Carol Ericson - The District

The lust that slammed him and had him shifting in the squeaky chair hadn’t revved him up like this in over two years—the last time he’d seen Christina Sandoval.

Greavy was a sadistic SOB to put him on this case with Christina. Of course, Greavy had no idea the homicide in San Diego he’d assigned to Eric as soon as he joined the unit would be linked to Christina’s three cases in Portland and San Francisco. This guy got around.

Clearing his throat, he folded his arms behind his head and tipped back in his chair, making it squeak even more. “Did Rich tell you why I was coming out?”

“Rich didn’t tell me you were coming out at all.”

“I mean, did he tell you why another agent was joining you?”

“Typical Greavy. I haven’t spoken to him in person since he sent me to Portland. I had to find out another agent was coming to assist me from Lieutenant Fitch over there.” She spun the file folders around to face him. “And here you are.”

He cocked his head. “Greavy didn’t tell you about the other case in San Diego?”

“There was another murder in San Diego? Same M.O.?”

“Yep.”

A flare of anger turned her cheeks red. “I’m assuming the killer stuck the tarot card with the maiden and lion between the vic’s fingers. Three murders up here, three tarot cards.”

“This is where it gets weird. The body had a tarot card between his fingers, all right, but it wasn’t that lion one.”

Christina’s eyes widened. “Let me guess. It was a tarot card with a fool on it.”

Eric leaned forward and the front wheels of his chair hit the floor where it skidded a few inches to the right. “How’d you know that?”

“I canvased the area where we found the most recent victim, Nora Sterling. I thought I had a pretty good idea where the killer was hiding before he attacked her—up a tree. I climbed the tree and found the card.”

“What made you climb the tree?” But he didn’t have to ask. Christina always claimed she could get into the head of a killer. He still didn’t know if he believed her or not, but it could come in handy in this case if she could.

“Just...umm, a feeling and some damage to the bark on the trunk.”

“Do you have the card here?” He shuffled through the papers in the case folders.

“It’s in evidence.”

“Prints?”

“None.”

Eric whistled through his teeth. “I wonder if there were any more tarot cards near the body in San Diego.”

“I was wondering the same thing about the murder in Portland and the first one here.” She tapped a pencil against her chin and then dropped it. “Wait. Did you say the victim in San Diego was male?”

“That’s right.”

“Was the body found outdoors? Bludgeoned and then throat slit?”

“Nope—indoors, no bludgeoning, but his throat was slit. He lost an amazing amount of blood that soaked into the carpet and the floorboards beneath.”

“Same with the other victims. They suffered a lot of blood loss.” She curled her fingers around the arms of the chair. “So the M.O. was a little different for the male victim.”

“We did find some drugs and alcohol in his system, so maybe the killer incapacitated him that way and didn’t have to hit him over the head.”

“That suggests he knew him or had some kind of contact with him before the murder. That doesn’t seem to be the case at all with the women.”

Christina sucked in her bottom lip, which she always did when she was thinking. She couldn’t just be trying to focus his attention on her mouth, could she? Because he couldn’t keep his eyes, or his nasty thoughts, off her lips.

“What could possibly be the connection between these four people?”

Clearing his throat, he scratched the stubble on his chin. “I guess it’s up to us to find the connections, because they have to be there.”

“Us. There hasn’t been an us for a long time.”

“I think we can be adults and work together.” As soon as he could get his mind out of the gutter.

“Sure.” She folded her hands on the desk. “How’s your family?”

“Fine. Yours? How’s your mother?”

“She’s doing well, busy.”

“Busy? I thought she retired from nursing.”

Christina’s hands got fidgety again, stacking papers and lining up pencils. She’d never been the nervous type before. She’d always had a cool, calm demeanor. As cold as ice—except in the bedroom.

Seeing him had rattled her.

His response to her had surprised him, too. He accepted the fact that he’d never forget Christina, no matter what she’d done to him, but he’d believed he could tame the visceral reaction she’d always elicited from him. Not so much.

He dragged his gaze away from her puckered lips as she blew a strand of dark hair from her face.

“She did retire, but she picked up a bunch of hobbies.”

“Good for her.” He pointed at the folders. “How about it? Do you want to get a couple of sandwiches delivered and dig in to what we got?”

“Sounds good. I’ll ask our new best friend, Officer Griego, for some suggestions.”

“Yeah, there’s some hero worship going on there.”

“You always did have the ladies fawning over you.”

He raised one eyebrow. “I was talking about you. From the minute she volunteered to take me to you, it was Agent Sandoval this, Agent Sandoval that.”

Christina gave an unladylike snort. “Did you set her straight?”

“I didn’t have time.”

Her nostrils flared as she reached for the phone and punched the speaker button and three other buttons. “Hi, Officer Griego. Can you recommend a good take-out place in the area for lunch?”

“One of the sergeants is taking orders now for the deli down the street. I’ll send him over.”

“That would be great. Menu?”

“I’ll bring one to you.”

Christina rolled her eyes at him. “That’s not necessary. We’ll come out and have a look.”

“That’s okay, ma’am. I know you and Agent Brody are busy. I’ll bring the menu right in. Sarge won’t mind.”

“Thanks, Officer Griego.” She pressed the speaker button and ended the call.

Eric twisted his lips into a smile. “I’m sure Sarge will mind catering to the two fibbies in his midst.”

“They seem okay with me here, so far. Have you met Lieutenant Fitch yet? I had him eating out of my hand yesterday, but he turned cold once he knew you were on the way.”

“I don’t get these guys. They should be happy for the help. My brother Ryan always is.”

“Is he still working up the coast in Crestview?”

“Yep.”

Officer Griego peered through the window waving the menu and knocked on the door.

Eric scooted his chair back and opened the door. “C’mon in.”

She thrust the menu at him. “It’s pretty basic.”

“That’s what we like—basic.” He tossed the menu to Christina.

Wrinkling her nose, she ran the tip of her finger down the glossy page. “I’ll take the California on sourdough, but...”

“No mayo and extra pickles.” Eric finished for her.

She tilted her head, her shiny, dark ponytail slipping over her shoulder. “That predictable, huh?”

Warmth spread through his chest. He hadn’t meant to finish her sentence, didn’t want her to know how much he remembered.

“Well, you always were kind of picky.”

Rita was standing at the door hanging on their every word, wide-eyed.

Eric glanced at the menu and handed it back to her saying, “The Italian, fries and a drink—something with caffeine.”

“I’ll give your order to Sergeant Hammond. It usually takes about forty-five minutes.”

Eric reached into his pocket for some cash and handed her two twenties. “Thanks, Rita and thank the sarge for us, too.”