Count to Ten (32 page)

She leaned a hip against his desk and drew in a breath, smelling his aftershave. His face was smooth around the goatee, which had tickled her inner thighs. She let out the breath. “So
that’s
why I have a partner?” she murmured, loud enough for only his ears.

His fingers paused on the keyboard, then resumed their steady pace. “Mia,” he warned under his breath, through his teeth.

“Sorry. You’re right.” She shook herself and paid attention to the screen. He knew his way around law enforcement databases. She’d never thought of fire marshals using them. She was learning a great deal about fire marshals lately. “What did you find?”

He tapped a few keys and read the screen with interest. “Secrest is an ex-cop.”

“Lots of cops go into private security after they retire. Doesn’t surprise me.”

“No, but this does. He quit and went to work for Bixby four years ago, just two years before he would have retired from CPD.”

“Lost out on a hefty pension,” Mia murmured. “I wonder what happened.”

“Maybe you can talk to some of his old friends and find out.”

“I’ll ask Spinnelli to do it. He can weasel info I can’t. What about Thompson?”

“Our helpful school psychologist,” he muttered. “No record in this database.” He Googled him. “Thompson’s a PhD from Yale.”

Mia frowned. “What’s a Yale boy doing in juvie? The pay’s gotta suck.”

“He’s authored a book.
Rehabilitation of Juvenile -Offenders.
I checked Manny’s Hope Center file. He’s been in therapy with Thompson for some time.”

She lifted her brows. “I wonder if Dr. Thompson’s planning a sequel.”

“It would explain his temper tantrum when we took Manny in. Can we get into his files?”

“Probably not based on what we’ve got, but we can ask. So what about Bixby?”

He kept his eyes on the screen. “He’s authored a few articles on education.”

“Two of the articles are on using education in rehabilitation,” she noted.

“Again, I wonder why he’s not going for a higher salary.”

“We’ll find out. Check on Atticus Lucas, the art teacher.”

He did. “He’s had exhibits before.” He scanned the page then looked up at her. “Prestigious galleries. Again, I wonder why he’s there.”

“What about Hope? It’ll be a nonprofit, right? Do you know how to check finances?”

The look he shot her was overly patient. “Yes, Mia.”

The look she shot him was dry. “Then see if you can find anything while I check my voice mail. Then we should get going. All the teachers should be there by nine.”

A newspaper landed on her desk. Murphy stood glaring. “What?” she said.

“You’re in the news again, glamour girl. Page three of the
Bulletin,
bottom right.”

For a moment she wondered if Carmichael had already reported on her wild night with Reed, but dismissed it. Press time was one a.m. at the
Bulletin.
Reed didn’t leave until almost four. Her eyes dropped down and she felt the blood drain from her face.

It was worse. Way worse. Temper spilled over and she fought the pagan urge to wrap her hands around -Carmichael’s neck. “I want to...”
Kill that woman.
She bit the words off and looked up at Solliday, whose eyes were worried. -“Carmichael. She found out about Getts shooting at us on Tuesday night. She printed my home address. First -Wheaton, now this. I have no privacy anymore. You know, I really hate reporters.”

“What about Wheaton?” Murphy asked and she sighed.

“She noticed the mystery blonde yesterday. She tried to use it to get Reed to give her confidential information on this case.”

“But you didn’t, Solliday.” Murphy’s fingers drummed a beat on her desk.

Reed flicked him an impatient glance. “Of course I didn’t.” He picked up the paper calmly, but his jaw was clenched and his eyes flashed fury. “She needs to be stopped.”

“She’ll hide behind the First Amendment.” Mia ran her tongue over her teeth. “She’s off my Christmas list, Reed. I don’t care if she did give me DuPree on a platter.”

His eyes still flickered with anger. “That’ll fix her for sure. Mia, you can’t stay at your place. Every scum-sucking toad in town will be hanging out on your doorstep.”

She grinned. “Scum-sucking toad? I think I’m starting to rub off on you, Solliday.”

