Stone's Mistake Read online

“Yeah. Agreed. But Andrea had taken the week off for vacation, so really, it’s our luck she was found so soon.”

  Morgan hummed. “Whoever this is, they are meticulous. There’s signs there is a second person here, but everything is so domestic it could be the killer or it could not be. There’s hardly anything missing from the house, only necessities. If it is one in the same, then whoever is killing these women is doing it for the basics—shelter, food, heat. In the middle of a snow storm this weekend? I have no doubt the killer needed a roof over their head to wait it out.”

  Fiona cocked her head to the side and nodded. “I was thinking the same.”

  Morgan headed for the door, opening it and walking outside. She pulled off her booties and gloves, shoving them into her pocket along with her hands. Wexford locked up the house and turned to Morgan.

  “Who took the car? You are the suspect?”

  “We have it. Took hours to dig it out.”

  Morgan snorted. “Figures.”

  “Thanks for coming.”

  “Any time, but I gotta tell you, if there’s a third one, we’re working together fully. If there’s a third one out of state, it’s mine completely.”

  Fiona grinned. “I’d expect nothing less.”

  Morgan’s heart rose to her throat again. She coughed to clear it, sputtering as she tried to find words. Business she could talk, but she wanted so much more than business with Fiona. Wexford took a step closer, her hand on Morgan’s arm.

  “You okay?”

  “Uh, yeah. Just a frog. It’s been a long week.”

  “Where’d you go? You said you were driving back yesterday.”

  “Had an operation to do.”

  Wexford’s eyes widened. “Were you in Kansas? Was that your case?”

  Morgan’s eyebrow lifted. She didn’t answer as Fiona stepped even closer. Her heart thudded hard. She didn’t know what possessed her, but leaning to her side, Morgan pressed her mouth to Fiona’s.

  The kiss didn’t last long. Morgan jumped back, her eyes wide and fear settling in the pit of her stomach. Looking wildly to her car, Morgan begged for a phone call, a distraction, something, anything.

  “That was…I don’t…Uh…” Morgan bit her lip. “I don’t know why I did that. I should…I should go.”

  Booking it for her car, Morgan escaped and didn’t wait for a response from Wexford. She didn’t want to hear or see the reaction. Putting her car in drive, Morgan headed to the bureau, ready to dig in to some old case files and see if she could find another one that matched the two here.

  ###

  Morgan’s head took a beating as she stared at her computer screen for the fifth hour in a row. She’d finished up her report of Wichita and had sent it in to Taylor. However, since returning from her little excursion with Wexford, she was doing her damnedest not to think about it.

  Sighing, she rubbed her neck, her muscles tense from leaning over the desk and staring at a screen, not to mention the horrible mistake she’d made hours before as they were leaving the crime scene. Who kisses someone at a crime scene? Who kisses someone they don’t even know is single? It was unbelievably unprofessional of her to do that.

  Cursing, Morgan doubled her efforts on the computer. She needed one more case to take it over from Chicago Police and make it hers. That would not be a fun conversation with Wexford. In fact, it might be the most awkward conversation she’d ever had considering that morning, but after seeing the crime scene, Morgan was convinced whoever had done these two murders had acted before.

  Clearing her throat, she stretched her back, thankful when Pax slipped her a refill on her coffee. She grinned at him and shrugged, turning in her chair. “Man after my own heart. You better be careful, brother. I’ve got some mean claws.”

  “I think Mel might have something to say about that.”

  Morgan chuckled as she took a sip of the piping hot liquid. “She might, or she might not.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  Grinning broadly, Morgan flushed. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Stone…”

  She laughed out loud. “It’s nothing. You find any cases that might match up? I’d really like to take over the investigation if we can.”

  Pax shook his head. “Not yet. I’ve mostly been going over Reilly’s interview.”

  “Oh…that was an interesting one.” Morgan set her coffee down and focused on the computer.

  “It was. You did an excellent job getting what we needed.”

