A Trace of Murder. Блейк Пирс
own thoughts. By the time he reached his old pickup truck, she was almost on him. She felt her phone buzz with a text and tensed up. But he obviously didn’t hear it.
“How ya doin’, Coy?” she asked coquettishly.
He spun around, clearly taken by surprise. Keri removed her sunglasses, gave him a broad smile, and placed her hand on her hip playfully.
“Hi?” he asked more than said.
“Don’t tell me you don’t remember me? It’s only been about fifteen years. You are Coy Brenner from Phoenix, right?”
“Yeah. Did we go to school together or something?”
“No. Our time together was educational, but not in a school kind of way, if you know what I mean. I’m starting to get offended a little bit here.”
I’m really laying it on thick here. Maybe I’ve lost my touch.
But Coy’s face softened and Keri could tell she’d hit pay dirt.
“Sorry—long day and lots of years,” he said. “I’d be happy to get reacquainted. What was your name again?” He seemed genuinely perplexed.
“Keri. Keri Locke.”
“I’m really surprised that I can’t place you, Keri. You seem like the kind of girl I’d remember. What are you doing all the way out here?”
“I can’t stand the heat back in Arizona. I work for the city now. Case work—kind of boring. What about you?”
“You’re looking at what I do.”
“A boy from the desert ends up working by the water. What made that happen? Looking to break into the movies? Wanted to learn to surf? Following a girl?”
She kept the tone light but watched closely for his reaction to that last question. His bemused but intrigued expression immediately disappeared, replaced by one of wariness.
“I’m really having trouble placing you, Keri. Remind me again when we hung out?” There was a sharpness to his tone that hadn’t been there a moment before.
Keri could sense her ruse was wearing thin and decided to poke a little more aggressively.
“Maybe you don’t remember me because I don’t look like Kendra. Is that it, Coy? You only have eyes for her?”
Those eyes turned quickly from wary to angry and he took a step forward. Keri watched his fists clench involuntarily. She didn’t flinch.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded. “What is this?”
“I’m just making conversation, Coy. Why so rude all of a sudden?”
“I don’t know you,” he said, now outright hostile. “Who sent you, her husband? Are you some kind private investigator?”
“What if I was? Would I have something to investigate? Is there something you want to get off your chest, Coy?”
He took another step toward her. Their faces were less than a foot apart now. Rather than shrink, Keri squared her shoulders and lifted her chin defiantly.
“I think you’ve made a terrible mistake coming here, lady,” Coy growled. His back was to the squad car, which had slowly rolled up behind him and was now idling twenty feet away.
Out of the corner of her eye, Keri could see Sergeant Covey cautiously making his way over from the warehouse, careful to stay behind Coy as well. She felt a sudden urge to wave in their direction but forced the feeling down.
It’s now or never.
“What did you do to Kendra, Coy?” she demanded, any trace of playfulness gone from her voice. She stared hard at him, hand once again brushing the butt of her gun, ready for anything.
At her question, his eyes went from angry to surprised and she could tell he had no idea what she was talking about. He took a step back.
“What?”
She immediately sensed that he wasn’t the guy, but pressed on just in case.
“Kendra Burlingame has gone missing and I hear you’re her personal stalker. So if you’ve done something to her, now would be the time to come clean. If you cooperate, I can help you. If you don’t, it could get very bad for you.”
Coy was staring at her but he didn’t seem to be fully processing what she said. He was oblivious to Sergeant Covey moving to within a few steps behind him. The veteran officer’s hand rested on his gun hip. He didn’t look trigger-happy, just prepared.
“Kendra’s missing?” Coy asked, sounding like a kid who’d just learned his dog had been put down.
“When’s the last time you saw her, Coy?”
“The reunion—I told her I would look her up here in LA. But I could tell she didn’t want any part of me. She looked embarrassed for me. I didn’t want to see that look on her face again so I just dropped it.”
“You didn’t want to punish the woman who made you feel that way?”
“She didn’t make me feel that way. I’m ashamed of what I’ve become without any help from her. It was just seeing how far I’d fallen in her view—it was a real eye-opener, you know? I’ve been lying to myself about being this cool, tough guy for a long time. It took Kendra for me to see myself as the loser I really am.”
He looked at her desperately, hoping to make some kind of connection. But Keri didn’t feel like exploring this guy’s inner demons. She had enough shame of her own that she didn’t want to deal with someone else’s.
“Can you account for your whereabouts yesterday, Coy?” she asked, changing the subject. Realizing he wasn’t going to get any sympathy from her, he nodded.
“I was here all day. I’m sure my boss can verify it.”
“We can check on that,” Sergeant Covey said. Coy jumped slightly at the unexpected voice behind him. He turned around, surprised to see Covey within feet of him and the squad car with Kuntsler and Rodriguez not much farther away.
“So I guess you’re a cop, then?” Coy said, looking downtrodden.
“I am—LAPD Missing Persons.”
“I hope you find her. Kendra’s a great gal. The world’s a better place because of her and she deserves to be happy. I always held a torch for her. But I knew she was out of my league so I never got my hopes up. If there’s anything else I can do to help, let me know.”
“Detective Locke,” Sergeant Covey interjected, “unless you have additional questions, I’m happy to follow up on his alibi. I know you have other avenues of investigation you want to explore. Besides, we need to do some paperwork to process Mr. Brenner for separation. He lied on his application about his parole status and that’s cause for termination.”
Keri saw Brenner’s face sag even more. He was truly pathetic. And now he was unemployed on top of it. She tried to shake away the feeling that she was partly responsible for that.
“I’d appreciate that, Sergeant. I do need to get back and this looks like a dead end. Thanks for all your help.”
As Covey and the officers led Coy Brenner back to the warehouse for interrogation, Keri got in her car and checked the text she received earlier.
It was from Brody. It read:
GALA STILL ON. GREAT CHANCE FOR INTERVIEWS. MEET YOU THERE. DRESS SEXY.
Brody continued to amaze her with his lack of insight and professionalism. In addition to being an unrepentant sexist, he didn’t seem to get that a fundraiser whose hostess was missing wasn’t the ideal venue to get her friends and colleagues to bare their souls.
Besides that, I don’t even have anything to wear.
Of course, that wasn’t the only reason. If she was being honest with herself, Keri had to admit that part of her dread was because this was exactly the sort of event she went to all the time back when she was a respected professor, the