“I’m serious, Mia. You have to find a new apartment.”

“He’s right, Mia,” Murphy added. “It’s like she painted a bull’s-eye on your ass.”

“I’m not moving and I’m not talking about this right now. I’m going to listen to my voice mail then do my fucking job.” She grabbed her phone, ignoring the two glowering men. Then frowned. “I got a message from Dr. Thompson last night.”

“Which one of the Axis of Evil is he again?” Murphy asked, still mad at her.

“The school psychologist. He said he needed to see us. That it was urgent.”

“I don’t trust a word that comes out of his mouth,” Reed gritted.

“Me either. But let’s go find out what he wants.”

Thursday, November 30, 9:15 A.M.

“Solliday and Mitchell here to see Dr. Bixby and -Dr. Thompson,” Reed said.

Marcy’s mouth tightened. “I’ll call Dr. Bixby.”

Secrest was with Bixby, but Thompson was not. Neither knew about Brooke Adler’s death, Reed decided. Or if they did, they were damn good at hiding it.

“Can I help you?” Bixby asked formally.

“We asked for Dr. Thompson as well,” Mia told him. “We’d like to speak to him.”

Bixby frowned. “You can’t. He’s not here.”

Reed and Mia exchanged a glance. “Not here?” Reed asked. “Then where is he?”

“We don’t know. He’s usually at his desk by eight, but he hasn’t come in yet.”

Reed lifted a brow. “Does he normally just not show up?”

Bixby looked irritated. “No, he always calls.”

“Did anybody call his house?” Mia asked.

Secrest nodded once. “I did. Nobody answered. Why do you need to see him?”

“He called me. I thought it might have something to do with Brooke Adler’s murder.”

For a moment, neither man moved. Then Secrest’s jaw cocked to one side and Bixby’s face drained of color. Behind him, Reed heard Marcy gasp.

“When?” Secrest demanded. “How?”

“Early this morning,” Reed said. “She died of injuries sustained in a fire.”

Bixby looked down, still dazed. “I can’t believe this.”

Mia lifted her chin. “I can. I was there when she died.”

“Did she say anything before she died?”

Mia smiled darkly. “She said a great many things, Dr. Bixby. For the record, where were you this morning between three and four?”

Bixby blustered. “I can’t possibly be a suspect.”

Secrest sighed. “Just answer her question, Bix.”

Bixby narrowed his eyes. “At home. Asleep. With my wife. She’ll confirm it.”

“I’m sure she will,” Mia said blandly. “And Mr. Secrest? Same question.”

“At home. Asleep. With my wife,” he answered with the barest hint of sarcasm.

“She’ll confirm it.” Amused, Mia smiled. “Thank you, gentlemen.”

Reed nearly smiled. She was taunting the men and enjoying it. “We’ll need to talk to your staff and see their personnel files. If you could prepare a room for us to use?”

“Marcy,” Bixby snapped. “Set up conference room two. I’ll be in my office.”

Secrest just leveled them a long bitter look before following his boss.

“I wonder if we’ll hear paper shredders in the next few minutes,” Reed murmured.

“Patrick said we didn’t have enough for a warrant for all their files,” Mia murmured back, disgusted. “But maybe we’ll have enough for Thompson’s if we can show he’s skipped town. Let’s make some calls.” She frowned at Marcy. “Outside I think.”

Outside, she pulled her phone from her pocket. “I’ll call Patrick and see if we can get a warrant for Thompson’s computer and file cabinets both here and at home. Can you call Spinnelli? Ask him to send a unit to Thompson’s house. Find out if he’s there.”

“I’ll also ask for units to cover the exits here. I don’t want anybody slipping away.”

They made their calls, then pocketed their phones at the exact same time. Mia sucked in one cheek. “Soon you’re going to be finishing my sentences.”