  “Aww, thanks, big guy.”

  He glared. She grinned again. Teasing him was far too much fun, and she never wanted to miss an opportunity to do it. Morgan clicked at her screen, closing down the current cold case she’d been staring at and opened the next one.

  “Oh, now this is interesting.” Shifting in her seat, Morgan moved closer to the screen and pulled up her reading glasses she was supposed to wear but refused half the time.

  “What is it?” Pax leaned over her shoulder.

  “Murder, mayhem, lust. What else?”

  “Shove it. What’s the case?”

  “Woman murdered in her apartment. Very similar to these other two. She was left on the couch, though, not the bed. Strangled after sex or during—that’s unclear in any of the cases.”

  “Yeah, get on with it.”

  Morgan shot him a glare. “Shush, and I will.”

  Pax wisely kept his trap shut.

  “Stabbed once in the heart.”

  “That’s different.”

  “It is, but is how many times they’ve been stabbed really relevant or more the fact they’ve been stabbed after being strangled?”

  “Point taken.”

  Morgan returned to the screen. “I think this might be it.”

  “Why?”

  “Knife is missing. Credit cards missing. Witness—who was the woman’s neighbor—said she’d had a girlfriend move in with her a week or two before and had never seen her before.”

  “Girlfriend?” Pax sneered.

  “Fuck off. I don’t want to hear any damn comments about lesbians otherwise I will send you straight to Taylor’s office for sensitivity training…again.”

  Pax put his hands up. “I haven’t said a word.”

  “It was your tone.”

  “You said the first victim here had sex with a woman prior to her murder.”

  “Yes.”

  “So that’s a pretty good connection, and if it really is because these women are gay, then it’s a hate crime.”

  Morgan swiveled her chair so she could look at him, her hand not moving from the mouse. She cocked her head to the side. “Never thought I’d hear you start that as the conversation.”

  He smirked. “Old dogs can learn new tricks too, you know.”

  “Mmmhmm,” Morgan answered, unconvinced. “If this killer is targeting lesbian women, then yes, it’s a hate crime as well as a serial murder. If this is the third case…well, the first, actually.”

  “Really?”

  “Happened over three months ago. They have no new leads according to this report, but that doesn’t mean much. Filed reports are so behind sometimes.”

  Morgan straightened her back and printed out the file. Laying the papers out, she stared down at them as she stood.

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t know…something feels different about this one.”

  “What about it?”

  “I don’t know, Pax. That’s why I just said I don’t know.” Morgan rolled her eyes. “I think it’s enough to take over the investigation, especially after we call the detectives in…oh…Grand Rapids, Michigan. Yup, this will be ours.”

  “I see that glint in your eye.”

  Morgan turned to him, bouncing in her boots. “This could be the case of the decade, you know.”

  “It could be. Or it could be a dud. Why don’t you focus on finding the killer first?”

  Morgan snorted. “Always the party pooper. Want to go with me to talk to Taylor
after we call Grand Rapids?”

  “Absolutely.” He grinned. “We need something new to entertain us for a bit.”

  She picked up the phone sitting on her desktop and dialed the number for the detective on the case.

  ###

  It had been three days since she’d seen or heard from Wexford. Fiona had called her—once—and she’d promptly sent the message to her voicemail. Wexford had wanted to know if she had any updated information on a profile yet. Morgan had finished her profile, but she’d had far more information than Wexford did, unless Fiona had managed to find the case in Grand Rapids, which she had her doubts. Drawing in a deep breath, Morgan parked her car outside Wexford’s building and let out a breath. Pax was just behind her in his government issued SUV. He was out of the car first, shivering in the cold as he came around to her car.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “No,” Morgan confessed. She looked warily at the building, and Pax narrowed his gaze at her.

  “Why? You’ve never been one to avoid a case.”

  Sighing, Morgan put her head against her headrest and turned off her vehicle. “It’s not the case I’m avoiding.”

