Free Connor's Gamble by Kathy Ivan Page B

sure.  Are there any more?”
    Remy hated showing this sick bastard the last picture. If the others had excited him to this point, he'd be orgasmic over the final photo.
    “There's one more, but I'm not sure you've told me everything.  At least not enough to see the final picture.”
    “I've told you a hell of a lot more than you had when you walked in the door, you filthy pig cop.  Either show me the last one or I'm done.”  Trejo smirked—he actually smirked—and Remy balled his fingers into a fist by his side to keep from punching the son of a bitch dead in his face.
    Hold it together, man, don't let him rattle you.  Time to reel him in now.
    “You're partner, Trejo.  Give me a name or all these pictures go bye-bye and you never get to see the best one.”
    Trejo pouted.  That was honest-to-god the only way to describe it.  Hands pulled back to his chest, at least as close as he could with the chain and cuffs prohibiting much movement.  Lower lip thrust out like a little kid.  Who did he think he was kidding anyway?  Multiple murders, torturing his victims in the most horrifically gruesome fashion and here he was, pouting like a little kid with his candy taken away.  Hell no.
    Trejo brooded for about a half minute, and Remy read each expression as it flitted across his weasley face.  Finally Trejo shoved the three pictures back toward Remy with an evil little grin.
    “My partner.  Which one?”
    Which one?  How many sick sociopaths had Trejo dragged into his perverted fantasy of rape, torture and death?  There'd been more than one?
    Remy picked up the three pictures, stacked and put them back into the folder.  He removed the lone photo left in the folder, and laid it face down before sliding it halfway across the table.  Trejo reached for it, practically squirming in his chair like a puppy needing to pee.
    “A name, Mickey.  Give me the name of your latest partner and I'll give you a look-see at the last pic.”
    The name Trejo rattled out curdled Remy's blood.  Son of a bitch!  His partner was a woman?  A woman inflicted this kind of destruction on another woman?  He didn't recognize the name but he'd damn sure get cops working on it the second he walked out the door.
    “Got what you wanted, bastard.  Now give me that picture!”
    “Yep, a deal's a deal, Mickey.  Here you go.”  Remy stood and pushed the picture the rest of the way across the table, and strode out the door with Trejo's string of obscenities following him.  Instead of a picture of the tortured, mutilated victim Trejo'd been expecting, Remy gave him a copy of his own mug shot.
    Once outside the door, Remy drew up short at the two men standing in the hallway waiting for him.
    Aw, hell.  Busted.
    Captain Reynolds, his former chief from homicide and currently in charge of the Trejo case stood in front of him, arms folded across his chest.  Beside him stood his current boss, Captain Hilliard of vice.
    Definitely ass-chewing time .  Remy shrugged.  Whatever happened, he'd gotten new information. But judging from the look in Captain Hilliard's eyes, he was also about to get a boot up his ass for breaking protocol.
    I am so fired .
     
     

Chapter Twelve
    Friday
     
    E sther pulled the chain between her fingers, weaving it between and around her knuckles, repeating the motion over and over.  The gold glinted, its faceted brilliance sparkling in the overhead lights in the coffee shop.  A solitary tear-drop diamond pendant dangled from its bezel, prisms of color shifting onto the tabletop.  Staring at it made her heart clench with momentary guilt before she slammed that door inside herself shut tight.  Guilt was an emotion she couldn't afford at this point.  What was done was done.  Over.  No going back.
    Catching sight of her roommate's duck-like waddling gait as she neared Esther's table, she stuffed the necklace back into the zippered compartment of the oversized black-and-white purse resting beside her on the