took another sip of his beer. “If it wasn’t Myton that called, who was it?”
“A woman. When I first heard her voice a little while ago, I was hopin’ maybe you met somebody.”
“Overnight?”
“I ever tell you how I met my first missus?”
“Too many times.” Heath sat up straighter and looked at Lauren Cooper’s picture. “Let me guess who the woman was.”
“Sure.”
“Lauren Cooper.”
“Shocks me how you know that, bro. I mean, you should be a detective.”
“I’m working on it. Myton must have told her about me.” Heath took another sip of beer. Or the coroner told her. He hadn’t cared for Heath, either.
“I don’t think so.”
“Why?”
“She knows too much about you. Stuff Myton wouldn’t know.”
Heath stared at the pretty woman in the picture. He’d missed something about her. “Like what?”
“Where you lived. About your sister and her kids. About your gym membership. About me. A lot more than I know about you, actually. That’s why I thought maybe you’d hooked up with someone down there and just didn’t tell me. Then I realized it was you I was talking about, and I thought maybe I’d call you, check that out. Now you sound like you ain’t any too happy to hear from her.”
For a second, Heath felt a faint tickle of fear. His sister and his two nephews lived not far from him in Atlanta. He’d been helping out with them when he could since her husband had left her. “I’m not.”
Jackson waited a beat. “You want to tell me how Lauren Cooper knows so much about you? Especially if you ain’t all chummy and everything?”
There was a knock at the door.
“I’ll call you back.” Heath picked up the .357 and got up. He walked to the door and avoided the peephole. Quietly, he slid the cell phone into his shirt pocket, then dropped a hand onto the door handle and popped it open just enough to see out into the hallway.
Lauren Cooper stood there with her arms folded. “We need to talk, Detective Sawyer. Now.”
Chapter 3
“Are you alone?”
That wasn’t the response Lauren expected from the man. She’d expected him to be contrite or defensive, or at least surprised, maybe even outraged that she’d found him, but he didn’t seem to be anything more than irritated.
“What?”
“Alone? Are you alone? It’s not a hard question to answer.” Heath stepped through the door and glanced out at the courtyard in front of the motel room. He held a gleaming black revolver in his right hand, tucking it close behind his thigh so it couldn’t easily be seen.
“Yes. I’m alone.” Even as she said that, Lauren wondered if coming here alone was intelligent. Now she was wishing she’d gone to the local police. But she also realized that course of action probably wouldn’t have gotten anything done. Heath Sawyer might have been there on police business, and even if he wasn’t, he hadn’t broken any major laws.
Heath grabbed her by the elbow and tugged her through the doorway. Lauren set her heels and started pulling back. He glared at her. “You came to see me, lady. I didn’t come knocking on your door. So either leave or come in. This door isn’t staying open.”
For a moment, Lauren seriously considered turning around and leaving. That seemed to be the path of least resistance. Except that she’d just seen her murdered sister and she wanted some answers that she felt certain the man in front of her had. Inspector Myton hadn’t had many. Then she spotted the canvas spread out on the wall behind Heath.
On autopilot, Lauren stepped into the room, barely aware of Heath shutting and locking the door behind. She kept walking, taking in the photographs and police reports secured to the canvas thumbtacked onto the wall. Her gaze slid over the images of women who were obviously dead, all of them taken at crime scenes.
Then her eyes found the photos of Megan. A feeling of vulnerability descended over her. Sharp pain shot through her stomach. She closed her eyes and took a breath.
Heath crossed over to the canvas and took it down. Despite the speed at which he moved, he was careful with the photos and reports. “I’m sorry, Miss Cooper. You shouldn’t have had to see that.”
She turned to him. “You’re a cop.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Not a cop. I’m a homicide detective. Something like what happened to your sister? I’m a professional. I’m the guy you call when something like this happens.”
Focus, Lauren. She made herself breathe out and put distance between herself and the pain. “Who called you about my sister?”
He hesitated. “Nobody.”
“You were here four days before my sister was murdered.” Lauren had gleaned that from the receipts in his wallet, which she had pilfered during the physical altercation they’d had at the hospital.
Heath nodded warily, no doubt wondering how she’d known that. “I was.”
“Why?”
“I took some personal leave that I had coming. Thought I’d see the sights.”
“Did you know she was going to be killed?”
The question rocked him on his heels. Despite his efforts to remain calm, Lauren saw that she’d caught him by surprise.
“No. How could you think something like that?”
“It’s a lot easier than you think. Especially since the masquerade in the morgue.”
“I went there to get information.”
“About what?”
“About whoever killed your sister.”
“I thought you had that figured out.”
“I believe I do.”
Lauren pointed at the rolled-up canvas. “Then tell me what’s going on. Explain to me what my sister’s picture is doing on that. Tell me who killed her.”
He scowled and walked over to a small table surrounded by three chairs. He raised the beer bottle he’d liberated from the small refrigerator in the corner of the room. “Can I get you a drink?”
“No.”
Heath sat in one chair and put his feet up in another. He sipped from the beer bottle. “I really would like for you to leave. What’s it going to take to make that happen?”
Folding
