Free The Watcher by Jo Robertson Page B

working together, Detective?”
    “Not as long as you take my lead on the case.” He held her gaze steadily across the two desks. “Not as long as you know who’s boss.”
    “Oh?”
    “Oh,” he repeated crossly. He thought she’d argue, but she seemed to consider a moment before she shrugged those elegant shoulders in the condescending way some women had.
    She’d held back info about the Stuckey case, he reminded himself, and there was something else that raised a warning flag whenever he was around her. He’d learned long ago to trust his gut when it came down to two things: women and his cases.
    This situation involved both.
    Slater’s prickliness bothered Kate, but she wasn’t surprised by it. Whatever he imagined, she thought, aware of his hard scrutiny as she watched Matt Bauer exit the squad room, she hadn’t been using Matt. In fact, the kid was like a breath of fresh air. But she didn’t intend to expend energy convincing Slater. She kept her face impassive as she turned back to the murder book.
    “What do you think?” Slater said after a few silent minutes.
    “Nothing more than what I expected.” She answered coolly. “We’re fortunate those kids were hanging out on the beach. We might not have found Jennifer so soon.”
    Slater removed his jacket and draped it on the seat back. “Since your copy of the Stuckey file looked thin, I made a request for the full original file,” he said in what sounded like a peace offering. “We can review the field and interview reports, the follow-ups.”
    When she glanced up sharply, he added, “Don’t worry. I went around Marconi and used only the case number, no names. Your secret’s safe for the moment.”
    An awkward silence hung between them while she searched for a response until Bauer returned minutes later, carrying three cardboard containers of black coffee, packets of sugar, and cream. She didn’t blame Slater for being annoyed. It’d be hard to imagine anyone you worked with involved in a cover up. Or worse, murder.
    When Bauer handed her a coffee, she cleared her throat and spoke as if nothing had just happened. “Thanks, Matt.” After taking a quick swallow, she hurried on, “I’ve been trying to get a fix on the killer’s profile. Jennifer Johnston was missing from Wednesday afternoon until Sunday night when her body was found at the lake. That means – ”
    “The killer had plenty of time to have his fun with her,” Slater finished as he took the coffee Bauer proffered.
    Kate winced and picked up the photos taken Monday at the crime scene. She carried the pictures to the window where she stared at them in the cloudy noon light.
    Although she’d already looked at the photos and had viewed Jennifer Johnston’s body at the morgue, the crime scene photos now appeared almost pornographic. The harsh contrast of the damaged body against the lake’s serenity was stark and unforgiving. As Kate flipped through the untouched photos, nausea washed over her. Cold sweat beaded on her brow and gathered between her breasts.
    A yellow dress fluttered in the breeze from an open window. Caught by the wind, it fell to the floor in slow motion and landed on a white brassiere. She had time to glimpse the brown stains on the delicate garment before the buttery yellow of the dress slowly, very slowly, covered everything.
    Kate shuddered and forced herself back to the here and now. She ought to feel elated, being so close to the killer after all these years. But the pictures made her breath catch as if she were poised at the edge of a dark abyss. Seeing Jennifer’s mangled body, she felt no triumph.
    She shivered and closed her eyes against the horrible scene, against the nightmarish memories.
    “You okay, Dr. Myers?” Bauer stood at her side, his lanky form bent as he peered at her, blocking Slater’s view.
    Kate forced herself to look once more at the pictures—twelve in all—the last one showing Jennifer’s high school senior photo. A broad smile