  “What?”

  Ignoring him, Morgan got out of her car, locked it, and walked toward the building.

  “You can’t just say that and walk away.”

  But she could, and she knew it. Morgan plowed through the front doors, checked in with the front desk, and went to the elevator. She hit the button for the floor she knew Wexford’s office was on. What would she even say to Fiona? She couldn’t fathom all that coming out in front of Pax. Sure they’d been best friends for twenty years, and as much as he loved his wife, she knew Mel was not as straight as Pax thought she was. They never talked about it, and thus Morgan never talked about herself. Pax only heard stories of her dates with men, she gladly skipped over dates with anyone else: queer, lesbian, trans, non-binary, or otherwise without labels. And there had been a lot of dates.

  Drawing in a deep breath, Morgan wished the elevator would drop to the basement and swallow her. Normally when she went into a relationship, she had a plan. It was typically a one month stint, have some fun, and come out it the other side with some entertainment and no broken hearts in sight. Fiona was different. She’d had a crush on her from a distance for the better part of a year. Having the chance to work with her had only intensified her feelings. After her divorce, there was no way she was going to enter into a relationship with another woman on the long term and certainly not a woman who was easily twenty years her junior.

  The elevator doors opened. Pax walked out in front of her and turned back with a questioning gaze when she didn’t move right away. Jerking to a start, Morgan stepped through the doors, her stomach twisting. She had to calm and control herself. She trained for things like this, trained to go into situations no one else would dare to dream of entering, and yet, here she was a mess of emotions because of one stupid and impulsive kiss.

  Pax grabbed her arm as the got to the door to the offices. He pulled her to the side, towering over her. “Okay, seriously, what is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing. Just drop it.” She growled and shifted around him.

  Wexford saw her immediately, her lips parting and her stare hardening. Morgan grimaced. Fiona knew why she was there. The FBI didn’t just show up in a lowly homicide detective’s office unannounced without good reason. Holding her breath, Morgan strolled to Wexford’s desk. Wexford stood up, her back rigid, and her cheekbones high and set with defensiveness.

  “Detective Wexford…” Morgan started.

  “Special Agent Stone, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  Holding the breath in her lungs, Morgan looked to Pax. “We found another case.”

  “You’re taking my case, you mean.”

  Inwardly cursing, Morgan shifted her weight to her left foot and attempted to soften the blow. “In essence, yes, we are taking over your investigation.”

  Wexford slammed her palm on her desk and leaned over, her nose close to Morgan’s as her anger permeated the room. “We’ll see about that.”

  She took off to the next office over. Morgan drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly as she turned to Pax and gave him a wan smile. “Well, that went better than I expected.”

  “Really?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “Yeah. I thought she might hit me.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Long story.” Morgan crossed her arms, indicating she didn’t want to talk about it. He took the hint and dropped the subject.

  They both stood in silence while they waited for Wexford to reappear from her captain’s office. Morgan could readily make out Wexford shouting and her supervisor attempting to calm her down. She knew when Wexford came back out of that room it was not going to be pleasant no matter what happened. Any chances she had at a relationship—which she had probably ruined days before—were certainly out the window now.

  Wexford came out and glared Morgan down. Morgan’s heart plummeted. Yup, there was no chance in hell they could even fathom a relationship. Wexford stomped over to her desk, pulled out a box and shoved papers into it, glaring at Morgan every time she looked up.

  Pax remained—thankfully—silent. Once Wexford finished, she shoved the box into Pax’s hands and stepped back. “There. You have everything I have.”

  “I would like to talk to you for a minute,” Morgan chanced. “In private, if we could.”

  “No.”

  “Please, it’ll only take a minute.”

  Snorting, Wexford spun on her heel and headed toward a conference room. Morgan shot Pax a glance, telling him to stay put. She followed Wexford, her head hanging toward the ground. As soon as they were in the room again, Morgan put her hands together in front of her so as not to piss Wexford off any more.

