Dying To Play. Debra Webb

see that they got solved. She needed more Maalox. More time, and a frigging crystal ball.

      At least, she considered, the day surely couldn’t get any worse.

      

      Taking a deep, bolstering breath, Elaine clasped the door-knob, gave it a swift twist and pushed her way into the large, perpetually cluttered office. She didn’t bother to close the door behind her. Why feed the rumor mill? She marched straight up to the boss’s desk and produced a wide professional smile.

      “Good morning, sir.”

      Chief John Dugan glanced up from the papers he was riffling. “Have a seat, Jentzen. I’ll be right with you.”

      That perfect blue sky she’d admired this morning served as a backdrop behind him through the wall of windows. His office had an amazing view, one of the best in the city. At night the city lights were awesome. She knew firsthand. Another twinge of regret needled her. God, if she didn’t know better she’d swear she was premenstrual.

      Putting all personal worries aside, she sat down, dropped her shoulder bag to the floor, crossed her legs and relaxed into her chair. She mentally reviewed what she’d noted at the crime scene that morning. Then reviewed it again in an effort to keep her mind from wandering.

      It didn’t work.

      Despite her most gallant attempt, her gaze followed the chief’s every move. The slow, methodical shuffling of his strong hands. The determined set of his shoulders. He was tall and quite attractive for a man closer to fifty than forty. He wore his graying hair cropped short. Smile lines bracketed his eyes and mouth but didn’t detract from his good looks. He was a solid, good man. Inside and out.

      That was what had first attracted her to him.

      As a new detective assigned to his division, the only female at the time, John had taken her under his wing. He’d treated her as an equal and made sure she’d learned her lessons well. The affair had been an accident.

      Neither of them had intended for it to happen. John was newly divorced, she was plain lonely. All work and no play had sent her social life on a crash-and-burn course. Falling into a relationship with John had been so easy…too easy. For an entire year they’d stolen forbidden hours every chance they got, had great sex and generally enjoyed each other’s company. But that was the extent of it. Neither of them had visions of a future together. It had been about safe, convenient sex.

      Six months ago, though, when she’d gotten her promotion, Elaine had ended the relationship. She’d felt it was wrong under present circumstances. Truth be told, she’d felt more than a little uncomfortable for a while before that. John had sworn he’d recommended her for the promotion based on merit, but she couldn’t dispel the niggling little doubt that their personal relationship had somehow played into his decision.

      She knew she was the best person for the job…that was a cold, hard fact. She worked harder than anyone else in the division, had from the beginning. Her very first case, kidnapping and murder involving four Atlanta children, was proof of her single-minded focus. Breaking that case had been a huge boost to her fledgling career. She’d maintained a collar record to match her ambition ever since. She was a natural at organizing ops…a born leader, John called her. But still, she was the youngest detective in the division, seniority- and age-wise. Henshaw had been the first to publicly show his support of her selection. But others, Flatt in particular, had not liked it one bit. He had even gone so far as to make little accusing remarks when he had known she would overhear.

      John had told her to ignore the rumbles. It would pass, he’d assured her. And it had, for the most part. Flatt and a couple of others were still a little PO’ed about being passed over, but she could deal with them.

      Still, at moments like this she wondered.

      “So.” John settled back into the leather chair behind his desk and focused his full attention on her. “Does it look like the bank case could be connected to the beauty salon murders?”

      “There are some similarities,” she admitted. “But it’s still too early to tell. We may discover that Matthews had a beef with Tate.” She shrugged. “Or even that he slipped over the edge for some reason. Who knows? Maybe the bank turned him or one of his clients down for a loan.”

      John considered her words for a moment. “If there’s even a remote possibility that there’s some sort of shared manipulation or influence playing into this, I want you to follow it as far as you can. I don’t want another multiple homicide scene next week. The papers are going to have a field day with this. We’ll be reading about it every step of the way.”

      Elaine nodded. John had to deal with the uppity-ups on these kinds of high-profile cases. The mayor would not be a happy camper if this happened a third time. Of course, all good detectives could see into the future. Determining if the two crimes were connected and preventing another one should be a piece of cake in the mayor’s opinion. It truly amazed her that the man had gotten elected.

      

      “We’ll have to keep close reins on this one,” John reiterated, in case she didn’t get it the first time. “The mayor doesn’t want any leaks. We need to keep a lid on every aspect of this investigation.”

      “I’ll do my best.”

      John smiled at her. The same kind of smile that had once made her pulse react, now only flooded her with asexual feelings of affection. She wondered briefly if she’d forgone birth control during their relationship, would she have gotten pregnant? Had it already been too late then? How would he have taken that kind of complication? How would she have dealt with it? She almost sighed aloud, but caught herself. Had that whole year been another waste? If she’d tried harder, could it have been more? God, she really was a mess. She didn’t have the time or the option, careerwise, to try harder. Not then, not now.

      “I know you’ll do your best,” he said, dragging her focus back to the conversation. “There’s just one glitch.”

      She tensed, a warning registering. “What kind of glitch?”

      He exhaled a frustrated puff of air, clearly dreading what he was about to say. “You know this one is Federal jurisdiction.”

      “Yeah.” She shrugged. “If they want lead, they’re welcome to it.” She sure as hell wasn’t going to fight for this one. It was a no-win situation. Then again, the last thing she wanted was to be at the beck and call of a couple of arrogant Federal agents who thought they were God’s gift to women, if not mankind as a whole.

      John erased all emotion from his expression right before her eyes. Uh-oh. Whenever he went deadpan, things deteriorated rapidly for the detective sitting on the opposite side of his desk.

      “They don’t want lead,” he said quietly, too quietly. “In fact, they’ve asked for you by name.”

      The air in the room suddenly thickened with the uncomfortable feel of a setup. Elaine arched an eyebrow as much in surprise as skepticism. “For me? Why would they want me?”

      “Apparently they’ve heard of your stellar reputation.” A hint of a grin quirked his lips. “If they want the best, they’ve asked for the right detective.”

      Irritation nagged at her despite the compliment. “Stop stonewalling and tell me about the glitch.” There was more to this, a lot more. She had a bad feeling. He was doling out too much good up front.

      The chief took his time before answering. “Apparently there is some aspect of this case that caught the Bureau’s attention. They believe these two murder sprees are definitely connected. One of their agents thinks he may know who’s behind them.”

      That was just too surreal. “We don’t even have any tangible evidence,” Elaine argued. “How the hell could he know that? It’s not like there’s even been the first real clue.”

      John flared his hands, obviously as much at a loss as she was. “Beats me. But if the FBI director trusts this guy enough to follow his instincts, I’m certainly