Zo? could ask her the same thing.
“Where’s the person who found the woman?”
“The cops have them,” a guy in his twenties said.
“Them?”
“I think two people found the body.”
“I heard it was just one person,” someone else chipped in.
This was pointless. No one knew anything, and if they said they did, it would just be speculation at best.
Zo? pushed her way through the crowd, then waved down a cop behind the cordon.
“Can I help you?” the officer said.
“I need to speak to whoever’s in charge.”
“Why?”
“I need some answers.”
“I’m sure you do, but this is an active investigation. There will be no press releases.”
She should have known she’d get the wall of silence. “I’m not asking just because I’m curious. I may have information.”
She held off from saying she might have encountered the killer, because her conversation was drawing too much attention from the now-interested crowd.
“Like what information? Did you know the victim?”
“Yes. No. That’s why I want to talk to someone. I might know something. I have information.”
The cop gave her that I’ve-heard-it-all-before look. “Please step back, miss.”
“No.”
Her blunt reply shocked him. He seemed lost for a moment, but he soon recovered. He looked her up and down. He took in the dress, the bare skin, and the makeup. He leaned in and sniffed her breath. “Have you been drinking tonight, miss?”
She groaned inside. “Yes, but what has that got to do with anything?”
“Look, if you don’t leave, I will arrest you for public intoxication. If you’d like me to call a cab, I’d be happy to do it.”
This cop was wasting her time. She shouldn’t go home and wait for the answers to come out in the news. Not knowing the truth would eat her up. There was no way she was waiting to find out, and she as sure as shit wasn’t letting this guy get in her way.
She spotted a couple of men in suits emerging from the building. Both of them were pulling surgical gloves off their hands. They had to be inspectors or at least have better knowledge of the case than this cop.
“Sure.”
She made a pretense of leaving, and just as the policeman turned his back, she ducked under the crime-scene tape and bolted for the men in suits. A cry went up from the crowd, followed by the cry of the cop, telling her to stop. She heard the thump-thump of footfalls on the pavement behind her.
“Excuse me, are you in charge?” she yelled out to the men.
A second later, both men raced toward her.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Stop,” the cop’s voice rang out from behind her again.
He sounded close and he was. He slammed into her, driving her to the ground. The cop took the brunt of the impact on his shoulder, protecting her, although her purse went flying and one of her heels shot off into the distance.
The younger of the inspectors wrenched Zo? to her feet.
“What the hell is going on, Acosta?” the other detective said.
Acosta rose to his feet gingerly. “She’s a drunk.”
“I’m not. I need to talk to you about this murder.”
The detective who’d helped Zo? up hadn’t released his grip. “Do you know something?”
“Yes, I might. I just need to know some details.”
“Goddamn it,” the other detective said. “Are you a reporter or a blogger?”
“No.”
“What’s your name?”
“Zo? Sutton. Fifteen months ago, a man abducted me and killed my friend. I saw the news. This is the same guy.”
She expected this information to unlock a door, gain their confidence. Instead, she got blank looks. Honesty should have bought their trust, but it seemed to have done the opposite.
“I’m not crazy.”
“No one is saying you are,” the younger detective said.
“Ms. Sutton, do you realize what you’ve done?” the other man asked. “You’ve just contaminated an active crime scene. Do you know what damage that can do to our case?”
“I’m trying to help you.”
“Well, you aren’t. Take her in, Acosta. Book her on something. I don’t care what.”
Acosta took out his cuffs, and a cheer went up from the crowd.
No, they were going to listen to her. She shook off the younger detective’s arm and reached for the zipper on the side of her dress. Both detectives reached for their guns. Acosta leapt back from her. She ignored the peril she had placed herself in and tugged the zip down. She yanked the dress to one side to reveal the letters IV carved into her hip.
“Does the woman in there have a scar like this?”
Their stunned silence told them she did.