  “I’m sorry it happened this way, but you knew if we found another case it would become ours.”

  “Where’s the case?”

  “Grand Rapids.”

  Wexford’s lips thinned tight in anger. “That’s the only other case?”

  “For now. Look, I don’t want bad blood—”

  “Should have thought about that before the other day.”

  Morgan’s heart clenched. “I…I’m sorry about that. I don’t know what I was thinking. Well, I know that I wasn’t thinking is more like it. It was unprofessional and uncalled for.”

  Wexford let out a sigh. “What’s the profile you have? I’m assuming you’ve finished it out.”

  “Yes, I have. Woman, somewhere around twenty to thirty, not a lot of ties to home. Most likely abused as a kid by an older woman. She may be a lesbian, but that’s unclear. She targets older, single women, women in their forties to fifties. Women who are open to lesbian relationships, women who may reflect an image of her abuser.”

  “So this is a hate crime.”

  “It could be, but again, I’m not convinced she’s killing those in the community because they are in the community. I think it’s likely she’s a lesbian.”

  Wexford’s shoulders loosened, and she leaned against the conference table with her arms crossed. Her eyes locked on Morgan’s when she asked her next question. “Think she’s still in Chicago?”

  “No.”

  “Where’s she headed?”

  “Out of state would be my guess. She’s had two close calls here and needs to move again.”

  “What does she want?” Wexford put her chin in her hand. “What’s her motive?”

  “It’s as simple as shelter, food, and heat. She needs a place to stay, she uses the space until she has to leave, and then she moves on to the next place. She’s trying to find a home.”

  Rocking back, Wexford shook her head. “She could go after anyone.”

  “Yeah, she could, and she will.” Morgan stood still, not quite sure where their conversation was going, but at least Wexford wasn’t raging mad anymore. “About the other day, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
/>   Fiona’s gaze shot to the open door. Morgan swallowed, following her gaze and then looking back at Fiona.

  “I wanted to apologize.”

  “Don’t,” Fiona said. She stood and walked closer to Morgan. Carefully and subtly, Fiona reached out and grabbed Morgan’s fingers, squeezing. “It was unexpected but not unappreciated. Thank you.”

  Without another word, Fiona left the room. Morgan let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding and followed Wexford. It didn’t take her long to round up Pax and the box and head back out to their vehicles. She’d easily spend the next eight to ten hours going over all Wexford’s notes.

  Chapter Seven

  Lollie turned the heat down in the car as it sweltered. The roads cleared up decently in the last day or two, but there was still snow on the ground. The farther south she drove, the less of it she saw. She’d stopped a few times on her drive, trying to find some new fling that may hold her attention. Her break up with Andrea had been rough. She’d held out hope until the last minute that they’d be together.

  It had been a whirlwind of an almost perfect weekend. Sighing, she pulled into a coffee shop on the outskirts of St. Louis, hoping to juice up on caffeine. Parking and heading inside, Lollie waited in line at the counter. There were very beautiful women inside. The barista worked behind the counter at a break neck speed. Lollie must have come in during an unexpected rush hour or something. Glancing at her watch, she noted the time. It was early afternoon, but still, the line was unexpectedly long.

  The woman in front of her smiled as she watched Lollie check her watch again. “Are you going to be late somewhere? You can go ahead of me if you need to?”

  “Oh, no!” Lollie gave her a gorgeous grin. “I was just wondering why the line was so long at two in the afternoon. I didn’t think there would be that many people here.”

  “I know, right?” the woman smiled, a flush tinging her cheeks.

  Pleasure built in Lollie’s belly. Swallowing, Lollie extended her hand forward. “I’m Lollie, by the way. I just moved to town.”

  “Oh really? I’m Samantha. I’ve lived here my whole life. If you need any tips on where the best places to eat are, I’m your girl.”

  Lollie chuckled. “I’ll certainly take you up on that offer.”