Into the Light (The Light, #1)(54)

I shrugged as I stood. “I guess, but I think a police chase would be more exciting.”

Dylan slapped my behind, and the crack echoed through his bedroom.

“Ouch!”

His eyes sparkled. “Don’t forget, I have issues.”

Tracing my finger teasingly down his chest, I stepped close and kissed his neck. “Detective Richards, we all know that.”

An hour later we were in Dylan’s unmarked Charger on our way to Highland Heights. I pulled the black case I’d thrown in the backseat up to the front. I opened it, removed my Nikon, and began changing the lens. I wouldn’t need the zooming power of yesterday. Well, unless there was a rat; then I’d be so far out of one of those houses, I would need the two-hundred-millimeter.

Dylan glanced my way. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

“It seems rather obvious, but if you’re having problems, I’m changing the lens on my camera.”

“No. You’re not taking pictures. I’m taking you into a secured crime scene. I’m not losing my job.”

“It’s not like I’m going to take your picture,” I replied. “Besides, it helps me remember everything. I can go home and study the pictures.”

“No.”

“They’ll never end up on one of Bernard’s broadcasts, I promise.” I turned on the screen and scrolled through my pictures from yesterday.

Dylan looked in my direction and his knuckles blanched as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. “When did you take those?”

I looked up from the image of the white brick building with the blue awning.

Shit!

“Yesterday,” I replied sheepishly.

“I thought we had a deal. I guess I should take you back to WCJB.”

“We do have a deal,” I pleaded. “The thing was, when you called, I was kind of already in Highland Heights. I left soon after our conversation.”

“Jesus, Stella. Why?”

This time of the morning the traffic hadn’t yet built. I watched the landmarks in New Center as we continued heading north on Woodward Avenue. If he wasn’t turning around, I guessed I could answer him, at least partially. “I was staking out an abandoned building. It was an address from a source. I heard the sirens, but never saw the police cars. So, see, I wasn’t really near you.”

“Staking out an abandoned building doesn’t exactly narrow down your location.”

“Do you go to Highland Heights often?” I asked.

“The HHPD and DPD work together on some things. Usually Highland Heights takes care of its cases and we do ours. There’s been some crossover lately.”

“Why? What’s changed?”

The morning sky was an array of reds and pinks as the sun brought light where dark had prevailed. Dylan turned right off Woodward, away from the sunrise, onto Cortland. This street was only two blocks south of Glendale, where I’d been yesterday. Dylan ran his fingers through his hair.

I started thinking about the body they’d found yesterday. This one was a man. No wonder Dylan had answered so fast that it wasn’t Mindy. According to my talk with Tracy the night before, the guy was a typical gang member, one with the right tats and piercings. Even she didn’t believe her compilation theory applied to him.

We had crossed Hamilton Avenue by the time Dylan finally spoke again.

“Do you recognize this area?”

“Not really. Why?”

“Because from the picture I saw, you weren’t that fucking far from here yesterday.” The way he emphasized the last word reminded me of Tracy saying how he was usually more of a hard-ass.

I reached out and covered his hand on the steering wheel, reminding him that I wasn’t part of his work; I was his girlfriend. “Thank you for being concerned. I really wasn’t here for Mindy or because of that other body. I was here for WCJB.”

“What does Barney have you doing? The man’s a lunatic sending you here. Why doesn’t he send Foster? Or maybe he could man up and do it himself.”

“You know I can’t tell you what he has me doing.”

The Charger stopped along the side of Cortland, in front of a house with plywood-covered windows and doors and bright-yellow police tape roped across the front porch.

Dylan put the car in park and turned my way. “Then show me the same courtesy. I’m bringing you here for one reason, so you won’t come on your own. Fine, don’t tell me what you’re researching with that church. Just don’t come back here alone, and don’t ask me why DPD is working with HHPD.”

Church?

There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but I didn’t. He was right. If I wasn’t willing to share, I shouldn’t ask him to do it. I squeezed his hand, smiled my brightest smile, and nodded. “Agreed, Detective, now may I please have my tour?”

He took a deep breath and exhaled. Shaking his head, he said, “Yes, by all means. I believe we traded hot sex for this.”

“Um, was the shower that forgettable?”

His grin showed me the return of the man I was falling for, not the hard-ass who liked to tell me where I could and could not go. “No,” he said, “not forgettable, just quick. I hope that when we’re done with this tour, you don’t think it was a good trade.”