Pure Vengeance

Sutton Capital On the Line Series Book 1

Lori Ryan

Copyright 2017, Lori Ryan.

All rights reserved.

This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

ISBN: 978-1-941149-61-4

Sutton Capital On the Line Series

Pure Vengeance

Latent Danger

Wicked Justice

Acknowledgments

It always seems to take a small village to get my books to you all. As always, I’m tremendously grateful to all the people who step up to help me!

To Melanie and Steve, thank you so much for all your help! You guys make my books so much better.

To my cover designer, Viola Estrella. You rocked the covers for this new series, but that’s no surprise to me! You always come through with exactly what I need.

To Cathy and Kay for your help in brainstorming whenever I call.

To everyone at SilverHart Writer’s SWAT Academy for writers. You really made a huge difference and your willingness to help always amazes me. A special shout out to Scott Silverii, Ph.D., and to Eli Jackson of Authors Combat Academy for your on-the-fly expertise! My writing would be so much slower if you all didn’t answer crazy random questions at all hours.

Thank you to Deb Posey Chudzinski and Shari Bartholomew for answering my random questions and helping me make the medical side of things work!

And, especially, thank you to my husband and kids who put up with so much to help me meet deadline after deadline! You guys really are too good to me.

I’m sure I forgot someone! Please forgive me for any oversights.

Chapter One

“He’s like a real-life Joe Pesci.” Cal Rylan looked at their witness. They’d finally stuck him across the room with a uniform to babysit. If Cal had to listen to one more of the man’s stories about the history of cheese, he’d lose his mind. “Only not as funny. I could have lived forever without knowing there was a debate over whether cheese was developed in Europe, Central Asia, the Sahara, or the Middle East, and been totally happy.”

“You mean Leo Getz.” Cal’s partner, Jarrod Harmon, didn’t look up from where he sat skimming through emails. They were scheduled to leave in ten minutes and Jarrod wasn’t one to waste time nowadays. The more he took care of things like emails and reports in the in-between times, the faster he’d get home to his new girl.

Cal was happy for Jarrod. Since the man had admitted he’d fallen for Carrie Hastings, he hadn’t stopped smiling. So what if Cal had to bite back a stab of envy now and then?

But he was beginning to see how alone he was. How much better his life could be…well, it wasn’t worth really thinking too long about it. It wasn’t like he could sign his ass up for online dating or anything. What would he write? Overworked cop who’s seen too damned much and has no life outside of catching killers. Yeah, that should draw in the women.

“Leo Getz?” Cal asked.

“Yeah.” Jarrod looked up this time. “Leo Getz. Joe Pesci is the actor. Leo Getz is the character.”

Cal shrugged. “Whatever. You get my point.” He paused and glanced over his shoulder at their witness. Eddy Preiss was no trophy in the looks department. He was short and balding, but still fighting acne in his forties. “You get the idea maybe we aren’t being told all we need to know about this assignment?”

Jarrod’s eyes had gone back to his email, but Cal’s question brought them right back to his partner. They’d learned a long time ago to listen to each other’s hunches. On more than one occasion, nothing more than gut feeling had saved their asses. It was something they paid attention to.

“No, but if you’ve got concerns…” The rest didn’t need to be said. Jarrod would back Cal if he wanted to dig deeper to set his mind at ease.

The men stood and walked toward their captain’s office. Cal knocked on the door frame, waiting for Captain Calhoun to nod before they entered.

“Captain, you got any more information on this guy we’re bringing to the Feds this morning?” Cal was the one to ask the question. The Captain was generally open with them, so neither man thought much of asking for more. They’d been told about the assignment the afternoon before, but there hadn’t been much detail to go with it.

Calhoun frowned and shook his head. “No. He was brought in on a petty theft charge. I got the sense the arresting officers don’t really expect him to have much information, but Preiss claims he’s got something worth talking about and he’ll only talk to the FBI. Someone in the prosecutor’s office is probably just trying to kiss ass with the Feds. Told them we’d do the courtesy of transporting him over to their office.”

Cal nodded. “Okay.” He didn’t move to leave.

“Something I should know about gentlemen?” Calhoun asked.

“Just a bad feeling.” Cal shrugged and rubbed his stomach absently.

Calhoun leaned back in his seat. “I don’t have any reason to think anything’s off about this. Simple interview. You sure you didn’t eat something bad last night?”

Jarrod shot a look toward Cal and Cal nodded. If the Captain said it was tight, he’d have to accept that.

Cal laughed. “Could be. Franklin and Motz insisted on eating at some dive I’d never heard of. Should’ve known not to listen to those two.” The men stood and the Captain went back to whatever he’d been working on. Cal didn’t envy the man the time he put into reports and administrative bull. He wouldn’t have the patience for it. He’d be bored sitting in that chair within days.

Jarrod spoke quietly as they left the office, looking at his watch. “It’s time. We good?”

Cal nodded. “Yeah, we’re good. Shit, I’m probably just dreading the ten-minute ride in a car with this asshole while he tells us more about cheese or maybe his signed baseballs.” Cal appreciated baseball as much as the next guy, but he couldn’t get on board with a forty-year-old man bragging about his collection of fifty-two signed baseballs for upwards of twenty minutes.

“I hear ya.”

Five minutes later, Cal pulled his car up to the back exit of the station. There was a ramp with a seven-foot concrete wall that ran along it at this exit. With Cal’s car ready at the end of the concrete wall, they’d have little exposure to prying eyes. Cal preferred it that way. He stood next to the door and knocked, then turned to face out, scanning what he could see of the parking lot. All clear.

Jarrod opened the door and they took their formation easily, falling in with Cal in front, their witness next, and Jarrod in the back. It was a short ride over to the federal building. They’d kill time over there while this guy talked to whoever he was meeting with, then either leave him and transfer custody, or bring him back to lockup.

Warm spray hit the back of Cal’s neck and he raised his hand to feel it, part of him knowing what it was before he saw it. The sound of the gunshot caught up to the bullet seconds later. Cal turned to cover the witness, but it was already too late.

“Fuck!” Cal didn’t wait for another shot. The back door opened as others inside the building responded to the shot. Cal grabbed for the witness and Jarrod, dragging both through the back door as two uniforms flanked him. One held the door. The other reached to help him with the dead weight he was dragging.

Dead weight. Cal’s gut churned and flipped, threatening to give up its contents.

Jarrod was hit.

A tornado whirled in Cal’s head as he took in the scene. Blood. Two blood trails covered the floor, but the larger of the two ran to the witness. Blood seeped over the man’s chest and a silver dollar sized hole stood above the man’s heart. There was no life in his eyes.

Cal turned to Jarrod as more officers spilled out to find the asshole who’d shot at them, but Cal didn’t hear any more shots, from either the attacker or the officers.

Christ, how would he tell Carrie? Cal couldn’t go through this again.

Jarrod lay unconscious on the floor. Cal took in his injuries, ignoring everything around him—ignoring the Captain’s shouts for answers and the rookie that stood frozen against one wall, staring at the blood. Jarrod’s arm was bleeding, but a quick examination showed it was nothing more than a flesh would.

Cal moved his hands to his partner’s head as a detective from major crimes began to assess the witness’s injuries and begin CPR. Cal wanted to scream at the man, to tell him the fucker was well past dead. But he didn’t. He found a wound at the back of Jarrod’s head and applied pressure as he tried to tell himself this couldn’t be a bullet wound. It had to be from the fall. Rationally, he knew it, but that didn’t stop the panic.

“Where is the bus?” He hollered. “Where the fuck is the bus?” They needed an ambulance now, not ten minutes from now.

Cal looked down as he waited, praying like hell he wouldn’t have to tell Carrie that Jarrod hadn’t made it.

He couldn’t fucking do that again. Could not.

Chapter Two

Eve Sands didn’t wait to be told not to go. She’d been assigned to this witness and she was damned well going to follow through. Especially now that he’d been shot.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew Special Agent in Charge Richard Dyson was pissed at her and this assignment was payback. Of course, when he’d assigned her to talk to this witness, he had no idea the guy would be shot dead. He considered this his way of sticking her out in the dog house and leaving her until she’d licked his boots enough to be allowed back into his good graces.

Sadly for him, Eve didn’t lick anyone’s boots. He was going to be waiting a good long while for that one. He couldn’t get her off the task force he was leading—at least not without somehow manufacturing a reason for their supervisors—but he could stick her with the crap no one else wanted to handle.

This witness had definitely been considered a crap assignment. She’d been on her way to the office for the interview when the call had come in about the shooting. And yes, she should call in to Dyson before going to New Haven PD, but if she did that, he’d tell her to come in and he’d send someone else out. Someone who was currently in his favor.

Instead, she turned and headed straight to the police department. She tended to be one of those ask-for-forgiveness-instead-of-permission kind of people. Besides, if Dyson had screwed up and didn’t consider this guy to be a major witness, he might be in for a nasty surprise. After all, the guy had been shot before he could talk to her. That had to mean something.

She flashed her badge for the uniform standing at the crime scene tape and cringed. She felt for these guys. To have your own precinct surrounded in crime scene tape had to hurt. She’d heard a detective had been shot as well. She sent up a silent prayer for him. Losing any of the guys on their side always hurt, whether they were local or federal.

“I want answers and I want them now.” A grim-faced man stood over the remnants of what had to have been the paramedics’ attempt to revive someone. He wasn’t yelling, but his tone told her he was two seconds away from releasing all that anger. She might end up catching a lot of that before this little scene was over. The volume kicked up a notch as he continued. “I want to know what the hell this man was planning to talk to the feds about and why the fuck we didn’t know about this level of risk.”

“I don’t know,” another officer mumbled.

“Then find out! If he was going to be a target, we damned well should have known about it.”

Eve squared her shoulders and stepped closer. “I can help with that.” She held up her credentials. “Special Agent Eve Sands.”

Sharp gray eyes turned toward her. He was a large man, but she would bet there wasn’t an ounce of extra fat on that frame. Dark hair and intelligent eyes were set off by a hard jaw and a scar above his left eye running above the brow and up into the hairline. Whatever caused it had to have hurt.

Cal turned and narrowed in on the voice the minute she spoke. She was blonde, the kind of blonde hair that was almost white, but not the kind that looked fake. Her skin was pale and creamy and bright blue eyes blazed. She looked like she should be on the shelf in a doll store where no one could break her. She sure as hell didn’t look like she should be in here, surrounded by blood and tough assholes, both the ones on the right side and those on the wrong side of the law. When he looked close, though, he could see her own toughness shining through. It wasn’t readily apparent, but it was there. He would bet she had to fight tooth and nail to get any respect on the job.

He didn’t introduce himself. He had more than one reason for going on the offensive with her. The fact his witness and partner had both been shot was only the start of it. The kick of attraction he felt for her was another. He didn’t know where the hell it came from, but he didn’t want it getting in the way. “Why the hell weren’t we told this guy was high value? What the hell kind of clusterfuck is the FBI running?”

He would have known she was FBI without the badge. She had it written all over her buttoned up suit and the way she’d twisted her hair tight to the nape of her neck.

And where the hell had thoughts of the nape of her neck come from? Why did he even know those words? Cal shook his head to clear it and focused on the anger. He had every damned right to be angry here. The FBI’s screw-up had just put his partner in the hospital.

She did that hands-on-hips thing his mom used to do to him. “You should treat any witness like he’s high value. But if you must know, we didn’t have any reason to think this guy would put any of you at risk. If we had, I’d have made sure you had that information.”

She paused and he could see she wasn’t going to say more, no passing on of the blame. He had to respect that. She was telling him she wasn’t going to rat out whoever had been in charge. He could appreciate standing by your team like that. It didn’t change the fact that the other half of his team was now injured.

He needed to get his ass over to the hospital. He should be there for Carrie. He shouldn’t leave her waiting for news on Jarrod by herself.

“Any word on the officer who was shot, detective?” She drew the last out, clearly reminding him he hadn’t bothered with the niceties of introducing himself.

His jaw clenched and he struggled to let out a slow breath through his teeth. “Detective Cal Rylan. My partner, Jarrod Harmon is the injured detective. Flesh wound to his arm, but his head took a bad hit. Waiting for news.”

She nodded.

He looked around at the mess of bloody gauze and footprints that morning’s events had left in their wake before turning his attention back on the woman. “What can you tell me about this witness?” He asked. He needed information and she was likely his best shot at getting it. Truth be told, he never actually minded working with the FBI. Most cops didn’t. That came from the movies.

The FBI had resources they didn’t. More resources meant more bad guys put away. Simple math.

“He claimed to have information on the Genesio crime family. No one was putting much stock in it, though. He seems to have no ties to them that we can find.”

Cal looked down at the floor again and gestured at the carnage. “I’d say this lends a little more credence to his claim.”

“It does.” Her face was grim as she followed his gaze.

“Detective.”

Cal turned to the uniform who approached. “What did you find?”

“We had two alerts from Shotspotter come in, but I don’t think either of them is your shot,” the man said. The Shotspotter system now covered a five-mile area of New Haven. When a shot was fired anywhere in that range, devices picked up the sound and the police station received an almost instantaneous report of the general location of the shot. It didn’t provide an exact address, but it let them know where to begin looking.

“Why’s that?”

“One was a few gangbangers over on Oakwood.” The uniform looked down at his notepad. “The other was a single shot three quarters of a mile away. Officers responded but found nothing in the area.” He shrugged. “Probably a car backfiring.”

Cal shook his head. “Shotspotter rules out noises like cars backfiring at their central location within seconds of receiving the report, before they even forward any information on to us. If they sent us the report, it wasn’t a car. Get some uniforms back over there to canvas.”

He turned toward Agent Sands and read on her face the same thoughts running through his head. “Three quarters of a mile. This isn’t an amateur.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not. That’s a hard shot to make.”

Neither voiced the implications. They were looking for someone with some serious training here. Maybe even military.

Or worse, one of their own.

“I’ll have someone run it through IBIS, see if there’s a match once we get ballistics back. Shots like that aren’t a dime a dozen. We could get lucky.” Cal called out to the medical examiner, who stood talking a few feet away. She’d already sent the body over to the morgue with her assistant. “Dr. Kane.”

Mary Kane turned and walked toward him. After introducing her to Agent Sands, he filled her in on the Shotspotter report. “Is it possible this shot came from that far away?”

She nodded. “I need to get inside the body and look around,” she said, making him cringe at the thought. “But, yes, it’s definitely possible based on what I saw of the angle of the wound, the tearing. I can confirm for you in a few hours.”

Cal and Eve shared a look. It was hardly welcome news. They were looking at a frighteningly skilled sniper.

Chapter Three

Scout bent over and retched again. Vomiting after a shot like that was something Scout had gotten used to a long time ago. It was like the General still stood whispering directions before each shot. “Settle in. Wait for the moment. That sweat spot between the breaths. Wait for it.”

Scout would make the shot, then puke within minutes, a result of stomach muscles clenched tight from the stress.

The sneer on the General’s face would come right after Scout puked. Of course, the General only upped the pressure. A favorite game was to stand Scout’s friends along the line of fire. If the shot wasn’t just right, one of those people would be hurt.

At least today, there had been time to get out of the building and away from danger.

“Snap out of it, soldier!” That voice came again, clear as day, as though the General were still standing there.

Scout shook the memory loose and stood, wiping at the vomit. It was time to move. Three blocks away from the sniper’s nest wasn’t far enough.

“Don’t be an idiot. Keep moving, Scout.”

People who didn’t know any better thought a sniper shot was impersonal. That you didn’t have to get close to the target, so the physical distance allowed you to distance yourself emotionally. They couldn’t be more wrong.

A sniper often had to look their victim dead in the eye before a shot. The eyes let you into that person’s head, their heart, their soul. Shooting someone after witnessing that meant calling on the ability to block your own heart and soul. The General had drilled that into Scout.

Getting in and out of that building had been the easy part. Taking the shot? Pulling the trigger and doing what had to be done? That had been harder. But it had been necessary. It was well past time for this to happen.

Chapter Four

Eve followed Detective Rylan up to the Captain’s office on the third floor. She’d been in the detective’s division of the New Haven Police Department before, but it had been awhile. Not surprisingly, not a whole lot had changed. It was the same large room with desks stacked nearly on top of each other. The Captain’s office and interrogation rooms were off to one side. Bathrooms at the back. Same dingy washed-out furniture.

She felt eyes on her as they headed for the Captain’s office. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t experienced before. Eve knew she didn’t look like she belonged on the job. Her own mother had told her she should be doing something “softer,” as she’d put it.

The Captain nodded for her and Detective Rylan to sit, and they waited as he finished a phone call. She could guess who he was speaking with. Dick Dyson probably hadn’t wasted any time calling over here to page her back to the FBI building so he could send someone else to cover things now that it had become clear this witness might have had real information.

She hadn’t decided yet if she’d try to fight him on that. If she did fight it, she’d have to plead her case higher up the chain. It wasn’t something she relished doing. It smacked of ratting Dyson out and she’d been avoiding doing that. She’d rather just keep her head down and do her job. It didn’t mean she’d wouldn’t continue to stand up to him when he was being an ass. But there was a fine line between that and running to the boss to fight her battle for her.

“Works for me if it works for you, Jordan.”

Eve’s head snapped up at the Captain’s words. Jordan Carter was the Supervisory Special Agent in Charge of the New Haven office. She and Dyson both answered to him. They all answered to him.

Captain Calhoun hung up the phone, but didn’t bother with any niceties. He must have known who she was because there were no introductions.

“I just got off the phone with your boss.” He seemed to be talking to her, but he was busy riffling through papers on his desk. “You and Detective Rylan will be working together on this. Technically, NHPD will be leading this with an assist from the FBI, but that can change if we tie this to your task force.”

Cal’s brows rose. She hadn’t told him about the task force yet. She mouthed “Genesio task force” at him and got a nod in response. Now the Captain did look up, splitting his gaze between the two of them. “You need to close this case quickly. Get yourselves set up in the incident room. It’s yours for the time being. We’ve got enough pressure and bad press coming in from the James murders. I don’t need this piled on top.”

Eve nodded. She didn’t need to be told what the James murders were. No one who lived in or near New Haven did. The press had made sure of that. The murder of Bryan and Christopher James—a Yale Professor and his son—had triggered a backlash against the New Haven PD. Sadly, people weren’t looking back at the record decrease in crime or the uptick in the rate of case closures New Haven had enjoyed over the last two years.

When they hadn’t been able to make an arrest in the mugging-gone-bad case because there hadn’t been enough evidence to prosecute, the city and its police department had been targeted. Everyone under the sun was Sunday morning quarterbacking the case.

Eve didn’t envy any of the brass in the department right now.

“Yes, sir,” Cal answered and stood. Eve stood as well, following his lead. The Captain waved a hand at them to go when his phone began to ring again. No, she didn’t envy the man his job right now at all. Dealing with the politics of their job wasn’t something she’d wish on her worst enemy. She wouldn’t even wish it on Dick Dyson, and that was saying something. She’d wished some pretty foul things on the man.

They walked from the Captain’s office but didn’t make it far before a detective who had apparently used a gallon of gel to slick back his hair stepped into their path. The man looked like he’d had a hard night of drinking and had cleaned himself up as well as he could. The effort didn’t cover the red-rimmed eyes or the hint of unshowered body that hung around him.

“Let it happen again, huh, Rylan?” He went so far as to hike up the belt of his pants as he got in Rylan’s face. It was almost comical. He turned to Eve. “You might not want to partner with this one. His partners don’t tend to come out in one piece.”

“Piss off, Jep.” She heard a growl from deep in Cal’s chest as he stepped to the asshole.

Fantastic. She was partnered with a head case who couldn’t blow off a taunt from someone who was clearly trying to get a rise out of him. She had neither the time nor the patience for this shit.

Eve stepped between the two men, turning her back on the asshole and squaring off with her new partner. “Save it for the case,” she said quietly.

To her surprise, he grinned like he was having the time of his life and shrugged his shoulders. “Okay.”

Yup. Head case.

Chapter Five

“I need to get over to the hospital. I want to be there with my partner’s girlfriend. She’s probably going nuts waiting for news.” Detective Rylan looked over his shoulder at Eve as he spoke and she had to school her face to hide the surprise. She wouldn’t have taken him for the kind of guy who would go hold a girlfriend’s hand. If anything, she’d have thought he’d be uncomfortable with tears.

He was your typical cop, and touchy feely wasn’t exactly part of that job description. Hell, she was the same way. She couldn’t criticize him for it.

Before she could answer, the detective’s phone rang. She watched as he barked an answer. “Rylan.”

Seconds later a genuine smile lit up his face. “Hell of a way to get yourself a vacation. Next time just put in for time off, okay?”

Several of the detectives closest to them had gathered around as soon as Rylan’s phone rang. When they heard his words, the relief was palpable and shoulder claps and punches went around the room as they all tried to act nonchalant about the fact one of theirs had made it. Rylan said a few more things into the phone before hanging up.

“Jarrod’s all good?” one of the other men called across the room.

Rylan nodded. “Yeah. Concussion and some stitches on the back of that hard freaking head of his, flesh wound on his arm. A week off.”

“I’da been back tomorrow,” one younger uniform said with a grin and Eve recognized the need to laugh off the mortality they’d witnessed in their own house.

Rylan looked at her, producing a tube of sunscreen from the drawer of his desk, said, “ME’s office?”

She nodded as she watched him apply the cream to his neck and arms. “Yeah, and then I’ve got a lead for us to check out.” He raised a brow at that but didn’t argue.

He tilted the sunscreen her way, a smirk crossing his face. “Protection?”

Eve shook her head, not entirely sure what to make of the man.

A woman in a suit with her detective shield clipped to her belt laughed, leaning in to talk to Eve. “He’s obsessed with protecting that precious mug of his. Says the sun leads to wrinkles.” Eve found herself wondering just how precious the woman thought Rylan’s mug was. Maybe he was one of those cops who slept around in the precinct.

Why did she hope like hell that wasn’t the case?

“One day you’re gonna wish you’d all listened to me, Mathewson,” Detective Rylan said to the woman. She made a face and kept moving with a laugh as Eve and Rylan walked out of the station.

“Is that Ann Mathewson?” Eve asked.

“Yeah, why?” Cal now wore a wary expression.

Eve shook her head. “I’ve just heard good things, that’s all.” Mathewson had done a few undercover operation jobs a few years back for the FBI. They’d needed someone fitting her description to step in during a case, and she’d stepped up. Word was, she’d handled herself more than well. She’d gotten all the information needed to take down their target, but also maintained her cover and gone back in two months later for another round. She’d impressed a lot of the agents she worked with.

Ten minutes later, Eve focused on the doctor standing in front of her in the medical examiner’s suite. Dr. Kane. The woman seemed to be competent and knowledgeable, if not at least a bit harried and overworked, but weren’t they all?

“We’re waiting on an official ballistics report, but I can tell you your shooter is using .338 Lapua bullets,” the doctor said.

Eve frowned. She knew her weapons and the ammo to go with them. “You can shoot those from a lot of weapons.”

“That you can,” the doctor agreed. Dr. Kane confirmed her previous estimate that the bullet was shot from more than half a mile away.

“Uniforms are checking in the area of the Shotspotter report,” Rylan said, “but they don’t have anything concrete yet. A few people in the area are pointing them toward an apartment building, but others sent them to another building across the street, claiming the sound came from there. Both are within the range the system picked up.”

As they walked out of the suite, Eve looked at her watch. “Come on. Let’s pay a visit to Genesio.”

“Just like that? You’re going to walk in and talk to the head of one of the area’s most notorious crime families?”

She shot him a look. “We go way back.” She didn’t expand on that and she hoped he left it at that. She had no desire to explain her past to anyone right now, least of all a detective who seemed to have enough quirks he could be a character in a movie instead of a plain old average detective.

Chapter Six

“I remember the first time I saw this place,” Cal said. “It shattered all my images of mob bosses hanging out in a dark back room of a dive bar.” He was trying to break the mood that’d been hanging over Eve since they’d gotten within three blocks of the office building that housed the business empire of Dominic Genesio and his sons.

Not that he really knew how to read her moods yet, but the change had been sudden and damned near palpable. She’d gone quiet.

He looked up at the office building. Gone were the days when mobsters hung out in back rooms. Nowadays, their business dealings took place in large office buildings like the one they were about to enter. It wasn’t dead center in downtown New Haven, but it was close. And there were plenty of legitimate businesses on the other floors of the building. The top floor, though—that one was reserved for the Genesios.

Eve snorted and he had the bizarre thought that he liked the fact she wasn’t all hung up on acting girly and shit. She didn’t seem to care if he thought she was sexy or hot. Of course, that made her all the more sexy to him. That and the gun she was carrying. Why was that? What the hell made that so hot? He’d never thought that with any of the other women he served alongside.

“Yeah, Dominic decided a long time ago to give up hiding out in dark rooms like his dad and granddad. He’s ballsy as hell and doesn’t care if people know who he is and what he does. Just as long as none of it can be documented and proven.” He raised a brow. She was on a first name basis with the guy?

They entered the lobby and got into the elevator for the ride to the top floor.

“Hi Dawn,” Eve said, flashing her credentials, but not slowing down as they approached the reception desk. She veered around it and kept right on walking. “I’ll show myself in,” she said over her shoulder to the woman perched on a small leather rolling chair. “Feel free to call ahead and warn him.”

