad at all,” she said, finding the chewing motion unexpectedly relaxing. “But not worth fourteen bucks. What about you?”
“Same. I feel like we’re being charged half for the food and half for the view.”
“It is a nice view,” she admitted.
“Mine’s better,” he said.
It took Jessie a second to figure out that he was talking about her.
“So debonair,” she said, batting her eyes elaborately. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
Because his original dress shirt was ripped and bloody, he had borrowed an extra T-shirt from one of the officers until they stopped at a local shop and picked up a new work shirt. Jessie had insisted he