The Poet (Samantha Jazz Series #1) - Lisa Renee Jones Page 0,84

rolls off me as he steps into the hallway. I shut the door firmly behind him and flip the locks. I needed him out of here, but I waste no time standing there rejoicing his departure. That unsearched room calls me, and I pause at the bottom of the stairs. If The Poet is here waiting for me, I’m ready to play.

My cell phone rings. It’s Lang with his impeccable timing. I decline his call for about the fifth time tonight. My Glock and I walk straight up the stairs to find the room empty and smelly, compliments of bags left behind after our taco takeout. Those bags and The Poet need to be taken to the trash, but neither is going anywhere right now. I walk downstairs and hurry into the bathroom, where I set my Glock on the counter. My cell phone rings and this time when I spy Lang on the caller ID, I answer.

“What the hell, Jazz? I’ve been worried.”

“I had investigators and hell suffocating me. I needed to get past at least some of that.”

“Right. I heard. What happened?”

I give him a quick recap, and just explaining it all is cutting, but necessary. I’ll have to repeat everything at the station, probably ten times over. His response when I’ve spit it all out is, “Holy hell. You didn’t kill that boy. You know that, right? He killed that boy.”

The twist of my gut says differently. So do the facts. The Poet didn’t kill that boy, I think. I did. I pulled the trigger. “I’m about to shower and head to the station to give my official statement.”

“I’m coming back.”

“No. You will not. You stay your big ass there and you find what we need to catch him. I have never wanted to catch him more than I do now.”

“Sam—”

“I mean it, Lang. Stay. Work the case. Focus.”

Silence fills the line. “What’s your plan to cover your ass?”

“I have the security feed Wade installed. It’ll show the grown man at my door. It’s clear I was set up. I’ll be fine.”

“Right. Right. I know you will. You’re tough as hell. Call me after the interviews.”

“Yeah. I’ll call.” I hang up without another word. I just need a minute alone.

I set my phone on the counter next to my gun and strip, tossing everything I’m wearing into the trash. The hot shower that follows is a blessed relief and somehow, I force the night’s events from my mind. I can’t risk breaking down now, not until everything that has to be done is done, and I’m alone.

I’ve just stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself in a robe when Wade appears in the doorway, looking weary and, as is rarely the case for him, a bit haphazardly put together in jeans and a less-than-pressed T-shirt. “I came the minute I heard.”

“What happened to your case?” I challenge, unreasonably angry. “Don’t you have a killer to catch?”

“My case—”

“Do not come here and let a killer go. I can’t be responsible for that right now, Wade.” I turn toward the closet at the rear of the bathroom and he catches my arm, turning me to face him.

“I got him. And we’ll get The Poet.”

“More like he got me.”

“We will get him.”

I swallow hard, a flash of that boy in my mind I shove aside, clinging to sanity while I still can. “I killed a little boy, Wade.”

“Don’t do that,” he chides. “Don’t do that to yourself. The Poet—”

“Don’t say he killed him. Lang said that, too, but making excuses for me is not okay. He didn’t pull the damn trigger. I did. I pulled the trigger.” My voice is raised, a dark bubble of something I can’t name in my chest. I swallow again, a deep, hard swallow. “I need to get dressed. My liaison is waiting for me.”

I start to turn away and he says, “About that.”

I’m right back in front of him. “What do you mean about that?”

“I think you should name me as your liaison.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because your interview is supposed to happen tomorrow, and they want it to happen tonight.”

My gut twists with the implications in that statement that I don’t even fully understand. “I’m not very up to speed on this kind of thing,” I admit. “I don’t exactly shoot a lot of people.”

“I am, which is another reason to name me your liaison. And yet another. I just talked to Martinez, he said ‘the captain said’ to me four times