Cal grinned as he watched Eve walk to the largest office at the back corner of the space. She opened the double doors, with both hands, flinging them wide, and he had to wonder at her unorthodox approach. What agent waltzes right into the office of the head of one of the largest crime families on the East coast? The odd punch of attraction he’d been battling all morning tripled, and he had to work to ignore it.

Dominic Genesio sat in an enormous leather chair behind a desk that demanded a chair of that size, lest it dwarf it and look ridiculous. The office was gaudy with gold trimmed picture frames and a large mirror in a gilded frame taking up too much space on one wall.

Cal recognized the man standing at Genesio’s right shoulder as Sal Bassani. He was Genesio’s enforcer, although technically on the books he was labeled Head of Security. He didn’t recognize the man to Genesio’s left, but his stunned look and business-like demeanor said he was more on the office side of the business and less involved with the kneecap-breaking side of things. And yes, despite their cozy digs and attempts to look like your every-day-average business nowadays, they still broke kneecaps. It was a sadly effective way for them to maintain order among the rank and file, and collect on debts.

“Agent Sands.” It wasn’t a greeting so much as an acknowledgement that she’d stormed in. Genesio leaned to look around her to where Rylan stood at her back. “And you’ve brought a friend. He doesn’t have that FBI stink about him.” He sniffed. “What is that? I know that stink, but I just can’t place it. It’s on the tip of my tongue, Sal.”

“That’s a different stink, Mr. Genesio,” said Bassani. “That’s city grade pig.”

Cal only grinned wider at the insult and Eve didn’t seem to miss a beat. “Good to see you, Sal. When I heard Dom was diversifying with a sniper, I was a little worried you might be out of a job. Is he keeping you on out of pity maybe? Or are we calling it loyalty? Keep the old guy on even after he’s not much use to you. It’s almost noble, in a way.”

A growl seemed to come from Bassani’s chest and Cal had to force himself not to step in front of Agent Sands. She was an agent. It would be an insult for him to show he was at all concerned she couldn’t handle herself. But he’d seen the flash of shadow across Dominic Genesio’s face when she’d called him Dom. The mob boss might be humoring her by letting her burst into his office, but her button pushing was having an effect.

“Sniper?” Asked Genesio coolly. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, Agent.”

That was bullshit if Cal ever heard it. By now, the word would have gotten to Genesio that a sniper had targeted NHPD headquarters. That was, assuming he hadn’t been the one to order the shot.

“I think you do. Sal’s gotten a little sloppy, hasn’t he?” She gave Sal a pointed once-over. “He is getting a little old. Maybe he isn’t as effective as he used to be? You need some insurance? A little backup? Or maybe just an extra pair of hands to help him keep up with his workload?” Eve leaned her hands on the desk as she spoke and the accountant looking guy backed away.

Genesio laughed. “That sharp tongue of yours is gonna bite you in that fine ass one day, Sands, but I actually find it a little entertaining.”

Cal found himself growling now. He didn’t miss the look Sands shot him, but hell, it was hard not jumping in. Eve showed Genesio a picture of Eddy Preiss, but Cal didn’t catch any reaction. Not to the name or the photo. Not so much as a twitch to show he recognized the guy.

“Sal, you know this guy?” Genesio took the picture and held it up to Sal.

Sal shrugged. “Who knows. Might have seen him around. Maybe he works the mailroom or something.”

They had no record of Eddy working here, and they’d run his employment records, but Cal wasn’t about to let that opening slip by. “So, you wouldn’t mind checking your employee records for us? Or you can grab us a copy of them and we’ll look through ‘em for you. Save you the trouble.”

“I don’t think so, Detective.” Genesio’s tone tried to convince them they were discussing tea in the park, not whether he’d had a man shot to death that morning. The visit went downhill from there, though, with Genesio politely encouraging them to look elsewhere for whomever had hired their hitman before letting them know it was time to leave. Cal cursed as they walked out. They had nothing they could use to press the guy and no evidence strong enough to let them check the guy over to any real degree.

The visit had been a dead end.

Chapter Seven

Eve shook off the tension as they stepped from the building and back into the afternoon sun. She had to admit, she was surprised Rylan had managed not to go the full blown macho ass route. She’d had to fight tooth and nail for every scrap of respect she’d earned on the job. A lot of men would have jumped in to save her when Dominic Genesio had let his mouth run at her. Maybe Rylan wasn’t a complete prick, after all.

A little prick, at the very least, but not a complete one. It annoyed her that she liked that about him.

“Still think it was him?” Rylan asked, looking back up at the building.

“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head and blowing off the annoying attraction that had been building between her and the detective. It was stupid. When she’d felt him step up beside her up there, quietly and calmly having her back, there’d been a little kick of arousal. She shoved the thoughts aside. She’d had male partners step up to have her back before. This was no different.

Bullshit, a little voice hummed.

She ignored it. “We don’t have much else to go on for now.”

He nodded. “Let’s take a look at your dead witness’s crimes and see if any threads pull loose there. Maybe something Preiss was into will lead us to his killer or back to Genesio.”

She didn’t have any better ideas. “He was arrested for burglary, right?” She asked as they walked to his car, which they’d left on the street outside the building. The POLICE BUSINESS sign on the dash kept it from being towed. At his nod, she continued. “Could be a partner who thought he was going to talk about jobs they’d worked together.”

Rylan’s face said he doubted it. “His sheet is full of pretty petty jobs. I doubt he was hooked up with anyone big enough to pull this off or hire a hit.”

“So you’ve thought of that, too?” Eve asked, as she opened her door.

Rylan got into the car and waited for her to get in and buckle her seatbelt before responding. “Thought of what? That New Haven might have a new hitman in town?”

“Yeah. I don’t like that possibility, but it’s a likely one.”

“I agree. You know we need to look at the people who could pull off this kind of shot. The pros. Military.”

She paused before adding to his list, “Law enforcement.”

“Could be someone with police training who never made it onto the force.” Rylan suggested.

“That’s a reach. They wouldn’t have gotten any sniper training if they'd washed out.” She didn’t miss the twitch in his jaw as she spoke. She wasn’t happy with the line they were having to walk down either, but it had to be done. A shot like the one their sniper had made told them a lot of things. It spoke of someone with training. With the kind of weapon that could make such a long-distance shot. With the kind of steady hand and mental discipline it takes to make the shot. She shrugged off his gaze. “I can have someone pull records for anyone fitting those parameters, assuming they’re in the system. If this guy is former military or former law enforcement, well, we might not even know about them. Not to mention this person could be a trained mercenary. Someone trained off the grid.”

Rylan’s phone rang, and he glanced at the screen where it sat in a holder on the dash. He punched a button on his steering wheel before speaking aloud. “Rylan.”

“Hey Cal,” a male voice Eve didn’t immediately recognize said over the Bluetooth speakers of the car. Cal mouthed uniform at her and she understood this was one of the uniformed officers. “We’ve got a building over in the canvas area that’s got a number of apartments being renovated. Corner of South Orange and DeDiego. Officer Garran says one of them has a table shoved in front of the window.”

“Sounds like it could be our nest,” Eve said, and Cal agreed. It sounded like the perfect place for their shooter to hole up and wait for the vic.

“Did you call a tech?” Rylan asked.

“Yeah, Identification is sending someone now.” Eve knew he meant the Identification Division of the New Haven PD. They handled identification and crime scene analysis, as well as firearms and anything else falling under the heading of forensics.

“Thanks, Dan. We’re on our way now.”

Twenty minutes later, Eve was ready to throttle the man in front of them. The building’s super couldn’t be less helpful if he tried. She could tell he wasn’t trying to be difficult. He was just utterly clueless. She had to wonder what the man was being paid for.

“I just don’t know how it could have happened.” He’d now said the same thing five times.

“But you’ve said the front lock hasn’t worked properly for a couple of months now.” This was a statement from Eve, not a question. She honestly couldn’t understand how the man was so surprised someone had gotten into the building when the lock didn’t work and the video cameras were all out.

“It’s on my list,” the man said, hitching up the tool belt that seemed to be only for show around his waist. He’d also said this several times now, as though putting something on his list was all that was required of him to meet the demands of a building’s super. “I handle this building and the one across the street. The list is long.” He offered a sheepish shrug of his shoulders. Eve crossed to the window again, where Detective Rylan stood looking out. The crime scene technician had already vacuumed the rug and bagged the vacuum cleaner bag as evidence, checked the table and sill for debris, and dusted both for prints. The surfaces had been wiped clean, and Eve wouldn’t be at all surprised to hear the shooter had somehow cleaned the carpet. The place looked spotless.

Needless to say, there hadn’t been any handy little pile of cigarette butts with DNA on the ends from their shooter. No shell sitting on the floor waiting for them to pick it up. Their shooter had been trained and disciplined.

Rylan turned to look at her over his shoulder. “It lines up right.”

Eve stepped closer. “It’s tight,” she said, letting out a low whistle. The shooter would have had to shoot through a corridor lined by several buildings with a view partially obstructed by trees. Her assessment of their shooter cranked up another notch. Whoever this guy was, good didn’t begin to describe his level of skill.

“Professional doesn’t even begin to do this guy justice,” Rylan said, echoing her own thoughts. She could hope this was a one-off. That this shooter had only intended to take out Eddy Preiss and be done with it, but her gut told her that wasn’t true. She had a feeling they were looking at the start of this, and the end might be nowhere in sight.

Chapter Eight

Eve stepped into the small room, shrinking its size down by half. He’d noticed that happened with her, and he knew it didn’t have a damned thing to do with the dimensions of the room. Hell, she was petite, but her presence wasn’t. The minute she was near him, her scent enveloped him, distracting him more than he’d like to admit. It wasn’t one of those flowery frou-frou scents most women went for. It was clean soap and a hint of something like coconut or jasmine, or hell, he had no idea what. He just knew he liked it.

He’d tried to tell her to go home. That he would wait for the uniforms to turn in their notes for the day for review, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She carried two coffees in her hands and he had to crush the urge to reach out and kiss her. This kiss would have been the thank-you-for-delivering-the-elixir-of-the-gods kind of kiss, as opposed to the kind he’d been picturing with her all day. Those had been more along the lines of the press-you-up-against-the-nearest-wall-and-see-if-I-can-make-you-moan kind of kiss.

He shook off the images. He worked with women all the time. Respected the hell out of them. He’d seen women do some shit on the force he couldn’t do. They had a way of handling shit that was different, but every bit as effective as the guys. And he had no issue being partnered with one.

Except this one seemed to be getting under his skin and it was starting to grate on his nerves. If she noticed, she didn’t let on, and he was thankful for that. He would hate for her to think he was the kind of ass who couldn’t handle working with her without hitting on her.

“Find anything yet, Rylan?” She looked over his shoulder, and he found himself grumbling in response.

“That’s my brother.”

“What? Who’s your brother?” There was humor in her voice.

“Rylan. My older brother is Rylan. Every time you call me that, I look around for him.”

She slid up on the table next to him, casually moving aside a stack of files to sit. He wouldn’t have thought she’d let her hair down enough to be that casual, but he liked that she did. His fingers itched to reach out and pull down the knot of hair at the back of her neck. To see what it felt like tangled around his hands.

Good lord, what was wrong with him? He shoved his chair back from the table, putting a little more distance between them. His chair hit the back wall. Damn.

“Your partner doesn’t call you Rylan?” She looked out the door toward the bullpen. “None of the guys call you Rylan?”

He shrugged and took a gulp of coffee. “They do if they don’t want an answer.”

She laughed and he liked the sound a little too much. Fuck, he needed to go home. Clearly, the long day and the stress of seeing his partner shot was getting to him. His head should be all in the job right now and it was anything but. He scrubbed a hand down his face and looked back at the notes he’d been reviewing.

“Anything yet?” She repeated.

He shook his head. “Typical I didn’t see squat kind of stuff. No one reports seeing anything unusual or seeing anyone suspicious hanging around. They heard the shot, but assumed it was a car backfiring or a tool on the construction site.”

“Speaking of construction, how is it none of the people working on the renovations saw anything? How did our shooter get in there? And how do you get a rifle long enough to make this shot in without being seen?” Eve’s eyes squinted as she seemed to think through every angle. “The shooter couldn’t use a telescoping barrel on a shot this far. It wouldn’t give him the kind of accuracy he needed. I guess a collapsing stock would get it shorter and wouldn’t hurt the accuracy, but still, we’re looking at a two-foot-long weapon at the least. The very least.”

Cal agreed. She was dead on in her assessment. “I don’t have an answer on that yet, but I can tell you the construction had been put on hold because the building owner is being sued by the tenants in one of his other buildings and is facing a ton of fines over some violations in another. Apparently, all his money is going toward that right now.”

He slid the notes from one of the officers who’d canvassed the neighborhood over to her and she took it wordlessly, reading through the report.

The night shift was coming on and he could hear the change of shift happening in the bullpen. They’d finish up reading the reports and then head out. There wasn’t much more they could do tonight. Tomorrow, they’d head out and trace every step the uniforms had already taken, repeating the interviews again. Not because he didn’t trust the officers he’d assigned. It was the nature of the job. Half of all investigating came down to interviews. And a lot of the time, that was interviewing, then interviewing again. And again, if need be. Some little detail would shake out. A little piece here or there that would lead to a loose thread to pull. It was painstaking and boring as all hell most of the time. CSI could kiss his ass. It was so far from reality, he almost watched it for the comedy of it all.

He finished reading through his notes and waited until Eve looked up from hers, with a shake of her head at him. “Nothing here.”

“Have you been trying to take out Genesio for a long time?” He asked, and she looked taken aback by the question for a minute. He watched as she blanked her expression. Neat trick.

“Yeah. If we can link this back to him, I might finally do it.”

“I’ve heard he’s slippery.” Cal hadn’t ever worked on any of the investigations against Genesio personally, but it was well known the man covered his tracks well. “What makes you so intent on getting him?”

“It’s my job.” Again with the blank face.

He shook his head. “It’s more than that.” He could see it in her intensity. In the way she’d interacted with the mob man himself. Hell, in the way Genesio had treated her. He doubted that was the reception any other cop would’ve gotten if they’d gone waltzing into the man’s office.

She looked at him for a long minute before answering. “My dad got in his way.”

Shit. He hadn’t expected that and he hated he’d brought that out, made her say it. “I’m sorry.”

She looked down and shrugged. “He didn’t want to pay a cut of his dry cleaning business to Genesio. Genesio was up and coming in his family’s business and he wanted to set an example. He burned the business down.”

“Your dad?” Cal asked, even though he had a feeling he knew the answer.

“Locked inside. Chains on the doors even. With all that, there still wasn’t anything to tie to Genesio.”

Christ. Cal remembered the case. Not that he’d been a cop then. He’d been in high school, but he remembered the story. He put his hand on hers and waited for her to look up. When she did, there was sorrow, but also something else. He saw, for only a split second, the heat he’d felt at the touch reflected back in her eyes. She shut it down right away, just as he had.

“I really am sorry,” he said, then drew back his hand.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Thanks.”

Chapter Nine

Despite dropping into bed as soon as she got home at ten, Eve didn’t get more than two hours’ sleep. The call came at midnight. Another man shot. A sniper’s bullet.

Cal pulled up just as Eve stepped out of her car. She stood and waited for him, her eyes caught on the sight of him just a little mussed from sleep. She wanted to reach out and brush the stray hairs into place and—what the hell was that?

She took a step backward, regrouping before this went too far. She never had thoughts like that on the job. Never. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.

Eve knew most people looked at her and saw someone soft, fragile. It had taken her years to earn respect in this job, and she never put it at risk by dating at work. Hell, she didn’t even flirt at work.

She still hadn’t figured out how Dickwad Dyson hadn’t gotten her pulled from this case. As pissed as he was at her, she knew she had to tread carefully until she was off his radar. She had a feeling that could take a while, but somehow, she was still here. Whether it was Cal’s Captain behind it or what, she didn’t know, but she wasn’t about to screw that up by lusting after someone she was working with. She’d seen how one wrong look, one little rumor could kill a woman’s career. That, or chain you with the kind of reputation you didn’t want. Rumors like that never went away.

“What have we got?” Cal asked as they walked up to the uniformed officer standing at the red tape inside the yellow tape. People failed to realize there were two crime scene tapes at every scene. They didn’t show that in the movies. If you went inside the outer yellow tape, you might get called into court. Might not.

If you stepped past that red tape, on the other hand, you were testifying. No two ways about it. She and Cal were definitely stepping past the red tape on this one. As soon as the report of another sniper shot had come in, Cal’s Captain had tagged them to take the case, despite the fact it should have been on someone else’s desk. The chances of two snipers being active in a U.S. city at the same time? Much less a city with New Haven’s low homicide rate? Well, those odds weren’t good.

Of course, if you read the papers or watched the news nowadays, you would think New Haven’s crime rate was higher than it was. The press was swarming, news vans with their spiraling towers filling the street in front of the bar where the man had been shot.

There was no body, but the battle put up by the EMTs was evident on the sidewalk outside the bar. They’d been told the victim had been taken to the hospital three blocks away, but judging by the amount of blood spilled out into the gutter, Eve wasn’t holding her breath.

The uniformed officer seemed to be a veteran. In his forties, he spoke low and ducked his head to the side to keep their conversation as private as he could. She liked that. “The victim is Guy Duerte, that asshole that walked on the rape charge.”

Well, that hadn’t been expected.

Eve’s attention went to the woman sitting in a chair just inside the bar’s open door. She studied the woman’s careful presentation. She was sobbing into her hands, but looked up from time-to-time as if to see if she had an audience. She wiped mascara from her cheeks. It wasn’t the waterproof kind, but somehow this girl had that vampish look where she could pull off the raccoon-eyed look. That’s when it hit Eve. The woman was Amber Browning, Guy Duerte’s girlfriend. The one who had provided him with an alibi for the time of the rape.

She was New Haven’s version of Paris Hilton. Wealthy, focused on fashion and appearance, and always looking to be in the limelight. She didn’t need to work, but she likely had some sort of income connected to all the blogging she did. Whether it was income from ads, free merchandise from companies who wanted to be on her radar, or some combination of both, Eve couldn't say.

“Didn’t the guy just walk today?” Cal asked, also speaking under his breath.

“Yeah” said the officer. “They let him out when the jury came back hung. Was released four hours ago.”

Cal swore under his breath as Eve turned and scanned the area.

“What are you thinking?” Cal asked her when she didn’t speak.

“Wondering if this was random or if our shooter was waiting for Guy to come out of the bar.” She looked at the surrounding buildings up and down the street.

Cal frowned. “How would the shooter know Guy was here?”

Eve gave him a look then pulled out her phone. She scrolled to an Instachat account and typed in Amber Browning’s name. Sure enough, Guy’s girlfriend had posted a picture of them entering the bar. She smiled for the camera while Guy licked her cheek, the sign showing the name of the bar clear as day behind them. The caption said it all: “Celebrating Guy’s freedom!”

Eve shook her head. “She broadcasts everywhere they go.”

“I forgot about that.” Her Instachat habits had played a role in the trial. “I still don’t understand it. Why would anyone care where this woman is? I mean, why do people follow that crap?”

Eve had to laugh at the puzzled look on Cal’s face. There was no way he’d get it. “Her notoriety is really all she has. She’s sort of famous for being famous. She’s bankrolled that with her blog, reviewing fashion trends and stuff, but people mostly follow her because she’s who she is. The daughter of very wealthy parents who doesn’t need to worry about a thing in the world.”

“That makes no sense.” He shook his head, like maybe he could shake away the confusion.

“Yeah, preachin’ to the choir, my friend.” She said, looking back at her phone. “This was posted at ten forty-five. That gave our shooter over an hour to get down here and get in place somewhere for the shot. That’s not a lot of time at all.”

“No,” Cal agreed, “it’s not.” He scrolled through his phone to the Shotspotter report that had come in seconds after the shot. “Only one shot in the timeframe we’re looking at. Half mile to the southwest.” He didn’t point, but they both turned that way and scanned the area. One building stuck out.

Chapter Ten

Cal finished talking to his Captain by phone and turned to fill in Eve. “He’s getting canvas teams down there.” The only building that looked promising in the area of the shot was a parking garage going in near downtown New Haven. The building’s frame was up, but there wasn’t much for walls yet. Their sniper could have fired from anywhere that suited him on the side of the building facing the bar. It was the perfect spot for the shot.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll have video.” Eve didn’t sound at all convinced.

“Probably not on a half-built parking garage.”

He had to bite back a smile at the look she gave him. It told him in no uncertain terms that he shouldn’t burst her bubble until he had actual proof she was wrong.

They approached Amber Browning, nodding to the patrolman standing with her. “Ms. Browning,” Eve said. “I’m FBI Agent Eve Sands, this is Detective Cal Rylan with the New Haven Police. We need to ask you about what happened here tonight.”

Cal liked Eve’s approach. She was gentle, but there was a firmness to her tone. She didn’t ask if the witness could talk. She told her they needed to talk. It was subtle, but he liked the tactic.

The woman continued looking at her phone. She’d been pouting as she held the phone above her and to the right a bit and she hit some keys before looking up at them. Cal found himself scowling. “Did you just post a picture, Ms. Browning?”

She looked affronted. “Yes. People will want to know I’m okay.”

He swore under his breath and looked at the area behind the woman. If she’d ended up catching anything important in her picture…he scanned. Nothing but empty bar stools would have been likely to show up in her shot.

Still, he had the urge to confiscate her phone, if for no other reason than to mess with her. He could justify it. He shoved aside the thought and focused on Amber.

The woman was a piece of work. He didn’t know much about the couple, but he knew she came from money. Duerte, on the other hand, did not. He was the lead singer in a band that had had one hit about five years back, and the small amount of fame had turned into a modeling deal when the music didn’t really pan out. He mostly modeled underwear and guitars. The guitar ads were usually of him in his underwear, holding a guitar. That part never really made sense to Cal, since the man was a singer not a guitarist, but what did Cal know?

Maybe he played guitar, too.

“Did you post your whereabouts tonight, Ms. Browning?” They knew the answer to that, but Cal wanted to see what the woman would say.

She brushed at her eyes, but Cal got the sense the motion was for effect more than anything else. “Of course I did. We were celebrating.”

“Celebrating his release?” Eve prodded.

“Yes.” Amber’s lips creased in a flat line. “That bitch is probably behind this,” she spat and Cal thought she would probably like to be spitting literal instead of figurative venom if she could. “She was livid when the jury cleared him.”

“Can you tell us which bitch you’re referring to?”

She narrowed her raccoon eyes as if they were complete idiots. Sometimes it helped if the people they were talking to made the assumption. They could learn a lot when people became frustrated and had to break things down for them. “Valentina,” she bit out.

“The jury didn’t clear Mr. Duerte,” Eve said before Cal could. “The jury was hung. It means some of them thought he was guilty.”

“Same thing,” Amber said waving the objection away with both a hand and her words. “It means not enough people were willing to convict him for a crime he didn’t commit.”

“And you know this because you were with him the night he was accused of raping Valentina Perez?” Cal pressed.

She tilted her head, as if daring him to challenge her. “Yes. And because I know he would never do what she said he did. It’s ridiculous.” She shifted her tone to syrupy sweet sex appeal. “Why would he rape some girl when he has me at home to take care of his needs?”

Cal ignored it. He also didn’t bother to explain that rape wasn’t about sex.

“So, you think Ms. Perez is behind the shooting tonight?” Cal continued to push. He was familiar enough with the case against Duerte to know that the night she said she was with him, she hadn’t Instachatted or tweeted out any locations. The jury had been presented with that information, given Ms. Browning’s propensity for alerting the world to the couple’s whereabouts.

“We were having a private night at home. We do that, you know. We need to pull back sometimes, from all the eyes.” Her voice cracked, but Cal couldn’t get a sense for whether the effect was planned or natural. “It gets to be overwhelming, having everyone watch your every move.”

He didn’t point out she was the one feeding into that by posting her whereabouts continuously.

“Can you think of anyone else who would have wanted to hurt Mr. Duerte?” Cal knew the guy wasn’t universally liked. In fact, he’d bet the guy might have more enemies than friends. He was known for his temper as much as for how hard he liked to party. He often turned on his friends and said or did whatever would catch the news cycle that day. It wouldn’t surprise Cal to know someone else would have a reason to go after him. Hell, he’d heard his former bandmates had a reason to want the guy dead. Something about selling some rights to a song without their consent. It was part of the reason the band had broken up.

“I’m telling you, it was that bitch. You need to be talking to her. You need to get out there and arrest her.” Amber threw her arm toward the door. They had closed it before they began questioning her. She might be happy to have the press’s eyes on her, but they were not.

“We’ll look into her, Ms. Browning, but we also need to follow up on every possible lead.” Cal kept his voice calm, even though the woman just rubbed him the wrong way. She seemed too damned empty, and he cringed when he thought this might be what all people her age were like. Were they headed for a world where all anyone cared about was having the right color lipstick on or whatever it was she worried about?

