Jaime lifted a shoulder. “Actually, it would have, yeah. Frank looks like something from a seedy eighties porno. The ’stache, the shit shirts, the wholedarlin’bullshit. I bet he’s sat behind a desk in a dark room with a spotlight above his head, cigar resting in an ashtray, too.”
“So, what are you saying?” Max sat on the edge of his desk, giving his full attention to Jaime.
“I don’t know. He’s just a creep. Maybe using the club as a front for something else. Drugs, money laundering, that kinda thing.” Jaime cleared her throat, her mind drifting to Lady A. Her mind had been there since they first locked eyes. But Jaime wouldn’t admit to that and wouldn’t allow it to mean anything. “Anyway, I’m far more interested in this…Lady A.”
Max nodded slowly. “She’s interesting, I guess.”
“Mmhmm. Interesting is one word to use,” Jaime muttered to herself when she turned back to her computer. “She’s our number one suspect, right?”
“Is…she?”
Jaime cleared her throat. She had yet to understand Lady A and the feelings she somehow seemed to rouse within Jaime, but she didn’t get the same vibes with Lady A that she did with Frank. “Her reaction to the news that it was Maisie would suggest that she isn’t involved, but everyone is a suspect right now. We have absolutely nothing to go on. No leads…no names, no fucking nothing.” Jaime hated not having one tiny shred ofsomething. Finding a lead today would have helped with her mood and what this day meant. “And I’d like to say it’s early days, but we have multiple dead now, Max. We have to find something soon. If we find another?—”
“We’re going to come across something.”
“Hope so.” Jaime lowered her head to her hands, exhaling a deep breath. “I’m dreading going back to that place. Doesn’t it give you the creeps?”
“You know,” Jackson cut in, loosening his tie. “You shouldn’t knock those places or the women who work them. Prostitution is one of the oldest professions in the world. It ain’t going anywhere. Someone willalwaysbe willing to pay for sex.” He grinned, tipping his head towards Jaime. “Maybe you could do with a night there. Loosen up.”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Jaime shot to her feet and scowled. “You got something to say, then say it!”
Jackson held up his hands. “Relax, Baros. I’m just fucking with you.”
Max stood between Jaime and Jackson’s desks. “Guys…”
Jaime stepped towards her partner. “You better tell him to shut his mouth before I do it for him.”
Max placed a hand on Jaime’s shoulder. “He’s not wrong about knocking those places. I know you have your opinions andwhyyou hate going to them, but he doesn’t… and again, he’s not wrong.”
“What?” Jaime folded her arms across her chest.
“This case may take us to that brothel more often than you’d like. You need to get your head together and put your personal reasons to the back of your mind. For the women, okay?”
For the women?Did her colleagues really think she hated sex workers? No, that couldn’t be further from the truth. It was the people behind the women, the gangs, and the pimps who brought trouble to the streets and the women’s lives. Jaime had massive respect for any woman who chose to go into sex work. Whether that was to strip, to provide sex, or to cam, so long as they were safe and they were not being forced into it by some bastard on a street corner, Jaime had no problem with those women at all.
“I’m headed home. Call me if you find anything that we’ve missed.” Jaime snatched her blazer, scoffing as she shook her head. When she lifted her eyes to Max, she frowned. “You’re way off the mark. I don’t have an issue with what they do.”
“You want some company?” Max asked, his eyes soft. “I have a few hours.”
“Nah, I’m good. I’m headed home for a few rounds on the bag.”
Noneof this made any sense. Jaime landed a fist on the punching bag in the corner of her apartment. No, this was all kinds of fucked up. Lady A. Jaime’s unexpected attraction to the woman… their suspect.You don’t know that she did it. Tonight, Jaime prayed it was Lady A who had killed those women. It beat the consequences of the alternative reality. The consequences of attachment.
Jaime didn’t have it in her to become attached to another woman. Taylor was still there, deep down and hidden away. She always would be. As would the guilt of that dreadful night. And it was that guilt that kept Jaime awake most nights. The brief therapy sessions she had, well, they’d insinuated that over time the responsibility would fade. Still, on days like today… when Jaime was thinking about another woman on their anniversary, the guilt grew stronger with every breath she took. With each punch she landed on the bag. With every beat of her heart.
Fuck this. She hit harder, faster, her arms burning along with her lungs. Jaime didn’t need this shit in her life right now. She had a job to do, and holding a place for Lady A in her mind would prevent her from doing it to the best of her ability. Okay, that was bullshit. Jaime could handle whatever life threw ather. Hadn’t she proven that already?Jab, jab. She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing in time with each punch. This was the only time she felt she could think. While she was alone and able to take her anger out on a sack. Honestly, today she’d been close to taking her anger out on anything she could. That included a woman who appeared distraught by Maisie’s death. Max had been right…again. Jaime had to get her head together. This wasn’t healthy.
Neither is thinking about that fucking woman, yet here you are.
She bent at the hip suddenly, tears threatening to spill out. Jaime had no time for tears. She had no time to dwell on the past or worry about the future. The public needed her, Max needed her, hell…she even needed herself. A clear mind and a sound conscience. If she even dreamed of thinking about Lady A as anything more than a person of interest, her conscience would be far from clear. That murky water she didn’t dare dip her toe intohadto recede. For her own sanity, if nothing else.
Jaime ripped her wrist supports off and threw them to the floor. After she took a long sip from her water bottle, she dabbed at her forehead and flopped down onto the couch. Would she always feel as though she was doing something wrong if she so much as looked at another woman sideways? Was Taylor disappointed and hurt that Jaime hadn’t even had time to visit her grave today? No, Taylor didn’t have it in her to be that person. She was too perfect in Jaime’s eyes. And besides, Jaime had never been the kind of person to stand around looking at a gravestone. Taylor was here with her. She always would be.
Just…relax. Breathe. Allow yourself to feel for a fucking second.
Huh. Maybe those brief therapy sessions had taught her something.
She lay lengthways, aware that it waswaypast her bedtime, and clasped her hands on her stomach. Maybe if she just gave herself a moment or two to think about the case, something would flag up as suspicious.
