The Movie-Town Murders (The Art of Murder 5)

Jason sighed. “I wish I knew. It’s the weirdest thing. I can’t, for the life of me, get a handle on who my victim was. I’m living in her apartment, surrounded by her books and papers, but she’s still a cipher. I’ve interviewed her friends, family, even the UCPD detective who originally caught the case, and they all seem to be describing a person they didn’t know that well either. Maybe I’m not asking the right questions. Maybe I’m out of practice.”

“You want me to take a look at the case file?”

“No.” Jason’s instant, instinctive rejection hung in the air like the echo of a slammed door. He tried to soften it. “Thanks, but I know how busy you are.”

“Being busy is my job.” Jason didn’t have to see Sam’s face to know he was frowning.

“Right. But we don’t have an offender to profile. I’m not even sure our victim is a victim.”

He could feel Sam weighing his words. “The BAU doesn’t just profile offenders. Every investigation begins by analyzing and interpreting the behaviors and interactions of the victim. You know that.”

“Yes. I know.”

“We receive requests from federal, state, local, and international law enforcement agencies every day. Why would I not have time to look at your case file?”

“Sam.” Just as Sam was trying not to show his impatience, Jason was doing his best not to let exasperation creep into his tone. “I was thinking out loud, not filing a request for help.”

“West, if you need help—”

“I don’t. I was just…bitching to my boyfriend.”

There was a sharp silence. Sam said quietly, “This is about Montana.”

“It really isn’t.” But yeah, it really was. Of course it was. Jason was never going to willingly ask Sam for help again, and he knew it wasn’t logical or fair or maybe even smart, but a part of him couldn’t quite get past the experience of going to sleep believing Sam would find a way through the quagmire, only to wake up and face Sam’s icy rage and contempt.

It wasn’t that Jason didn’t trust Sam. He blamed himself for all of it. But he would never again risk their relationship by asking too much from Sam.

He said quickly, lightly, “If I really do need help, you’ll hear about it. In triplicate. I promise.”

Another of those very loud silences before Sam said, “That’s a promise I’ll hold you to.”

That wasn’t a social pleasantry. Sam meant exactly what he said, and Jason’s heart sank. Why was Sam so goddamned literal about everything?

He said, “Hey, I’ve got a long day tomorrow. I should go. I…love you.”

Sam absorbed the fact that they would not be speaking later in the evening, said without hesitation or inflection, “I love you too.” Uncompromising as always.

Jason thought of—and discarded—a couple of responses, but in the end left it alone and clicked off.

He didn’t sleep well.

Thirty-one stories up, the wind pushed against the floor-to-ceiling windows and whispered outside the glass doors. Jason’s dreams went from bad to worse, and he woke, heart pounding, drenched in sweat, with Jeremy Kyser’s weird, sing-songy, “Agent West?” ringing in his ears.

He knew where he was. Knew he was perfectly safe.

Yet it was all he could do not to reach for his Glock. All he could do not to turn on a lamp. It turned into a battle of will, lying there in the dark, listening to the building sway and moan. He was not going to give in to irrational fear. He was not going to let Kyser control his life. Not in the big things. Not in the little things.

Which didn’t change that he’d give a lot to know where Kyser was right at this minute.

The important thing was he was not standing on the balcony outside this room.

So…get a grip, West.

Jason punched his pillow and did what he usually did when he couldn’t sleep. Well, one of the things he usually did. In this instance, it was to run over the details of his case.

He kept coming back to his victim.

The one thing everyone seemed to agree on was that Georgette Ono was difficult.

The other thing everyone—with the understandable exception of Touchstone’s security team—agreed on was that it was almost as hard to believe she’d accidentally killed herself as it was to believe she committed suicide.

The problem was…

Well, there were a number of problems.

One, he was there to reassure the family, not reopen the case. No one wanted a cover-up. But there was also no expectation that Jason was actually going to find anything. In fact, the expectation was the opposite.

