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“Perfect. Seven work?”
“I’ll be here digging unless another body shows up.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t.” She raises an eyebrow. “Do I have to wait until tonight to hear about you and Nate? I heard you gave him shit at the last crime scene.”
I shrug. “Nothing is going on. We’re over. I yelled at him because he took his sweet ass time getting to a rained-out crime scene.”
The whole damn department, it seems, is invested in my relationship with Nate, which is hilarious since none of them bothered to tell me he was fucking every woman who batted her lashes in his direction.
I shove thoughts of Nate and our failed relationship away and spend the day digging deeper into the victims’ lives.
So far, I’ve only learned that Kowalski, Donovan and Beaumont are all from Los Angeles or the surrounding area. They’re locals, which means whoever they pissed off is likely to be a local too. I look into their early lives, trying to find a connection.
“I guess dinner has to wait?”
Amelia’s voice startles me. “Is it seven o’clock already?” I ask. “How time flies when you’re having fun.”
“Funny,” she says dryly.
I roll my eyes and finish my notes before closing my notebook and turn back to Amelia.
“Dinner won’t wait. I’m too damn hungry.” I stand and grab my bag. “How about Steak & Bake for dinner?”
“Steak and an enormous glass of red wine.”
“And a tall, ice-cold beer.” I look at her, daring her to scrunch her nose at my beer order. “Come on. Beat you there,” I say.
We walk out together to our cars. We drive separately, so she won’t have to bring me back here. Plus, the drive to the restaurant gives me time to think about the cases. Nothing makes sense—yet—but I know it will. Later means more bodies, and that’s not good.
The steakhouse is packed, but we snag a table and order drinks immediately. “Have you found anything yet?” Amelia’s smile is beaming as she rests her chin in her hand, eyes sparkling with interest.
“I thought you wanted to talk about something other than the case?”
“Of course I do. You and Nate are over. Are you seeing anyone else, yet?”
“Nope.” I shake my head and grab my beer greedily, and take a big, unladylike gulp. “No energy for men or dating. Except for the occasional orgasm. And I can do that by myself.”
Amelia laughs. “Not pining after Nate?”
“Oh, hell no. He reminded me that I simply don’t have time for a relationship, even with someone who works crazy hours. Men require too much attention, and my attention is always directed elsewhere.”
She nods. “On victims and their killers?”
“Right.” I smile as the server returns to take our orders. Steak and potatoes for me, a grilled shrimp salad for Amelia. “Justice for victims is a much worthier cause than a man-baby.”
Her gaze assesses me as if she can read my every thought, which is why I don’t hang out with her as much as I would like to. “You know most people would agree with you.”
“Because I’m smart,” I snap back.
She laughs. “Yes, you are smart. And all relationships eventually fail. Until the one that doesn’t.” One auburn brow arches, daring me to disagree with her.
“Yeah, yeah.” I take another sip of beer. “I don’t see you jumping into a relationship.”
“Men are intimidated by me, and not just by my intelligence. My fascination with the dark side when I look like this,” she motions to her bright red hair and the band of freckles across her face. “It confuses them.”
“I call bullshit.” I point an accusing finger in her direction. “Who broke your heart or shook your faith in love?”
“Who didn’t?” she asks around a laugh, shaking her head. “Absent father, two cheating boyfriends, and one broken engagement. I’m working my way up to dating again. Slowly.”