“If for no other reason, then to tie up all avenues of investigation, Amber,” Eve added gently, playing into Amber’s angle of focusing on Valentina. “To have a strong case, we need to rule out all possible suspects. It’s what will help us convict when we make an arrest.” She had a lot more patience than he did.

A dramatic sigh preceded it, but Amber went on to give them a list. There was the guy Duerte was suing. An old bandmate alleging he’d stolen a song and brought it to his new band. The song had made them some money and Duerte wanted his cut.

“I thought the band was suing Guy over song rights, not the other way around?” Cal didn’t miss the humor in Eve’s face at his question.

Amber blew her nose. “They are. And he’s countersuing. They stole from him, they just don’t want to admit it.”

There were two women Amber claimed were stalking Duerte. Two of his exes that showed up wherever the couple went. Cal felt like telling her she might think about the Instachat routine if that was the case, but he kept his mouth shut. He wanted to get to the hospital to see if Duerte had survived and lecturing her on her Instachat use wasn’t really pertinent to his case.

She threw up her hands, as though listing people who might have it out for Guy was too much to ask of her. “I don’t know. There are a lot more people out there. When you’re as successful as Guy, people tend to hate, you know?”

No, he didn’t. He nodded anyway. “Anyone who went out of their way to let him know they had a bone to pick? Any hate mail or threats? Anyone show up at his home?”

She sniffed. “No.”

They gave Amber the call-if-you-think-of-anything routine and had an officer drive her to the hospital. It would be too late by the time she got there. They received word just after the patrol car pulled away from the curb. Guy Duerte died on the operating table.

Chapter Eleven

“Does that always happen?” Cal asked Eve as they walked to the car. She was almost as tall as he was, even in the flat boots she wore with her all-business suit. He liked that there was a little flash of bright blue blouse peeking out from her buttoned-up suit coat. She somehow looked a lot more put together than he did for a midnight murder call out.

“What?” She asked, glancing sideways at him.

“The bartender. The way he asked you out after we interviewed him?” The pig had waited until they’d finished asking questions, then leaned on the bar and leered as he tried the How ‘bout I give you a call sometime line. Lame.

She shrugged a shoulder. “Often enough. You get used to it and then you get over it.”

Cal glowered and she laughed.

“You shouldn’t have to get used to that,” he said. He wanted to walk back there and deck the guy. Eve had simply declined the invitation like it was no big deal. “Seriously, we’re there to investigate a shooting and he’s trying to get in your pants. It’s not right.”

Of course, he was beginning to see the irony. He wanted the same thing. But at least he was controlling himself. He should get points for that, right? Maybe.

“Yup. Like I said, you get over it.”

He shook his head, but dropped it as they got into the car.

“What was your take on Amber?” She asked as Cal drove them toward the precinct. It was going to be a long night of writing up reports.

He shook his head and let out a whistle. “She’s a piece of work all right.”

“Do you think she was lying at the trial? About his alibi?”

There was no hesitation in Cal’s answer. “I think she would have done anything to cover for him, and that definitely includes lying about where he was. I’m not sure if she thought he really was innocent so there was no harm in lying for him, or if she thought he was good for the rape but didn’t care.”

“Well, whatever she said at the trial, she planted doubt in at least one of the jury’s minds.”

They were quiet as he drove for a long minute.

“Seriously?” He said, again. “Guys just ask you out on cases like that all the time?”

She laughed in response, and it was deep and honest and seemed to wash right over him. He liked Special Agent Eve Sands. Maybe a little too much.

Chapter Twelve

Scout pulled at the tufts of grass growing out of the headstone. The General stood to one side glowering. Coming here was a waste of time in his book. He didn’t approve of unsanctioned distractions, and there certainly wasn’t room for sentiment or emotion in his world.

It was like a stab in the heart to always have the General inside Scout’s head. Why weren’t the boys there? Why didn’t they visit?

Scout had thought that maybe coming to the cemetery would help, but there didn’t seem to be any way to get back to them. There was no going backward, apparently. Only forward. Only putting one foot in front of the other and moving on, no matter how hard doing that had become. No matter how alone that road ahead looked to be.

Ghosts. Visits from ghosts. Would there be other ghosts coming? Maybe Preiss and Duerte would show up soon. They could tag along with the General as Scout carried out the mission. That could lead to a lot more ghosts before this was over.

Scout stood and turned toward the General, nodding. It was time to go. There was more work to be done. The ghosts would have to wait for another day. It was time for action. Time to see that the job was done.

Chapter Thirteen

Cal turned the car away from the curb and glanced at the woman next to him. He’d picked Eve up at the FBI building since it was easier for the two of them to be in one car for the interviews they planned to do that day. First up would be Valentina Perez. But he had to make one stop before they went there.

“Hey, uh, is it okay if I make a quick stop? I just have to drop some groceries by my sister’s place. It’s not far from here.” He was used to riding with Jarrod and hadn’t really thought through bringing Eve along to his sister’s. He should have dropped the groceries before he picked up Eve.

But there was no getting out of it now. His sister’s Rocky Road wouldn’t hold ’til the end of the day. Especially not with the length of time they were likely to put in that day. It was hard to deny the two sniper cases were related, though of course, they were waiting for official word on that.

A sniper loose in the city was going to make for a lot of very long days.

“Sure.” Eve didn’t ask why he’d be delivering groceries to his sister and he was glad. He hated when people asked questions about Joy.

He pulled to a stop two minutes later in front of the small house his sister owned just north of downtown New Haven. It was a quiet neighborhood in a safe area. Reaching in the back of the sedan, he lifted four of the six bags. He’d decided to load her up for a while given the likelihood he wouldn’t be able to get back for at least a week or more.

Eve grabbed the remaining two bags, but he came around to her side of the car and held his arms out toward the brown bags. “Just stick those on top.”

She gave him a look like he’d lost his mind and gestured toward the house. “I’ll get them.”

He gave a shrug and went up the walk. His sister was used to Jarrod coming by to help, but he’d never brought anyone else. Since Eve was a woman, it likely wouldn’t be a huge deal. He hoped.

He unlocked the door, but called out to Joyce as soon as he opened it. “Joy, it’s me. I’ve got your groceries and I have a friend with me.” He stopped then and stood in the entranceway until Joy appeared. She poked her head around the corner from the kitchen, looking first to him, then to Eve, then back to him. A small smile played on her lips. She wore one of the large shapeless men’s button down shirts she typically wore when painting, and had the telltale smudges of blues and purples on her hands and cheek. Her dark hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail and her bright eyes sparkled as she smiled at them. Joy always had the ability to make him smile.

“Joyce, this is Eve Sands. Special Agent Eve Sands. She’s with the FBI.” He added the credentials, hoping to set Joy at ease.

Joyce nodded slightly. “Hello.”

Eve returned the greeting, then moved forward with the grocery bags. “Where should I put these?”

Joyce moved into the kitchen, back-peddling away from Eve before gesturing to the counter. “You can pop them there. I’ll put them away in a minute.”

Eve looked around as she did as Joyce had asked, and Cal had to grin at the expression on her face. He looked at the room through a stranger’s eyes and had to admit, it was impressive. His sister had had the whole back half of the kitchen converted when she’d moved in. It was one enormous wall of windows that bowed out in a half circle. Light poured in. His sister’s easel sat in the center of it, and stacked along the base of the wall on either side were works she had ready to go to one of the galleries that carried her pieces.

Anyone looking at the room or her paintings would never know she didn’t leave the house very much. The yard out back was closed in by a tall stone wall. Without it, Joy wouldn’t have been able to handle the exposure of those windows. The thought of being on the other side of that wall sent her into such sheer panic, she’d hyperventilate and need medication to settle herself. Well, that wasn’t completely true. She could go to his mom’s house as long as he drove her, and she’d been making other small improvements lately with the help of a new therapist.

Her house, their mom’s house, and Cal himself seemed to be safe zones for her, but they were working on adding to those. It would be a long process, though. She’d been battling this anxiety for years, and it didn’t stem from thin air. She had very valid reasons for not feeling safe outside.

The paintings Eve looked at depicted ruins in Ancient Greece, mountainside villas in Italy, and crumbling castles in the Irish countryside. But they were more than that. They were his sister’s interpretations of those places. She painted what she saw and it came out a swirl of color blending into color. He was a rugged cop who had managed to dull his emotions a long time ago, yet Joy somehow still managed to pull emotion from him with her paintings.

“These are incredible,” Eve breathed, moving toward the paintings, and he could see by the look on her face, she meant it. She looked up at Joy, and he was glad to see his sister smiling. “May I?” Eve asked, gesturing toward the easel.

She moved forward when Joyce nodded. Cal grinned and began to unpack the bags, tossing the frozen items into the freezer first. He could hear snippets of the conversation and froze when Eve asked if Joyce had been to all of the places she painted. He waited for the inevitable questions when Joy answered.

They didn’t come. Eve accepted Joyce’s answer that she painted from what she’d seen in photographs and videos online. She didn’t press her to explain why she wouldn’t want to travel and see things with her own eyes. Smell them, taste the food, listen to the people. In fact, Eve marveled all the more at Joyce’s talent for her having never seen the places she painted.

“We should get going,” Cal said quietly.

Joyce looked up and smiled as she realized he’d put away all the groceries. “You didn’t have to do all that.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t mind. I probably won’t be back this week, but I’ll check in by phone.”

She gave him one of those brows raised looks and waved him off. “I’ll be fine. I don’t need you babysitting me.”

He knew that was true. She could have her groceries delivered and let the driver leave them at the door for her to collect. But he always felt better knowing she had some company.

Eve followed him out and he started them on the route to see Valentina Perez.

“I like your sister.” Eve said this simply and he knew she wasn’t fishing for the story. Most people either flat out asked or fished. Not that he brought people around to Joyce’s all the time. He was a little protective of her. Maybe it was because Eve didn’t ask that he found himself offering the information.

“She doesn’t leave her house so I bring her groceries.”

Eve nodded. “She said that. I still can’t believe she brings such life to her paintings when she’s only working from photos. It’s incredible. Does she sell her work?”

He nodded. “Yes. she’s got galleries in a few cities that show them for her, or whatever it is they call it. She also does commissioned pieces sometimes, but she doesn’t like that as much. Says it makes her feel too boxed in.”

Eve murmured her understanding, but was otherwise quiet, staring out the windshield as he drove.

“She was gang raped when she was nineteen. Her first year at college in upstate New York. She never recovered from it.” Hell, he still hadn’t recovered from it.

He could feel Eve’s eyes on him, but when he looked, there wasn’t that typical look of pity or the look that said he shouldn’t have shared such an ugly fact with her. No, her eyes burned with anger.

“Did they get them?” She asked quietly. She knew as well as he did that not every case was closed. Sometimes, there just wasn’t anything to go on.

He shook his head. “No. She couldn’t identify them. She was asleep when they broke in. They threw a pillowcase over her head and tied her arms to the bed so there were no scrapings under her nails. She wasn’t able to give the police anything, and the attackers used condoms.”

He paused a minute. “I always thought the guys would strike again, you know? That the M.O. would show up again and they’d eventually catch a break. Find a lead.”

“They didn’t?” Her surprise came through in her voice. It was the type of crime that seemed like it would be repeated. And in all likelihood, it probably wasn’t the first time the men had done it.

“Not in New York City or any of the other places I’ve run through the system since I made the force. I always wonder if the group is moving around. Maybe in jurisdictions where they wouldn’t end up in a computerized system.” That was a serial criminal’s best hope of going undetected. Traveling to small towns and jurisdictions where the crimes wouldn’t be tied together. Which made it odd that they’d hit in New York.

She nodded. “Possible. Seems unlikely that it would be a one-time thing.”

“That’s what I’ve always thought.” There was a someday undertone to his voice. Something that said someday he’d get them. That he hadn’t given up hope after all this time.

“Is that when you decided to join the force?”

He nodded.

“So you still believed you could make a difference as a cop even after the police weren’t able to bring your sister justice?”

He tossed her a grin. “What can I say? I’m an idiot that way.”

“Ha!”

“What does that mean?” He changed lanes and moved toward their exit.

“It means you’re no idiot. I checked you out when we were partnered up. Your record is solid. More than solid. And people respect you.”

He ignored the compliments. He hated compliments. “Yeah, well.” He looked in the rearview mirror, probably focusing a little more than he needed to on the road. “I thought I’d head to New York when I graduated. Join the force there and go after the guys that took her life from her. Then,” he shrugged, “turns out, I couldn’t leave her. And there were no leads anyway, so it would have been foolish. She needs me here.”

“A lot of guys would have done the easier thing and headed to New York to chase ghosts, whether for pride or because it was too hard to continue to face your sister here. You did the strong thing and stayed by her side.”

They rode in silence the rest of the way. When they got out of the car, he stopped her, one hand resting on her arm. He had to ignore the spark of attraction that brought out. Neither the time nor the place. “Hey, take the lead in there, okay?”

She nodded at him and he knew she got it. She got a lot of shit without him having to explain his thinking to her. He liked that. A lot.

Chapter Fourteen

Eve led the way to Valentina Perez’s apartment and knocked on the door. Cal was at her back, and she took the minute that gave her to collect her thoughts. He’d thrown her off balance more than once so far that morning and they’d only been together for an hour.

Her first impression of him had been that he was a good cop. Not a by-the-book guy exactly, but good nonetheless. Or maybe good because of that.

Regardless, she had thought him a bit of a hothead the day before. Today, her assessment had gone down the drain. A hothead would have gone after her sister’s rapists no matter the cost to his sister. A hothead would have gone in and questioned Valentina Perez without concern for the woman, because hell, they had a sniper to catch.

She knew he wanted to catch this sniper as badly as she did, but he’d stepped up and let Eve lead the questioning with Valentina and she knew why. She knew he was stepping back so Valentina wouldn’t have to answer hard questions from a man after what she’d been through. Because they had to ask this woman some hard questions. It was their job.

Cal was acknowledging they didn’t have to do it in a way that didn’t give at least a little thought and respect to what she’d been through.

There was no doubting this woman had been the victim of a brutal rape. That had never been contested. What was at issue was whether she’d properly identified her attacker. It was her word against that of their sniper victim, Guy Duerte. And maybe, just maybe, when the court had let him walk free, she’d decided she couldn’t handle that. Couldn’t watch him walk away.

Eve knocked on the door and then held her badge up in front of the peephole and called out through the door. “Valentina Perez, I’m Special Agent Eve Sands with the FBI. I need to ask you some questions.” She knew the poor woman had probably been fielding calls and visits from the media all day. In fact, Eve was pretty sure the only reason there was no one here right now was because the shooting of Duerte had taken center stage. She would bet Valentina had her phone unplugged.

It took a minute, but Eve held her badge up the entire time, waiting until she heard a lock slide back and the door open. Defiant angry eyes met her, and Eve was almost relieved to see it. If Valentina was angry, that meant she was healing. Unless of course, she’d been the one responsible for Guy Duerte’s death. But Eve was pulling for this girl. She wanted her to be innocent and she wanted her to rise from the ashes of the hell her life had likely been turned into.

“Hello, Ms. Perez. I’m Special Agent Eve Sands,” Eve said again, “and this is Detective Cal Rylan with the New Haven Police Department.”

Cal stood back away from the door a bit and held his credentials up for Valentina to read.

“We need to speak with you about Guy Duerte,” Eve said.

“Is he really dead?” She chewed at her lower lip as she asked this.

“He is.”

If Eve wasn’t mistaken, Valentina seemed to take a deep, slow breath, as though her chest had just gained some freedom it hadn’t had for a long time.

Valentina stepped back and let them into the apartment, moving toward a couch and two chairs in the small living space. The apartment was cluttered, but neat.

Eve took the chair across from Valentina, who took the couch. Cal took the chair slightly to the left.

“Can you tell us when you heard about Duerte’s death?” Eve began.

Valentina shrugged. “A friend from a rape survivors group texted me about seven this morning after she saw it on the news. A few other people called or texted throughout the day to tell me. And, of course, the press started calling right away.”

“Have any of them shown up here?” Cal asked.

“The press? Yes, a few, but I don’t answer the door.”

“How did you feel about Duerte’s release yesterday? About the jury?” Eve asked.

Anger flashed again in those deep brown eyes. “How did I feel? Pissed off. Sick to my stomach.” Her tone quieted. “Desperate.”

Eve tilted her head. “Desperate enough to do something about it?”

A rough laugh came from Valentina. “Yeah. I Googled how to be a sniper and got myself a gun. I’d say I did pretty good for my first time out. What do you think?”

“You could have hired someone to do it for you.” Eve pressed. “You have to feel safer now that he’s not out there on the streets.”

Tears pooled behind those eyes now, and there was sorrow there, where anger had been moments before. This woman had to be on a roller coaster ride of emotion the likes of which Eve had never been through.

Valentina’s chin came up. “I do feel safer. And I’m not sorry he’s dead. The man didn’t deserve to walk free. He was sick and he was dangerous.” She swallowed. “I’m not a killer, though. I didn’t do this and I didn’t have it done.”

“Can you tell us where you were last night between ten and one?” Eve asked for the details they would need for their report. What she’d said to Duerte’s girlfriend before had been the truth. Part of building a good case meant ruling out all potential suspects, so when you did make an arrest, your suspect couldn’t paint someone else as the guilty party. Reasonable doubt would kill your conviction.

“I was here. Sleeping.”

“Can anyone confirm that?”

“No. I was alone. My neighbor saw me come in about eight o’clock. I haven’t been out yet today, but of course, there’s no one that can testify to that.” She made a face. “I don’t have a girlfriend willing to lie in court to get me off.”

Eve looked to Cal and he gave a small shake of his head. There was nothing here. They’d talk to some of her neighbors, see if anyone had seen her leave her apartment the night before, but his gut was telling him this woman wasn’t their killer.

The sad thing was, his gut also told him Guy’s girlfriend had been lying to cover for him. He had a bad feeling the justice system had let this woman down in a big way yesterday.

Chapter Fifteen

“What do you think?” Cal asked as they got into the car. They’d talked to several of Valentina’s neighbors. The woman next door confirmed that she saw Valentina come in “an hour or two after dinner” but she couldn’t say whether Valentina stayed in or not. No one reported seeing her leave either last night or the night before.

“She’s not completely in the clear, but I don’t like her for this. She was a student before the rape. She left school. I don’t see her having the money for a hitman. I ran her financials. There’s nothing there. Her parents don’t have the money to make this happen.” Eve was listing what Cal already knew.

“Yeah. I think you’re right. Can’t clear her officially, but I don’t feel like this is the right lead for us to be chasing.”

“So where to next?” Eve asked.

Cal hadn’t pulled out of the spot in Valentina’s apartment complex yet. He rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger and shook his head. “The guy wasn’t a nice guy. It’s entirely possible someone took advantage of the fact that everyone would assume Valentina was guilty after the hung jury.”

“Which still points us toward a gun for hire in town,” Eve said.

“If it is, business is booming.”

“Yeah. I don’t like the timing.”

Cal gave her a look, and voiced what they were both thinking. “Vigilante?”

“Possible, but how would they have gotten word about Preiss being taken over to the FBI to talk about a deal? Everyone knew about Duerte’s release, and I get that a vigilante shooter could have tracked Duerte through his girlfriend’s social media postings, but a witness being brought over to the FBI? How would our killer get that?”

The headache that had started behind Cal’s eyes wasn’t going to go anywhere anytime soon. He didn’t want to look at the possibility of an inside job here. “Could be a copycat. Your guy gets taken out by a shooter for the Genesio family, and then someone takes advantage of that to take out Duerte? Two different killers.”

Eve gave him a look that said it was a stretch. He was used to working with Jarrod. They had a pattern when they worked a case. They each had to offer two other possible explanations for the evidence they were collecting. It kept them from getting tunnel vision.

“Are you going to stick around? Keep working the case? It’s looking like this might not be connected to the Genesios. Could be harder to justify sticking with it to your boss,” he said, and found he really didn’t want her to leave. His reaction surprised him.

“If I can convince your boss and mine, I will. As long as there’s a possibility Genesio might have hired this hit or been tied to it, I’ll keep working it. Is that a problem for you?”

He raised his hands. “Not for me. Can’t see why my boss would turn down the help. Jarrod’s out at least a week. FBI resources might help us bring this guy down faster.”

Eve nodded, but he got the sense there was something she wasn’t saying.

“You’re not eager to get back to Genesio?” Cal gave her a sideways glance. There was definitely something she wasn’t saying.

She wasn’t going to share with him. She made that clear when she shrugged off his question. “You never know, maybe this does lead back to him.”

He didn’t buy it any more than she did but the look on her face told him the conversation was finished.

Chapter Sixteen

They not only kept her on, they put her front and center as the face of the investigation. As soon as the Captain made his statement to the press, he would put Eve in front of them to answer questions and assure them they were doing everything they could to stop this killer before he struck again. It was a public relations strategy. Eve was sharp and fearsome, not taking crap from anyone. At the same time, she was beautiful and always seemed put together and on top of things, even when they were in the middle of trudging through crap-for-evidence without leads to follow or chase down. The Captain was betting the media would respond to that and the people of New Haven would find her trustworthy and worthy of their confidence.

So, Eve was the point person for the press. Cal wasn’t happy about that. Not because he cared if the Feds took the limelight. He couldn’t give a rat’s ass about the credit or the attention. What he cared about was having Eve be out there as a potential target, and that’s what tended to happen when the pressure went up on a case and a suspect got antsy. Shit could go south on something like this fast. Too fast.

“I don’t like it.” Okay, so that had come out a lot gruffer than he’d planned. They stood in the incident room, alone for the moment.

“Don’t like what?” Eve looked up from the notes she’d been reviewing. The look she gave him said she didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

“I don’t like you putting your face out there like this.”

She had her hands tangled in her long mass of hair. She’d been pulling the strands back into their tight bun, but she stopped and raised a brow at him. The look changed from confusion to you’re-an-ass-and-a-disappointing-one-at-that. “That’s my job he-man, get over it.”

“Funny She-ra. Really freaking funny. I still don’t like it. If that makes me a macho ass, so be it. I’m a macho ass who doesn’t like your face out there as the center of our investigation. It’s asking for trouble.”

She didn’t bother with an answer. She was smarter than him like that.

Ten minutes later, he watched as she fielded questions from a room full of media.

“You still haven’t made an arrest in the James case. And now we have a sniper loose in our city. Some people are speculating that this is a vigilante shooter, taking over where the police have failed to act. Do you have a response to that?”

Cal had always hated the reporter from the New Haven Citizen. It was a lousy online blog that didn’t give a shit if there was any truth to any of the stories it published. The headlines this asshole chose were clickbait, always playing on people’s fears or biases rather than focusing on what the heart of an issue was. Leave it to Ray Lansing to bring up the James case. He failed to mention the community policing approach they used that was cutting crime. Or the successful arrests and prosecutions happening every day.

Eve kept her cool and didn’t give anything away. “I can’t comment on the particulars of the James investigation or of this investigation. But I will say we’re investigating all possible motives.”

Thanks to Lansing, the whole city was using the James case to judge everything the police department did. It was one case, but it had taken over every aspect of everything the department and its leadership did. They didn’t look at the closed cases or the closed case rate. They only cared that this one case had gone cold. Cal knew it hadn’t exactly gone cold. The detectives assigned to it were waiting for a witness to come clean and name their killer. She was scared though, so they had to work the case and hope she did the right thing in the end. It was all they could do; they didn’t have enough evidence without her testimony to bring the guy down.

“So, it’s possible this shooter is doing just that? Taking the law into his own hands?” Lansing continued to press.

Eve ignored him and pointed to another reporter.

“Is there evidence linking the two shootings? Did the bullets come from the same gun?”

“I don’t have that information yet, and if I did, I wouldn’t release it to you.” No anger or rancor in her voice at all. She simply answered the questions. He had to give her that. Eve was smooth.

He was surprised when the next question was directed at him.

“Detective Rylan, your partner was the officer that was shot yesterday. This is the second time a partner of yours has been shot.”

Cal didn’t get a response out. He didn’t have time, but truth be told, his response wouldn’t have been all that politically correct. It was probably best he didn’t get to open his mouth before Eve jumped in.

“That’s all for now, guys. We’ll let you know when we have more.” She nodded to him and they left the room as the reporters called out follow-up questions.

The truth was, they hadn’t given them much of anything, except to say the FBI and local PD were working together. That had been the extent of it. The session had definitely told them where the public, or at least the media, were focused. They were locked in on this vigilante thing, whether it ended up being the truth or not.

He followed Eve back to the incident room, where she slipped off the blazer she’d put on for the meeting. She wore it when they were out of the office, but when it was just the two of them, she would take it off. Today, the removal revealed toned arms in a sleeveless sweater. Saying it was distracting would be putting it mildly. His dick was like a lapdog, sitting up and begging for her to notice him. Perfect.

“Okay, you’re going to have to fill me in so I don’t get caught off guard again.” She turned to him as she spoke. He didn’t see judgment there or concern. There was simply the need to do her job, and right now, representing them with the media was part of her job.

“Ray Faulk. My partner eight years ago was shot and killed on a domestic dispute call. We misread the situation, thought we had the guy calmed down.” He relayed the facts in the only way he’d learned to cope with them: as if he were discussing a recipe for chicken soup. Not that he knew how to make chicken soup, but he’d learned a long time ago it helped to keep the explanation to the facts only. Not to picture the moment the man had spun and drawn a gun from Lord only knows where. Not to see the blood spreading over his partner’s shirt. “Pulled a gun. He and I shot at the same time. He took out my partner. I took him out.”