If he actually reopened the case, turned it into an active homicide investigation, there would be, at best, a mixed reception from his superiors.

Two, even if he privately believed Ono was the victim of homicide, he had no real suspect and no real motive.

Even if LAPD had failed to discover Ono’s allegedly contentious relationship with Touchstone’s security—which seemed unlikely, since the head of security apparently had no issue in sharing that info with J.J.—it didn’t feel like enough of a motive.

Speculation was going to make it harder, not easier, on the Ono family.

Three—and this had nothing to do with his case—he felt like with each phone call, he and Sam were getting further apart. They were both reasonably articulate, they both wanted this relationship to work, so what was going on?

Was it just him, or was it Sam too? He honestly wasn’t sure.

“Hell,” Jason muttered and reached for his cell, peering at the screen.

Just after two, which meant Sam might be asleep. He tended to crash around ten and be up and running—literally—by four. Jason tried not to interrupt those few precious hours when Sam allowed himself the luxury of turning off, but tonight…

Tonight, the distance between them was harder to take than usual.

He struggled with himself for a minute or two, then pressed Sam’s number.

Sam answered on the half-ring. “Hey.” He sounded wide awake, his voice as soft as if they were lying facing each other. “Bad dreams?”

Jason let out a long breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “No. I didn’t like the way we left things tonight.”

“Me neither.” No hesitation. It was like Sam had been lying there thinking the same.

“The thing about trying to make this work long distance is…not letting stuff pile up.”

He could feel Sam thinking that over. “What’s piling up, Jason?”

Jason,not West. Jason considered that demarcation. Considered the careful gravity of Sam’s voice.

“I want to make sure you don’t get the wrong idea. It’s not that I don’t—”

“Trust me?” Sam sounded dry.

“Yes. It’s not that I don’t trust you.”

“What is it, then? Because there’s something.”

“It’s a fine line for both of us. That’s the lesson of Montana. You’re not just another agent. You’re a unit chief. There are potential conflicts.”

“That might hold water if you were in my unit.” No give. No leeway.

“Okay, let’s call it priorities.”

Sam said crisply, “You’re my priority.”

Jason gave a shaky laugh. “Well, wait a minute, because that’s not accurate. It’s not even the agreement we made. It’s not my expectation.”

He could hear the shrug in Sam’s voice. “Nor was it mine, but that’s the way it’s playing out.”

Did Sam really believe that? He was no liar, so yeah, he believed what he was saying. But what he was saying was not an accurate reflection of, well, you name it. It certainly didn’t reflect Jason’s experience.

“Since when?”

Once again there was that uncharacteristic wry note in Sam’s tone. “Probably since the morning you arrived at my hotel door barefoot, hair dripping, hollering how dare I phone SAC Manning about your fitness for duty.”

At the time, they’d known each other less than twenty-four hours. Now it felt like a million years ago.

“Hey, I never said how dare you.”

“Maybe not those exact words.” Sam actually sounded amused at the memory. “You were highly offended.”

Was Sam really implying he’d started to fall for Jason the morning after they’d met? For Jason, the awareness had been instant, the attraction had followed against his better judgment, but once he’d fallen, he’d acknowledged it, accepted it. Sam might have been interested and attracted, but he had fought those feelings long and hard. So Jason couldn’t help feeling a little skeptical.

Whatever it is you need, Jason, I’m probably not that guy.

“As I recall, the agreement was work would always come first for you and that I was willing to accept that for however long I could.”

“We all have our dreams,” Sam said. “That one fell by the roadside a long time ago.”

He was being ironic, but yeah. True. There was no point in rehashing ancient history. Sam had drawn the rules of engagement. Sam had also been the first to break those rules.

Sam said crisply, “We both made mistakes in Montana. We’ve both explained and clarified and apologized. Is there anything you need to hear from me that I haven’t said?”

“No,” Jason answered. Sam had said everything he could. In fairness, he had said everything he needed to say. “Is there anything more you need to hear from me?”

“I’m not the one feeling like I can’t confide in my partner.”