Which left Micah with two new people to interview.

Much like the barista, the Uber driver who had dropped Nico and his date off at The Tea vaguely remembered Nico when he was shown a picture, but he couldn’t recall much about the man Nico had been with. The man had paid him in cash.

Micah’s interview with the cab driver had gone even worse. The man seemed distrustful of police in general, and he’d barely even glanced at the picture Micah tried to show him of Nico, claiming he taxied a lot of people around the city, and he could hardly be expected to remember the faces of every one of them, could he?

All in all, Micah felt like he’d spent the past several weeks chasing his own tail, where all leads led absolutely nowhere.

It was frustrating and damn near crippling on his self-esteem. Each day that passed, he grew less and less confident that they’d find Nico’s killer and bring him to justice. The worst part was having to give Mr. and Mrs. Sanchez daily updates – something he’d promised them and himself he’d do. Having to admit every day that they were no closer to arresting anyone then when they’d first found Nico’s body was taking it’s toll on his mental health.

Micah, for his part, remained convinced that whoever killed Nico was also responsible for the string of murdered prostitutes that came before him, but with no new evidence to support his theory and with the Hooker Hunter “officially” in custody, the cases remained unrelated in everyone’s minds but his own.

It’s what prompted his half-assed idea to go back undercover as a prostitute.

“What good would working the streets do?” Tessa demanded. “Even if Nico’s murder is the work of the Hooker Hunter – and that’s a big if – he’s clearly moved on to more sophisticated targets. If anything, you should be considering starting your own webcam show.” The woman wiggled her eyebrows.

Micah glared. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? A video of me shimmying around in a pair of women’s panties or, I don’t know, stroking a dildo, so that you could have something to hold over me forever.”

Jensen, who’d happened to be walking past their desks while nursing a cup of coffee, choked and had to spit the caffeinated beverage back out into his cup. He shot Micah an incredulous look, a flush crawling up his tan neck.

Micah fought off his own blush. “Sorry,” he blurted, holding up his spoon with one hand and his chocolate pudding cup with the other, “we’re taking lunch.”

Jensen merely shook his head and stalked off.

Tessa snorted in amusement, waiting until the man had turned the corner to wherever he was headed before refocusing on Micah. “Well, since you refuse to show me the dick pic you sent to Damon…”

Micah winced at the reminder of that particular blunder. “Trust me,” he said, remembering how his cock had strained against the silky panties, a little drop of precum staining the top, “our friendship would never recover.”