She nodded. “You were cleared by IA?”

“It was ruled a clean shooting. I was cleared of responsibility for my partner’s death.” His voice was flat, devoid of emotion. He wasn’t that way, but his voice was. Because as much as he’d tried, he’d never been able to clear himself for that day. Probably never would.

The scene still flew back to him at times, with brutal clarity. Usually when he was just starting to fall asleep. There was something about that moment when your mind and body started to let go. Who knows, maybe he was on guard against the memory so much all the rest of the time, it needed that little moment of weakness to slip in.

But when it did, it hit hard and fast. He could still see everything, smell every detail. Everything from the stupid peanuts Ray had been eating when they got the call to the smell of vomit as the man’s wife had lost her lunch when Cal shot her husband. He could hear the heaviness of his breathing, the way it seemed to echo in his ears as he performed CPR that day. Could hear the screams and sobs of a woman who moments before had feared for herself, but now lay over her husband’s dead body.

He didn’t let those memories take him now, though. He never let them swallow him when he was fully awake.

“Good.” She appeared to accept his explanation and move on. He rubbed at his forehead.

Eve began to pace the small room. “Okay, we’ve got to look for military and law enforcement leads. It’s time for us to see who we have in New Haven that’s capable of making these shots. A one mile shot is a hell of a lot more doable than it used to be, but it’s still no simple matter to pull it off. This person has training and skill. The kind of training and skill we have.”

Cal looked out the glass window of the door and saw Rebecca James walking through the bullpen, an officer escorting her. No doubt she was here to check in with Detectives Cafferty and Reynolds on the case. Ronan Cafferty and Zach Reynolds were damned good detectives. What was happening with the James woman’s case wasn’t their fault, but Cal knew it had to be taking its toll on the two men. No one wanted a case to go unsolved. Especially not a homicide.

Rebecca James’s husband and son—Bryan and Christopher—had been shot and killed in a mugging gone bad and she wanted justice. It had become routine for her to come into the station to ask for updates.

And wasn’t that a sad statement?

She looked drained, but that came as no surprise. The road to justice was long and hard and sometimes took more out of you than maybe it was worth. Maybe.

She came to check on the case every few days, doggedly determined to see her husband and son’s killer in prison for the crime. He knew she had no other family. Their son had been an only child. Star of his high school swim team and getting ready to graduate. Her husband, an associate professor at Yale. She was alone now.

“Cal.” Eve’s voice drew his attention back. “So we’re in agreement? We need to run law enforcement and military?” she asked, looking for his consent.

He nodded, rubbing at his forehead again. It had to be done. They couldn’t ignore the fact that very few people could make these shots, and most of that list was going to include their guys and the military.

Chapter Seventeen

“I can’t say I haven’t thought of it.” Eric Sosnowiec crossed his arms over his chest, hands tucked under his arms. He was former military with a clean record who’d earned several honors to his name before he finished his tour. “I’ve seen the news. I see these assholes getting off. I’ve thought of taking the job into my own hands.”

“Might as well, right?” Cal asked, playing along. Eve shot him a glare and he shrugged at her. She knew he was playing a part, and she was playing right back into it. In this scenario, she was the straight-laced one and he was the guy willing to stretch that line. Willing to break a few rules.

“They fucking tie your hands, you know,” Cal said, lowering his voice and leaning in. “And then when they can’t make the case, the prosecutor’s in your face about not finding enough evidence.”

“I hear ya.”

Eve snorted and threw up her hands. “We have laws to protect people. The justice system works the way it does to be sure innocent people have the chance to prove their innocence.”

“Well,” the guy said leaning back in his chair. “you’re looking at the wrong guy, anyway. I couldn’t do it if I wanted to.”

“Oh? Why is that?” Eve asked.

He held out a hand. A hand that trembled. “Trust me, these hands aren’t making a clean shot anytime soon.”

“Injury?” Eve asked.

“Traumatic Brain Injury. They say it might get better over time. Of course, that was three years ago, so I’m not holding my breath.” He laughed. “But I’m also not holding a gun.”

Eve slid a piece of paper and pencil across the table to him. “I’ll need the name of your doctor to confirm that.”

The man scribbled a name and phone number on the paper and tossed the pen down. Eve watched his hands shake throughout the exercise, and had to admit, it didn’t look like he’d be able to pull the trigger. Not with the shots their sniper was making. “We done?”

Eve nodded. “We’re done.”

Their other military interview had been a little more heated. Kevin Williams had taken the “Are you shitting me?” approach, apparently mortally wounded that they would even think such a thing.

Eve rattled off the typical line about needing to check his whereabouts during the times of the shootings.

The man had glared daggers at her as he wrote some names on the notepad she pushed in front of him. They released him, letting the uniformed officer who’d shown him in walk him back out of the building. Another detective would begin chasing the contacts down, verifying Williams’s whereabouts.

Eve looked at her notes then back at Cal. He wasn’t going to like this. “We’ve got three law enforcement snipers within a twenty-mile radius of the city. By all reports, two out of the three can absolutely make these shots. The third most likely could, even though he isn’t finished with his training yet.”

Cal shook his head. His arms were now crossed in a move reminiscent of the men they’d just questioned. She recognized the closed off body language.

“There’s got to be a way to rule them out without pulling them in. If we do that, we tank their careers. They’ll have a cloud hanging over them, whether we clear them or not.”

Eve remained quiet. He needed to come around to this on his own.

“These are good men, Eve. I know them.”

“How well do you know them?”

“Enough.”

The statement told her he wasn’t willing to debate it.

She couldn’t give in to him on this, but she could give him some time. Not that they could stand still and do nothing. “We need to hunt down their alibis for them. Check to see if there’s anything on the record to clear these guys. If we can’t find it on our own—”

“Fine. But we do it quietly.”

Eve nodded. With any luck, they’d be able to rule these guys out easily. Hopefully, they were on duty and working with a partner at the times of the shootings.

The door to the interrogation room opened after a quick knock and Detective Zach Reynolds poked his head in the room. “Rylan, you’ve got another shooting. This time, you’ve got a witness who’s saying your sniper just saved her life.”

Chapter Eighteen

“This one is different.” Dr. Kane looked up at Cal and Eve as she knelt over the body of their latest victim.

They were in a small park on the east side of town in an area used mostly by gangbangers and drug dealers. Cal doubted kids used the park much. The few swings were rusted and lopsided, and several of the slots where swings should have hung held only empty chains. The old merry-go-round looked like it would take a hell of a lot of muscle to make the thing go ‘round, merrily or otherwise.

“How so?” Cal asked. The victim was a white man who appeared to be in his forties, dressed in dark clothing. His hands had the look of a man who worked with cars or something else that would get his fingernails grimy and greasy.

And half his neck had been blown away.

“The angle of this shot is different. This didn’t come from a height. Your shooter was the same level as this guy, or close to it. And speaking of close, this shot was a lot closer than the other ones. It was made with a sniper rifle, but the distance is…” she moved her head back and forth before offering an opinion. “We’re talking yards.”

Dr. Kane didn’t offer any suggestions as to how this could be possible. He and Eve both turned their gazes to the surrounding area. Not that they hadn’t been checking their surroundings from the get-go. It was engrained into them.

But now, they were looking for a possible sniper’s nest on or near the ground.

“So, what, the guy just hangs out in the park and waits for an attack to happen?” Cal asked, letting the skepticism seep into his tone. They’d already been filled in by the officer on scene. A woman had been walking through the park on her way home from a shift at a restaurant down the street. She said she never came into the park after dark, but during the day she used it as a cut-through to shave time off her walk.

A man had come out of nowhere and grabbed her. She screamed and fought, but even though it was the middle of the day, no one had come to help. The man got her down and was straddling her, pinning her with one hand on her throat while he worked at his belt buckle with the other. Before he could make much progress, a shot hit him in the neck. He collapsed on her and she screamed trying to fight him off. Eventually, someone came and dragged the body off her and helped her call 911.

They hadn’t spoken with the woman yet, but she had been checked out and cleared by the EMTs. Now, she was with one of the forensic technicians, having evidence from her clothing and hands preserved and collected. They would speak with her next.

“Pretty brazen attack. It’s barely dusk.” Eve looked at the man lying on the ground, no emotion showing on her face for the man.

“Are you sure this is our shooter? The MO is different.” Cal looked down at Dr. Kane, who was taking off her gloves. He stepped back as she stood and signaled to one of her technicians to come take the body.

“I can’t tell you for sure until we find the bullet. It’s not in him.”

“I see that.” Cal frowned down at the man’s neck.

Dr. Kane turned her gloves inside out, tucking them into a plastic baggie. They had people scanning the area with metal detectors searching for where the bullet had landed when it left the man’s body. It would be like finding a needle in a haystack. “If we find it,” she said looking at the scanners. “Right now, we’re going by the fact that it was a sniper shot as our only connection.”

“That bullet could have traveled a long way after it passed through our victim. I can bring in a dog from one of our bomb squads if they’ve got one available. They can find the bullet for us.” Eve lifted her phone and waited for Cal to nod. Couldn’t beat having FBI on your side. He’d seen what dogs could do with their noses and it never ceased to amaze him. Bomb dogs were trained to detect dozens of kinds of explosive material, including the material that would still be present on the bullet. There only needed to be minute traces of it for the dog to zero in and show them where it was.

While Eve called for a bomb dog, Cal texted one of the techs in the computer lab at the station and asked them to check for traffic cameras in the area. If a record existed, maybe they could get a recording of the shooter near the park at the time of the shot.

“Ready?” Eve said as she finished up her call. Cal nodded and followed her over to where their assault victim was sitting. The woman had finished with evidence processing and now stood with a uniformed officer nearby. She huddled into herself, arms wrapped around her waist as she stared shell-shocked at the space in front of her. Cal wished they hadn’t had to make her wait to speak with them. He’d get this over with as quickly as possible.

“Ms. Gentry?”

The woman looked at Eve and nodded.

“I’m Special Agent Eve Sands with the FBI. This is Detective Cal Rylan with the New Haven Police Department. We need to take your statement and then we can get you a ride home with one of the officers.”

Another blank look and a nod.

“Is there someone you want us to call? A family member or friend?”

Her brows came together and she looked confused for a minute, then took out her phone and held it up. “I texted my mom. She’s on her way.”

“That’s good, Ms. Gentry. We’ll also give you the name of a counselor with the victim’s advocacy office. You can call them anytime if you need someone to talk to.” Cal had a feeling she still wasn’t processing much of what was being said and he knew they’d have to follow up with her another time.

“Can you tell us what happened?” Eve leaned into the woman’s line of sight, drawing her gaze away from where the body of her attacker was being loaded into the back of the coroner’s van.

“I was coming home from work. I stopped to run a couple of errands, so it was a little later than usual, but when I entered the park, it was still light.” She glanced up at the darkening sky rubbing her arms. “I thought it would be okay,” she said quietly.

“Can you tell us what happened next?” Eve guided her, using the open-ended questions to pull more from the woman without controlling where the conversation went. They wanted the woman to talk freely, taking the conversation where she chose.

“He—” the woman’s voice faltered. “He just came out of nowhere. I’m usually pretty aware of my surroundings, but he just came out of nowhere.” She pressed her hand to her mouth and looked at Eve and Cal. “I should have been watching. I should have seen him.”

“If he was this bold, he’s probably done this before. He was likely good at not being seen.” Cal wanted to give her some reassurance, but he also hoped she’d get into a self-defense class, maybe carry a Taser or pepper spray.

“He started to—” She stopped again, as though she couldn’t say the words, and Cal had a feeling she might not be able to say them yet. It would take time. “He was going to hurt me. He had me pinned down. Then, I don’t know what happened. I heard a shot and his neck exploded.”

“You heard the shot and then saw it?” Eve asked. Cal knew she was trying to confirm what Dr. Kane had told them. When a sniper shot from a great distance, the bullet would reach the target before the sound of the bullet reached it. It was why he didn’t hear the shot that hit Jarrod and Eddy Preiss before the bullet hit. It had come from far away.

In this case, the evidence was pointing to the bullet coming from close by. That meant the sound would hit before or close to the bullet hitting the target.

Mary Gentry closed her eyes as she seemed to be replaying the moment. He saw her flinch before opening her eyes to them. “Yes. I heard the shot a split second before it happened.”

“Okay. And think back to that moment for me,” Eve said. “Do you remember seeing anyone? Seeing where the shot came from?” It was a long shot. She was on the ground and her focus would be on the man pinning her down.

“No.”

Cal studied the victim and he realized, she wasn’t saying no, she didn’t remember. She was saying no to something else.

She confirmed his thoughts. “No. I won’t help you catch the shooter. Whoever it was, he saved me. Saved me from being raped.” She stepped back away from them. “Saved me, maybe, from being killed. I won’t help you catch him.”

Cal felt a surge of anger, but he tamped down on it. “Ms. Gentry, this guy is dangerous. We can’t have someone walking around as judge, jury, and executioner. People could get hurt.”

“Mary!” An older woman with red hair that matched the hair of their victim came toward them, her face a mask of terror.

Mary Gentry turned and fell into the woman’s arms with a sob, and he knew she was finished talking to them for the day. He watched as the dam broke. Eve quietly gave the mother the contact information for the counselor and explained they’d contact Ms. Gentry in the next day or two to follow up with her.

With any luck, the woman would realize having a shooter loose on the streets of their city wasn’t making things safer for anyone.

Chapter Nineteen

Scout climbed back into the car and chugged a Pepsi to get rid of the taste of vomit. The General sneered from the passenger seat but didn’t say anything.

Converting the car to a sniper’s nest had been brilliant. The DC Snipers had supplied the idea and the media had been good enough to post images of exactly how they’d done it. It hadn’t been hard at all.

“It was a good idea, but now you need to get rid of it.” The General pointed up at the roof of the car, but Scout knew he was pointing to the sky. “They have eyes up there. They’ll track this in no time.”

He was right. They did have traffic cameras at a lot of the intersections in the city. Scout pulled back onto the road and drove further south, looking for a place to ditch the car. It was an old model sedan and the plates on it wouldn’t match the VIN number, but getting another car made more sense.

“That old guy up the street hardly takes his car out of the garage. We can grab that one next.” The General said this like he was in charge and Scout bristled at the tone. The days when the General was in charge were over.

Flashes of training crept in. Days on end of crawling under barbed wire, avoiding traps set in the woods, punishments when training goals were missed. The punishments had been the worst. Not because Scout had to withstand them. That had been okay. But seeing friends and family punished for mistakes that weren’t their own had cut deep. The mind games. The mind games had been the hardest part. Those lessons had sunk in and held.

Scout blinked away memories and slowed the car, then turned onto an isolated road leading out to a set of commercial warehouses that had seen better days. Most of them were empty. Those that were not didn’t see much traffic. The car might not be noticed here for days. Scout thought about setting it on fire to destroy evidence, but that might just draw attention and bring the police to it sooner rather than later.

Wiping down the interior and exterior would have to do. The cover of night provided the time Scout needed to get the job done properly. The car would be connected to the shootings. The sniper’s nest carved into its guts made sure of that, but there would be no evidence that would lead the police to Scout. Nothing for them to find that would help put an end to this. Not until Scout was ready for it to end.

Chapter Twenty

“Do you think she’ll come around?” Eve asked the question as she poured them each a beer. He liked that she drank beer instead of wine and that she had cold mugs ready to go in the freezer.

“I hope so. Either that or we get lucky on a traffic cam. I still can’t figure out how the sniper would have picked this guy. The crime wasn’t called in, so it couldn’t have been a scanner. The victim hadn’t been arrested and walked or about to walk like the others.”

“Could be strictly opportunity?”

“He just stumbled on a crime in progress?”

Eve made a face that showed she didn’t like the coincidence either. “Is it possible he somehow knew this guy? Knew he was preying on women and followed him? What better way to prove his cause? If a vigilante can stop crime in progress, it proves the need for him in the first place.”

Cal nodded and took the beer she handed him. Coming to her place for a drink probably wasn’t the best idea, but they'd been running hard since this case began and this break would likely be a short one. They needed the chance to unwind and maybe talk about the case. Talk but not over-analyze. Just a breather.

One thing Cal had discovered was that taking time to let your brain shut down a bit could end up being crucial to a case. When you were in constant overdrive, mistakes would be made.

What he hadn’t really thought through was the fact that having a beer with Eve would be very different than having a beer with Jarrod. He never got distracted watching the delicate line of Jarrod’s throat as he swallowed. And if Jarrod let out a satisfied groan at the taste of a cold beer, it never did a damn thing to Cal’s groin.

Eve, on the other hand, was another story. Cal knew he’d made a mistake when his body tightened at the sight of her tongue coming out to flick the foam off the top of her lip. He was in hell.

He turned all his focus to the news, but that wasn’t a whole lot better. They were showing video clips of Guy Duerte and his girlfriend leaving the courthouse and a clip of Rebecca James standing in the rain at her husband and son’s funeral. Both images had been played over and over on all the major channels and they weren’t doing the police department any favors.

“The press is flat out running with this vigilante thing.” Eve crossed her feet on the coffee table in front of them and leaned back, sinking into the couch. “That poor woman. The press hasn’t left this alone for a minute for her. They love to splash her grief all over the TV for their ratings.”

Cal ignored the fact that he wanted to cover her with his body and press her further into that couch. Maybe after the case was over. When the case was over, there’d be no conflict with them sleeping together. They’d be unlikely to work together again. “I’m beginning to think they may not be far off,” he said.

“I agree. I’m afraid they’re probably right. Not about the fact that New Haven needs a vigilante, of course. The James and Duerte cases were anomalies.”

“You and I know that, but I have a feeling the public is beginning to buy into what the press is feeding them.”

Eve picked up the remote and clicked off the television, leaning her head back on the couch. She blew out a breath and closed her eyes.

Cal took the beer from her hand and set it on the coffee table, his next to it. She kept her eyes closed and he turned his body halfway to face her. “I know you hoped to use this case to get to Genesio. It’s looking less and less likely that’s going to happen.”

She murmured and nodded her head. “I have a feeling you’re right.”

“I’m sorry. I know you want to get him for your dad.”

“I will someday.” She opened her eyes and turned her head to face him. Her eyes burned with intensity and he believed her. She would take Genesio down.

Cal chose that moment to do something even dumber than coming to her place for a drink. He leaned in, taking his time just in case she wanted to stop him, but hoping like hell she didn’t. He watched her eyes and saw them turn from intensity in her chase for a criminal, to a heat that told him she was wanting this as much as he was. He closed the distance between them and pressed his mouth to hers slowly, tasting, savoring, feeling the softness there.

She kissed him back, her hands coming up to his chest. He ran his hand up the back of her neck, deepening the kiss and delving his fingers up into that hair. That hair that was always tucked so tight and neat. He wanted to pull it down and muss it up. To see what she might look like first thing in the morning when she wakes up.

He didn’t. He was too damned close to the edge with this woman to take a chance like that. Cal pulled back with a groan. “If we don’t stop now, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

She didn’t say anything, but nodded, and he could see she was trying to catch her breath.

“We will continue this one day.” He made sure she knew that. “When the case is over.”

Her half-lidded eyes were making it even harder to walk away. “We’ll see.”

He stood, then reached his hand out to pull her up. “Get some sleep. If we don’t get called out in the middle the night, I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

Chapter Twenty-One

They didn’t get called out in the middle of the night, but they did have a conference with the press first thing in the morning to announce the joint task force with the FBI.

Once again, Cal watched as Eve took the podium in front of the press. Once again, he had to clamp down on the urge to step in front of her and protect her. There were now protestors outside the building and he’d heard protests were springing up at the community policing locations throughout the city.

“No, the FBI is not taking over the case. We’re merely consulting. The local police department is still the lead on this task force. We’ll help in any way we can to put an end to this. We can’t have a vigilante running loose on the streets of our city.” Eve had picked up the new message the brass had told her to run with and she was doing just that.

They had decided it was better to embrace the vigilante storyline rather than try to fight the press. But they were framing it in the way it needed to be seen: as an unpredictable danger to the citizens of the city.

“Wouldn’t the victim of last night’s attack disagree with you?” One of the reporters called out.

“I think all of us can be grateful that the woman wasn’t hurt last night, but what happens when our vigilante targets an innocent person? What happens when this vigilante decides the death penalty is justified for burglary, let’s say? We have a justice system in place for a reason. We can’t have one person deciding that our justice system is no longer in place in our city. It simply doesn’t work that way.”

Cal couldn’t stop scanning the room. He wasn’t familiar enough with the press to recognize faces and put names or newspapers to all of them. But he looked around for faces he didn’t recognize at all. People he hadn’t seen before. The more of those faces he saw, the more agitated he became.

He had realized last night that his attraction to Eve went deeper than just her looks and the fact that he got hard when she walked into the room. It was more than just the fact that he’d been dying to get his hands on her and his cock buried inside her for days. He wanted it to be more with her. Needed it to be more with her.

But, watching her put herself in danger every day might be more than he could handle. She wrapped up the session, and he felt the same relief he had felt the last time the press briefing was over. He wanted to whisk her back into the precinct where at least he knew she was surrounded by people he trusted. People who would have her back and protect her.

Creating the task force meant that they were getting two additional agents from the FBI and two more detectives assigned to work with them. He and Eve were still taking point.

“Are Agents Taylor and Martinez any good?” He asked quietly as he and Eve walked back to the bullpen.

“Yes. I’ve worked with them both several times and they’re excellent agents. What about Jepsen and Mullen?”

Cal flinched and glanced around before answering. “Jepsen is a jerk. You met him the first day you were here. Tall guy, can’t stop running his mouth. He’s like the high school bully who never grew up. His partner, Mullen, is a good guy. Just got stuck with an idiot.”

“Ah. I remember him.”

“Hard not to.” He opened the door for her and led her over to his desk. They’d be meeting with the rest of the task force in half an hour.

Cal glanced up and saw Detective Ronan Cafferty leading a small woman through the room. She had the look of someone who had aged far past her years. It was the look that came from a lot of drug use and living on the streets. He recognized her and knew this woman had cleaned up and gotten herself off the streets, but the damage had already been done.

“What is it?” Eve asked, following his gaze.

“Her name is Sissy Johnson. She’s the only lead we had in the James murders, but she’s been afraid to talk. Detective Cafferty has been working her over the last two months, trying to get her to come forward about what she saw.”

“Did she see the killer?” Eve spoke quietly even though there wasn’t anybody around them.

Cal nodded. “We’re pretty sure it was her boyfriend, and yeah, we think she was there. She told a friend, but of course—”

“That doesn’t get you anywhere in court.” Eve knew the deal.

“She’s pretty frightened of him. I just hope she’s ready to talk this time. Cafferty hasn’t brought her in here since the day it happened, so that’s a good sign.”

“It would be a big help if that case was cleared,” Eve said.

Cal’s cell phone buzzed an incoming text before he could agree with her. He glanced at the screen. “A patrol officer working an off-duty shift as security at an old warehouse complex just found our shooter’s vehicle. Stolen plates and the car is stolen, so no leads there.” He scrolled down the screen. “The back seats were removed and there’s a hole behind the license plate that let our shooter get a sniper rifle through there.”

“I don’t suppose there’s video surveillance of these warehouses?” Eve asked with a look that told him she didn’t think there would be any more than he did.

“I doubt it, but I’ll find out. They’re towing the car now. They’ll let us know what they find ASAP. The Captain has put a priority on all our evidence from here on out.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

The first job of the task force was to raid Kevin Williams’s apartment. When they interviewed the former military sniper, he vehemently denied being involved. Unfortunately for him, the people he thought would provide alibis had turned out to be a little fuzzy on dates and times.

Digging deeper had revealed a connection they couldn’t ignore. Williams’s mother lived in the apartment building the sniper’s first shot had come from.

Given the severity of the crimes and the danger of the suspect, they’d secured a no-knock search warrant, giving them the right to enter without any warning.

The task force stacked along the side of the wall outside Kevin’s apartment. Eve felt the tap on her shoulder and her heart rate sped up as she went through the steps she’d taken dozens of times before. Somehow, no matter how many times she did it, tension still swept through her each time. The officers at the front of the stack breached the door with the ram.

As she readied to move, Cal wedged in front of her, purposely keeping her out of the fatal funnel—the path leading into the apartment where they’d be most vulnerable to anyone defending the apartment on the inside. Eve also knew his move wasn’t lost on several of the other members of the team.

She shook off the anger and focused on what was to come. She would deal with Cal later, but right now she needed her head in the game. Her safety and the safety of all members of the team depended on every one of them being focused.

“Police, police.” The call went out as she moved, going low and moving quickly to the right when she entered the room. Her eyes scanned the surroundings, and she called out “clear” before moving into the room to the right. She saw others proceed forward into the apartment, and felt Cal come up on her side.

She caught sight of Williams as he dove behind a stuffed armchair, and she didn’t take a chance on what he might come up with.

“Hands where I can see them! Let me see your hands, Williams!” Her finger moved from the slide of her weapon to the trigger.

