before retreating to the relative safety of the doorway. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He pointed toward the desk out front where he’d been when she first noticed him.
Chief Kowski had given Becca an office on the outer wall with a door versus one of the desks out in the open, offering privacy while she searched through endless unrelated reports of violent crimes throughout the entire state. Thus far, she’d yet to find anything even remotely like the string of murders at least in the last ten years. She hoped Michael was having more luck combing through the boxes of evidence taken at the crime scenes and detectives’ notes in his office three doors down in the corner.
Remembering herself, she cracked a smile. Crack was right, her lips were dry and she licked them before trying again. “Thanks, that was nice of you.”
Dark brown, near black eyes twinkled back. “I could hear you snoring all the way out there. I figured you might need a little caffeine boost. A small offering of inter-department goodwill.”
Her cheeks colored. “Is it that obvious?” She flicked a finger at her monitor and reached with her other hand toward the steaming cup. It smelled good. Something else did too, his cologne. It was a combo of sweet and fresh. Maybe Armani. “Officer?”
“Detective Salvo.” He lifted the corner of his black sport coat to flash her his badge. “I know I can’t handle being at my desk for more than a few minutes.” He jutted his chin at the offending box. “You’ve been staring at that thing for the better part of two hours.” Genuine concern leaked through his professional mask. “You look kinda tired.”
She recognized the name from the case files. This young man, not much older than her, was the lead detective on a high profile case. That was odd. Surely the department had someone older who was itching to have one like this on his resume, the chief even. Becca leaned back in her chair, holding the steaming cup in both hands. It was cool in the office and being immobile had slowed her circulation to a trickle. She didn’t want to give the curious young detective anything more than she had to. He seemed willing to handle both sides of the conversation so she let him, giving him only a friendly smile meant to encourage.
“So you and your partner are here from…?”
“We were asked to help out. We have some experience with these types of cases.” She let him draw his own conclusions.
“What, vets with PTSD who come back and cut up the locals?”
“Do you think it’s a vet come home?”
“No. We checked out all the local boys already. Everybody with a record, felony and military, has been cleared. Anybody who could handle a knife like that.” Detective Salvo straightened his tie. “It would take a freakin’ ninja to sneak up on some of these victims. Whoever did it had to be sly enough to use that knife without them getting a sound out. He took his time too, judging from the amount of blood at the scene.” Somber, he smoothed a hand over his lower face. “Bill Tyler, the farmer,” he clarified needlessly for her sake, “was in ‘Nam and about as paranoid as they come. His wife was in the house not twenty yards away. She didn’t hear a thing, not until she heard a woman screaming. Same as all the others, it was all over by then. Who knows how far away the screams came from. Sound travels in the country, especially in the winter, and we haven’t been able to trace them back to any specific locations.”
Unfamiliar with snow and any differences in acoustics it lent, Becca was curious. “Sound travels differently in the winter?”
“Not from a snow state?” He smirked, liking having one up on her.
She smiled warmly back. “Nope, California born and raised.”
Shaking his head and grinning, he launched into an explanation for her benefit. “No leaves, no grass. All the soft surfaces that would normally
Chief Kowski had given Becca an office on the outer wall with a door versus one of the desks out in the open, offering privacy while she searched through endless unrelated reports of violent crimes throughout the entire state. Thus far, she’d yet to find anything even remotely like the string of murders at least in the last ten years. She hoped Michael was having more luck combing through the boxes of evidence taken at the crime scenes and detectives’ notes in his office three doors down in the corner.
Remembering herself, she cracked a smile. Crack was right, her lips were dry and she licked them before trying again. “Thanks, that was nice of you.”
Dark brown, near black eyes twinkled back. “I could hear you snoring all the way out there. I figured you might need a little caffeine boost. A small offering of inter-department goodwill.”
Her cheeks colored. “Is it that obvious?” She flicked a finger at her monitor and reached with her other hand toward the steaming cup. It smelled good. Something else did too, his cologne. It was a combo of sweet and fresh. Maybe Armani. “Officer?”
“Detective Salvo.” He lifted the corner of his black sport coat to flash her his badge. “I know I can’t handle being at my desk for more than a few minutes.” He jutted his chin at the offending box. “You’ve been staring at that thing for the better part of two hours.” Genuine concern leaked through his professional mask. “You look kinda tired.”
She recognized the name from the case files. This young man, not much older than her, was the lead detective on a high profile case. That was odd. Surely the department had someone older who was itching to have one like this on his resume, the chief even. Becca leaned back in her chair, holding the steaming cup in both hands. It was cool in the office and being immobile had slowed her circulation to a trickle. She didn’t want to give the curious young detective anything more than she had to. He seemed willing to handle both sides of the conversation so she let him, giving him only a friendly smile meant to encourage.
“So you and your partner are here from…?”
“We were asked to help out. We have some experience with these types of cases.” She let him draw his own conclusions.
“What, vets with PTSD who come back and cut up the locals?”
“Do you think it’s a vet come home?”
“No. We checked out all the local boys already. Everybody with a record, felony and military, has been cleared. Anybody who could handle a knife like that.” Detective Salvo straightened his tie. “It would take a freakin’ ninja to sneak up on some of these victims. Whoever did it had to be sly enough to use that knife without them getting a sound out. He took his time too, judging from the amount of blood at the scene.” Somber, he smoothed a hand over his lower face. “Bill Tyler, the farmer,” he clarified needlessly for her sake, “was in ‘Nam and about as paranoid as they come. His wife was in the house not twenty yards away. She didn’t hear a thing, not until she heard a woman screaming. Same as all the others, it was all over by then. Who knows how far away the screams came from. Sound travels in the country, especially in the winter, and we haven’t been able to trace them back to any specific locations.”
Unfamiliar with snow and any differences in acoustics it lent, Becca was curious. “Sound travels differently in the winter?”
“Not from a snow state?” He smirked, liking having one up on her.
She smiled warmly back. “Nope, California born and raised.”
Shaking his head and grinning, he launched into an explanation for her benefit. “No leaves, no grass. All the soft surfaces that would normally
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