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

Tasha pressed her lips together in annoyance before responding. “That’s the theory the DA used as motive, but I swear to you, Kid, she would’ve said yes. I know it. She loved him. Her face lit up every time he entered the room. He made her laugh, didn’t put her down for her odd quirks, and gave her the space to become her own person. She adored him.”

I glanced back at the folder in my hand. Whether the case was closed or not, Tasha was my friend. She needed closure. “I’ll look into it. I swear. But Tasha,” I said, shaking my head. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? Why didn’t you ask for my help before now?”

“You’ve had a lot going on the last few years. Between finding your nephew and then your cousin disappearing, I didn’t want to bother you with it until I knew for sure the police had the wrong man.”

“And now you’re sure? That this—” I looked back at the notes to check the name “—Terrance Haines, didn’t kill your friend?”

“Positive,” she said, taking the file. She pulled photos from the folder, lining them out along the table top. “I think it’s the same guy.”

She took a step back as I took a step forward. My eyes absorbed the details of each autopsy photo. “Son of a bitch.”

“That’s what I said!” She turned away from the photos. “When I got my hands on the report, I read the notes, but couldn’t look at the pictures. It was too hard. I didn’t want to see my friend like that. But this morning I remembered the description of the neck bruise in her autopsy report, and I had to look.”

“I’ll pull the police case files,” I said, tucking the photos back inside the folder.

“I’m sorry to drag you into this. I know cops who stick their noses in other cop’s cases aren’t treated well. I don’t want to cause you problems.”

“You think I give a damn?”

She laughed. “No. But you should.”

“Probably. But every cop who knows me, knows I’m a pain in the ass.” I walked toward the door, tucking the folder under my arm. “I’ll let you know what I find. Until then, don’t mention this to anyone else. The last thing we need is the killer figuring out you were snooping into this case.”

“Can I tell Terrance?”

I pushed the door open but stopped to answer her. “No. Not until we know something.”

Her head bowed as her shoulders slumped. I slipped out the door, walking back to reception.

Entering the main room, I paused when I saw Huey sitting next to an elderly gentleman who was weeping. Beast had his head rested on the man’s knee. The man absently stroked Beast’s head.

Huey walked over to me. “Can I keep your dog for a little longer? The man’s wife died in a car crash. They were married fifty-seven years.”

“Of course. I’ll come back in a few hours. I have some errands to run anyway.”

Huey returned to the grieving husband.

I motioned for Beast to stay as I slipped out. It wasn’t until I exited the building that I remembered I was supposed to text Ford or Quille for an escort.

I looked around but didn’t see anyone. I hurried to Wild Card’s rental, hitting the unlock button and climbing inside. Even though I knew the back seat was empty, I checked it again to be sure. Then I climbed over the seat and checked the cargo area. Returning to the driver’s seat, I stared at the keys in my hand.

Paranoia was setting in. My brain argued with itself over the potential of a car bomb. After much consideration, I finally decided that Mr. Tricky had tried to kidnap me, not kill me.

I started the car, relaxing when nothing exploded.

Then I belatedly remembered Mr. Tricky also tried to shoot me outside the precinct.

I laughed at myself as I pulled out into traffic.

Chapter Thirty-Four

CHARLIE

Tuesday, 12:35 p.m.

The county hospital was only a few blocks over, and since it was lunchtime, odds were good I’d catch some of the nurses in the breakroom. My odds improved if I fed them, so I stopped and bought five pizzas on the way.

Most of the staff in the emergency room knew me, either from prior investigations I’d worked or from my multiple visits for stitches and x-rays.

Security waved me through the front doors. The charge nurse licked her lips, staring at the pizza boxes as she buzzed me past the waiting area and into the inner sanctum. And Sharon Johnson—an administrator and numbers pusher for the ER—held the breakroom door open as she shook her head at me.

“I don’t know how you get away with it.” Sharon followed me into the breakroom and helped me open the pizza boxes. “With anyone else, security wouldn’t let them through the front door. But the entire staff lights up like a kid on Christmas when they see you coming.”

I plated a slice of pizza for myself. “Security lets me in because they know if they didn’t, I’d just find another way. The medical staff talks to me because, unlike some of my brothers and sisters in blue, I don’t drag out the questions. I know the staff is busy. I’m happy to feed them in exchange for them sharing what little downtime they have between patients.”

Sharon swallowed her second bite of pizza before asking, “What information are you digging for today?”

“Today’s a doozie,” I said, setting my plate aside as I grabbed my notepad. “I have so many questions, I can’t keep them straight. But before everyone gets here, I have a question about a nurse who was killed about two years ago while jogging.”

Sharon glanced over her shoulder to make sure we were still