“Hands, Williams. Now!” Cal practically growled beside her and she felt him step closer.

Her heart sped up as time slowed and the sounds around her seemed to echo in her head. And then it was over. Williams came out from behind the chair, hands in the air.

Ten minutes later they had cleared the apartment, taken Williams into custody, and pulled two rifles from the apartment that could have been used for the shootings. Williams was cursing up a blue streak, but they’d let him sit in a room for a while before questioning him. With any luck, they might have the case closed today.

Now Eve had to deal with Cal’s punk ass move back there. No way could she work with guys who treated her with kid gloves. And honestly, she’d been hoping for more than working with Cal. Right now, all she wanted was one swift hard kick to the balls.

She mentally shrugged. It was a low blow and she’d never really do it, but picturing it felt kind of good.

Of course, she always had to go through this with each new team of men she’d worked with. Had to prove herself again and again. Had to train meathead men to see her as an agent, not as a woman. But she hadn’t thought Cal was going to pull this shit. He’d seemed to be pretty okay with working with a woman. Sure, he’d mentioned he hated her out there talking to the press, but he hadn’t gone completely caveman on her. Until now.

She bit her tongue through the ride back to the precinct. Jepsen and Mullen rode with them and Jepsen continued to prove what an ass he was the whole ride back. Everyone was hyped up on adrenaline after a raid like that, but Jepsen handled it more poorly than others.

He bounced in his seat in the back. “Did you see the look on that fucker’s face? Maaaaan, he was pissed.” He said this last as though each word was a sentence of its own. He. Was. Pissed.

He was right. Williams had been pissed. Particularly when Eve had been the one to cuff him. In Eve’s experience, a lot of perps let her handle them more easily than they’d let a guy handle them. She’d asked one guy about it after an arrest. He’d had several warrants out on him and no one else was looking forward to pulling him in. Apparently, he had a reputation and a mean streak a mile wide. But she’d walked up and asked if he wouldn’t mind turning around and putting his hands behind his back for her. To everyone’s surprise but her own, he’d done it.

She’d seen the phenomenon before, but hadn’t asked anyone, so she asked this guy why he’d let her cuff him so easily. He’d looked at her, ducked his head, and said his momma hadn’t raised him to hit no ladies. Unfortunately, there were also men whose mommas hadn’t taught the lesson as well, and she’d taken more than a few hits. It could go either way, so she was always ready, no matter what.

She wished Jepsen’s momma had raised him to shut his mouth. He didn’t let it go. “I mean, really, did y’all see him?” He wasn’t from the south but he seemed to love saying y’all. “He was pissed!”

“We got it Jep. He was pissed.” Mullen said, the words coming out as a grumble. Eve didn’t know how Mullen handled Jepsen all day.

But she didn’t just want out of that car to get away from Jepsen. She wanted out so she could quit stewing and confront Cal. She wasn’t one to stew. She’d rather just confront an issue head on, then let it go.

“Hey, you hear Reynolds’ niece made it into Dartmouth?” Mullen asked.

“Is that good?” Jepsen sounded pretty clueless, but then again, she guessed a lot of people wouldn’t necessarily know a good school from a bad one.

“Ivy league,” Eve said, turning around to face the officers. She was grateful for the distraction, both for herself and for Jepsen. “That’s great. Is Reynolds close to her?”

Mullen stopped shaking his head at his partner and looked at Eve. “Yeah. It’s his sister’s kid, but his brother, Luke, raised her with a lot of help from Zach.”

Eve had a feeling that couldn’t be a good story.

“Luke and Zach lost their mom, their sister, and her husband in a car accident,” Cal said quietly. Even Jepsen was quiet now.

“How old was the girl?” Eve asked Mullen.

“Eight at the time.”

Eve let out a breath, and they were quiet the rest of the way back. She almost wished Jepsen would start his asinine ranting again.

Cal pulled the SUV into the lot at the precinct and they filed out and into the building. One of the other cars had driven in ahead of them to bring Kevin Williams in. If she were leading the questioning, she’d have him wait a while, just to stew. She had a feeling Cal would, too.

Eve grabbed Cal’s arm the minute they got to one of the interrogation rooms and pulled him inside. She could see in his face he knew he had fucked up the minute he turned to her. She went hands on hips, determined not to let her mad go. She didn’t want to accept an apology and drop it. She wanted to have her say. He’d purposefully cut in front of her to protect her when they’d begun that raid. She’d seen men do it when they were jockeying for position, but there was no way that’s what Cal had been doing. He’d been trying to protect her.

“What the hell do you think that was? You undermined me in front of the whole team out there. You just sent a message to all of them that I’m the weak link in this team. That I can’t be trusted to pull my weight.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t handle that well.”

“No!” She said and punched him on the shoulder. Hard. “Hell, no.”

“No what?” He looked up. “What was that for? I said I’m sorry.”

“You don’t get to say you’re sorry right away and ruin my mad. What the hell is that?” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared.

He looked a little shaken at that. Not threatened in the sense he was afraid of her. More stunned and off balance like he had no idea which way to run to steer clear of her rampage. Good. It served him right.

“Umm, so I need to argue with you?” he asked.

“Maybe.” When he said it like that it sounded a little foolish. But dammit, he’d pissed her off and now he was pissing her off more by taking the wind out of the whole damned argument before it got off the ground. Which was weird.

She wasn’t one of those chicks who thrived on arguments and conflict. She didn’t like to fight just to have makeup sex. If she wanted good sex, she’d just have it. She didn’t need the fight part to make the sex worthwhile. And she wasn’t a drama queen.

He stepped into her and grinned the kind of cocky grin that said he was going to kiss her. She wanted to push him away and storm off but her body didn’t get on board with the plan. He moved in, slung a hand low on her hip and tugged. She melted into him. It didn’t matter that they were still partnered together and shouldn’t be anywhere near each other’s mouths. That they were on the job and in a room anyone could walk into at any moment.

Her body reacted before she could get her brain to kick into gear and lay down the law.

God, this man could kiss. He was soft and hard all at once, and when his tongue found hers, it sent heat racing through her. In an instant, she forgot where she was and that mad she was so set on keeping had flown the coop. Which was just as good, really. The man had apologized after all.

He pulled back. If he hadn’t ended the kiss, she wasn’t sure she could have. Her mind seemed to have gone to mush.

She let out a slow breath as he grinned that damned cocky grin at her again.

“Well, just so long as we understand each other.” With that, she turned on her heel and walked out.

Chapter Twenty-Three

They let Williams stew another thirty minutes before heading in to question him. This time around, it would be about getting him to lock in on his story, then tear it apart.

Eve took the chair across from Williams while Cal leaned against the far wall.

“What the hell is this?” Williams said, starting the conversation for them. Apparently, he was going with the belligerent angle.

“Your friends weren’t quite able to alibi you out, Kevin.” Eve spoke quietly, leaving the statement hanging.

Williams shrugged and leaned back, letting his cuffed hands fall to his lap. “S’not my fucking problem. You got nothing on me. You’re gonna test my weapons and find out none of them match. I’m not your shooter.”

He seemed awfully confident for someone who was looking at murder one charges. But Eve had seen people try to argue away worse evidence than this before. It didn’t mean he was innocent.

“Tell me about your mom’s apartment building, Kevin.” Eve saw the surprise on his face, even though he covered it seconds later.

“What about it? She lives in a shit-ass dump. I help her out all I can but I haven’t been working much lately.”

“Watch your language in front of the lady.”

Eve turned to give Cal a look, earning her a grin and a shrug, before turning back to Kevin. “Why is that?”

“I don’t handle authority well.”

Cal snorted. “You were in the military. Clean record, honorable discharge. You expect us to believe you have authority issues.”

This got them another shrug, which seemed to be Kevin’s main form of communication.

“So, here’s the thing. Your mom’s building? That’s the building our sniper used for the first shot.” Eve watched as Kevin seemed to run the scenario in his head.

He sat up now. “That’s gotta be close to a mile out. Holy shit.”

“Language,” Cal said.

Eve chose to ignore him and focus on Kevin. “Yeah, it’s close. Not quite a mile, but it was a long shot. It would take someone with skill. From what we’ve seen of your record, you’ve got that skill.”

They were back to the shrug.

“So, it’s nothing more than a coincidence your mom lives in that building?”

“Stranger things have happened.”

Eve looked at him and waited for more.

“Look, lady, I don’t know what to tell you. Run my weapons. They won’t match. I wasn’t anywhere near that building that day. Like I told you before, I was with friends working on a buddy’s car. I got nothing more for you.” His crossed arms and closed mouth told her they weren’t going to get more from him. At least not without more evidence.

She and Cal left the room. They could hold him for twenty-four hours.

Cal climbed the steps to Joy’s house and knocked, balancing two coffee cups in his hand. He wouldn’t be able to stay long, but he wanted to make sure she was doing all right. He normally picked her up every other Sunday to go to their mom’s house for dinner, but he hadn’t been able to make it this past week.

“Hey, Cal.” Joy pushed the door open, then stepped back, letting him in. “Oh, perfect. I was just thinking I either need coffee or a nap.” A large yawn proved her point.

“You working on something?” He knew her well enough to know if she was in this condition, it likely meant she’d gotten lost in a project and hadn’t bothered to sleep the night before.

“Come see.” She took one of the coffee cups and padded through the house into her painting space.

“Wow. That’s incredible, Joy.” It was different. Not the usual landscape or castle or landmark from around the world. This time, she’d painted the face of a young boy. “Where’s he from?” He assumed she must have seen a picture of him or taken it from someone’s website. Maybe someone had commissioned the painting from her, providing the photo. All her paintings came from photos, but he’d never seen her paint any children.

Now that he thought of it, she’d never painted people before at all. Surely, she’d been asked to in the past, since she did take commissions. They’d just never spoken about it.

“I’ve been dreaming about him lately.” She frowned as she spoke, and he didn’t know what to say.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

She lifted her hands. “Who knows.” Linking her arm into his, she pulled him into the living room and curled up on the sofa, dragging him down next to her. “Tell me about your special agent.”

He couldn’t stop his bark of laughter at that. Joy had that effect on him. “My special agent?”

“Sure.” The grin she gave him was impish. “She came with you so she’s yours.”

“That’s all it takes, huh?”

She didn’t answer. Cal sighed, having the feeling he was being set up. “Special Agent Sands is just fine.”

“Please don’t tell me you call her Special Agent Sands.”

“I call her Eve. Now tell me what you’re getting at.”

“I’m not getting at anything.” She played this off with one of those who me looks she was so good at, but Cal wasn’t buying it. “I’m simply asking how working with Eve is going.”

“It’s great.” He realized he meant it. Usually working with someone new meant a lot of adjustment, but he and Eve clicked better than he would have expected. “She’s smart, she’s damned good at her job.” She’s got guts he thought, but didn’t say it. He was always careful not to say anything in front of Joy that might hurt her feelings. He would never judge Joy for shutting herself away from the world after what had happened. It wasn’t something he had the right to judge. What she’d been through—hell, it wasn’t even something he could imagine.

“She’s pretty,” Joy added.

“And we’re done.” Call made the statement with a laugh, but he hoped Joy would accept it. She didn’t.

“She’s strong, too. You can feel it from her, you know. Without even seeing her in action.”

Cal nodded. He did know what she meant.

“She answers a hole you have.”

Cal sighed. There was no stopping her now.

“I mean it. You have mom and me, and let’s face it, we lean on you not the other way around. It’s what we do.”

“Joy, I never—”

She waved away his protest. “I know. You don’t mind. You’re here for us. You always will be. That’s what makes you so good. So strong. You’re always here for the people who love you. That’s why being with a woman like Eve is so important. You need someone like her. Someone who stands on her own, who even holds you up sometimes.”

Cal reached out and tugged her in, kissing her on the temple. “You hold me up plenty, Joy.” He meant it. She did. She just didn’t know it.

She stayed tucked into his side as she sipped her coffee, then looked up at him. “How is Jarrod?”

“Healing well. Should be back soon. I’m sure Carrie is spoiling him rotten, and knowing him, he’s lapping it up.”

“And how are you holding up?” There was always this unspoken thing between them. She never had to spell out what she was asking. She was asking him how it felt to have another one of his partners hurt.

He shook his head. He didn’t have an answer for that, so he went with the easy answer. “I’m fine.”

She snorted. “Ray Lansing has been writing about the case a lot.”

“You’re reading Ray Lansing’s shit blog?”

She nodded. “He has some good articles. I admit, he’s not treating you guys well right now, but he raises fair points sometimes about the city and our country.”

“Such as?” He had a feeling he didn’t want to hear this.

“He had a great piece today about incarceration in the U.S. We’re behind a lot of other nations in terms of rehabilitation and our system of mass incarceration isn’t working. Don’t you ever think about that as a cop?”

“Hell no. I mean, yeah, if someone I know is guilty gets off after I know I built a good case, then yeah, I think about it. But it’s not my job to decide what happens after I arrest them. I do my part, then it’s up to the judges, the prosecutor. They deal in that side of things.”

“There are a lot of nations that focus on rehabilitation, on treatment of mental health issues and addiction, and their outcomes are arguably better.”

Cal sat up and looked at her. “You mean to tell me you’d want the guys who attacked you to get treatment and rehab instead of jail time?” She flinched and he immediately regretted his words. What the hell was wrong with him?

She seemed to rally right away, though, and he had to say, she seemed to be different lately. Stronger somehow. “No. The men who raped me should be in prison. You and I both know that. But there are a lot of people in prison who didn’t rape someone or commit a cold-blooded murder. They’re serving long sentences a lot of times, and even if they were serving light sentences, what they need are services to help them get on the right track, not jail.”

Cal sat back and chewed on what she’d said for a minute. If he were honest, he’d probably seen everything through the lens of Joy’s attack for a long time. Sure, on the one hand, he did see a difference between burglary and rape. But he’d always just been focused on tracking down bad guys. Whoever they were, he identified them and arrested them. The rest was up to someone else. “Yeah, well our system isn’t perfect, but I focus on my end of things.”

She gave him the kind of look that said personal growth was in order, and he squirmed knowing she might be right. “He wants to interview me.”

“What? Who wants to interview you?”

Joy tugged on his arm. He hadn’t even realized he was practically up out of his seat until she pulled him back into it. “Ray Lansing.”

“What does that mean? How does he know you? Is he badgering you about the vigilante? I’ll kill him.”

“Settle down, big brother.” She patted his arm like she was calming a child and he grunted. “I’ve followed his blog for a while. I comment sometimes or write to him directly. Sometimes I’m defending you and your guys. Other times, I’m telling him I see his side of things. He wants to do a piece about my attack.”

Cal rubbed a hand down his face, blowing out a breath. “And you’d want that? You’d want some guy telling your story and questioning why your attackers were never brought to justice?”

“You never say the word rape with regard to my case. Do you know that? They aren’t my attackers. I mean they are. But they’re more than that. They raped me, Cal. It’s okay to use the word.”

He shook his head and looked away. He’d never wanted to use the word when it came to Joy. What happened to her was too barbaric. Too wrong for him to even speak of sometimes. Now this Lansing asshole thought he could take her story and plaster it all over the city?

“Do you know if he’s safe?” She asked.

“Who? What? If who’s safe?”

“Lansing. Is he safe for me to meet with?” She was quiet, but there was a determination behind her eyes.

Cal studied her. “He’s safe.” He’d known Ray Lansing for years. He might not like the guy, but he wasn’t a danger to Joy. Not in the sense she was asking anyway. He wouldn’t attack her. “I should be here, though.”

“No.” She was firm on that, and Cal raised a brow. How could she really be talking about meeting with this guy without Cal there?

“Joy—”

“I said no, Cal, and I meant it. I told him I won’t meet with him until after this shooting case is resolved, and I don’t want him running my story as part of the vigilante angle. He agreed.”

Cal was fairly sure he was going to knock a filling loose clenching his jaw the way he was. Hell, never mind a filling, he might take out a whole molar or two.

“At least tell me when you’re seeing him and text me when you’re done so I know you’re okay?”

“I can do that.” She nodded and smiled.

“Will he be coming here?” He probably had no right to ask, but since Joy didn’t leave the house, he really couldn’t figure out any other way for her to meet with Lansing.

She shook her head. “I’m going to have him come to mom’s house. I think I can handle that.”

“And how do you plan to get to mom’s?” Joy didn’t drive. Cal picked her up anytime she went to their mom’s house.

“Oh yeah.” She shrugged. “Guess I’ll need a ride.”

Now they laughed together. It hit him that it was a little twisted for them to laugh at that, but they’d lived with the reality of Joy’s situation so long, they were able to. He leaned back and put his arm up on the back of the couch. “So, tell me about this little boy in your dreams.”

They spent the rest of his visit talking about a boy running and laughing in her dreams. A boy she saw anytime she closed her eyes. A boy who called to her and ran into her arms when she opened them, who demanded to be put on her canvas when she woke.

Cal listened but his thoughts were half on Lansing. He’d need to go pay a visit to Lansing to be sure this guy understood what would happen if he dicked around with Cal’s sister and her story. The picture Cal would paint for Lansing would be as detailed and graphic as the paintings his sister created. Only this one wouldn’t be anywhere near as pretty.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Okay, so what have we got that’s outstanding?” Cal surprised Eve by sliding into the booth next to her instead of sitting across the table. They’d stopped at a cafeteria-style café for a quick lunch and grabbed one of the tables toward the back of the room.

He pulled out his phone and scrolled through to the notes file, pulling up a page and looking her way.

They’d ordered at the counter and had one of those little number things that told the restaurant staff where to bring their food. It wasn’t much of a lunch break, but it was better than what they sometimes got. A lot of days, it was fast food drive-thru in the car or crap coffee from the coffee room at the station.

Cal’s leg brushed hers. Her body was especially aware of his now. The kisses had changed things from a charged arousal to unquenchable thirst every time he was near.

Despite that, she focused on the case and hoped their food would come soon. Not only was she starving, she needed the distraction. “We need to follow up with forensics on our abandoned car and see if there’s anything to tie it to Kevin Williams.”

Cal held up a finger and switched screens, flipping to email. “Got an email on that.” He opened it and scanned, before frowning. “Nothing. The car was completely wiped down. They looked everywhere—undersides of door handles, mirror, trunk latch. Not a single print.”

Eve shook her head. “This guy is a pro. No hairs in the carpet? Nothing?”

Cal tilted the phone, showing her the email as he answered the question for her. “Nothing. They think our shooter must have vacuumed the carpet. Still gunshot residue in the carpeting, but no fibers or hairs. Nothing useful to us.”

“Williams would have the discipline to do that, coming from the military.”

Cal agreed, and they sat back as a runner dropped food on their table and took the numbered paddle away. Both took a minute to take a first bite of their respective sandwiches before continuing.

“We need to check in with Mary Gentry,” Cal said. Their assault victim had had a few days to recover from her attack. Maybe she’d be willing to talk to them now about what he saw. “What about traffic cameras around the park?”

Eve swallowed the french fry she’d been working on before speaking. “No traffic cameras right there, but there are a few in surrounding areas. It’s taking time.”

Cal reached over and stole one of her fries.

“Hey!” Eve smacked the fry out of his hand with a laugh. “We’ve crossed into fry-stealing territory?”

He grinned, leaning into her space a little. “Yup.” He grabbed the same fry again and popped it in his mouth before she could stop him.

“Why did you order a salad instead of fries if you weren’t going to eat it?”

“Oh, I’ll eat my salad. I’m just also going to eat some of your fries. I’m doing you a favor. They’re not good for you.”

Eve raised a brow. “Watch it, buddy. You’re getting into dangerous territory, there.”

He laughed as he went back to his own food. Eve reached over and took a cucumber from his salad, dipped it into his ranch dressing, and ate it. She had to admit, she liked the easiness when they were together. There was heat and there was no mistaking the sexual tension, but it was also easy to be with him.

“So, we’ll go see Gentry this afternoon?” Cal asked.

She nodded her agreement. They’d already gotten back the forensics on the bullet the bomb dogs had found at the park. The bullet had wound up going through a tree and lodging in another after going through their would-be rapist’s neck. The striations matched the bullets from the other two shootings. They were looking at the same sniper. He’d simply gone mobile for this shooting, which wasn’t good news for them. It made their jobs harder, particularly since the car had been ditched. They could assume if the killer wanted to strike that way again, he’d just pick up a new car for each kill.

They ate in silence as Eve mulled over that. Eventually, this guy would leave something at one of the scenes. He had to. At this point, it was unfortunately a numbers game, and Eve hated those kind of cases. They were waiting for their killer to screw up so they could catch a break, find some lead to follow.

Cal tossed his napkin onto his now-empty plate and looked over at her. Eve must have had her thoughts written in her eyes. He stopped when he saw her face and turned his body toward hers. With a glance over his shoulder to be sure no one was headed their way, he leaned in and spoke, close to her face. “We’ll get this guy. We’ll stop this.”

Eve held her breath. She wanted to lean in and close the distance between them. She wanted to lose herself in the feeling of his mouth on hers, of his arms around her. Of his body pressing, hard and heavy, against hers. Pressing her into the bench as he gave her an escape from the weight of the case.

She wanted to lean in and take all of that and more, but didn’t.

As he pulled back, slowly, he let a wide grin cross his face. He leaned back in. “You were thinking about it.”

“About what?” She’d like to think her voice sounded cool and steady, even if she was nothing but. Damn, the man knew how to push her buttons. It was getting annoying.

He laughed, low, deep, sexy. The kind of laugh that held a promise. “You know exactly what.”

He pulled back, leaving her to follow him out the door as he continued laughing. She’d need to make his cocky ass pay one of these days.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Hey Ma, it’s Cal.” He was waiting for Eve to come out of the restaurant where she was using the restroom. As always, calls to his mom were short and shoved between things here or there in his day. He needed to get better about that.

“You know I only have one son, right?”

He grinned. They’d been through this before. “Yeah, yeah, I know. If a man calls you and says Hey Ma, you know it’s me.”

She harrumphed in response.

“You doing anything exciting?” Most of their phone calls started this way. One day, he hoped she’d tell him something other than laundry or gardening.

“Just a little laundry. Might repot some of my indoor plants later.”

Cal shook his head, but he was smiling. She was nothing if not predictable.

“Hey, I need you to let me know when that Lansing guy is coming to the house to talk to Joy so I can be there.”

“I’ll do no such thing.”

Cal pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it, before realizing how stupid that was. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Cal. This is Joy’s interview and I’m not going to let you butt in. She’s made some progress lately. You need to let her have her space to keep doing that.”

Cal stewed on that for a minute. The attack on Joy had taken its toll on all of them. Cal always swore his dad’s heart attack three years later was a result of the strain. His mother had tried to cope largely by burying her head in the sand. And, Cal, well Cal had taken over. He’d done what Joy needed and been her protector.

He could hear his mother’s sigh through the line. “Honey, I know you mean well, but Joy needs to stand on her own someday. If she’s starting to do that, you need to let her. Besides, I’ll be here.”

Cal laughed. “What are you going to do if the guy upsets her?” He could picture a few scenarios, most involving a garden hose or a small spade, neither of which were going to be much use. His gut clenched and the laughter died. He didn’t really think Lansing would harm Joy. He never would have told her it was safe to meet with him if he thought Lansing was a danger. But the idea of him pressuring Joy into talking about more than she was ready for killed him. He wanted to be there for that.

“She’s stronger than you know, Cal.” His mother spoke just as Eve stepped outside, and his eyes went to her small frame. Maybe Eve wasn’t the only strong woman around him, after all. Maybe his mother and Joy were stronger than he’d been giving them credit for.

He sighed and rubbed at his temple with one thumb. “Yeah, all right, Ma. But you’ll call me if you think he’s pushing her too much.” It wasn’t a request.

“Yes, dear.”

Cal looked at the phone again. Well, damn. His mother had just yes, deared him and hung up the phone.

Eve was looking at him with a question in her eyes, but that turned to laughter when he said he’d been on the phone with his mother.

“Why is that funny?” he asked as they walked to the car.

“Because clearly, your mother just hung up on you.” She rubbed his arm like she was consoling him but the fact that she was laughing harder negated the concern. Damn.

Mary Gentry was willing to talk to them, but she still had nothing to offer.

“I can’t tell you anything. After that man grabbed me, I was focused completely on him. I’d like to be able to say I kept my head and I can tell you everything that was going on around me, but I didn’t. I froze up. I couldn’t move with him pinning me to the ground, and I couldn’t see anything but him.” She seemed to shrink in on herself as she spoke and Cal hoped she was seeing someone for help in handling the fallout from this. She might not have been raped, but he would bet she was dealing with plenty of fear and anxiety just the same.

“Tunnel vision,” he said calmly. “It’s not at all uncommon. You shouldn’t beat yourself up about that.”

Eve nodded. “I think you can still help us out Mary. Can you remember a few minutes before the attack? When you entered the area. Did you see anyone sitting in a car? Or anyone around the park, maybe standing or walking through the area?”

They believed the shooter had made the shot from within the car, based on the built-in sniper’s nest they’d discovered. But it had occurred to them that maybe the shooter was using a partner as a spotter. Obviously, their guy was grabbing the car idea from the D.C. snipers, a pair of snipers who had plagued the D.C and Virginia area for weeks before being caught. One reason they evaded capture for so long had been the use of a sniper’s nest built into the back of a car. They’d fired out of a hole in the car, before driving away.

