her how?” White Hawk asked. “Did she wake up in the morning and walk in to find the victim just lying there like that?”
“No, Amanda had gone away for the weekend. She told me that she had gone to Las Vegas with her boyfriend and spent three full days there.”
As Frankie recited the details for what felt like the umpteenth time, she could literally feel O’Bannon listening to her every word despite the fact that she had already told him all of this. She had a feeling that the lead detective was paying such close attention to what she was saying because he expected her to trip herself up and confuse the details.
Frankie couldn’t help wondering if she had suddenly become a suspect by bringing her cousin’s murder to the department’s fair-haired boy. She found herself wishing that the detective in the backseat was the lead on this multiple murder case instead of O’Bannon.
White Hawk didn’t make her feel uneasy. O’Bannon did. She felt as if, despite his laidback manner, O’Bannon was scrutinizing every word out of her mouth and comparing them to every other word she’d already said.
“When did this happen?” White Hawk asked.
“I got the call early this morning.”
“So the crime scene’s not that fresh,” O’Bannon said, whether for her benefit or for his partner’s, she wasn’t sure. In either case, she did her best to take the remark in stride and not view it as a criticism that she’d been remiss in not bringing the matter to Homicide’s attention immediately.
It left her wondering if O’Bannon actually wanted the case and had just been yanking her chain earlier about her reasons for bringing the case to him.
“It was fresh when the CSI Unit arrived to go over it a couple of hours ago,” she replied coldly.
“We’ll talk to them after we have a look around,” O’Bannon said, and it was clear to Frankie that he was addressing his partner and not her.
Even so, she was determined to work with this man. It was the only way she would find Kristin’s killer.
Frankie nodded in response to what he had just said and murmured, “Fine.”
“Glad we have your permission,” Luke replied.
“Turn right at the corner,” she directed coldly.
He spared her a glance before doing as she had prompted. Luke was deliberately trying to rattle her, to get her to squirm and lose her cool. It was his way of seeing just what she was made of and who he was actually dealing with.
Had Francesca DeMarco been just another beautiful woman who crossed his path, his approach to her would have been entirely different. But he wasn’t trying to date her—that was on the back burner for now—he was attempting to find out just what sort of a person was trying to be part of his team, no matter how temporarily.
The team was only as good as its weakest link, and he needed to evaluate just what kind of detective DeMarco was.
He was fairly sure he could ascertain this from her record on the force. There were reports on file that could be accessed, if not by him, then by his cousin, Valri, who worked in the police department’s computer lab.
A tour of social media would get him additional personal information.
He doubted if DeMarco would believe him if he told her, but he was actually rooting for her.
Still, he had to be sure before he let her sign on for this. If she messed up the investigation for whatever reason, that would be on him, and his lieutenant would be the first one to say it, despite Handel’s blasé attitude about DeMarco’s joining the investigation.
“Where’s this roommate staying?” Luke asked out of the blue.
She knew why he was asking. Amanda couldn’t stay in her apartment until the yellow tape went down. “She’s crashing on a friend’s couch until the crime scene’s been cleared.”
“Yours?” Luke asked bluntly.
“Someone else’s,” she answered, bracing herself for a barrage of questions as to why she wasn’t taking in the victim’s roommate. She decided to jump ahead of him and answer the main question before it was asked. “Wouldn’t seem right if I had her staying at my place while I’m investigating her roommate’s murder. That would look like a conflict of interest.”
Silently he congratulated her for being one step ahead of this pantomime even as he asked, “Do you always play by the rules?”
Her eyes met his as she quietly told him, “That’s all we’ve got, are the rules.”
A hint of a smile curved his lips. “Huh. You didn’t answer my question, DeMarco.”
“Why are you badgering her, O’Bannon?” White Hawk asked his partner. “She’s on our team, remember?” he pointed out.
Rick White Hawk smiled his support at the petite brunette when she turned around in her seat to look at him.
Frankie returned his smile.
“Yeah, so she is,” was all Luke said in response to his partner’s observation.
He didn’t trust her, Frankie thought, looking at O’Bannon.
Well, she didn’t need O’Bannon to trust her. She just needed him to work with her and help her find her cousin’s killer. After that, they never had to see each other again.
As a matter of fact, she preferred it that way.
The yellow crime tape was still fastened across the door of the apartment where Kristin’s body had been found. Frankie silently drew in a breath as she watched O’Bannon pull aside the tape that announced to the world at large that a crime had taken place here and that no headway had been made because the investigation was obviously still ongoing.
O’Bannon unlocked the door and pushed it open, then entered the apartment. White Hawk was right behind him, but to Frankie’s surprise, the tall detective stepped back and instead waved her in ahead of him.
“Ladies first,” White Hawk said.
A small hint of a smile fleetingly graced her lips as Frankie murmured, “Thank you,” just before walking into the apartment.
It felt as if she was moving in slow motion along the bottom of a lake filled with Jell-O. She’d been to her share of homicides when she’d worked as a detective in Los Angeles before transferring to Aurora, but everything seemed eerie and unreal to her within the apartment.
Doing her best to appear unaffected, Frankie slanted a glance toward the living room floor where she’d last seen her cousin lying facedown right in front of the entrance at the rear of the apartment.
Damn it, snap out of it and get a grip on yourself. You’re a detective working a case, not a cousin mourning the loss of the last of her family.
“Something