Something inside him cringed, uncomfortable at the implied intimacy. The last person who’d finished his sentences was Christine. “You get a warrant?” he asked brusquely and she blinked. Instantly he felt guilty. There
was
intimacy between them now, at least the physical kind. He hoped he’d read her right and she was a no-strings woman. If not, she’d be hurt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

She shrugged it off. “Patrick’s going to try for a warrant. You get Spinnelli?”

“I did. He’ll call us when the cruiser gets to Thompson’s house. He also said Jack’s on the way with a fingerprint tech and somebody to sweep for bugs.”

She frowned. “I’ve been agonizing over whether to take the staff downtown, but that would take forever. I want to talk to these people now.”

“Then we sweep and see.” He made himself smile. “Ready to go kick some Axis?”

She laughed and the sound eased him. “Let’s go.”

Secrest was waiting to escort them, a stack of files in his hands. It was the room Bixby had had them wait in -yesterday. It seemed like a million years ago.

“Please have the staff come to us one at a time,” Mia said when they’d settled in on the hard wooden chairs. “We want to talk to the people first who knew Miss Adler best.”

Secrest dropped the stack on the table. “Yes,
ma’am.
”

Reed winced when Secrest walked away. “Ouch.”

“Excuse me.” A man stood at the door, looking very, very pale. “You’re the detectives.” He cast a glance over his shoulder. “I need to talk to you.”

Mia looked up at Reed. “Should we wait for the sweeper?” she murmured.

“He looks nervous. You might not want to give him time to back away. Besides, if Bixby really wanted he could listen at the door even if the place is clean.”

“You’re right. We’ll keep the questions straightforward, then take anybody that sounds interesting downtown.” She nodded at the man. “I’m Detective Mitchell and this is Lieutenant Solliday. Please come in and sit down.”

“I’m Devin White.” He slid the textbook he carried to the table and sat down, his eyes shocked and grieved. “I just heard. I can’t believe it. I saw on the news that there had been a fire, but I never dreamed it could be Brooke.”

“We’re very sorry for your loss, sir,” Mia said gently. “We need to ask a few questions.”

He moved his hands nervously and glanced at the door. “Yes, yes of course.”

Reed placed his recorder on the table. “You knew Miss Adler well?”

“No. She hadn’t been here that long. I’d just gotten to know her in the last week. I mean, I’d seen her around the campus, but this week we talked for the first time.”

“How long have you taught here, Mr. White?” Mia asked.

“Five months. Since the beginning of last summer.”

“When did you see her last?”

“Last night.” He let out a sigh, then leaned forward. “Look, Detective, I have to say I’m nervous to even be talking to you at this point.” He said it under his breath.

“Why?”

“Because Brooke talked to you and now she’s dead,” he snapped. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Brooke had an argument with Bixby yesterday. I only heard the end of it, but he threatened to fire her. He demanded Brooke resign. She threatened to go to the press. She was so upset, worrying that she’d go bankrupt. I took her to Flannagan’s to calm her down. It’s a bar where a lot of us go to hang out after work.”

“When did you say good night?” Reed asked.

“Seven thirty,” he said, his voice at normal volume. “Brooke had a beer too many, so I drove her home and walked her up. Then I went straight home. Brooke said she’d have a friend drive her to work and I could take her to -Flannagan’s after school to get her car. But she didn’t show up this -morning. I thought maybe she’d folded and resigned.”

The killer hadn’t taken Brooke’s car after all, so there would be no evidence that might point to his identity should they find it. “Flannagan’s is close?” Reed asked.

“About a mile from here. She was so worried about that damn book she’d assigned.
Lord of the Flies.
She worried she’d pushed Manny into setting fires. He scared her.”

“Was she afraid of anybody else?” Reed asked and White shrugged.

“Jeff DeMartino gave her the shivers, but he gives everybody the shivers.”

Mia wrote down his name. “He’s a student?”

“Yeah. Smart kid. Big trouble. Julian said he was a sociopath.”

“Anybody else?” she asked.

“Bart Secrest made her nervous. But that’s all.”

“One more question.” Mia caught the man’s eyes and held them. “Where were you last night between three and four a.m.?”