“We don’t have days,” Zac ground out, clearly frustrated.
“The District Attorney of LA County is a woman.”
“God, Jake,” Zac countered, “it could be any lawyer. We’re grasping at straws!” He raked both his hands through thick, black hair that fell to the collar of his tee-shirt.
“I know.” Jacob paced back and forth on the hardwood floors, his sneakers barely making a sound. He knew that three pairs of eyes looked at him expectantly, but he had no idea what they were supposed to do now. Pulling out his phone, he said, “I have to update my team.”
Despite the time of night, Doug Brennan answered the phone after just one ring. “Jake, thank God you called. I was going to ring you but thought it may as well wait until morning. Didn’t want to ruin your night as well…”
“What is it?” Jacob felt his stomach clench uncomfortably at the captain’s tone and for some reason, he just knew. “Someone leaked the story?”
“We already have the Daily News camped outside and we’re expecting a full riot tomorrow. We’re organizing a press conference as we speak.”
“Fuck.”
Jacob held up a hand to silence Zac when he mouthed, ‘What?’
“Can you be here tomorrow at eleven in the morning? Considering you’ve been working overtime on this; we’d like you to answer any questions the press might have.”
Jacob bit back the groan he felt rising in his chest. He hated being in the public eye, hated having to answer the leading questions fronted by the vulture-like press. “Sure thing, Captain.”
“Thanks.” There was a brief pause, before Doug asked, “What were you calling me about?”
“We think the name that Veronica Tally gave the abusive husband of the woman in her anonymity group-”
“HAK?”
“Harvey Apollo Kent.”
“Who?”
“The original name of Harvey Dent from the Batman comics,” he said, trying to give the captain some mainstream, relatable information.
“Oh, the one whose face gets eaten away by the acid?” Doug asked, surprising him.
“Yeah, the district attorney.”
Doug was silent on the phone again and Jacob frowned when he heard the other policeman’s deep, quiet breathing. “Doug?”
“Yeah,” he cleared his throat. “I’m here.”
“So, I’m going to keep looking into the Kent character to see if I can find anything that might give us a clue. Veronica Tally must have used the name for a reason.” He paused when Doug didn’t object, then asked, “Have Burns and Williams come up with anything new since Monday?”
“No.”
“Alright, well, I’ll run with this for now. If nothing comes of it then at least we’ll have the anonymity meeting on Saturday.”
“Alright, Jake. See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah.” He hung up the phone, slipped it back into his pocket. “The media got wind of the serial killer on the loose. We’re expecting a shitstorm tomorrow. Brennan gave me detail at the press conference.”
“Shit. Sorry, man.”
“Yeah, me too.” He glanced up at Lola, suddenly exhausted. “I don’t think that there’s much more we can do tonight.” When she nodded, he asked, “Wanna go home?”
She smiled at him, her brown eyes wide with quiet worry. “I do.”
Turning to Zac, he asked, “Why don’t you come to the station tomorrow? We could use you on the ground when this dam breaks.”
For a moment, Zac looked like he might say yes, then he shook his head. “Nah. I’d rather be at home in my boxers.”
Jake nodded once, and consciously banked his disappointment. Volleying back and forth with Zac brought something back, something that he hadn’t realized he’d missed having in his life—a solid friend who had your back when everything went to shit. “Alright. We’ll check-in before we crash the anonymity group’s meeting on Saturday, then?”
Nodding to Sarah, he reached for Lola’s hand and, when she linked her fingers with his, walked with her from the room.
“I’m sorry about all of this, Jake,” she said as they walked down the long hallway. She sounded so tired.
“Sorry? You haven’t done anything wrong…”
“I just wish that there was some way I could help, you know? I feel so…useless. Helpless. I’m not used to being,” she waved her hands in the air, searching for the word, “a damsel in distress. I’m actually very independent.”
Opening the front door, he stepped into the balmy evening with her, pulled her up short when she would have kept walking towards the car. “Hey,” he said, “nobody thinks that you’re a damsel in distress. There’s a psychopath on the loose and he very well might have been in your home. That constitutes an unusual circumstance.” She smiled at him, and his heart tripped in his chest. “This thing is almost over.”
Sighing, she rested her head on his chest, lifted her arms to wrap them around him. The feeling of her arms around his waist and the lilac smell of her hair under his nose made his heart tick faster, and Jacob swallowed the lump of words that wanted to spill out. Like I love you?
“I know. I…I can feel it,” she whispered. “I just don’t know how to deal with it.”
Too soon.
He tucked her under his arm and walked her to the car. When she hopped in, he leaned in and kissed her, a short, deep kiss that tore through him before he stepped back and closed her safely inside.
As he walked around the hood to the driver’s side, he couldn’t help but think of the press conference in the morning, think of the dozens of questions he might be asked, and what answers he’d give. To say that he wasn’t looking forward to it was an understatement. There was nothing like telling a city of four million people that there was a serial killer among them, and worse, that said killer was somehow evading the police.
Chapter 19
Lola unlocked the door to her apartment, taking only a small moment to work the new, brassy lock that Jacob had replaced her old one with. She thought it funny how efficient he was all the time, especially compared to her. As if to prove her point, the first thing that she saw when she stepped inside was her easel, still propped against the red, brick wall on the far side of the room because she still hadn’t made it to the hardware store for the single screw that would fix the janky leg.
She studied it as Jacob came up behind her, utilizing her awkward pause in the doorway to wrap his arms around her waist from behind and nudge her forward so that he could close the door behind them.
Even after it clicked shut, he kept his strong arms roped around her, his hands linked in front of her stomach, his chin resting on her shoulder. “What is it?”
“I’m just thinking that I’m not going to fix my easel just yet,” she said, motioning to the far side of the room as she touched his joined hands with one of her own and leaned back into his solid, muscular chest. “I kinda like it there.”
He chuckled, his warm breath whispering past her ear. “Kinda like one of our accidents that turned out perfectly?” His voice was calm, quiet, but she could feel the way that his heart had started thumping in his chest, beating against her own back like a jackhammer. Hers picked up its pace in reply, matching his thump for thump.