Vixen Healed (Vintage Vixen 2)
Page 11
“Very. Allons-y.”
“Let’s go, eh?” He smirked.
“You speak French?” Color me impressed.
“No, I speak Whovian.”
She burst into laughter. “I have to say I never would have pegged you for an avid Doctor Who fan.”
“There’s a lot left to learn.”
“Are you trying to entice me or distract me?”
“Both. Is either working?” He moved to the door, holding it open for her as she grabbed her purse off the end table.
“Maybe.”
****
Twenty minutes later she was seated in a stiff chair on the opposite side of double-mirrored glass. Her limbs shook. Anticipation mounted, pushed her to the edge. She kept her hands clasped together in her lap to prevent her nails from digging into the soft flesh of her palms.
“Okay, we’re going to start the line up momentarily. I want you to take your time, study each person and remember. You can see them, but they can’t see you.” Quinn spoke from his position beside her in a chair.
“I understand.”
“Okay, boys, send him in.”
Her world narrowed to the men walking in front of the white and black background and the face of the man who haunted her nightmares. The bones no longer protruded from his body, but the cold look in his dark eyes remained. His gaze seemed to penetrate the glass. He narrowed his eyes, and she flinched.
“That’s him,” she whispered.
Kelly turned to her, glanced around at the others in his room and placed a gentle hand on her shoulders.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Okay, I’ll follow through with procedure, and we’ll go from there.”
“Turn to your left.” Her mind wandered as he turned so she could take in his side profile.
“Now?”
“This is the man. You can flip him upside down, paint him red, or put a wig on him. I’d still recognize him.” She gritted her teeth, frustrated with the snail’s pace. She wanted this bastard found guilty and locked away like yesterday. For the past eight years he’d walked around while Campbell couldn’t. The thought cut her to the quick.
“Okay. We’re good, boys. Take Johnson back to his cell.”
The adrenaline began to wear off as they moved into the paper pushing portion. It felt like a crash from a sugar high. She had been all over the emotional spectrum, and it was barely noon.
“That’s the last of the paperwork. I’m not sure if they’ll try them together or separately at this point. It depends on Craig Johnson’s response now that he’s under custody. One of them might try to make a deal.”
“Deal?” She saw red.
“Yes, to plead for a lesser count. There’s no walking away free on this one.”
“What happens next?”
“We wait for trial.”