and she knew that
for now she'd have to sit on what she knew. It pissed her off beyond belief to
think that she'd be interviewing drug dealers for no reason, spinning her
wheels and getting nowhere while Carson sat safe and sound and continued his
games. Life was a bitch, but never more so than it was today. She'd go through
the motions, and the cases would go cold.
There had to be some way to catch this bastard. She
considered leaving an anonymous letter, or even a phone call, but there were
tons of those a week. Some were taken seriously and investigated, but they
nearly always found the one who wrote the note or made the call, too. The rest
were disregarded as lunacy, and with her luck she'd get caught and be in
serious trouble. She didn't know what she could do. Maybe Diandra would have
some ideas. Or maybe Eamon would have a suggestion. Hell, at this point she'd
confide in Adrian and pray he had some freaking clue of what to do. Otherwise
she predicted a clusterfuck of epic proportions. Some days she really hated her
job. She banged her head down onto her desk and prayed for inspiration.
Inspiration struck even as she prepared to head out for the
day. She grabbed a sticky note off of the pile on her desk and jotted down a
note to pick up a burn phone. Diandra had set her up with a joint account, but
she still had a separate account that her paychecks went into. She knew just
the cut-throat, eager reporter to submit the call to.
Rena Lakehurst was tall at 5'10" and used her height to
cut men down to size. She often paired the height with five inch stilettos that
showed her legs to the best advantage. She had auburn hair that curled under at
the ends, barely brushing her shoulders, and sharp green eyes that were a
lovely shade she'd never seen on anyone else. Her breasts were large and seemed
out of place on her trim body. Men often underestimated her to their detriment
and her amusement. She would be the perfect person to pass the information on
to- anonymously, of course.
She may seem like a sweet woman when you first met her, but
trying to take advantage of her was often a career-killing mistake. Lizbeth had
seen her in action often enough. After all, she was Lizbeth's ex, and Lizbeth
knew all her tricks.
Chapter
Twelve
Diandra woke from a night of uneasy sleep. She saw lit
tapered candles and statuettes down every corner of her home, and an eerie
voice kept whispering, "I will protect you if you worship me," in
first a male voice and then a female. Towards the end they became one voice, a
strange mix of male and female, saying, "We will protect you if you
worship us," in a low whisper. She awoke from the dream several times,
only to return to it once she was deeply asleep once more.
She stumbled downstairs to find RaeLynn already hard at play
on the parlor floor, a new teddy bear keeping her company. She looked up,
smiled at her mother, and then returned to an unending babble of baby speak
with the new toy. She bent down to press a gentle kiss to the petal-soft cheek
before heading towards the kitchen in search of coffee. The smell of food
coming from the dining room changed her course.
She found Adrian sitting at the dining room table, sipping
at a steaming mug of coffee. A quick sniff brought the sweet scent of sugar and
vanilla creamer wafting her way. A second place setting was sitting at her
usual spot at the table. Her coffee mug was empty, but he hurried to his feet
to fill it with the hot brew. He knew she took it black, so he handed it to her
without adding anything to the mug. She mumbled her thanks, the best she could
do before coffee, and he headed towards the kitchen, returning in a few moments
with a platter of scrambled eggs, limp bacon, and waffles.
Diandra raised an eyebrow in surprise when he set the plate
before her. "We didn't have any waffles in the house," she stated
simply.
"No, we didn't, but I brought a waffle iron when I
moved in, and you had all the ingredients to make waffles,"
for now she'd have to sit on what she knew. It pissed her off beyond belief to
think that she'd be interviewing drug dealers for no reason, spinning her
wheels and getting nowhere while Carson sat safe and sound and continued his
games. Life was a bitch, but never more so than it was today. She'd go through
the motions, and the cases would go cold.
There had to be some way to catch this bastard. She
considered leaving an anonymous letter, or even a phone call, but there were
tons of those a week. Some were taken seriously and investigated, but they
nearly always found the one who wrote the note or made the call, too. The rest
were disregarded as lunacy, and with her luck she'd get caught and be in
serious trouble. She didn't know what she could do. Maybe Diandra would have
some ideas. Or maybe Eamon would have a suggestion. Hell, at this point she'd
confide in Adrian and pray he had some freaking clue of what to do. Otherwise
she predicted a clusterfuck of epic proportions. Some days she really hated her
job. She banged her head down onto her desk and prayed for inspiration.
Inspiration struck even as she prepared to head out for the
day. She grabbed a sticky note off of the pile on her desk and jotted down a
note to pick up a burn phone. Diandra had set her up with a joint account, but
she still had a separate account that her paychecks went into. She knew just
the cut-throat, eager reporter to submit the call to.
Rena Lakehurst was tall at 5'10" and used her height to
cut men down to size. She often paired the height with five inch stilettos that
showed her legs to the best advantage. She had auburn hair that curled under at
the ends, barely brushing her shoulders, and sharp green eyes that were a
lovely shade she'd never seen on anyone else. Her breasts were large and seemed
out of place on her trim body. Men often underestimated her to their detriment
and her amusement. She would be the perfect person to pass the information on
to- anonymously, of course.
She may seem like a sweet woman when you first met her, but
trying to take advantage of her was often a career-killing mistake. Lizbeth had
seen her in action often enough. After all, she was Lizbeth's ex, and Lizbeth
knew all her tricks.
Chapter
Twelve
Diandra woke from a night of uneasy sleep. She saw lit
tapered candles and statuettes down every corner of her home, and an eerie
voice kept whispering, "I will protect you if you worship me," in
first a male voice and then a female. Towards the end they became one voice, a
strange mix of male and female, saying, "We will protect you if you
worship us," in a low whisper. She awoke from the dream several times,
only to return to it once she was deeply asleep once more.
She stumbled downstairs to find RaeLynn already hard at play
on the parlor floor, a new teddy bear keeping her company. She looked up,
smiled at her mother, and then returned to an unending babble of baby speak
with the new toy. She bent down to press a gentle kiss to the petal-soft cheek
before heading towards the kitchen in search of coffee. The smell of food
coming from the dining room changed her course.
She found Adrian sitting at the dining room table, sipping
at a steaming mug of coffee. A quick sniff brought the sweet scent of sugar and
vanilla creamer wafting her way. A second place setting was sitting at her
usual spot at the table. Her coffee mug was empty, but he hurried to his feet
to fill it with the hot brew. He knew she took it black, so he handed it to her
without adding anything to the mug. She mumbled her thanks, the best she could
do before coffee, and he headed towards the kitchen, returning in a few moments
with a platter of scrambled eggs, limp bacon, and waffles.
Diandra raised an eyebrow in surprise when he set the plate
before her. "We didn't have any waffles in the house," she stated
simply.
"No, we didn't, but I brought a waffle iron when I
moved in, and you had all the ingredients to make waffles,"
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