The Poet (Samantha Jazz)

My heart thunders in my chest as I push play again. He walks to the back of the room, where the condiments station sits, grabs something and then turns to leave, his chin low, his hat lower, his hoodie pulled over it. I can’t see his face. “Damn it!”

Eyes turn on me with my unexpected outburst and I motion to Jackson. He stands and hurries over. I rewind and play the feed. “Holy shit,” he murmurs, and Chuck is quick to join us.

I eye Officer Jackson. “Go and see if anyone remembers him, please.”

“On my way.”

He heads out of the room, and Chuck and I share a look. We know he isn’t going to come back with what we want, but we have to try.

My cell phone rings and it’s Lang. I answer. “Please tell me something good.”

“The crime scene photos for the local victim, the female veterinarian, look identical. The use of a chair. Tying the victim up with bindings from her curtains. The way the ties are positioned. And once again, there was no DNA found.”

“What about the drug that killed her?”

“The city had people dropping dead from a synthetic drug at the time. It read a lot like cyanide does postmortem. It looks to me that the testing wasn’t properly conducted. We can’t question the ME. He’s dead.”

“How did he die?”

“Car accident. And it gets worse.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I almost don’t want to know.”

“The lead we had on the cyanide dried up. Martin’s contact is deleted off the dark web and MIA.”

“Jesus, Lang.”

“I know. We’re working the case. We’re backing into it. We’ll find something.”

“You better. Right now, all I have to give the DA’s office is Newman’s early childhood in Brownsville.”

We disconnect and Chuck is back on the opposite side of the table talking to someone on the landline. “Yes. She’s right here.”

“Me?” I whisper.

He nods and covers the receiver. “Newman Smith’s wife.”

My eyes go wide and I stand up, reaching over the table to grab the phone. “Mrs. Smith.”

“I want to talk,” she says.

“I’d like that. Can you come to the station?”

“No.” Her voice is high, sharp. “No. I can’t. No.”

“When and where?”

“Lola Savannah coffee shop off Bee Caves Road. It’s next to my yoga studio. Six o’clock.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Okay.” She hangs up.

Chapter 64

You can almost feel the sigh of relief from multiple directions after that call from Becky Smith. The captain, Lang, our entire team feel like we’re about to get a break in this case. Evan is certainly pleased, and eager to be the ADA who closes a case involving a serial killer who happens to be a prominent member of society, so much so that he agrees to meet me for eight-thirty drinks. The mayor won’t be happy to look dirty with him as a donor, but we can’t please everyone.

I arrive at the coffee shop, a cute, artsy spot like so many places in Austin, fifteen minutes early. With time on my hands, I order my second skinny white mocha of the day. My mug with designer foam on top and I settle at a table, under a ceiling decorated with a giant canvas of coffee. My location is by a window, to view the parking lot.

Lang calls me about the time I’ve placed the first sweet sip of coffee and foam on my lips and tongue. Of course. Lang has perfect timing. I shorten the savoring moment, set my cup down, and answer the call. “Yes, oh great one?”

“I am pretty great, aren’t I?”

“Did you call me to talk about yourself?” I ask. “Or do you have another, less vain purpose?”

“While I do believe I’m an excellent subject of conversation, I deliver the gift of information.” His tone turns serious. “The vet’s name was Carrie Ludwig. She went to A&M for her veterinary training but did part of her undergraduate and pre-vet program at UT Austin. Per her mother, that was because she hadn’t decided to become a vet at that point, and she’d dreamed of going to school in Austin. She wanted out of the small-town mentality, which was where A&M took her again.”

“Obviously she got over that and went to A&M and back to Brownsville.”

“Obviously,” he agrees. “And yes, I already have Chuck trying to find out if she was in any of Newman’s classes.”

“Sometimes, like right now, when you’re two steps ahead of my questions, I think I love you, Lang.”

He snorts. “For about thirty seconds before you want to kill me again, but whatever. Aren’t you about to have your meeting with Becky?”

“I am.” I glance at the time on my watch. “She’s supposed to have already been here.” My phone beeps and I glance at the number. “That’s Chuck. Please tell me she didn’t cancel. I’ll call you back.” I click over to Chuck. “What’s up?” I ask.