“You ready for some lunch, Jordan?” Kimi asked.
When the kid nodded quietly, Jacob followed the social worker’s lead, choosing not to acknowledge the tears. “Thanks again, Jordan. You’ve been a great help.” He took a step forward and held out his hand for a last handshake, which Jordan gave quickly, as if embarrassed. “If it’s okay with you, Lola and I would like to come and hang out sometime? Maybe go and get some ice-cream?”
Jordan glanced up at Lola with big, trusting eyes and she nodded easily. “I’d like that.”
“Me too,” Jordan said before dropping her hand and leading them all out the door.
Chapter 14
Jacob was seething and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Jordan Holt had given them a pivotal piece of information, one so big that he had called Doug Brennan the moment he and Lola had gotten back into the car.
Already, Doug had sent Burns and Williams to speak to the owner of Bruno’s Bagels to see if he could pry any more information about the women’s group that met there every Saturday at nine. He hoped the café’s staff knew something, anything, that would help them close the space between the dead women before next Saturday. If not, they’d have to sit tight for another week and show up at the café in the hopes that the remaining women were still meeting and if—because it was a big if—they were, that they could tell them anything at all that might help.
His mind kept flashing back to Lola and Jordan crying together on the bright blue carpet and the more it did, the angrier he became. He knew he wasn’t solely upset about Jordan Holt, although seeing the kid had ripped a giant hole in his heart. No. As much as he hated the fact that Jordan had been orphaned, he knew that the boy was young, smart, and healthy, and as terrible as it was to admit, his chances of being adopted fairly quickly exceeded those of other children under Child Services’ care. So, he wondered, other than emotionally destroying a child by interrogating him about his dead mother, why was he so mad?
Maybe it was the fact that three women had been strangled to death, a child had been orphaned in the process, and the woman that he very well might be infatuated with was in imminent danger. If he could just keep his shit together for a little longer where Lola was concerned, he’d be able to figure it out. He was a good cop, he just needed to focus.
He was furious with himself because, after a full week of dedicating department resources and all his time to the case, he had nothing.
No suspects.
No witnesses.
No leads.
Nothing.
He was up the creek without a paddle, and the stakes were higher than they’d ever been.
“Stop, Jake.” Lola turned to look at him from the driver’s seat of her car. Her eyes were sad but calm and sincere. “I can hear you berating yourself from here,” she said. “You should be happy. You discovered a vital piece of information today. Now you know where the women met.”
He sighed and, remembering the way Jordan Holt had hugged Lola goodbye, chose to keep his eyes fixed on the road when he replied, “I would have thought I’d be further along by now.” He turned his head away. “I’m too distracted.”
“What?”
He flinched at her tone, instantly regretting the fact that he’d said anything at all. The words were meant more for himself, more as a warning that he needed to get his act together. And quickly. “I said that I’m too distracted. I’m not focused enough.”
She tapped her hands on the steering wheel in an irregular beat that screamed of irritation. Funny, that he knew how she expressed every single emotion through her hands. If her current tap, tap, tap was any indication, she was not happy.
Fuuuuck.
“Might I remind you that you were the one who suggested that I needed LAPD protection. And that you were the one who moved into my apartment…”
He felt his pulse race in his chest, felt a small shred of annoyance that she could so easily blame it on him. The way that she glared at him out of the corner of her eye made his entire body tense for the fight. This was a routine that he knew well.
He wanted to remind her that he hadn’t been the one undressing in front of her with big, take-me-now eyes while standing only one foot away. He wanted to tell her that he had been the one who’d put the brakes on the first time they’d kissed. Didn’t he deserve any credit for the herculean effort that had taken? God, he’d stopped when all he’d wanted to do was bury himself inside her until she came, screaming his name.
“I don’t want to play the blame game,” he said instead as she pulled into her driveway and stopped the car with one hard jolt that sent him slamming forward two inches before his seat belt yanked him back. “I’m not mad that I have feelings for you,” he clarified, sensing that he was on thin ice, “just that I can’t seem to think straight past them. I’m mad at myself.” Unbuckling from his seat belt, he stepped out of the car, fully expecting her to follow.
When she didn’t, he leaned down and glanced in the window. Oh, no. She stared straight ahead, both hands locked on the wheel. With a small flick of her head to dislodge the curl that had fallen into her face, she put the car in reverse and started backing out of the parking lot. “Lola?” he said, loudly. “Can we just talk about this? Please?”
She shook her head, and he felt his heart sink just a little when she kept backing up. What the fuck is going on? He was in a fight with a woman that he hadn’t even gone on a date with yet, watching her drive away as if she were dragging his heart behind on the asphalt. She turned a hard left, backed onto the main road without looking back.
Jacob saw red.
What the fuck was she doing? He was supposed to be looking after her and she was just driving off, galivanting around as if she didn’t have a care in the world, let alone a potential serial killer to look out for. “Fuck!”
Bile rose in the back of his throat. They had finally figured out how she slotted in, and the thought of her involvement in the case had him running both of his hands through his hair, gripping them there for a second before exhaling on a long breath. He had to find her. If something happened to her, he didn’t know what he would do.
“I’d try Sarah’s place first.”
The voice, spoken loudly from his right, made him turn. Matthew Carmon—he’d run him through the system—stood at the top of the stairs, a basket of laundry in his hands. His square jaw was not turned up in a smirk, as Jacob would have expected. Instead, he looked at him with a steady gaze that displayed more understanding than he probably deserved.
“Would you happen to have an address?” he asked. As much as he hated the help, he needed to find her.
They had to talk about whatever was happening between them before things spiraled for no reason. He had to tell her that he was mad, frustrated, and losing sleep. God, he was losing all normal human function.
“I don’t. Sorry.” Matthew shrugged. “Never really thought about asking, you know?”
“What about a last name?”
“Agh,” Matt squinted into the distance, past Jacob’s head. “I’ve only met her a few times, but I remember that it’s Sarah Boyle. You know, like the Irish gangster? Because she has all that red hair?”