Hunt and Prey (Kelsey's Burden Series Book 8) Kaylie Hunter (books on motivation txt) 📖

you, you’re not going to like the consequences to your career if you don’t take this seriously.”

“Are you threatening me?” Gibson asked, squaring his shoulders as he tried looking less nervous than he was.

“You bet your ass I’m threatening you.”

I turned to leave, but Quille was standing in the doorway. He stepped back into the hall and off to the side to let me pass before following me down the hall. “Thanks.”

“For what?” I snapped, walking at a brisk pace back to the main room.

“Saving me from having to call Gibson into my office for a lecture.”

I glanced over at him, seeing he was struggling to keep up. I slowed my steps. “You’re not mad at me for threatening him?”

Quille chuckled. “You didn’t threaten to harm him, only to tank his career as a detective. We both know he did a shit-show job on this case. Now,” he tugged at my elbow to stop me, “when are you coming back to work?”

“Can’t right now. I’ve got myself involved in something that needs to be sorted first.” I pointed to my bruised face.

“I noticed.” He sighed. “The gossip in the breakroom is you got into a fight in an alley near Sunset beach access. What happened?”

“I got my ass kicked is what happened. I’m not sure who the guy was or what he was after. I’d noticed him following me, and when I led him into a trap, he took off. I gave chase until he caught me off guard. That’s all I know at the moment, but I’m working on figuring it out.”

“Could be related to a case. We need to report it.”

“It’s more likely related to something I did or didn’t do that I wouldn’t want IA to know about. I’m handling it. Until I figure it out though, wearing a badge has to stay on hold.” I turned and looked behind us to make sure no one had followed us. “Got a minute?”

He glanced at his watch. “I promised my wife I’d be home for dinner three hours ago. I’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight, so yeah, I’ve got time.”

I walked into Quille’s office and over to the credenza, sitting on top of it like I always did. Quille’s guest chairs were positioned so your back would face the full-glass wall. The seating arrangement wasn’t to my taste, and Quille learned years ago not to press the issue. I liked to think he kept the top of the credenza on this side cleared of pictures and files just for me.

Skipping any idle chitchat, I said, “I had a chat with Benny The Barber.”

Quille glanced at the bottom drawer of his desk where I knew he kept a bottle of rum. He glanced up at the clock before crossing his arms and leaning against the far wall. “Some days I can’t tell if you’re brave—or stupid.”

I ignored the comment. “Pauly was collateral damage. The target was Roseline, but if I put those details in a report, IA will be all over my ass to investigate Benny instead of finding Roseline’s killer.”

“Not to mention he’d put you on his hit list if you documented the conversation,” Quille said as he walked behind his desk and sat.

“Benny was offered the job, but turned it down. He either doesn’t know who took the job or he’s not willing to tell me.”

“So… Someone wanted Roseline dead. This was planned.”

“Planned to kill her, yes. But her brutal death suggests that a professional wasn’t involved. Benny knew I lived in the building. That’s why he wouldn’t take the job. It’s possible the person who wanted her dead, couldn’t find someone willing to take the contract.”

“It’s possible. It’s also possible there’s an amateur trying to level up to pro on the hitman market. Then you have two other theories to consider. One, the hitman wanted Roseline’s death to look like a rage killing, pointing it toward Pauly as the killer. Or two, the hitman enjoys the kill and lost control.”

This was the reason I liked bouncing theories off Quille. He had the experience on the job to offer fresh perspectives. “In both scenarios, why move Pauly’s body? Why take the extra risk of moving the body to the first floor and possibly getting caught in the act? What’s the point?”

“How do you know the body was moved?”

“Time of death. I went home around seven and left again just before nine. Pauly wasn’t in the lobby either time.”

“You sure?”

“I always look under the stairwell for him. I checked in on him. He wasn’t there until I came home again, around four in the morning.”

“I’m going to send forensics back to Roseline’s apartment and run a blacklight. If Pauly died in that apartment, maybe they missed some evidence that will prove it. Meanwhile, I’ll have Gibson do a deep dive on Roseline’s past. Any skeletons in her closet that you’re aware of?”

“No. She was illegal, so she kept to herself mostly. Did Gibson interview her next of kin?”

“Not according to his notes. He notified Pauly’s family, but I didn’t see any family mentioned in the file for Roseline.”

“All right. I’ll track someone down tomorrow and give the death notification while I’m at it. Maybe someone out there knows her well enough to fill in a few blanks.”

“What about the guy who followed you? Could he be linked to this case?”

I hunched my shoulders. “I doubt it. According to Benny, someone tried to hire him for another job. Me.”

Quille’s eyes narrowed and his face flushed bright red. “Are you telling me there’s a contract on your head?”

I hunched my shoulders in another maybe. “I’ll get it sorted. I’m pretty sure the guy in the alley was the person who ended up taking the job.”

“You need to take this seriously! That guy