Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Frankie

"If I don't get some coffee soon, I'm going to collapse right here in the park." I'm so worn out I can barely keep my eyes open. We've spent the entire morning searching St. Jude's Park for the appendage that the twisted bastard cut off Ryder Beaumont and found nothing. Not a single clue.

"Lucky for you, I know the perfect place." Jay gestures for me to follow him, and I do without question because as long as I get coffee, I can handle anything. "Beans & Things is just up the street."

The name of my favorite coffee spot brings a smile to my face. "You don't even need to ask." The tan and brown awning is just a few blocks away, and since I can't stop thinking about this case and the killer, we pause half a dozen times on the way. "You think we'll find the dick?"

Jay's expression tells me everything, but his words make it clear. "Nope. He chopped it off for a reason. Maybe he's keeping them in jars, or maybe he's eating them, but he's definitely not tossing them in the trash, that's for fucking sure."

I nod. "We're missing something. I can feel it." It seems like it's right there , but still completely out of reach. Maybe it's lack of sleep and therefore lack of focus, or maybe this guy is just that good.

Jay loosens his tie and picks up the pace. "We don't have enough information yet to know much of anything, Frankie. I know you want this guy caught, but without linking the victims and without forensic evidence, we can't do much."

"I don't like the sound of that." I'm not good at waiting. As if to prove my point that I'm terrible at patience when it comes to shit like this, a red light at the corner stops our forward progress. I push the button, hoping to speed up the change to the green light. Jay gives me the side eye and I smirk.

"What?" I say like I don't know what he means.

I like to forge ahead, cutting through red tape and bullshit to get to the answers, to get the perp. To get justice for the victims. But Jay has heard my story about my LAPD ID badge opening every door in the city, but it can't get me across a red light to save my soul. Well, unless I'm chasing a perp and then, all bets are off.

Jay laughs. "You've never been all that great at the waiting aspect of law enforcement. Your father was the same way."

As always, the mention of my father stops me in my tracks. He's been gone for more years now than I had with him, and when Jay brings him up, it always catches me off guard. In some ways, it feels like I hardly think about him, which is strange because if not for him, I wouldn't be where I am today. "So, you're saying my impatience is a genetic trait?"

"I'm saying don't let the lack of progress get you down. The worst part of working a serial case is that the only way to get a better picture of the perp is more evidence."

I nod as the light changes, and we hurry across the street to Beans & Things. "More evidence means more fucking victims," I grumble.

Jay's right, of course. "Yep."

"That's why you hate these cases?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

He nods, eyes scanning the crowds outside the bars and restaurants like he's casing the joint. "It's the main reason I hate them, yeah. You know what this city, hell this county is like. More criminals than I can fucking swing a bat at and a lot of ‘em haven't been caught." His jaw tightens, anger simmering just below the surface.

I let out a chuckle. "If that was supposed to be a pep talk, your game needs work, Hawkins."

The corner of his mouth quirks up in that crooked grin of his as he opens the door to the coffee shop. "It wasn't a pep talk, it was reality."

"Ew, gross. Zero stars. Don't recommend." I step inside Beans & Things and the familiar scents put me at ease, a smile splitting my face. I inhale deeply, the scent of coffee beans mixed with hot milk, the warm buttery scent of fresh pastries. It's familiar and so welcome, I instantly feel better. "Coffee," I growl. "I need coffee."

"We're in the right place," Jay deadpans from behind me.

I shoot him a glare over my shoulder, but before I can fire back at his snark, I slam right into a solid wall of muscle. Hot coffee splashes onto my shirt and I jump back. "Hey! Watch it," I snap, irritation flaring as I take in the stain rapidly spreading across my top.

The man is easily over six feet tall, incredibly fit with thick brown hair perfectly styled. His hazel eyes swirl with shades of green and gold, full of apology. "I am so sorry, ma'am. I didn't see you. Here, let me help you."

His voice is a low, gravelly rumble that sends an unexpected shiver down my spine. Handsome doesn't even begin to cover it—he looks like he stepped straight off the cover of a romance novel with that chiseled jaw and pretty pink lips framed by scruff. The expensive suit hints at money and status.

Tall, dark and panty-melting gorgeous is more like it. I give myself a mental shake, refocusing. "Don't worry about it," I say after dragging my eyes away from his distractingly attractive face. "All good." I try to sidestep around him, but he blocks my path.

"I feel really terrible. At least let me pay for your dry cleaning?" That heart-stopping smile does absolutely nothing to sell the offer.

"Don't worry about the shirt. I got it at Target." I flash a smile, not to ease his guilt, but to end the conversation.

But his grin only widens, all pearly whites. "It looks good on you, and it'd be a shame if I don't replace it." The flirtatious tone grates on my nerves even as I grudgingly admit the guy has charm in spades.

Unfortunately for him, I'm immune. "Thanks, but it really isn't necessary." I move to go around him again, but he shifts, cutting me off once more.

"I insist," he counters smoothly, that infuriatingly perfect smile not stopping.

"I insist on getting coffee." I push the words through gritted teeth, my jaw clenched tight. This guy is really working my last nerve. "We're good. Seriously." Some women might eat up this pushy, relentless act, thinking it means he's interested when it's just an ego trip for most men. "Shit. That could be it," I say under my breath as my focus shifts back to the case. Maybe my perp has a history of sexual abuse fueling his twisted urges to torture his victims like this.