So maybe there was a partner here as well. Not to mention, that was standard operating procedure for most military snipers.

Mary clenched her hands as she looked at them both, then nodded. “There was a car parked near the corner.”

“Which corner?” Cal prompted.

“Oak and Lake Street.”

“Can you tell us what kind of car it was? The color?”

“It was old. A silver sedan.”

Eve took out a picture of the abandoned vehicle they suspected their shooter had used. “Is this it?”

Mary nodded.

“Do you remember seeing anyone in the car?”

“Sure. Someone was in it, but I didn’t notice anything about them. I can’t tell you what he looked like.”

Eve used a technique Cal had seen dozens of people use with a witness, but her tone engendered trust and cooperation. “How about an impression of the person?”

Mary’s mother came into the room, putting a cup of tea in front of Mary and nodding to Cal and Eve before sitting. They’d already refused her offer of tea or coffee.

“An impression?” Mary continued as her mother sat next to her. “What do you mean?”

Eve made a casual gesture with her hands. “Anything you can remember. Big, small, heavy, lean…”

“Smaller, I guess. Well, maybe not small as in short. But, I mean not like a big huge guy or anything. And he wore a hat,” Mary said with less hesitation toward the end.

Eve tilted her head as Cal took notes. “What kind of hat?”

“A baseball cap. A dark blue or black cap.”

“Could you make out a face?”

Mary shook her head. “I mean, I didn’t try. It was just a glance at the person as I went by, you know? And I was halfway down the block at the park entrance.”

“Okay, that’s good, though. That’s helpful. Can you tell me what color the person was? Could you make out if he was white, black, or Latino?”

Another head shake. “I think white, or maybe he was Hispanic. I don’t think he was black.” She put a hand to her head and her mother glanced to Eve and then Cal.

“I think she’s had enough, officers. She hasn’t been able to sleep much.”

They stood, and Eve reached out toward Mary, squeezing her hand. “Thank you, Mary.”

Mary’s mother walked them to the door. “She’s seeing a counsellor, but I don’t know if it’s helping.”

“It takes time,” Cal said. He didn’t mention that for some, there would never be enough time. That wasn’t what Mary’s mother needed to hear right now. Sometimes, just having that little bit of hope that there might be a light at the end of a tunnel was enough to keep you moving until you could get to it.

“I won’t be sorry that sniper shot her attacker before he could rape her. I know you need to catch this man. I understand it’s dangerous to have someone running around out there with a gun, but I can’t be sorry he stopped—” She didn’t seem to be able to voice what could have happened to her daughter. She pressed a hand to her mouth and shook her head. He got it. If he ever let himself think about what had been done to Joy—hell, it just wasn’t a place he could visit. He would imagine Mrs. Gentry felt the same way, if not worse. Mary might be a grown woman, but she was her daughter.

Cal nodded and he and Eve walked out.

“I can’t say I blame her for feeling that way,” Eve said looking back at the door.

“Neither can I,” Cal said. “Doesn’t change what we need to do any, but, yeah, I get it.”

Eve nodded. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Where to now?” Cal asked as they got into his car. “You said you have one other stop you wanted to make?”

“Yeah,” Eve pointed down the street. “Get onto the Merritt,” she said gesturing to the small highway that ran up and down this section of Connecticut. “There’s a gun dealer who isn’t completely opposed to talking to cops. I want to see if he’s got any ideas for us.”

Ten minutes later, she directed him to a small older home, surprising him by bringing him to a residence not a storefront. “Here?”

“Yeah. This guy is an old friend of my dad’s.”

He followed her up to the door where an older man wearing slippers and a cowboy hat—a congruent combination if Cal had ever seen one—was waiting with the door open.

The man squinted at them, one hand behind the door, making Cal wonder if he held a gun behind that door. They were halfway up the walkway when a smile split the man’s face. “Evie girl!”

“Hi, Donnie. How you been?” Eve’s smile was wide and she looked as if she were greeting an old friend. The man’s face held the same kind of easy smile—although his smile was one that was missing a few teeth. He turned Cal’s way.

“Donnie, this is Cal, my temporary partner.”

Donnie looked Cal up and down. “FBI?” His tone said he doubted it.

“New Haven PD.” Cal offered and hand and a smile, and was a little surprised when the man took it readily. He’d expected him to be a little more reticent of cops for some reason. But Eve waltzed into the office of mobsters with ease. Why shouldn’t he expect a gun dealer to welcome her with open arms?

“Good. Good. You know Frank Katlon over there?”

Cal grinned. “Who doesn’t?” Frank had been on the force for twenty-some-odd years and he was the kind of guy who got to know everyone. There wasn’t a person who wasn’t a friend to Frank.

Donnie let out a grunt and moved into the house, waving for them to follow. He dropped down into a worn armchair that held the imprint of his figure in both the seat and the arms. He reached for a remote and turned the television down low, leaving the picture on to play in the background.

“Took you long enough to come out my way.” He leveled a look at Eve. “I’ve seen you on the news channels. You’re working the shooter.” It wasn’t a question. The man spoke as though he thought she’d come see him on day one of the investigation.

“I am. Any idea who has that kind of weapon in the area? Not to mention the skill to use it?”

“A few people.” He picked up a pipe and a bag of tobacco, and began packing the one into the other as he spoke. He didn’t so much as glance down at his work as he spoke. “True the first shot was taken from a mile away?”

“No.” Eve shook her head. Cal knew she wouldn’t give out details she shouldn't be sharing, but she gave him enough to answer their questions. “It wasn’t a mile, but it was long. We’re not talking your everyday rifle or an unskilled marksman.”

Donnie looked to be deep in thought, staring down now as he packed the tobacco in with his thumb. “A collapsible stock would make it easier to get in and out of places without being spotted as a weapon.” He snorted and looked up at them. “Course, nowadays you could get you a big long box, stick that black swoosh from that online ordering place on it and you’re good to go. Everyone orders everything now. No one has to go anywhere to get a thing. Someone came by the other day to try to sell me on ordering my groceries. Said they go to the grocery, the liquor store, the pet store. They do the whole damned thing for you.”

Eve laughed as Donnie shook his head at her, and Cal had the feeling of being left out, like only she could understand how much it would bother Donnie to have things delivered for him instead of going out for them himself.

Eve gently brought the man back around to the gun. “We do think a collapsible stock would help. No telescoping barrel. The shots were too long and too accurate for that. And this person isn’t some newb who doesn’t know how to shoot this toy. This guy knows what he’s doing.”

Donnie nodded. “There’s a guy who comes around to the shows sometimes. He has a .408 CheyTac that would suit your needs. Keith or Kevin or someone.”

Cal had a feeling they already had this name. “Kevin Williams?”

“That’s the one.” Donnie’s statement was accompanied by a finger pointing Cal’s way. When he dropped his hand, he lit his pipe. “You already talk to him?”

Neither Cal nor Eve said anything, but Donnie didn’t seem to care. He nodded. “Good. Good.”

“Is there anyone else you can think of?” Eve asked.

Another snort from Donnie. “Sure. There’s more. Shoot, I got a few in my collection could do the job. There’s a couple guys come from New York or Vermont, New Hampshire, and all. But local, the guy Keith, and some guy named Jeff, I think. He’s a bit of a nut job, but he don’t have the skill to get this job done. Like you said, he likes to buy toys, but he don’t know what to do with them. Let’s see, couple of cops.” This was accompanied by a nod toward Cal.

Cal handed the man a small pad of paper and pen. “Can you write down anyone you can think of for us, please?”

“Sure,” Donnie took the notepad. “Sure. You want me to write the cops down?”

Cal could see Eve still. Officer Jake Tanner was the one sniper on their list of military and law enforcement shooters who had the technical ability to be their shooter that they couldn’t rule out easily by looking at work schedules. She’d been pressing Cal to pull the guy in but he wasn’t eager to tank someone’s career just because he had the expertise their shooter would need.

“Yeah, cops, too.” he nodded. “Write down everyone you can think of. Even the people from out of the area. We’ll check them all.”

He didn’t want to think about how wide they’d have to cast this net and who was going to get caught up in it. His gut churned as he thought about Jake Tanner. He knew the guy. He knew this wasn’t him. He just needed to find a way to rule him out soon—before it ended up costing a good man his career and reputation. This shooter had taken enough from this city without taking that.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Scout had waited a long time for this name. The one name that could make the pain end. Maybe then the General would go away, leave Scout alone to visit with memories of the boys. Memories were all Scout had now.

No, that wasn’t true. There’d been renewed purpose lately. The purpose in taking vengeance and delivering justice where no one else would. That had been a good thing to come from all of this. The one good thing. Scout had finally been the vessel the General had honed and shaped all those years before. Finally had a purpose to go with all those years of painstaking training, of learning the skills of a killer. An assassin.

This time would be different. This kill wouldn’t come from the tip of the sniper’s rifle. This kill needed to be up close. Even more personal than those before it had been. It wouldn’t matter if he fought back. It wouldn’t even matter if Scout died delivering this particular death sentence.

Three days of watching Ricky Johnson gave Scout all the information needed to catch the man off guard. Just three days and Scout was ready to deliver justice that had been too long in coming. Much too long and much too hard in coming.

Johnson walked through the door to the hallway after Scout had put in more than an hour of waiting, tucked back into the dark corner underneath the staircase on the floor beneath Johnson’s apartment. The wait was worth it. At first, he didn’t recognize Scout. Didn’t say a thing. Just stared blankly, and never thought to run or scream. Never thought to try to fight it.

The blade of the knife sinking into his gut spilled warm thick blood over Scout’s hand. The asshole let out a guttural choking sound as the knife twisted and tore through the flabby figure of the mugger. This one was for the boys. This one was the one that would bring healing.

But when it was over, there was no healing. Just the same empty hollow feeling that never seemed to go away.

Scout wandered after the kill, but ended up where the empty feelings always led. The cemetery. Scout lay down on the grass in front of the gravestone, wishing the General would leave. But he didn’t. He stood vigil as exhaustion overcame Scout.

Why didn’t the boys appear? Why was it always the General?

When the tears had stopped, Scout sat and pulled out a phone. It was time to call home. Time to end this all. The number came from memory.

“Marybeth?” Scout said to the voice on the other end of the phone. It was a comfort that the phone was answered by the same woman who had answered it all those years ago. Had always answered it at the compound. Scout could see Marybeth standing in the kitchen of the main house, her white apron with the embroidered words Home is where you lay your gun on the front.

“Yes?” There was a wariness to the voice, but that was always the way with the group. They were known to the outside world as a militia group. A cult of sorts. And they didn’t trust anyone from the outside.

“It’s Scout. I think I need to come home. Can I talk to the General?”

“Scout, honey?” Now there was only concern in the voice.

“Yes. It’s me.”

“Scout,” Marybeth sounded unsure. “The General is dead, honey. Remember? The police came and took him to prison. He was killed there. The General is dead.”

Scout didn’t answer as confusion warred with memories, all of it trying to outweigh reality. News reports. The famed standoff with the police and the General being stabbed in prison. But he was right here. Had been the whole time.

Scout laid down on the grass again, curling up in that child-like ball that sometimes brought comfort. “I think I’m all alone now. Everyone is gone.” The General left, his towering figure no longer standing watch. The boys were gone and their ghosts had never come, as though judgment had been passed.

“Scout, you should come home to us. We’re all still here for you.” Marybeth’s voice went on. “Scout? Scout?”

Scout didn’t answer. Sleep would help. Sleep and then more work. The job calmed. The job was all there was to focus on now.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Eve leaned against the conference table and met the eyes of one of the biggest worms she’d ever dealt with. That’s how she liked to think of Richard Dyson. A worm. Slimy and wriggly and always crawling out from under a rock when you didn’t expect him. She probably wasn’t being at all fair to worms. Didn’t they help contribute to the ecosystem? They were hard workers that ate stuff and pooped out dirt or something, right?

Yeah, worms were useful.

Dick? Not so much.

He’d summoned her to the conference room as soon as he heard she was in the building. She planned to give him five minutes of her time, then she was on her way back down to New Haven PD to check in with the vigilante task force. They weren’t using the name the media had used for the shooter: the Grim Reaper. They wouldn’t feed into that.

“I need an update on the Grim Reaper case.”

Eve raised a brow. So much for not glorifying the guy. “And why would you need that?” Sure she could give him an answer, but really, why should she? He knew damned well they no longer suspected a link between the shooter and Genesio. Genesio was supposed to be Dyson’s focus right now. She’d been temporarily pulled from the Genesio case to work the sniper, so this was a power play by Dyson. Nothing more.

Sadly for him, she didn’t give in to power plays. She’d already shown him that once. Apparently, he needed a reminder.

He hiked his pants up at the waist, and she couldn’t help but picture Ralph Kramden from The Honeymooners. Pow, right in the kisser! Great, now she might start laughing.

Eve bit down on her cheeks and tilted her head. “You’re welcome to read the RMS file. I’ve just updated my notes.” If he had to sign into the records management system to read her notes, his review of the case would be documented. She was all for that.

Dyson stepped into her space, the nasty garlic smell of his breath invading her nostrils. What did this man eat for breakfast? “Don’t fuck with me, Evie. I can make things very uncomfortable for you.”

Evie. Classic attempt to cut her down to a child’s height instead of the grown woman and agent that she was. Eve reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of gum. “You already have.” She sidestepped and waved the gum his way. “Here, this might help.”

She went to leave the room, but one large hand pressed on her shoulder, shoving her into the door. She could feel his body as he pressed up against her back. For a brief moment, she felt what she imagined Cal’s sister or Mary Gentry had felt when they were attacked. Or any number of the other women attacked and raped in the world on an all-too-frequent basis. The panic of knowing what was about to come. The violation, the fear.

It lasted only seconds before she drew up her leg and found the side of his knee, then raked the edge of her boot down the side of his leg. He grunted and stepped back, grabbing at his leg.

“Bitch.”

Eve turned slowly, taking in the man who had, for reasons unknown, decided to target her. “You better believe it. And I’m not a bitch you want to mess with. Touch me again and I’ll neuter you where you stand, Dyson.”

He stood and laughed, a sneer painting his face.

Eve didn’t wait to see if he had more to say. She probably should report him. It was probably time for her to let someone know what was going on with him, but the thought made her cringe. She’d seen what happened when women reported the kind of harassment Dyson had been heaping on her. She didn’t want to head down that road. Better to deal with his crap on her own.

She took the elevator down to the garage and got in her car, eager to get over to the police department. She wanted to see if they’d gotten anything back on the guns they’d confiscated from Kevin Williams’s apartment. It was possible they would wrap up the case today.

She was minutes away from the station when the news channel she was listening to cut in with breaking news of an officer attacked by angry protestors. The officer was being transported to the hospital and his condition was unknown. Eve felt a wave of nausea. The idea that it could have been Cal flooded her thoughts, even though it was highly unlikely it was him. He wasn’t in uniform anymore, so he wouldn’t be out working crowd control. He wouldn’t be targeted in this way.

None of that seemed to matter as she felt an uncharacteristic panic kick in. She never panicked. It was not only not part of her job description, it just wasn’t part of who she was.

That didn’t matter right now. What mattered was whether Cal was okay. She thought about pulling over to call and see if she could get through to him, but she was minutes away from the station and it seemed more important to get there. To see him for herself. See that he was safe.

Heart pounding, she clutched the wheel in a white-knuckled grip. Two minutes and she would know.

The news report didn’t include any details. Nothing about the officer or what he’d been doing when he was injured. She knew Cal had planned to spend the morning following up with some of the people they’d interviewed. Could he have been targeted by protesters who were angry with the police and actually went out looking for the detective heading the task force? She’d been the one doing the talking at press conferences, but he’d been standing next to her and he’d answered some of the questions. It was possible people had zeroed in on him.

One minute.

She didn’t want this, she realized. Didn’t want the connection that had grown between them. Didn’t want to feel so strongly for him that she could be gutted if he was hurt. It was too much.

She pulled into the lot and slammed the car into park. She needed eyes on Cal now.

It took too damned long to get up to the third floor of the building. She took the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator. Eve’s eyes scanned the bullpen, zeroing in on Cal. Safe.

He was safe. It hadn’t been him. The air in the room was heavy, and Eve had to take a minute to steady herself. She wasn’t used to feeling so off balance because of her feelings for another person, and it wasn’t something she planned to get used to.

She was sure of one thing right now. They needed to get this sniper off the streets and get control over these protesters, fast. Not only for the sake of the citizens of New Haven, but for her own sanity. She needed to get back to the FBI where she could put Cal Rylan and this attraction behind her.

A small voice inside her said it was more than attraction. It was a pull toward him like none she’d ever felt. But it wasn’t a voice or a pull she would heed. She crossed the room to where Cal and several of the task force members stood.

“What do we know?” She didn’t bother with greetings and no one there looked much in the mood for them, either. She didn’t miss that Cal was studying her, though.

“Small but angry group marched on the Fair Haven substation this morning. They cold cocked an officer before he knew what was coming. Hit his head on a pipe sticking out of the side of the building as he went down.”

“Assholes kicked him while he was down like the fine upstanding pieces of shit they are,” Jepsen added.

Cal cut him a look and went on. “We’re waiting for word from the hospital. Officers got him out of there fast and broke up the group, made six arrests.”

“It was bullshit. The sniper hasn’t even been hitting people in Fair Haven. Scum will use any excuse—”

“Jepsen!” The Captain’s voice cut in from clear across the room and there was no mistaking the tone.

“Yeah, Cap?”

“My office. Now.”

Jep was frowning when he walked away and Eve wondered how the Captain would handle Jepsen’s attitude. She’d heard Captain Calhoun was a stickler when it came to swearing in the precinct and respecting the people they served—even when those people weren’t respecting them. She turned to Cal.

“Any news on Kevin Williams’s guns?”

He shook his head. “Not a match. We had to let him go.”

“We need to pull in Jake Tanner.” She didn’t try to soften her position. He needed to hear this. “It’s past time we pulled him in and you know it.”

She saw Cal’s jaw clench as he narrowed his eyes on her. “It’s not Tanner.” He glanced at the other members of the team, and they all moved away, pretending to be busy in other tasks. “I’ve told you, the man is a decorated officer. He’s highly respected. No way in hell he’s our guy.”

She stepped in, toe to toe with him. “You’re closing your eyes and that’s a dangerous thing for an investigator to do. We can’t afford that on this case.”

“Incident room. Now,” he ground out and turned without waiting for her to answer. She didn’t waste time. Taking this to the incident room wouldn’t change matters. He needed to see what the hell was right in front of him, and if she needed to be the one to get him to do that, so be it.

Cal watched Eve’s face as she entered the room. She didn’t give him a chance to say squat as she lit into him. But he wasn’t listening to her words. It was her face that told him the story. For some reason, she was closed off. She was shutting him out and he didn’t know why. Sure, she was pissed about his position on Tanner and she wanted to change his mind, but he’d be willing to bet there was more going on here.

“You know damned well I’m right,” she was saying. “You can’t run a proper investigation if you don’t question every suspect. At the very least, we have to clear him if we’re going to build a solid case against someone else.”

Cal shook his head. “Tanner isn’t a suspect.”

“You’re not thinking about this as a detective.” She was all hands-on-hips and in his face, but somehow, there seemed to be a mile between them. And he didn’t like that one bit.

“You’re wrong. I’m thinking about this exactly as a detective would. I know Tanner. I can look past the fact that his qualifications say he has the skill to be this shooter. I’m looking at his ability to do it. And he doesn’t have it. He’s a damned good cop. You pull him in here, you’ll be smearing his name. You’ll put a mark on him that won’t ever go away, even if we clear him.”

“Then let me ask you this. Why haven’t you just gone and asked him where he was on those dates? Why haven’t you just gone and had a talk with him?”

Okay, she had a point there. But he wanted to find out what was going on with her first. Then he’d go deal with Tanner. “Why are you picking a fight with me today? Tell me that and then we can talk about Tanner.”

He could see her defenses go up, clear as day. She was putting up walls like the ones she’d had when they’d first met. “I’ve got an opinion, so now I’m picking a fight?” Her voice cranked up and she closed in, moving toward him. “Bullshit, Cal. You can avoid the issue all you want, but you know we have leads we aren’t following. One of your own was attacked because this sniper is tearing apart this city. If you won’t look at all the possible suspects—and I mean give them a good, hard look—then the fact that one of your own is in the hospital right now is on you.”

He covered the pain of her statement with anger and growled, deep and low in his chest. “Cut the shit, Eve, and tell me what the hell is going on. I get that you have an opinion and I respect it. We can talk about Tanner. We can figure out a way to clear him. But you need to tell me what the hell is going on. What the hell is happening with us. I know we can’t start a relationship while we’re working together, but you’re shutting me out right now, and I don’t like it.”

He watched as something in her expression seemed to shift and she softened. “I don’t want this.”

He had a bad feeling about the direction the conversation was about to head. “Don’t want what?”

“Us. This. Whatever it is. I don’t want to worry and panic about you when I hear a cop is hurt on the job. I don’t want the feeling I just felt when I didn’t know if you were okay.” She seemed almost desperate to turn off what she was feeling. The only problem was, there was no turning it off, at least not on his end, and he had to suspect it wouldn’t be easy on her end either.

Cal stepped closer, putting his hands on her arms, not holding her in place, but gently rubbing up and down. “Let me ask you something. If you were to walk away right now, would that feeling stop for you? Would you still panic if you heard someone wearing the uniform had been hurt and you didn’t know if it was me?”

She seemed to deflate a little. “No.”

“It’s too late, Eve. The feelings are already there. It’s just what we choose to do with them now that matters. But making them go away isn’t one of the choices we can make.”

She looked toward the door, staring at it as if she might still try to outrun what she felt.

“Eve. Give this a chance. When the case is over, just give us a chance.”

Blue eyes turned back to him. He held her gaze, knowing he couldn’t push her any more than he had. He needed to let her come to this on her own.

“I don’t know, Cal. I—”

He squeezed her arms and leaned in for the smallest kiss. Just a touch of the lips, really. Nothing more. “Just think about it. Don’t answer now.”

“I need to tell you something.”

Cal froze. That wasn’t the kind of thing a man wanted to hear. His mind flipped through possibilities. She was married. Maybe dating someone.

She didn’t wait for an answer. “The guy in charge of the Genesio task force, Dyson—”

“Yeah,” he said, a tingling feeling slinking up his spine. She’d talked about him before.

“He’s been pressuring me to date him.”

Cal felt so many things at once. Burning anger that someone would try to pull that shit on her. He knew how much being on that task force meant to her. He could only imagine how this guy had threatened to take her off the case if she didn’t date him. But the other thing that hit him full force was the idea that she might think he was like this guy. That he’d try to force her in some way.

“Eve, I would never—”

She shook her head. “I know you wouldn’t, Cal. I can tell the difference. The thing is,” she glanced over at the still-closed door, “I’ve been handling it myself. I don’t want people looking at me the way they’ll look at me once I report him. Like maybe I asked for it somehow. Like maybe I started something with him and then reported him when things didn’t go the way I wanted them to.”

“And being involved with me will only increase the chances people will think that.”

She didn’t confirm it. Just pressed her lips together.

Cal cursed under his breath. “I’ll talk to him. Get him to back off.” He could hear the growl in his voice, but hell if he could control it.

Her look stopped him cold. “The hell you will. I’ll handle it myself, Cal.”

He sighed and rubbed at his forehead, where he could feel the start of a headache coming on. Her strength was one of the things that drew him to her, but damn, when she turned it on him, it sort of sucked. “Fine. But you’ll tell me if you need backup?” He hoped phrasing it that way would get her to see that’s all he wanted to do. To have her back.

She nodded and set his mind at ease a hair when she came up on tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. It took all he had not to turn it into something more. But he knew now wasn’t the time to push her.

They walked back out into the bullpen to find Jarrod, presumably back from sick leave and ready to reclaim his place on the team.

Jarrod grinned and shook Cal’s offered hand. “What did I miss?”

“You cleared for work?” It was impossible not to notice the sling on Jarrod’s arm, not to mention the shaved back of his head where they’d had to sew him up.

“In here I am. Can’t go out on the street yet.” Jarrod looked to Eve. “Having fun working with the big guy?”

“If you want to call it that.” Eve looked back to Cal. “I need to look into a few things. I’ll touch base with you guys later.”

Cal felt a rock settle deep in his gut at her words, but he watched her walk away without a word. Being with Eve Sands was going to push him on every level he knew. He couldn’t step in and fix things the way he wanted to. He couldn’t push and shove like hell for what he wanted. He had to wait and be patient and let her do things in her own time, her own way. He almost laughed at the irony of it. The very strength that made him want her so badly seemed like it just might drive him mad.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Cal turned back to find Jarrod watching him. If Jarrod could tell he was way off balance, he didn’t show it. Maybe that meant he was hiding it well. He’d been pissed as hell at Eve when she’d said Officer Morgan’s injury was on him. But the truth was, she wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t know.

Ed Morgan was a good cop, and yes, Cal was responsible for what had happened to him. If he’d put this sniper away, Ed wouldn’t be lying in the hospital right now with God knows what injuries. He’d be going home to his kids tonight.

