I’m used to asshole men walking all over me like I’m in their way, and normally it would not bother me, but for some reason this man’s words actually hurt. I don’t know why I care what he thinks about me, but I do. I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes as I remember his words and the way he looked at me.
I shake my head, trying to tamper down my emotions from the ache that his words caused, when I hear a knock on my door and immediately know it’s Heath.
“One second, Heath,” I call out as I take a couple of deep breaths and pull myself together. I walk to the door and open it.
“Did Eric have any news?” Heath asks as he walks into my room.
“No, nothing yet, but he promised to keep us appraised,” I tell him, walking over to the bed, and grabbing the empty suitcase, and placing it next to the closet.
“Oh,” Heath says quietly, and I understand how he feels. I was also hoping for better news.
“How’s Chris?” I ask, hoping to get his mind off the situation for a bit.
“He’s good, can’t wait for me to get back,” he says, with a gleam in his eyes.
“So, you did the deed, huh?” I ask and watch as his face turns red. “Wait, are you blushing? Mister, I want to discuss all the details, is blushing? He must have been really good,” I say with a smile.
“Are you jealous?” Heath asks.
“Hell no. I’m very happy for you as long as he makes you happy,” I tell him with a genuine smile.
Heath smiles back at me, then says, “He really is that good.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You’ll have to tell me all about it over dinner. First, let’s go look at the train station and get our bearings before we decide where to eat,” I say, grabbing the files.
“Then let’s go,” he says as he opens the door, allowing me to step out first.
We get to the train station, following signs down to the platform. When we get there, I see the yellow DO NOT CROSS tape across the train car where the murder took place. There is no officer standing guard, so Heath and I walk under the tape and step into the car. I pull the pictures of the victims up, and Heath and I begin to walk through what I see in the pictures versus what he is seeing in the car.
“The victims were sitting here,” he says as he points to the two seats.
I look at the floor next to the seat and see a pool of blood. “That pool must be from his finger being cut off,” I say.
“The killer was behind them,” he tells me.
“How do you know?” I ask.
“The blood spurt from their necks being cut is on the back of the seats in front of them,” he tells me, and I nod, having already figured that out.
“Why did the man not fight?” I ask.
“Maybe he was the first?” Heath says.
“But then the woman would have screamed, and that would have alerted the other passengers,” I say, thinking out loud.
“Do you think there are two suspects?” he asks quizzically.
“I don’t know,” I say as I flip through the pages in the file looking for the toxicology report. “Damn,” I say.
“What’s wrong?”
“There are no toxicology reports,” I mutter.
“You think one of them was drugged with something?”
“I don’t know, and without the reports, we can’t be sure one way or another,” I tell him with a sigh.
“Do you think that hot Detective left them out of the reports on purpose?” Heath asks, looking at me.
“Should I tell Chris you think another guy is hot?” I ask him with a smirk before answering his real question. “I don’t know if he did it on purpose or they haven’t received the reports yet from the coroner, since none of the victim’s toxicology reports are here.”
“Maybe we should call Michelle and see if she can help us find out who the coroner here is, or we can go back to the station and ask both Detectives,” Heath throws out.
“Maybe,” I say, not committing to either one right now.
“Freeze. Don’t move,” a male voice screams, causing both Heath and I to jump. “What are you doing? No one is allowed in here.”
I turn my head around and see an officer in uniform looking at us with his gun trained on us. He looks like a kid, but probably no more than twenty-five.
“I’m placing both of you under arrest for trespassing,” he says.
“Chill, man, we are the FBI,” Heath says, and I turn fully around to show him my badge as Heath pulls his out.
“FBI? No one told me the FBI would be coming,” he says, pulling out his phone.
“Detective, this is Officer Buckley. There are two people claiming to be FBI agents here at the Train Station with badges, were you aware?”
I can’t hear what the Detective is saying on the other side of the line, but I hear the officer say, “Yes, Sir. He wants to talk to you,” he tells me as he hands me the phone.
