{twenty-three}

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Detective Healey brought the shaking woman, Angela Brooks, a bottle of water. Angela twirled a lock of her black hair and took a drink. Jeans, plenty of obvious piercings on her face and in her ears. She was dressed nice enough in dark jeans and a black shirt. No tattoos that he could see.

Dylan went over to his case and pulled out his tablet. He alternated between looking at her and watching old surveillance footage. Something about her face seemed familiar.

"You were the one on camera at Olive and Alicia's weren't you?" A nod from her. Dylan leaned against Healey's desk and frowned. "Did you make the call to the police, too?"

Tears rolled down her face, and Healey offered her a tissue. "Take your time."

She gripped the bottle in her hand. "I followed him to the warehouse. Oh my God I was so scared because I was sure he saw me." Her hand went to her heart. "But when he didn't I made the call. Told myself I'd get here as soon as I could."

"Where did you meet? When?" How could you not know? Dylan wanted to add. His heart raced dangerously fast and dizziness took over. He took a breath and willed himself to calm down.

"I bartend at a place called Mike's. That's where I met him."

"Who is he?"

"I know him as Adam Blackburn. But I don't think that's his real name."

This from a person who wasn't even aware she was dating a killer. "How would you know?" His voice rose with each word.

"When I started digging around I couldn't find anything with his name." She leaned forward then looked at him and Healey. "I got to thinking, and a couple of reasons stood out. Either he didn't want anything to do with his family, or he hid it on purpose."

"That's oddly specific," Dylan said.

"What can I say?" the woman asked. "I notice things."

Here they were busting their asses to find a killer, and he'd been right under her nose the whole damn time. Dylan sat on Healey's desk.

"I'd say you should've paid more attention," Dylan said, unimpressed. "And please don't tell me you met him on Facebook."

The woman's face reddened which gave them their answer. "He was on his computer one night. I think I saw one of the women from the news."

"That's not enough to go on." Irritation crept in his tone.

"How about this?" She opened a grocery bag and pulled out another one with a shirt and jeans.

Blood. "Where'd you get these?"

"It doesn't matter. If you run DNA, I'm sure you'll find out who the victim is."

"I can take that." Alessa got the bag. "We'll need to know where you got it."

"I broke into the car he was using. Some broken down Accord."

A Toyota and now a Honda. So this guy had access to cars. Unless he stole them. They'd already ran that angle for the Camry with no success.

"Do you know where he lives?" A headache throbbed at Dylan's temples. "What he usually drives?"

She shook her head. "He's always at my place and usually takes a cab. When he did have a car, it was different every time." She rubbed her chin. "There's not much parking outside of Mike's. I thought I saw a Mercedes once, but I could've been mistaken."

Healey typed on the computer while taking a sip from her mug at the same time. "Did he say he was going to kill you?"

"No, but he's been looking at me funny. When I asked him about it, he changed the subject." She squeezed her water bottle. "That's when I remembered how obsessed with the news and online papers he was even when we first met. I had this feeling. I didn't feel safe."

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