Cal lived with Ray Faulk’s death every damned day. He needed to end this thing now before he had another cop’s death on his hands.

The door to the unit flew open, hitting the wall and rattling the room. Cal looked up to see Detectives Cafferty and Reynolds enter. Reynolds stormed down the hall, presumably to the john where he’d be working to get himself under control. Everyone in the place was familiar with his temper. He never took it out on victims, or even suspects in most cases. He’d taken anger management classes, though. The result of those had been him abusing the crap out of the door and standing in the bathroom grinding his teeth while he counted to one hundred. Sometimes two or three hundred.

Cafferty walked over to where Cal and Jarrod stood, lifting his chin at Jarrod. “You back?”

“On the desk for now.” He didn’t have to say how much he hated the idea. They all hated sitting at a desk. Jarrod offered a head tilt of his own in the direction of Cafferty’s wayward partner. “What set Reynolds off?”

Cafferty ran a hand down his face and Cal could see the exhaustion in every crease and line crisscrossing the other man’s expression. “Went to arrest the bastard our witness fingered for the James killings.”

Jarrod grunted. “Heard it turned out to be the woman’s boyfriend?” Cal wasn’t surprised Jarrod had been keeping tabs on what was happening at the precinct. They all hated being out, no matter the reason.

Cafferty nodded. “She was afraid he’d come after her if she talked. Took a lot of coaxing to get her to give him up.”

“You get him?” Cal asked. They all needed good news.

Cafferty didn’t give them any, shaking his head instead. “Found the guy gutted like a pig.”

“What?” Jarrod and Cal asked, and Cal heard murmurs from the other detectives who’d come closer to hear what Cafferty had to say. The James case had been wearing on all of them. It didn’t matter that Cafferty and Reynolds were the leads on the case. A lot of them had worked aspects of it, and those who hadn’t had been pulling for them to solve it as if it were their own.

“Someone got to him before we did. We pulled in just as uniforms were responding to a call from one of his neighbors. Lady found him in the stairwell of their apartment building this morning. She went out to do her laundry and found him.”

“Are you shitting me?” Jarrod’s tone reflected the shock let-down they all likely felt. To wait that long to get this guy and then have the satisfaction of bringing him in taken from them sucked.

“Mugging gone bad?” Cal asked, letting the irony in his voice bleed through given what they’d been looking to arrest the guy on. “Can’t be.” None of them liked coincidence as an explanation, and that sure as hell didn’t sound viable.

“Cash and cards in his wallet,” Cafferty supplied with a shake of his head. No way that was a mugging.

“Drug deal?” one of the other detectives offered.

Cafferty acknowledged the possibility. “I don’t know. Could be, but it looked to me like someone was lying in wait. The bulb in the light was broken. Given the metal cage that surrounded it, that shouldn’t have happened by accident. Could be vandals though.”

“That could be a jealous boyfriend or husband. Someone who wanted to target him for something. The guy hardly sounds like an honorable guy.”

“Weapon?” Cal asked.

“None found. Waiting for results, obviously, but Doc Kane thinks we’re looking for a very large hunting knife. I’ve got uniforms checking the area, but I’m guessing our killer took it with him.” He didn’t have to tell them the uniforms would check garbage cans, dumpsters, and alleyways for the weapon. Sewer drains were also popular places to ditch a weapon. Sadly, the possibilities were many.

“Could it be another vigilante? Someone who got wind that he was the James killer and took matters into their own hands?” Cal asked, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. Why did he feel like they were losing control of their city?

“Copying our sniper?” Cafferty asked, a frown creasing his face. He looked as if he liked the idea less than Cal, but he also didn’t seem to have much of an argument against it.

“Yeah. I hate to say it, but that could be.” Jarrod put in. “We might be looking at more vigilante killers coming out of the woodwork. Our sniper could be emboldening other people to act.”

“How would someone have found out his identity?” Reynolds asked quietly, having joined the group moments before. “We only just got the news ourselves. I sent our witness to stay at her mom’s in New York while we picked him up. Put her on the train myself yesterday.”

Jarrod and Cal offered nearly identical shrugs. “She could have talked,” said Cal. “Told a friend before she came in here. The friend told a friend and so on.”

“Or the vic talked himself. Bragged about being the James killer and it came back to haunt him?” Cafferty offered.

“It’s karma. Who gives a fuck who killed him?” Jepsen put in, then looked around. Apparently, the talk from the Captain hadn’t done squat to slow his mouth down. “What? You’re all thinking it.”

There were more than a few murmurs at that.

Cal turned to the Captain’s office, watching as the older man spoke into the phone, one hand scrubbing up and down the back of his head. It had to be a blow, not being able to walk the James killer in here in cuffs for the press to see.

But even more, it was entirely possible they had another vigilante copying their sniper. Cal ran a hand down the back of his own head. He could feel the Captain’s pain today. And he didn’t like it.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Eve walked into the FBI building knowing her excuse for going there was just that. An excuse. She was going to do some follow-up on a few leads, and she’d update Supervisory Special Agent Carter on the sniper task force. All things that needed to be done, but she could have done them from the police station. She just needed some space to breathe. To get her bearings for a short time before heading back over and getting back in the game.

She used her keycard to enter the floor where she worked and headed down the hall.

“I don’t know, Deb. You talk and it’s your word against his. Word gets out and you’ll be the one to be labeled difficult to get along with, or worse. They’ll say you started it and then got upset when he rejected you. It’s how these things work. Maybe it’s better to call his bluff and hope he doesn’t actually try anything?” Eve slowed at the female voice in the break room, knowing it was Carole Ann, one of the administrative support staff.

Deb, a quiet woman Eve knew to be raising three kids alone, was next to speak, and her voice was a little shaky. “I didn’t get the sense he was bluffing. I really think he’ll find a way to get me fired. And I need this job, Carole Ann. I can’t risk that.”

Eve didn’t have to think twice about who they were talking about or what she should do. The threats Deb was under were too close to the ones she’d heard herself. The ones Dyson had made. He couldn’t legitimately threaten her job, but he’d hinted at having her taken off the Genesio task force. Apparently, with her refusing his advances and being moved temporarily to work with the New Haven PD, he’d moved onto to someone who was in a more vulnerable position.

What Deb had said was true. She had three kids to feed and her position in the bureau wasn’t lateral to Dyson’s the way Eve’s was. Dyson held a lot more power over Deb than he did over Eve.

Eve turned and walked in the other direction. She’d been thinking she was strong for sticking up to Dyson and handling the situation herself. It had never occurred to her that she was doing the wrong thing. Although looking at it with fresh eyes, she should have seen it. Hell, how many times had she told a victim of rape she was doing the right thing reporting the crime? That the actions the woman was taking would keep other women from suffering the same fate at the hands of her attacker?

It was almost laughable that she hadn’t seen it that way before. If she didn’t speak out about Dyson, Deb would be left to either give in to his demands or stand up to him on her own and risk exactly what Eve hadn’t wanted for herself.

Eve took a breath and walked into SSA Carter’s office. He was expecting an update on the task force, and she’d give him one, but she’d also be reporting Dyson’s sexual harassment. She had a feeling she wouldn’t be the only one to come forward. Maybe there would be safety in the numbers. Either way, she needed to stop hiding behind the myth of being strong enough to handle it herself. The strength would be in coming forward and speaking up.

Chapter Thirty

Cal never made it to talk to Jake Tanner. He felt like his city was burning down around him. There were no flames, no cars or buildings going up in smoke, but it was burning down just the same. The call came in that afternoon. A cop had been hit by their sniper. And Cal knew without being told whose head that was on. It was on him.

Jarrod was seething when the Captain wouldn’t let him leave the building, but there hadn’t been time to argue. Cal called Eve and told her to get to the scene as he drove out to the small gas station on Chapel.

He didn’t wait for her as he walked up to the officers on scene. Once again, he was coming into things too late to do a damned thing about it. That had been one of the hard things about moving from uniform to detective. It meant you came in after the fact and had to clean up the mess. Sure, he was usually able to solve crimes and put away the worst of the worst before they could harm someone else, but there was always that moment when you walked on scene, when you thought, why the fuck couldn’t we stop this before it happened?

This feeling was never so strong as it was now. Because right now, this sniper was taking his city apart, bit by bit. And he wasn’t just taking down people they thought were guilty of a crime. Now he’d hit an officer. The second one of their own to feel violence that day.

Cal froze as he approached, seeing the medical examiner bent over a body in blue. Shit, shit, shit.

The scene was chaotic and reporters were swarming at the edges of the taped off area, screaming at him for a statement, but the officers standing by were stone cold and silent. Rigid jaws and anger-swamped eyes met his. He couldn’t blame them.

Another body lay on the sidewalk in front of the small building, covered and waiting for Dr. Kane’s attention. A pimple-faced kid of seventeen or eighteen sat talking to Detectives Reynolds and Cafferty, whom Cal had pulled in to work with him. The kid looked shaken as hell and didn’t take his eyes from the body on the sidewalk.

Dr. Kane looked up. Her face didn’t hold anger. Sorrow was stamped across her features, and Cal looked down to see a young officer he didn’t know lying dead in a thickening pool of blood. He was a kid. A fucking kid fresh out of the academy, Cal would bet.

Cal crouched by Dr. Kane’s side. “What happened?”

“His death was swift.” She removed her gloves and looked at him. “He didn’t suffer long.”

Cal didn’t respond. He knew what she was trying to do, but it wasn’t working. The officer might have died quickly, but he’d have had time to think of his family. The people he loved.

He looked over at the other body. “That the perp?”

“Yes,” Dr. Kane said quietly. “He went to rob the place but our officer here got the call and was around the corner. The guy held a gun to the clerk and tried to drag him out of the place to get away with a human shield. The sniper shot Officer Burke and then shot the gunman. Burke’s backup arrived to find the kid on the ground a mess, and both the gunman and our officer dead on arrival.”

Cal knew they had officers scouring the area for the sniper, but he knew this guy would be long gone. What he didn’t know was whether their sniper intended to take the officer out or whether it had been an accident. Was he expanding his message? Was he so pissed at the city and the police that he was now focusing on them? Was he lumping them together with the criminals he’d been preying on to date?

Cal stood and went to find out what the clerk had told Reynolds and Cafferty. Eve approached and fell in beside him silently. He hadn’t seen her pull up.

“Was he able to help us at all?” he asked as Cafferty broke away from Reynolds and the clerk.

“He says the perp heard the siren and looked like he might take off running. He hit the door, but the cop was already out in the lot. Came back and grabbed the clerk and dragged him with the gun on his head. They get outside and they’re standing there with Officer Burke yelling at him, telling him to drop the weapon. The kid doesn’t know how long it went on. All of a sudden, all hell broke loose. He says he isn’t completely sure what happened. The gunman was making a run for it, pulling on him, and he sees Burke move, maybe trying to cut him off? Maybe block him so he couldn’t take the clerk with him? He doesn’t know. But he sees Burke go down. Then the gunman makes a run for it in the other direction. The clerk said he dropped him so fast when Burke went down, he wasn’t sure what was going on. The gunman runs that way.” Cafferty gestured toward the east. “A second shot took him out.”

“You think the sniper was aiming for the gunman and Burke stepped in and got hit by mistake?” Cal asked.

“Sounds like it.” Cafferty nodded.

“How the hell is this sniper doing this? First the guy in the park, now a guy holding up a gas station.” Cal asked.

Eve shook her head. “It makes sense for him to be listening to a police scanner, and that would explain this one.”

“It doesn’t explain the attacker in the park or the first vic.” Reynolds shook his head and they were all silent for a minute, before Reynolds let out a quiet curse and looked over at the uniform. “He was a good kid.”

“You know him?” Cal asked. Eve still stood by his side, but she didn’t say anything.

“Yeah.” Cafferty nodded. “Not well. Enough to know he shut up and did his job. Real eager. A few months out of the academy.”

The words echoed in Cal’s head as he continued to do his job. He tried not to look as they took away Burke’s body. He’d need to go see the kid’s family before they released the identification. Cafferty had volunteered, but Cal would do it. This was on him. It was all on him.

“Cal. Damnit, Cal, slow down.”

Cal didn’t want to hear what she had to say. He turned on her. “The press is watching, Eve. Save it for later.”

“No. I won’t save it for later.” She moved in front of him, putting herself between him and the door of his car. He liked her tenacity, but he liked it a hell of a lot better when it wasn’t aimed his way. He didn’t need to hear what she had to say. He knew damned well Officer Burke was dead because he hadn’t done what he needed to.

“Eve, that’s enough.” He gritted out between clenched teeth.

“No.” She glanced at the press. The uniformed officers were keeping them off them for now, but they’d make their way over to them eventually. He needed to get out of here. “No, you need to listen to me. I was wrong before, Cal. I was angry. But this is not your fault. That officer is dead because of our sniper, not because of anything you did or didn’t do.”

“Eve.” The warning came out a bit more like a plea than he’d intended and he lowered his voice and firmed up his tone. “I don’t need you to rehash this for me. I’ve got to go tell his family—”

“No.” Her tone was sharp and harsh and he pressed his lips together in response. “No, you need to hear this. This is not on you. You did not kill that officer.” She said each word carefully and he could see that she meant it. She wanted him to believe it. The only problem was, he didn’t—couldn’t.

“I need to go inform Officer Burke’s family.” He looked past her. He didn’t want to do this right now. Didn’t want to let her soothe him. He didn’t want to be soothed.

“I’ll go with you.” She began to move toward the front of the car, ignoring the fact she’d driven here separately, but he stopped her.

“No.” Nothing about this should be made easier for him. “You go back to the station. Follow up with forensics or something. I need to do this.”

He didn’t wait for her to respond. He got in the car and drove away without looking back. She was too much of a comfort to him. He didn’t know when it happened, and he knew things weren’t quite right between them right now. Even with that, just having her there would make him feel better, and that just wasn’t something he was ready to accept right now.

Chapter Thirty-One

Eve saw the look on Cal’s face when she walked into the bullpen with Jake Tanner. She only hoped he’d give her time to play this out before lighting into her. If he trusted her, she believed they could rule Tanner out without any harm to his career. Of course, if Cal exploded on her, that would all be over.

She probably should have talked to him about this ahead of time. Doubt tried to creep in at the corner of her mind, but she forced it out of the picture.

“Hey, Cal,” She said, bringing Tanner right up to the group of detectives Cal stood with near his desk. “You were right, Tanner was happy to come in and see if he can shed any light on things.”

Jake Tanner put a hand out to Cal. “Good to see you, Cal. You should have called sooner. I’da been happy to come in.”

“Thanks for coming.” Cal shook Tanner’s hand, apparently willing to play along. “Take a look at what we’ve got, will you? Let me know if you see anything we haven’t seen?” He turned to the rest of the task force. “Jarrod, why don’t you come with us, and Jepsen and Mullen, you guys head over to forensic, see if they’ve got anything more for us. Taylor and Martinez, can you touch base with your tech team?”

Eve followed Cal, Jarrod, and Jake into the incident room. The long room had their murder board along one wall and all the files related to the case. She watched Jake as he glanced around. She was hoping to get a read on him by showing him what they had. If he was their killer, she suspected he’d trip up and show it. He’d either be fascinated with seeing the evidence of his handiwork laid out in front of him. Or he’d mention a detail that hadn’t been reported in the press. They’d held back quite a bit on this case.

Jake didn’t go immediately to the murder board. He stood near the small table and looked to Cal. Eve got no vibe of fascination the way she would have expected if he’d been the shooter. The shooter would have liked seeing their handiwork laid out. With Tanner, all she got was the vibe of an officer waiting for instruction and wanting to do his job.

Cal waved an arm and walked toward the murder board, Tanner following. He gave Tanner a recap of the shootings. Tanner gave a low whistle as Cal described the distance and the difficult layout for the shot that had started this all. The one that had put Jarrod in the hospital.

Tanner asked questions about the direction of the shootings, time of day, weather and more. Nothing he said indicated he was trying to hide prior knowledge of the facts. And none of his behavior raised a flag for Eve. He moved down the length of the murder board and stopped, studying the sniper’s nest carved out into the back of the silver sedan. The one their killer had used to shoot Mary Gentry’s attacker.

“What are you thinking?” Cal asked, standing at the officer’s shoulder. Eve moved closer.

“Just that it’s tight. The DC snipers used a little bigger sedan. One of those older models that’s longer. This is a small car.” He shrugged. “Then again, we’ve all shot from some tight spaces, literally and figuratively.”

“Could you make a shot work in that space?” Cal asked. Eve estimated Tanner was six foot two, maybe three. He was thin, but tall.

Tanner was slow to nod. “I think so, but it wouldn’t have been my choice.” The car had been reported stolen two days before the shooting, but the owner wasn’t sure if it had been missing longer. It was the car her son used and he’d been away for over a week visiting his father in another state. Maybe this was a car the shooter had access to? Something that was readily available in the neighborhood. They had uniforms talking to people on the block and on nearby streets to see what they’d seen.

“So, it’s possible, the shooter is small? Or a woman?” Eve asked, stepping up to stand next to Cal. She realized they’d had blinders on to the possibility that this was a woman. How the hell had they let that happen?

“Some of the best snipers in history have been women. It’s definitely possible,” Tanner said.

Cal swore under his breath and turned to one of the stacks of files on the table.

“What is it?” Eve and Jarrod asked as they came to stand by his side. Tanner continued to look over the evidence tacked up to the board behind them.

Cal rifled through notes. “The first shooting. We’ve never been able to explain how someone got this rifle in and out of the building without anyone noticing someone carrying something as large as a sniper’s rifle.”

He tossed aside the stack of papers and pulled out his phone, brought up a webpage and moved back to Tanner.

“Hey, could someone hide the kind of rifle they’d need for these shots in a double stroller like these?” He showed Tanner a webpage and Eve came up to look. It showed several types of double infant strollers. Some with the seats side-by-side and some with the two seats one in front of the other.

Tanner took the phone and scrolled through. “Look at this,” he said pointing to one of the pictures. This showed a stroller with the sun shades up over the infant seats and a diaper bag hanging from the handle. “My wife throws a blanket over the top of our baby’s stroller all the time if he’s sleeping. You cut a hole into the diaper bag and throw a blanket on top of the infant seats, you can definitely wheel your rifle around. I’m not even sure you’d need a folding stock on that.”

“Damn.” Cal went to the door and called for Cafferty and Reynolds to come into the room, before turning back to the group. “We have a witness at the building where our shooter made the first shot who said she talked to a woman with her two infants in the elevator the morning of the shooting. And Mary Gentry said the person she saw in the car our shooter used as a sniper’s nest was small and wearing a baseball cap. We need to look through everything in these files for evidence pointing to a woman. We’ve been too set on this being a man.”

“Can I help?” Tanner asked. Cal looked to Eve who gave a small nod. They might not have grilled Tanner about his whereabouts, but she’d gotten what she wanted. She’d been given the chance to read his reactions and check him out. She didn’t believe he was their shooter any more than Cal had believed it.

“Grab a stack.” Cal gestured at the table as he filled in Cafferty and Reynolds on what they were looking for.

Reynolds set aside the file he’d been holding and each grabbed a stack of folders. With this number of people, they’d clear the stack of interview notes and reports quickly. Eve grabbed an extra white board from the other end of the room and erased the old material on the board before rolling it over to the table. They needed to gather any information about a woman near the crime scenes in one place so they could look at the case with fresh eyes. She didn’t take the time to kick herself for not seeing it earlier. They had work to do.

If they could pinpoint any sightings of a woman, they could go back and do those interviews again. With any luck, they’d land on something to help them identify their shooter. Preferably before any more lives were taken.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Eve looked at the white board. They hadn’t found much, but there was a statement from a witness in the second shooting who’d said he saw a woman with a stroller leaving the area after the shooting. No notes as to twins or a double stroller or anything, so Reynolds was running out to chase the witness down and see if he could get more detail.

Eve stood and stretched, moving around the room. She leaned against one wall, hands behind her back, giving her mind the break it needed to process more information. Cal glanced up at her and smiled, winking in a way that made her stomach flip over. She wasn’t ready for what she had to admit was happening between them, but she was glad he was offering an olive branch after the standoff over Tanner. She smiled back at him, but looked away as she caught Jarrod’s look. Jarrod hadn’t missed what was happening between her and Cal.

She hoped like hell the others had. It wasn’t that she was ashamed or embarrassed or anything. She just wasn’t at all sure where this relationship was going to go and she’d done a lot to earn her reputation in the agency. If a man dated someone they worked with and it didn’t work out, it wasn’t seen as a big deal. For a woman, it could follow them around. They could forever earn the reputation of being someone who was willing to sleep with a coworker, and she’d just found it was a hell of a lot easier to have the rule and reputation of “never.” It was easier if the men she worked with knew she was off limits.

She hadn’t been off limits for Cal. Hadn’t been from minute one, because, no matter how she fought it, she was attracted to him on more than a physical level. She ignored the fact that she could feel his eyes on her now, and looked around the room at the evidence they’d collected. It wasn’t much. Her eyes landed on the folder Reynolds had set down earlier. It was from the James case. Eve’s eyes bounced to the murder board for the James case, which still stood against one wall at the end of the room.

Something tickled the back of her spine as she moved over to the board and began to read. She didn’t know what, but strands of thoughts began like wisps floating in her mind. She let her eyes travel the board, not really reading but simply getting impressions. She felt Cal come up beside her, but he didn’t speak.

Again and again, her eyes went to Rebecca James. Then she saw it. Rebecca Evans James. She scanned the small sheet of info on Rebecca James, there more as a formality than for its informative abilities. Neeley, Massachusetts. Rebecca James was born Rebecca Evans in Neeley, Massachusetts.

It had to be a coincidence.

She snatched the sheet off the board and moved back to the table, all eyes on her now. Minutes later, she’d pulled up records of the Carl Evans case in Maine. Photos that had been collected during the trial of the man known as the General to his family and followers, the leader of a small militia group who’d been arrested five years earlier. Carl had died in prison and some of his followers still lived on the property once used as his stronghold. It had been owned by another family who hadn’t been implicated in his trial. In fact, the case they’d eventually been able to build hadn’t been what they’d hoped for at all with Evans.

They’d hoped to build a case for arms dealing, but the case had fallen apart and they’d only been able to put him and several of the other members of his militia group away on a drug trafficking charge.

“What is it?” Cal asked, looking over her shoulder.

Eve pointed to the small woman in one of the older photos on the screen of her tablet. “This is Rebecca James, formerly Rebecca Evans. She’s the daughter of Carl Evans.”

“The General?” One of the other FBI agents who had joined them in pouring over evidence asked, as he stepped forward.

“Who is the General?” Jarrod asked.

“A man named Carl Evans. Leader of a militia group in Maine. He was dishonorably discharged, long before hitting anywhere close to General rank, but his people called him the General. We arrested him about five years back. The FBI hoped it would be a big takedown of him and his militia organization. We suspected he was dealing some pretty heavy equipment, firearms and even some grenades, that kind of thing. The case went south. We think we got a bad tip from one of our sources. Instead of the arms we expected to find, we caught up him and a few of his people for selling crack cocaine. The sale took place off his property, but we got a warrant to raid the property and thought we’d find the weapons there. Nothing. There were weapons, but none that weren’t legally owned. None of the heavy munitions we expected to find. The General was killed in prison and we never made a case for anything other than the initial drug charges.”

“He was scary crazy,” said the other agent. “Fanatical about being prepared to take down the government if they infringed on his rights. I don’t remember a daughter, though,” he said turning to Eve.

“She wasn’t with the group anymore. His wife was dead. The daughter had left the group to marry a man the others considered an outsider. But, there’s no denying that’s Rebecca James.” She pointed to the tablet and pushed it toward him. He lifted it and blew up the image, shaking his head with a whistle as he passed the tablet around to the others.

Cal took the tablet and read the notes. The photo was from three years prior to Evans’s arrest and identified the woman as Rebecca Evans. “She was twenty when this photo was taken, but yeah, that sure looks like her. So, she wasn’t around when you guys raided the place?”

“No,” Eve said. “The General didn’t even talk about her and the group considered her gone. She wasn’t on our radar.”

Eve looked over Cal’s shoulder at the image on the screen. The picture showed the General standing on the front porch of a large house, surrounded by his followers. And, apparently, his daughter. Every member of the group held a weapon of some sort. But the daughter’s weapon was the biggest, by far. She held it casually in one hand, as though it grew from her hand, an extension rather than a separate thing. A sniper rifle. The kind that could easily make the shots that had plagued their city for weeks.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Scout’s stomach twisted and she thought she might vomit again. The cop had moved at the last minute. He wasn’t supposed to be hit. She’d been aiming for the burglar holding a gun on the gas station attendant; a poor teen with acne on his face and terror in his eyes. The cop had moved into her shot when it was too late for her to stop what was happening. She’d pulled up but the bullet had already left her weapon.

Or maybe she was wrong. Maybe she’d been off her game. Seeing the fright in that boy’s eyes had forced her right back to thoughts of her own son. Of the fear Christopher must have suffered in the moments before his own death. That Lansing guy had reported that Christopher had been shot after Bryan. She had asked Detectives Reynolds and Cafferty and they had said they couldn’t know for sure, but she could tell they weren’t being completely up front with her.

