Killer Takes All

“No.”

“Did your friend have a computer?” Malone asked. She swung her gaze to him. “A laptop. Why?” He didn’t answer. “She play these games on her computer?”

“Sometimes, I think. Mostly she played real time, with her game group.”

“So they can be played online.”

“I think so.” She shifted her gaze between the two.

“Why?”

“Thank you, Ms. Killian. You’ve been helpful.”

“Wait.” She caught the older detective’s arm. “Her computer’s gone, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry, Stacy,” Tony murmured, sounding like he meant it. “We can’t say any more.”

She would have done the same; it pissed her off, anyway. “I suggest you check out this White Rabbit game. Ask around, see who’s playing. What the game involves.”

“We will, Ms. Killian.” Malone closed his notebook. “Thank you for your help.”

She opened her mouth to say more, to ask if they would update her on their progress, then shut it without speaking. Because she knew they wouldn’t. Even if they agreed to, it would be an empty platitude.

She didn’t have the right to the information, she acknowledged, watching the two walk away. She was a civilian. Not even family of the deceased. They weren’t required to give her anything but courtesy.

For the first time since leaving the force, she understood the ramifications of what she had done. Of what she was.

A civilian. Outside the blue circle. Alone.

Stacy Killian wasn’t a cop anymore.

CHAPTER 4

Monday, February 28, 2005 9:20 a.m.

Spencer and Tony entered police headquarters. Located in City Hall, at 1300 Perdido Street, the mirrored glass building housed not only the NOPD but the mayor’s office, the New Orleans Fire Department and city council, among others. The Public Integrity Division, the NOPD’s version of Internal Affairs, was housed outside headquarters, as was the crime lab.

They signed in and took the elevator to ISD. When the doors whooshed open, Tony headed for the box of breakfast pastries, Spencer for his messages.

“Hey, Dora,” he said to the receptionist. Though a civilian employed by the city, she wore a uniform. Her extra-large, top-heavy frame strained at the confines of the blue fabric, revealing glimpses of hot pink lace. “Any messages?”

The woman handed Spencer the yellow message slips, sliding her gaze over him appraisingly. He ignored the look. “Captain in?” “Ready and waiting, stud.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her and she cackled. “You white boys have no sense of humor.”

“No sense of style, either,” offered Rupert, another detective, sidling past them.

“That’s right,” Dora said. “Rupert here knows fine threads.”

Spencer glanced at the other man, taking in his sleek Italian suit, colorful tie and bright white shirt, then down at himself. Jeans, chambray shirt and tweedy jacket. “What?”

She groaned. “You’re working ISD now, top of the heap, baby. You need to be dressin’ the part.”

“Yo, Slick. Ready?”

Spencer turned and grinned at his partner. “Can’t. In the middle of a free fashion consultation.”

Tony returned the grin. “Lecture, you mean.” “Don’t even go there.” Dora wagged her finger at the older man. “You’re hopeless. A fashion disaster.”

“What? Me?” He held his hands out. His gut protruded over the waist of his Sansabelt trousers, the fabric shiny from age, and strained the buttons of his short-sleeved plaid shirt.

The woman made a sound of disgust as she handed Tony his messages. Turning to Spencer, she said, “You just come see Miss Dora, baby. I’ll fix you right up.” “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You do that, sugar pie,” she called after him. “Ladies go for a man with style.”

“She’s right, sugar pie,” Tony teased. “Take it from me.”

Spencer laughed. “You’d know this how? The way the ladies stay away in droves?”

“Exactly.” They turned the corner, heading for the open door of their captain’s office.

Spencer tapped on the casing. “Captain O’Shay? Got a minute?”

Captain Patti O’Shay looked up, waved them in. “‘Morning, Detectives. It’s been a busy one already, I hear.”

“We got a double,” Tony said, lowering himself into one of the chairs across from her.

Patti O’Shay, a trim, no-nonsense woman, was one of only three female captains in the NOPD. She was smart, tough but fair. She’d worked her ass off to get where she was, twice as hard as any man, overcoming doubt, chauvinism and the good old boy network. She’d been bumped up to ISD this past year and some predicted she’d make deputy chief one day.

She also happened to be Spencer’s mother’s sister.

It was hard for Spencer to reconcile this woman with the one who had called him “Boo” growing up. The one who’d slipped him cookies when his mother hadn’t been looking. She was his godmother, a special relationship for Catholics. And one she took seriously.

However, she had made it clear his first day under her command that here she was his boss. Period.

She turned her miss-nothing gaze on him. “Think DIU jumped the gun by calling us in?”

He straightened, cleared his throat. “No way, Captain. This was no rubber stamp.”

She shifted her gaze to Tony. “Detective Sciame?”

“I agree. Better to get it now, before the trail’s cold.”

Spencer took over. “Both vics were shot.”

“Names?”

“Cassie Finch and Beth Wagner. UNO students.”