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Moving quietly, Kit reached for her phone, wincing at the number of texts she’d received in the few hours she’d managed to sleep. Most were from reporters, ravenous for an exclusive. Not just the local journalists, either. There were requests from all over the world. All the major networks plus the BBC and the CBC.
It was going to be an awful ride for a while. Dr.Scott was not only a serial killer; he was a media personality from LawTV. This is going to suck. She deleted all the reporters’ texts. Any interview she did would have to be arranged by the department, and even then, she’d balk.
The next text was from Connor. Checking in. U ok?
She smiled. If she’d had to have a temporary partner during this case, she was glad it had been Connor. Got a few hrs sleep, she replied. Rita is resting. Thx for everything yesterday.
There was a text from the captain, congratulating her on closing a case that had stymied an entire generation of homicide detectives. She thanked him politely.
There was nothing from Navarro and that worried her. He’d moved around the crime scene last night like an automaton. Navarro wouldn’t agree, but he was a victim of Scott, too. Not like the dead teenagers, but a victim nonetheless.
Normally, she’d think “ripples.” But Scott’s actions directly targeted her boss. Using the pink handcuffs just to taunt Navarro was beyond sick and cruel. After this, they’d probably all need therapy, but she bet that none of them would be trusting a shrink anytime soon.
Of course, the next text was from the one shrink who’d earned her trust. He’d been there for her last night. Had been there for Rita. He hadn’t left her when she’d needed him.
How is Rita? Hoping you get some rest. And hoping we can talk for real sometime now that I’m no longer a suspect.
Kit smiled, because a minute later he’d texted: I *am* no longer a suspect, RIGHT? Followed by the scared emoji.
Right :-), she texted back. Let’s have a drink sometime. She’d need to debrief him. She owed him that much.
His reply was immediate. Tomorrow?
Saturday, she countered.
Sorry, folks here all day Saturday. Golfing w/my dad. Sunday?
Sorry. I have family dinner at noon.
Then coffee? 10 am Sunday?
Coffee worked. Sounds good, she texted, thinking that would be the end of it.
His reply was, once again, immediate. It’s a date.
Her mouth opened and closed as she stared at the three little words on her phone screen. It’s. A. Date.
Oh my God. What did I just do?
Whatever you did, undo it. Now.
But he’d saved her life last night. She couldn’t say No, it’s not a date. That would hurt his feelings, and she’d done enough of that already.
She wanted to groan, but Rita was still asleep. Don’t panic. You can fix this.
But do you want to?
That thought hit her like a brick, knocking her out of her panicked spiral. Did she want to fix it? Or did she want to have a date with Sam Reeves? Sweet, kind, sincere Sam Reeves with his green eyes and nerdy Clark Kent glasses? Who was no longer a suspect?
Maybe?
She was still staring at her phone, trying to decide what she wanted to do, when a new text came in from Baz.
We need to talk. It’s important. Can I call?
That didn’t sound good. New worry for Baz layered over the panic about Sam, which had settled over the fatigue due to Rita. Give me 5. At Mom and Pop’s. Need to go outside.
She rolled out of her old bed and shoved her feet into her shoes. Snick looked up for a moment before settling back onto Rita’s bed with a delicate snore.
