Cover Shot (A Headlines in High Heels Mystery Book 5) Read Online Free

already turned in my story, so it wasn’t worth pushing when I needed his help with something else.
    “Keep your secrets,” I said, gesturing to the passenger seat. “I have other sources I can pester.”
    He walked around the car and opened the door. “I’m aware. And I feel a little bad for unleashing you on them.”
    “They don’t deserve your pity, Detective.”
    He buckled his seatbelt and closed the door. “So what’s this you need to pick my brain about?”
    “Messages. I’ve gotten a few odd ones from the same account the past few weeks.”
    “What kind of account?”
    “Twitter.” I turned off Main toward Shockoe Slip and cut my eyes to him. “Why?”
    “I can’t get a warrant for social media unless the person is making actual threats,” he said. “There’s no harassment statute.”
    “Law hasn’t caught up with technology?”
    “It’s a little more basic than that, even,” he said. “When someone calls or texts or pages you and you don’t want them to, they’re using a service you’re paying for to contact you. So it’s essentially theft of service. Which means that even if what they’re saying isn’t threatening, there’s a legal basis for making them stop it. But you don’t pay for your social media accounts.”
    “I pay for the services I use to access them, though.”
    “Which is the sticking point for the House of Delegates every time this comes up. But so far, they haven’t managed to convince enough people that it would stand up in federal court to get the law passed.”
    Huh. “I don’t think this person is out to get me. But I’m beginning to think they might be more than just talk. Wondering if you’ll see something I haven’t.”
    “Happy to give it a look.”
    I parked the car and climbed out, chatting about the brilliant foliage and the mild October breeze as we walked the two blocks to the restaurant.
    Settled in a booth across from the bar with a glass of Moscato to Aaron’s Sam Adams Octoberfest a few minutes later, I dug out my phone. “Is there a way to find out who owns this Twitter account? The profile is blank, but if there’s some magical police thing you can do, maybe you could send a car by to check on them?”
    “You can register for an account with any name you like, so the profile might not help us if it was even filled out,” he said. “They might have opened it just to get in touch with you. I can trace an IP address, but that’ll take a couple of days.”
    “I’ll send you a link.”
    I pulled the messages up on my screen and handed him my phone.
    His baby blues scanned the screen at least four times before he spoke.
    “I feel reasonably safe that this person isn’t threatening you. But these sure border on threatening someone.”
    “I know. But who? Why? When? There are so many variables. I started a list of possibilities. I’m kind of hoping the handle is initials.”
    He snorted. “Surely not. But if you’ll email me the list I’ll run them.”
    I smiled at the waitress as she set platters of cheese fries and soft pretzels in the center of the table. “Thanks, Aaron.”
    “No promises, but maybe we’ll get lucky. Someone DMing a reporter isn’t trying to keep but so much of a secret.”
    “I’d just like to stay ahead of him if I can. Figure out what he’s up to before someone gets hurt.”
    “Yes, please. I’ve enjoyed the quiet lately.” The looked that flitted across his face told me his quiet was over the second he stepped into that condo.
    I changed the subject to personal stuff as he finished his first beer and let him get a third of the way into his second before I asked about the victim again.
    “Did the coroner give you a window on time of death?” I toyed with the straw in my ice water.
    “Nichelle.” Aaron’s tone held a warning edge. “I swear I’ll give you what I can when I can, but lay off.”
    “Lay off what?” I feigned innocence.
    He plunked his mug down on the table. “You know what.