The nuisance flashes another dazzling grin. "I'll buy your coffee. And anything else you'd like."

I roll my eyes, quickly weighing my options. If I was just some civilian, I might let him buy me the damn coffee and a bear claw just to end this ridiculous interaction. But I'm a cop, and I know exactly where letting guys like this buy you things inevitably leads. "Look, I accept your apology, okay? No need to throw money at me to make up for it."

For the briefest second, something dark and sinister flashes in his hazel eyes before vanishing. But I've seen that look before…in the eyes of killers. I push that thought aside. I'm just projecting after obsessing over this case. "It wasn't my intention to throw money at it," he says smoothly. "But I feel terrible that my carelessness ruined your shirt. You serve our city. The least I can do is replace that blouse."

Okay, now I'm irritated. This joker is smooth as hell with just the right mix of charm and looks. But I've dealt with enough manipulative dirtbags to recognize the game.

"I appreciate that, but it's really fine," I say. "Hazard of the job. I can't even count how many shirts I've tossed after being ruined at crime scenes or chasing down idiots dumb enough to run from the cops." I flash him a tight smile. "It's all part of the glamor of being a homicide detective."

I offer one last tight smile and slip past the rich asshole when a couple heads for the exit, forcing us all to shift and make room. "Coffee is calling me. Take it easy," I tell him briskly and rush to the counter without a look back.

"You know that guy?" Jay poses the question when he catches up with me at the counter, nodding towards Mr. Moneybags.

I give him a dismissive frown over my shoulder. "That guy? No. Just a random rich guy who wanted to buy me a new blouse." I tug at the large coffee stain down the middle of my blue blouse, cursing to myself. "He's very pushy and pissing me off. Jeez."

Jay's glance flickers down to the stain. "I hope you let him. That shirt's a goner."

"Very funny." I practically leap at the counter when the barista calls my name, grabbing the tallest cup of black coffee they have and taking a big, reviving gulp. "Delicious. So, I was thinking about our perp. Maybe he's a victim of sexual abuse himself, acting out some twisted revenge fantasy."

Jay frowns and shakes his head, the old man crease forming between his brows. "You know, Frankie, it's okay if you want to get a private life. It won't make you a worse cop, might make you better."

"Seriously, Jay? You too?" Why in the hell is everyone so damn worried about my personal life lately? "You sound like Amelia, and I'll tell you like I told her, after Nate, I'm on a fast. A man cleanse."

"Antibiotics?" He smirks.

I roll my eyes. "Thankfully, no. Or else we'd have another murder to investigate." The sting of Nate's betrayal doesn't hurt the way it did right after the brutal breakup, but men just require more effort than I'm willing to put in right now. Possibly, ever again if I'm being honest with myself.

"What was wrong with that guy? He's good-looking enough and he's clearly rich and interested. What else do you want?" Jay presses.

"The will or the energy to bother with men at all," I shoot back, taking another sip of coffee. "Between the job that consumes me and this damn case, I just don't have it in me to play games or deal with fragile egos."

He rolls his eyes, grabbing his coffee and we head out the door. "You're too young to be so cynical. I was on my third divorce before I reached that level."

I bat my eyelashes dramatically. "What can I say, I'm a fast learner."

Jay laughs as he sips his black coffee. "That's not the flex you think it is, as the kids say."

I stop and stare at him. "Are you seeing a younger woman now?"

He tosses the wooden coffee stirrer into the trash. "We're not talking about me right now."

"We could be, if there's someone you want to talk about," I prod. It's rare for Jay to be so evasive.

"I don't," he answers quickly, that telltale flush creeping up his neck. "But you're young. Don't you want to get married and have kids someday?"

"In this line of work? You must be insane." I shake my head. The very idea seems ludicrous. "Leaving a man in charge when I run off in the middle of the night to a crime scene? Being consumed with a killer over and over again? No, thanks. That's a recipe for disaster."

"So cynical," he grumbles as we exit Beans & Things, both of us lost in our own thoughts as we head back to the car.

"This is just what I needed." I sip the hot liquid and as my neurons start firing on all cylinders again and I go right back to the perp. "So, sex assault?"

Jay groans, running a hand over his weary face before taking a gulp of his own coffee. "It's a good thought with the chopped off Johnson, but we should keep it on the possibility list until we have more intel."

A knot forms in my stomach at the thought of another victim, another life lost. "I don't like the idea of hoping for someone else to die." The words leave a sour taste in my mouth. It doesn't sit right, wishing tragedy on an innocent just to crack this case.

"That's the thing about potential serial killers, Frankie." Jay's voice takes on a fatherly tone. Again, and it kind of pisses me off. "Hope or not, they will kill again. It's what they do. It is in their nature. You have no control over it, no matter how much you wish otherwise."

I let out a heavy sigh and nod. He's right. Tunnel vision will only blind me further. I need to step back, look at this from every angle.

"I'm heading back to the station to do a deep dive into Ryder Beaumont and the other two victims. See if I can put them together somehow."

"You do that." Jay grunts as he slides into the passenger seat. "I'm going home to get ready for my date. One of us has to have a life."

I roll my eyes and merge into traffic, my mind on the killer. What motivates him? Why does he do what he does? Does he know these victims personally or do they have something else in common I haven't uncovered yet?