Double Vision by Colby Marshall Page B

‘pious’ aspects to this case?”
    â€œBesides the remorse of shutting the eyes, you mean?” Saleda asked.
    â€œI’d call that reverence, not piousness,” Teva countered.
    Jenna, however, stood still, looking at her feet as colors flashed in her mind. Eyes, closed. Pieces of evidence over them. Remorse. Eyes closed in remorse. Religion.
    Gold solidified in her mind.
    â€œThe eyes were covered. Coins. Greeks put coins over the eyes of the dead. It was a tradition, a fare to pay the boatman to take them across the river to the land of the dead,” Jenna whispered.
    Both women stared at her, suddenly quiet.
    â€œWhat?” Teva asked.
    â€œHe’s not only remorseful for killing them, but he’s even willing to pay their passage into the Underworld. The question is, what the heck does this have to do with the threes setting him off?”
    Teva chortled. “So this guy thinks Zeus is telling him to smite down anyone attached to the number three?”
    Jenna grabbed her satchel and the stack of case folders, and headed for the door. “I haven’t gotten that far, but I think it’s worth pursuing. We need to find out what all in Greek mythology was associated with the number three. Then maybe we can figure out what’s triggering his attacks. I’m going to the community college to talk to the history professor. I’ll check in soon.”
    And with that, Jenna was out the door.

11
    Y ancy plopped down into his desk chair, jammed his headphones on. Time to save the world again—or at least save little boys from closet monsters and stupid teenagers who thought 911 existed so they could call and ask for directions when they were lost.
    Before he hit his ready button to signify he was in place and prepared to take an emergency call, though, his cell phone lit up. He’d already turned it on silent, which was standard when he was on duty, but seeing the number glowing on the face, he couldn’t help but take one more minute off work to answer this one.
    â€œHey, beautiful lady,” he said.
    â€œHi, yourself,” Jenna replied flatly, but Yancy could tell by the sound of her voice that she was smiling. “Listen, I’m on my way to interview someone about the case right now, but I just wanted to call and let you know I can have Irv check in on the domestic abuse vic call if you want, just to make sure it all went down without anything crazy happening. If you were worried, I mean. I know we all have cases that get to us, and sometimes closure is best.”
    This wasn’t going to go well. But, like his grandmother had tried so hard to beat into his rear end with a belt, honesty was the best policy.
Go ahead, rock star. Make her day.
    â€œUm, that won’t be necessary. I, uh . . .” Yancy cleared his throat.
Spit it out, moron.
“I went by her house.”
    â€œYou
what
?” met his ears, the shrill pitch something like what he expected, only a little louder and a little more angry than confused.
    â€œHey, before you give me the lecture, relax. I just went by on my walk with Oboe to see if I saw anything. The blinds were open, and I saw her vacuuming. I didn’t knock on her door, throw pebbles at her window, nothing. She never knew I was there.”
    Jenna’s sigh echoed in his ears through the phone. “Yancy, it’s not
about
whether or not she saw you. It’s about protocol and professional distance! You can’t get so personally involved. It never ends well. Ever. You know better than this . . .”
    The back of Yancy’s neck burned, the heat creeping up his cheeks. “Whoa, wait a minute—”
    â€œIt’s easy to get invested in these cases that crop up a lot. I know. But self-control is—”
    â€œOh, self-control is important, huh? Not overstepping? But you didn’t have any problem breaking protocol or having me overstep when it served your