Touch of Red (Tracers #12)(66)

He sighed heavily. “It hurts like a bitch. All this sitting makes it stiffen up.”

“You could tell Reynolds you’re not up for surveillance right now.”

“No.” Sean picked up the coffee and took a sip. “This wasn’t his idea in the first place. Ric and I had to talk him into it.”

She turned in her seat to face him. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, hey, thanks for consulting me on this. I’ve got an eight-hour shift tomorrow. So does Jasper. So does Christine.”

Sean shook his head. “Sucks to be you.”

“You know, just because you don’t mind wasting your time in some minivan doesn’t mean everyone else wants to.”

“It’s not a matter of want. We’ve got a viable suspect in the killing of two women. I’ll be damned if we’re letting him out of our sight.”

Callie turned to stare at the house. She knew Sean was right, but she really, really wasn’t looking forward to her shift tomorrow.

“A little surveillance work won’t kill you.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re a guy. The whole world is your urinal. Try sitting in a car for eight hours without a bathroom break.”

He smiled but didn’t look at her.

“And how long are we planning to do this? This thing could drag on for days. Or weeks.”

“It could. But I’m counting on Alex to come through. If there’s a digital connection anywhere between the judge and these victims, she’ll sniff it out. She’s diligent.”

“Speaking of diligent.” Callie dug into her bag. “I brought you a little reading to keep you awake out here.” She handed him a manila file folder. “Samantha’s case file. Jasmine’s is in there, too—separate binder clip.”

He set the binoculars aside and opened the folder. “Farrah give you any trouble?”

“Surprisingly, no. I think she felt guilty. Like maybe if she’d cooperated sooner, we could have cracked this thing before something happened to Jasmine.”

Sean wasn’t listening. He’d taken out a red tactical flashlight and was already examining the papers.

“These are copies?” He looked at Callie.

“Farrah wouldn’t part with the originals. I made copies of my own to take home tonight.” She huffed out a breath. “The joys of single life. It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do than go home to my cat and my Netflix.”

“You know, you don’t have to do it this way.”

She looked at him. “What way?”

“You don’t have to be married to the job. You should keep some balance in your life.”

“Sounds a little hypocritical coming from a man who traded his girlfriend’s warm bed for stakeout duty.”

Sean adjusted his leg again, then leaned back to look at the house. “She’s not my girlfriend. Yet.”

Callie smiled. “Listen to that can-do attitude of yours. I like that. It’s a good predictor of future success.”

“Don’t try to change the subject. If you don’t like the single life, how come you never go out with anyone?”

She bristled, even though she knew he was just trying to needle her. “Maybe no one’s asked me. You ever thought of that?”

“That’s an excuse.”

“How would you know?”

“You’re an assertive woman. If there’s someone you want to go out with, why don’t you ask him?”

“Maybe I will.”

She thought of Travis Cullen with his beautiful forearms. They were tan and muscular, and she liked the way they’d looked folded over his big chest as he’d stood in his lab talking to her. And his voice . . . That low, masculine voice had been on her mind all day.

“You’ve got someone on your radar. Who is he?”

“No one.”

“So, you can dish it out, but you can’t take it, huh?”

“Whatever.” She didn’t want to get sucked into this conversation, mainly because Sean had a point.

“Listen to your own advice. If there’s something you want, go for it. If you’ve got your eye on some guy, ask him out. Don’t be such a wuss.”

“You’re right.” She sighed and turned to look at him. “Sean . . .” She rested her hand on his leg. “Will you go out with me?”

His jaw dropped. He glanced down at her hand. “I . . . um—”

“Kidding!” She burst out laughing. “Oh, my God, your face! That was priceless.”

He scowled at her, and she laughed so hard she felt tears coming.

“That was awesome.” She dabbed her eyes. “I needed that.”

“Hey, glad I could entertain you.”

She patted his knee. “On that note, I’m out. Enjoy your sleepless night.” She opened the door and a gust of cold air rushed in. “I hope you’ve got thoughts of Brooke to keep you warm.”

? ? ?

Brooke arrived at the lab before dawn, already alert and caffeinated. With no one around to distract her, she got straight to work on the cart full of evidence envelopes, powering through seven separate cases without even breaking for coffee.

The highlight of her morning was envelope three, a difficult lift on the curved lip of a beer bottle. Experimenting with casting silicone again—clear this time—she was able to lift two good fingerprints from the ridged surface. Because the material was transparent instead of white, Brooke didn’t need to reverse the print with digital photography. She was able to make a comparison right away with a suspect’s fingerprint card. She got a match, too—which was going to make the detective on the case very happy.