suppressed a shudder. “Thanks. I need to know as soon as you have results.”
Sara nodded. “I’ll call you. But it may be awhile. All I’m doing is the photos and finishing the intake paperwork now. You have the murder-suicide from Montley and the suspicious death from Pavo ahead of you.”
“I’d appreciate it. We’ll get out of your way.” Turning, she met McMillian’s stony gaze and tilted her head toward the door. He strode ahead of her to the lobby and shoved the front door open, gesturing for her to precede him.
“Well, that was extremely helpful.” His voice emerged as a frustrated growl, but Celia refused to rise to it.
“You didn’t have to come, you know. This is the way it works sometimes—excruciatingly slow and frustrating.”
He glared as they approached his car. “I’m aware of that.”
“I’ll put it together, McMillian. I just need some time.”
“Put what together?” He tugged the passenger door open for her and stalked around to the driver’s side. “The car was a dead end, your suspect offed himself rather than talk, and God only knows when the GBI will get their act together long enough to process your prints or complete your autopsy. What are you going to do with all that?”
Celia relaxed into the lush leather and snapped her seatbelt. “First I’m going to keep digging. If John Doe wasn’t the baby’s father, she has parents somewhere. I’ve already called the Florida Department of Law Enforcement and the GBI and asked for their complete listing of missing children who might fit the time or age frame for this baby. Then we’ll go nationwide. But you have to chill out, McMillian. Cases don’t get solved overnight. You, of all people, should realize that.”
His hand flexed on the wheel and he glanced over his shoulder before shifting into reverse. “Just keep me informed. I want to be apprised of what’s going on, every step of this case.”
“I always keep you informed.”
He looked at her, his expression softening somewhat. “I know. That’s why I keep you around.”
Her breath faltered in her throat, somewhere between an incredulous laugh and a hurt sigh. Well. It was surely nice to know where she stood with him.
McMillian kept her around because she kept him in the loop.
God, he was a blind son of a bitch.
Which made her a hopeless fool.
***
“Where have you been all day?”
At Rhett’s question, Tom glanced up from the legal brief. As usual, the assistant DA strolled in without knocking. Tom rubbed at the nape of his neck, a tension knot lingering there. “I went to the GBI lab in Moultrie with Celia.”
“Why?” A deep frown grooving his brow, Rhett dropped into the chair before Tom’s desk. “Let me guess…autopsy on that dead baby from Chandler County.”
“Yeah.” Tom laid the brief aside and leaned back in his own chair, arms folded behind his head. “But they haven’t done it yet.”
Eyes narrowed, Rhett stared him down. Tom refused to look away. Finally, Rhett spoke.
“Why do you torture yourself, man?”
“I’m not. I’m doing my job.”
“That’s Celia’s job. The Child Death Task Force? Laudable as hell.” Rhett leaned forward, his gaze intent on Tom’s. “But it won’t bring Everett back and this sick-ass obsession of yours, feeling like you have to be hands-on with any case involving a kid because you lost yours…it ain’t healthy, Tom.”
“What the hell do you know about losing a child?” The ice in his voice was apparent even to Tom, and he wanted to call the words back as soon as he uttered them.
Shit. He shouldn’t have said that, not to Rhett, not with Amarie sick, not when there wasn’t a donor.
“Nothing.” A muscle flicked in Rhett’s jaw. “I don’t know a damn thing.”
Tom pinched the bridge of his nose. “Rhett—”
“It’s all right, man.” Rhett’s heavy sigh hung between them. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It just pisses me off, you know, watching you do this to
Learning to Kill: Stories