Ambushed At Christmas. Barb HanЧитать онлайн книгу.
that we’ll say you might be able to ID. According to witnesses, she’s a vagrant and you won’t recognize her but that’s not the point—”
“You’re looking for an excuse to walk in the door,” he finished the sentence for her.
“That’s right.”
Leah badged them inside the building and then led Deacon down a hospital-like white-tiled hallway that led to a glass door. Etched on it were the words Dr. Timothy Rex along with a series of alphabet letters to indicate his degrees.
At sixty-eight, Dr. Rex, aka T-Rex was still a crackerjack. His mind was sharper than most thirty-year-olds she knew, which wasn’t exactly an endorsement for the people in her circle. Leah almost laughed out loud. Her circle consisted of the people she knew at work, her babysitter and a three-year-old. Unless she counted the purple dinosaur from Allen, Texas, whose voice she could hear in her sleep thanks to Connor binge-watching the DVDs. Did they call it binge-watching when it was almost-constant background noise and some of the same episodes over and over again?
Leah made a move for the metal bar to open the door but Deacon beat her to it. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had opened a door for her. She was independent and strong. She didn’t need a man to open doors. But there was something sweet and chivalrous about the gesture that caused her stomach to do another round of somersaults.
Old-fashioned chivalry was still a turn-on. She mumbled a thank-you and caught a small smile toying with the corner of his lips—lips she had no business focusing on.
There was no receptionist working this early. Leah had expected that. She didn’t have credentials to badge through the next set of doors leading to the lab. Dr. Rex looked up at her. He rocked his head as though he’d been expecting her. He hadn’t. She’d given him no warning. His manner had always been welcoming. That was just Rex.
He hurried over to the door, first removing his examination gloves and tossing them into the wastepaper basket positioned next to the door. He acknowledged Deacon with another smile after letting them in.
Deacon stuck out his hand as the door closed behind him.
T-Rex took it with a vigorous shake, introducing himself. His eyes sparked for the briefest moment when he heard Deacon’s last name. She figured that happened a lot, even though nothing about the down-to-earth cowboy screamed that he was one of the wealthiest men in Texas. Leah almost couldn’t wrap her mind around it. She came from money. Or, more accurately, her parents had money. They still did because she refused to let their money manipulate her and that’s exactly what they’d tried to use it for. As an only child, she blamed being the sole focus of their manipulation efforts on the lack of siblings to spread the “wealth” of their attention across.
Leah had gone to the police academy after getting her degree in criminal justice. Neither her philosophy-professor father nor her board-of-directors mother approved of her degree and that’s the reason they’d stated when they refused to pay tuition for her to go to the out-of-state college she wanted to attend. So she’d played the child-of-a-professor card and went to the University of Texas at Arlington instead. Being the child of faculty gave her free tuition and that had helped not to rack up education expenses. Now she couldn’t imagine trying to bring up a child on a detective’s salary and repay college loans.
T-Rex was given his nickname for his turtle-like shoulders and arms. It might’ve been cruel except that he’d been the one to make the joke and the name stuck. He said he’d had it since college and didn’t mind. T-Rex, after all, had been an apex predator. The real story behind it was that he’d broken both of his arms as a child. His missionary parents who traveled with him abroad had made sure he’d received the best available care. But he’d been given medical attention in a developing country. The incident had left him unable to lift his arms over his head. He liked to say he got a PhD and an MD because he couldn’t get the alphabet letters from his boyhood aspiration, NFL.
Otherwise, he was tall-ish. Admittedly, standing next to Deacon Kent made T-Rex look smaller. His spectacles slid down on his nose—much like pictures of Santa Claus. With the resemblance, there were other monikers T-Rex could’ve picked up. He had the same belly and carriage as the guy who made midnight rounds one night a year, a night that was coming soon. T-Rex also had a slow smile and quick wit. Both were genuine.
“How’s the grandbaby?” Leah always asked about the five-year-old light of his life, Harley. She’d come to live with him and his wife after losing his daughter to a rare bone disease. The father had never been in the picture.
“Growing like a weed.” He beamed. It couldn’t be easy to take on a child at his and his wife’s age. But he was the kind of man who wouldn’t turn his back on someone who needed him and especially not family. “She decided she needs to learn how to do a cartwheel.”
“What does she need to do that for?” Leah asked with a little more enthusiasm than she felt. She did care. Don’t get her wrong. But she was biding her time until she could ask what she wanted, what was on the tip of her tongue.
T-Rex rolled his eyes. “She’s made up a list of all the things she needs to do while she’s still young.”
“She still thinking kindergarten is the end of her childhood?” Leah couldn’t help but smile. The kid was a cutup and Leah figured she got half her personality from her grandfather. If she got half of his big heart, she’d do fine in life.
He nodded before turning his attention to Deacon. “You got kids?”
“Me? No.” Deacon’s response was a little too quick.
Leah almost asked what he had against kids. She figured it was none of her business what he thought about anything, except that a little piece of her argued that she did care. And more than she wanted to acknowledge to herself.
T-Rex must’ve picked up on her tension because he redirected his focus. “What brings you to my humble abode so early in the morning?”
“I need to see Jane Doe,” she said.
“Ah.” T-Rex’s gaze bounced from her to Deacon.
“His friend is missing and she fits my Jane Doe’s description.” Leah didn’t like being dishonest. But if she inserted herself into Charles Dougherty’s investigation and asked the questions she wanted to outright ask, Charles could make her life at work even harder than he had been.
“Right this way.”
T-Rex motioned toward another hallway that led to another freezing cold room that had been dubbed The Meat Locker by beat cops.
Leah thought the term was disrespectful and had been teased her rookie year for not embracing the lingo. She also thought about her high school friend being inside a place like that and an icy chill trickled down her spine. She thought about the fact that Millie’s—short for Mildred, which was her aunt’s name—parents would have been brought down to a place like this in order to ID their daughter’s body, a fate no parent should ever have to face.
“Heard you got a new one in night before. The Mitchell case.” Leah figured there’d been enough casual conversation between the three of them this morning that she could start peppering in her questions. She also knew in her gut—from years of honing investigative skills—that T-Rex’s guard was down.
“Phone’s been ringing off the hook ever since. I unplugged it.” The case was big-time and people would be interested. He wouldn’t think anything of a few random-sounding questions.
“Mayor’s office?” she asked casually.
T-Rex nodded. He paused in front of The Meat Locker. “Sad case.”
“Heard her foot was missing,” she said.
“Cut clean off. One slice.” He turned to look