She couldn’t imagine how those few seconds had felt for Christopher. To have to see what happened to Bryan and know death was coming for him.

Seeing the man holding the teenager with a gun to his head had messed with her. She’d blinked and Christopher was in front of her. Another blink and he was gone again, but had that been enough for her to screw up the shot? Maybe the cop hadn’t moved the way she thought he had.

The news hadn’t given any details yet. Only that a cop had been shot and was in critical condition.

“General,” she whispered. “Where are you?”

The General had stopped appearing to her. There was no one there to give her answers any more.

Sorrow ran through her as the newscaster added details. “We’re now being told the officer killed is Officer Danny Burke. Officer Burke is a recent graduate of the academy and he has a young child. That’s all the information we have at this time, but we will update as we have more information.”

How had everything gone so wrong? How had she gotten so far away from who she was and what she’d wanted to accomplish?

A small voice in the back of her head taunted her. She hadn’t gotten away from who she was. She was moving back to what her father had taught her. Back to the weapon, the killer, he’d designed her to be.

“I need to find out what they know,” she said aloud. She ran her hands over the steering wheel and thought about going into the police station. It would be a gamble, but she could go to the station and see what they knew.

It was almost funny that she was able to walk in and out of the station at will. Her father had taught her years before that police stations were largely unprotected.

Sure, many of them had doors or bulletproof glass and you had to be buzzed into the back, but some didn’t even have that. And most didn’t have a metal detector or any way to know if the people they were buzzing back carried a weapon. From the time she could lift a weapon, the General had groomed her to be his soldier. She remembered how funny the General thought their lack of protection was. “One day,” he would say to her, “we’re going to take advantage of that. They think you’ll hit at the courthouses, the federal buildings. They don’t expect you to walk into a precinct.”

It wasn’t until she was older that she realized those statements proved he had planned to sacrifice her. There was no way he thought she could walk into a police precinct, shoot a bunch of cops, and walk back out. She was a tool, a weapon to him, and nothing more. When Bryan had found her, had taken her away from the General, she’d stopped all communication with the militia group she’d been raised in.

She’d been twenty when she met Bryan James during a trip off the militia compound. She could still remember how handsome he’d been. Those dark eyes, and his gentle way. He’d been so intelligent, too. He talked to her like she mattered, like she had something to offer other than her ability to fire a weapon.

The General had been furious when he’d found out about their affair. But Bryan hadn’t backed down. He stood up to the General and came to take Scout away. That was the day she’d stopped being Scout and had gone back to her given name. Rebecca Evans. That day, Rebecca had held off the General with a gun and walked out with Bryan, never returning to the group. Never returning to her family. She and Bryan had made a family of their own, and she’d always been amazed he’d still wanted her after all that. That he could witness her having to hold her family off with a gun and still want her. Still love her.

No, she thought. She couldn’t take a chance on going to the station again. What she needed to do was to start over. She’d done that in life before.

She needed to get out of New Haven, out of Connecticut, and find a way to atone for what she’d done. Then she could begin again. The only trouble was, she didn’t know if atonement was even possible anymore. And she didn’t know if she had it in her to start over again. There’d been so much heartache. So much sorrow. She was tired now. The kind of bone tired that stemmed from emotional battle.

Chapter Thirty-Four

This time, SWAT was called in. Eve stood with Cal while they watched teams stack at the front door to the James home. She knew others were at the back door of the house. It was a small home, but the property surrounding it was larger than most of the lots around it. The house had the look of being closed-up tight against intruding eyes, curtains and blinds drawn, no car in the driveway. It made Eve wonder how much of Rebecca Evans’s upbringing as an off-the-grid militia member remained with her.

Cal leaned in, speaking low in her ear. “If we were up there, I’d let you go first.”

She turned and gave him a look, unable to hold back the snort of disbelief. He’d likely jockey for position again. “I’m sure—”

She wasn’t able to finish the statement. The sound of an explosion came from the backyard and she saw the SWAT team at the front of the house fall back to the perimeter. Voices came through on the radio and she and Cal stood together, weapons drawn, watching the house. The next few minutes held the heavy weight of tension as they waited to hear what had happened at the back of the house and called in the explosives team to help clear the yard and home.

It wasn’t until twenty minutes later that they were able to enter the home. No officers had been injured in the explosion. In fact, it looked as though it was designed to provide a warning more than injure anyone triggering it. It had wounded a fair amount of pride. No one had seen the small vials of chemicals that had mixed together when the back gate was opened. The brake fluid and pool chemicals mixed together had ignited and triggered the black powder that caused the large amount of smoke billowing from the yard.

They’d received word from the agent they’d asked to interview one of the former militia members who was still alive and in prison. Rebecca Evans had left the militia years before her father was arrested. Apparently, she’d met her husband and, after a standoff with her father, the two had left together and she’d never come back. Her name had been taboo with her father after that. He’d seen it as the ultimate betrayal by the person who should have been his best soldier.

“No sign of her anywhere.” The SWAT Captain reported in as forensics teams entered the living room, where Cal, Eve, and Captain Ayala stood.

Detectives Reynolds and Cafferty joined them.

“Weapons?” Cal asked the two men. He had been speaking primarily in grunts and one word utterances. Eve felt much the same way.

“Not the kind your sniper might have used. A small handgun in the drawer next to the bed in the spare bedroom. Looks like she’s been sleeping in there. There’s some ammunition in the drawer as well. Nothing else in the house that we’ve found so far.” Cafferty shook his head. “Could she be on the run?”

“I don’t see how she would know we were coming,” Eve said. “I get that she got some of her information when she was in the precinct meeting with you guys. She could have heard things, known you were preparing to move a witness to the FBI, heard the name of the mugger who shot her husband and son. I get that. But she wasn’t anywhere near the station today when we figured out it was her. How would she know to run?”

“She shot an officer. That could have sent her into flight mode. So far, she’s been a vigilante, which means she sees herself as one of us, in a way. It might have screwed with her to have hit one of the good guys.” Reynolds offered.

“Search everything.” Cal was still tight-jawed, but at least he’d said more than two words. “We need to figure out where she’d run to.”

Eve pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I’m going to put in a call and see if we can get some agents watching the remaining members of her dad’s group. Maybe she’d head home if she thinks we’ve ID’d her as our shooter.”

Eve made the call then headed through the house with the others. They covered it top to bottom. It had clearly once been a happy home of a family. There was a small study where Professor James appeared to have done some of his work. The wall in there held degrees and awards, but also photos of the family smiling on vacations and pictures of Christopher at various times in his life.

The kitchen wall held a plaque that read Come, Gather, Give Thanks and another over the breakfast nook that read Table for Three.

In the basement, there was a bumper pool table and television with video game console on one side and a crafting area on the other side. Stacks of fabric and glue guns rested on a table. An abandoned scrapbooking project included pages showing Christopher James’s latest swim meet wins. It was a life interrupted.

They left hours later, with no news of any sightings on their be-on-the-lookout for Rebecca James. They’d found nothing hinting at someplace she might go if she were on the run.

Cal drove as Eve manned the phone. She turned to him when she hung up from her latest call. “Nothing on her bank accounts or credit cards. No money withdrawn or purchases since our last shooting that might tell us where she is.”

Cal swore.

Eve looked down at her phone, lips pressed together as she ran through all they knew in her head. “It doesn’t make sense,” she said. “Pull over.”

“What?” Cal asked, but he did as she directed and pulled to the side of the road. They were only a few blocks from the James home.

“Go back, but park down the street.”

He didn’t question. Just nodded and turned the car around.

“We found her car in the garage so she’s not driving that. She hasn’t purchased anything on her credit cards or been to the ATM. She hasn’t booked a flight out of town.”

“Train or bus. She could have paid cash. There wouldn’t be a record we could track.”

“She might have.” Eve nodded. “But that explosion was meant to warn her, not to harm anyone coming on the property. She might well already be out of the city. But we have enough people out there hunting her down. It won’t hurt us to sit tight here and see what happens.”

Cal looked at her for a long minute, before turning off the car. “Do we stay with the car or go on foot?”

“Foot. She knows we would have eyes watching for her car. No way she takes it. If anything, she’ll hike out of here and steal a car. She’s stolen them before. Clearly she has the skill.”

Cal picked up his phone and sent a text as he spoke. “We’ll head to that little rise on the north side of the yard. There was enough coverage in the trees there for us to blend in, but see the front and backyard. I’m having Cafferty and Reynolds come back. When they get here, we can move to a better spot and let them cover one side.”

“Works for me.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

The hardest part of waiting out the police wasn’t the waiting. It wasn’t sitting in the cramped hidden room in the basement. It wasn’t the heat in the tight area or the potential for claustrophobia. It was the memories.

Memories of being taught to do this very thing by her father had assailed her. When she’d failed any training exercise, his response would never be predictable. There were times he’d go with guilt, sometimes not speaking to her for days. Other times, he might lash out at someone else for her failure, punishing her friends. The better times were when he’d just hit her and be done with it. Broken bones could heal, she’d discovered. The other stuff cut much deeper.

The key to sitting still for so long was to focus on breathing. In for four breaths, hold for four, out for four. Rebecca waited until long after the last of the noises had sounded in the house. She slid the door open and crawled out into the air vent. She’d been smart when she set up the room. She hadn’t taken a chance that anyone would discover a hidden door in a wall or bookshelf. No, she’d hidden the door inside of the air vent itself. Even if they removed the cover to the return vents and looked inside, no one would see the door. It was too far into the vent itself.

Of course, the setup had meant she only had about two feet by one and a half feet to hide in. That was all right. She belly-crawled slowly toward the return vent, then lay still again, listening for any signs of an officer left behind to monitor the house.

Nothing.

Rebecca used her nails to pull at the back side of the latch holding the return vent in place, wiggling until the top latch gave. The bottom latch gave more easily, and she slid from the space.

Her breathing sounded loud in her ears, but she knew it wasn’t. She maintained the slow, even breaths that would keep her from gulping loud breaths of air.

She reached back in and pulled her R93 and a backpack out behind her. Sitting on the couch that Christopher had spent so many hours on with his video games, she opened the backpack and stared at the contents. Fingering the R93, she removed the Lapua rounds from the backpack and carried both back to the air vent, pushing them inside before closing it up again. When she got far enough away, she’d find a way to let the police know they were there so they could be safely removed and destroyed. Someday, the bank would foreclose on the house and sell it. She couldn’t have a child discover the deadly weapon and injure themselves with it.

Her days with the weapon were over.

She pulled a small .22 caliber handgun out of the backpack, checked the magazine and the safety, then slipped it into the pocket of her sweatshirt. The backpack went over her shoulders and she made her way carefully through the house, checking as she went to be sure there wasn’t anyone waiting.

The house was silent. It had been since Christopher and Bryan had been taken from her. The slash of pain hit her through the heart once again at the thought that her boys were gone. Not for the first time, she thought that maybe it would have been better if she’d been with them when the mugger had struck. They could have all gone together.

She wasn’t a religious person, and yet, the thing keeping her alive in this hellish life was the fear that if she took her own life, they somehow wouldn’t end up together. She’d be made to continue to haunt this world forever seeking a way back to them. It seemed silly, but at the same time, it wasn’t something she could bring herself to test.

She allowed herself a moment and one last, long, deep breath to look around the living room of their home. She didn’t see the torn pillows and books that lay slung from their shelves on the floor. She didn’t see the evidence of the police assault on the home she’d shared with her son and husband. She saw what it was. The place where she and Bryan had raised their baby. She saw Christopher learning to crawl. She saw herself running to greet Bryan when he came home, eager to show him that Christopher was walking. She saw chubby arms around Bryan’s neck and scraped knees and triumphant grins. She saw Christopher running through the house, stopping only long enough for a Bye, Mom! before running out to his friend’s car. She saw Christopher trying on his cap and gown for graduation. A graduation he hadn’t made it to.

Tears flowed freely as she watched the memories and allowed herself a last goodbye.

Chapter Thirty-Six

“There,” Cal whispered, barely audible as he raised his hand and pointed. A shadowy figure in dark clothing moved along the edge of the house.

Eve nodded. God this woman had really been trained. It was evident in how she moved now, and Eve had to wonder how no one had seen it before.

What had this woman’s childhood been like? Eve had to wonder if, in some ways, Rebecca Evans had seen her efforts at picking up where the police officers of New Haven had left off as the ultimate way to screw over her father for the childhood she’d been denied. Or maybe it was penance for things her father had made her do before she left him. Their source from the militia group had been fairly sure the General had started having Rebecca use the training he’d instilled in her. He wasn’t sure what he’d had her do, but there had been times he’d taken Rebecca away from the group for days at a time. Some speculated he had been auctioning off her services as a sniper around the country.

If they took her in alive, they might have the opportunity to find out if there was any truth to those claims. Either way, Eve had the sense that this woman was someone who’d been utterly failed by the people who should have protected her as a child. From her dad to the rest of the adults around her, and all the way down to a system of child protective services that probably should have had this child on their radar, but didn’t seem to have even been aware of what she’d been going through.

Who trains a child to be a soldier?

Cal signaled and they began to move, splitting up to circle around Rebecca as she headed toward the back of the lot. She was going to cut through other yards. Cafferty and Reynolds were still ten minutes out. There was no way to wait for them with Rebecca on the move. With any luck, they could either follow her and wait for backup, or contain her until the pair could arrive.

They didn’t have luck. Within minutes, Rebecca sidled up to a car parked in a neighbor’s driveway, using the cover of darkness to remain unseen by the homeowners.

Eve shouted. “FBI, Rebecca, show me your hands!”

She heard Cal come up beside her. Rebecca raised a hand and Cal shouted, “Gun!” As Cal tackled Eve out of the way of the shot, Rebecca turned and fled on foot.

“You okay?”

“Yes. Go. Go!” Eve waved Cal off and he charged down the driveway in the direction Rebecca had run.

Eve didn’t waste time brushing the dirt from her pants as she stood. She drew her weapon, finger on the slide, and took off after them.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The chase stopped almost as quickly as it had started. Rebecca had nowhere to go. She’d run down the side of a yard a few houses over, but a fence cut off her escape and Cal was too close behind for her to try to scale it.

“It’s time to stop, Rebecca!” Cal called out, eyes glued to the weapon she held on him. He had his weapon raised as well, putting them in the fun position of a standoff, each one waiting for the other to make a move.

Her eyes were wild now and he knew she understood there was nowhere to go. The brick side of the house flanked her on the left, the six-foot wooden fence closed her in on the back and right sides. She seemed to get herself somewhat under control as he watched, drawing on some reserve that allowed her to speak to him as she held her weapon steady. “I can’t do that.” She all but whispered the words and he wasn’t sure if she was speaking to him or herself.

“We know you didn’t mean to hurt Officer Burke, Rebecca. We understand what you were trying to do.”

Her answer was almost pleading. Pleading for forgiveness or understanding, or what, he didn’t know. “He stepped in when it was too late for me to do anything about it. He just…” She didn’t finish the sentence, as though she couldn’t offer any further explanation.

“You were trying to help. I understand that, Rebecca. It’s time now to come in, though. Just come on in with me, and we’ll talk.”

He could almost see the exhaustion weighing on her as she held her arms aloft, gun trained on him. Cafferty and Reynolds had to be coming soon.

Cal saw movement behind the fence and knew it was Eve. He kept his eyes trained on Rebecca, not wanting to alert her to what Eve was doing.

Because Eve was climbing. He couldn’t see what she was climbing on because the fence blocked his view and all his focus had to be on Rebecca, but she was still a good six feet back from the fence. There must be some structure there she was going to use to get to Rebecca.

“You need to let me leave.” He saw her gun come up a fraction of an inch as though she were fortifying herself for the shot. She was certainly capable of it. The woman had proven that. Not only on a skill level, but from an emotional level. She’d proven herself capable of taking life more than once. But he was banking on the fact she wouldn’t want to kill another officer. She had to have a code of ethics that told her who she could and couldn’t harm, and he was willing to bet officers weren’t on her list.

“I can’t do that, Rebecca. I can’t let you go.”

The next seconds happened so quickly, and yet, time slowed down all the same. He felt like he was moving through a vat of molasses, and one that had been in the refrigerator, at that.

Eve’s foot must have hit something as she moved along the top of the fence. The sound of metal scraping metal, of something falling rent the air. He saw Rebecca spin, her weapon training on Eve as she turned.

Cal squeezed once, twice. Dead center mass. A double tap to the body. But Rebecca’s weapon had gone off as well. She’d gotten a shot off and Eve’s body fell to the ground behind the fence.

“Jesus, no. God please, no.” Cal said. He heard approaching cars, heard shouts from confused neighbors. “Police officer, stay back!” he shouted as he approached Rebecca Evans, one hand still holding his gun on her as he felt for a pulse. It was weak, but it was there. He picked up her weapon and pocketed it, then holstered his gun. “I’m a police officer. Go back into your homes until my backup arrives,” he called out.

Cafferty and Reynolds arrived, taking over with Rebecca Evans, Reynolds applying pressure to her wounds as Cafferty barked at Cal. “We got this. Go!”

Cal didn’t need to be told twice. He needed to get to Eve. God help him, he could not lose her. He just couldn’t.

“Eve! Eve!” Cal could hear the panic in his own voice. Once again, it had come down to him praying he’d gotten a shot off fast enough to save his partner. Only this time, his partner was so much more to him. She was…everything, he realized.

For the first time, he understood what Jarrod felt for Carrie. What it meant to want to spend the rest of forever getting to know someone. To know everything about that person, yet still discover something new each day you were with them. He wanted that with Eve. All of it with Eve.

A life, maybe kids if she wanted them. He’d never asked her. He needed to ask her if she wanted to have kids.

“Eve!” He wrenched open the gate and his heart seemed to kick over in his chest, almost as though it had stopped and was starting again—which wasn’t possible since all it had done was pound uncontrollably for the last few minutes.

Eve was rolling onto her side, coming up onto her knees, one arm wrapped around her middle.

Had she been hit? A stomach wound would be bad. Really bad. “Eve.” He breathed her name as he skidded to a stop, hands covering hers as his eyes scanned for blood. “Are you hit?”

She shook her head at him and moved to stand and run, ready to get back in the fight.

Cal pressed her back. “She’s down. She’s down, it’s over.”

Eve’s eyes met his and he read there the same relief he felt. They’d stopped the sniper.

This arrest was great for the force and great for the city. They’d needed it.

But it was more than that. It also meant Cal and Eve didn’t have to wait. Didn’t have to fight against what they were feeling anymore.

Behind him, he could hear the commotion of an ambulance arriving, of officers and agents coming on scene. Of neighbors and bystanders asking questions. He didn’t focus on any of it. He focused on Eve, thinking only of when he could get her out of here.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Sadly, the pace of police work didn’t allow for whisking Eve off for a private recovery of their own. And to be honest, Cal wasn’t sure he’d have been able to convince her to go with him if it had. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure where she stood on the issue of them dating when this was over. She’d suffered some cuts and bruises from her fall off the fence, but Rebecca’s bullet had gone wide. Forensics had pulled it out of the tree next to the fence.

Rebecca Evans had one bullet in her shoulder and another in her chest. She’d been taken right into surgery. The doctors expected her to pull through, but there were never any givens with those kind of injuries. She’d be in surgery for hours and then in recovery. Of course, she would be under lock and key, with officers on her door at all times, but Cal suspected it would be days, if not weeks, before they could interview her. Waiting on something like that sucked. There was nowhere to put the pent-up energy they’d built up on the chase and takedown.

It was like running a sprint and then being stopped two feet short of the finish line and told you had to wait. And wait.

This was the part of the job Cal hated. Writing reports. Eve didn’t seem to struggle with it. She’d had her head down, typing away since they got back. She looked up now and smiled at him and he felt that stupid grin cross his face again. Seriously, he must look like an idiot. And, somehow, he just didn’t care.

“Any news?” Cafferty asked, walking up just as Cal was finally checking his last report into the system. He’d printed all of his and Eve’s write-ups to drop with the captain before they left. He was hoping to talk her into dinner the following night.

“Nothing yet. You guys heading out?” Cal asked. Eve was collecting her things and unlocking her weapon from the top drawer of Jarrod’s desk.

“Yeah. Turned our reports in. We still need to work our mugger’s slaying until we find out if Rebecca James was the one who gave him the nice new air holes in his stomach. We’re gonna take Rebecca’s picture over to the building tomorrow and see if any of his neighbors recognize her.” Cafferty turned to Eve and offered her a hand, as Reynolds came up and did the same. “It’s been a pleasure working with you, Agent. I assume you’ll be heading back to the FBI tomorrow?”

Eve smiled as she shook hands with each of them. “That’s the plan. It was great working with both of you, gentlemen.”

Twenty minutes later, Cal dropped Eve off at her place, walking her to the door.

“Listen, Eve. I know you’re still unsure about things, but I really want us to see where this is going. Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night?” Cal had no problem taking this slow. They could date and take the time to get to know each other off the job. Much as it killed him not to drag her back to his place and toss her into his bed.

Damn. The dumbass caveman fantasies running through his head were a little shocking.

She looked at him for a long beat, but nodded, coming up on her toes to kiss him. “Dinner tomorrow night.”

She moved to pull away after a quick brush of their lips, but he was having none of that. It was one thing to acknowledge that kidnapping her to take her to his bed was wrong. It was another to let her walk away without giving her something to think about before the following night.

He hooked his hand behind her head and tilted his head. He heard her laughter for the briefest second before he felt her lean in against him. His tongue swept over the crease of her mouth and she opened to him. The heat that raged, taking over, never ceased to amaze him. She did things to him no other woman did. If the small moan she let out was any indication, she felt the same way.

He lost himself for a minute in the feel of her hair tangled around his hand, in the way her breasts pressed against his chest and her hands gripped his arms. It was all he could do not to reach for her keys and walk her backwards into her house. But he wouldn’t do that with her. He’d give her the time and space she needed to see that this was more than just the kind of work fling that terrified her. That this was more than a potential threat to her career.

He pulled back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Eve.”

“Mm hmm,” she murmured, opening her eyes slowly. He laughed and walked away, knowing he needed to get the hell out of there before he changed his mind.

Cal had time to shower before the knock on his door. He tossed an old NHPD tee-shirt on and pulled on a pair of jeans, leaving the button undone.

“Eve.” He looked past her as though there might be some explanation for her presence written in the skyline behind her. There were times he recognized what an idiot he could be. This was one of them.

“Tomorrow night is a long time from now.” She stepped into the house and gave him the kind of look that said she’d made up her mind about their dating and was ready to move forward full force, no holding back.

Thank the Lord for giant favors.

“It is,” he said, shutting the door and pulling her into his arms. “It really is.”

A smile tugged at her lips, just as she pulled at his heart.

Once again, he found his body going from zero to sixty with nothing more than the touch of her hands, the press of her body into his. She was incredible. All lean muscles that showed how powerful she was, but enough curve and softness in all the right places to have him drooling. Hell, never mind drooling, he was ready to take her to bed.

“Don’t think I’m always going to make things this easy for you.” She pushed him backward down the hall as she spoke and he thanked his lucky stars for the day she walked into his life. Hell, that was all sorts of wrong since his partner had been shot that day, but he didn’t want to think about that now.

But speaking of wrong, was it sick that his cock stirred at the challenge in her voice? Nah. She was a strong woman. It was one of the things he loved about her.

Loved. Hell yeah. Loved. He didn’t back away from the word or the thought at all. He loved this woman, and one day soon, he’d tell her. Not now, though. She was too damned skittish for that. For now, he’d show her.

Cal pulled her down on the bed and shifted so she lay under him. She let out an appreciative hum and he lowered his mouth to hers. He loved that when he kissed her, he felt that immediate response of her kissing back with just as much passion and heat as he gave. She matched him in every way. When he thrust his erection against her, she pushed back and lifted one leg to wrap around his hips and pull him closer. There wouldn’t ever be any half measures with this woman. It was all or nothing, and he was ready for all.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Eve felt like she might burst from the heat and need tumbling through her. She needed skin against skin, needed to feel Cal inside her, feel them come together in the way they’d wanted for so long. The decision to come to him had been easier than she’d thought it might be. When she realized she didn’t need to let her career or society or whatever it was rule her choices, the decision became a simple one.

She’d spent her whole career being careful, worrying about what others would think of her. She was finished with that. She’d earned the right to worry about herself for once. And she didn’t owe anyone a damned thing if they didn’t like the decisions she made in her personal life.

She pulled at his shirt, letting out a frustrated sound. When he tugged it over his head, she started on his pants, glad to find she didn’t have to deal with the button. He was halfway ready for her. Her move brought a wicked grin from him. “Impatient much, Agent Sands?”

“Now.” She didn’t bother with a whole lot of words. She pushed him back and came up to pull his boxers off, then pulled off the shirt she wore.

Cal let out a low oath and she had a few choice words of her own whipping around in her head, but there wasn’t time for that. She reached out her hand, grasping the hard length of his erection, silk over steel.

“God. Eve. If you don’t slow down, I’ll be as impressive as a teenager his first time.”

She let out a laugh, and moved her hands to his shoulders, letting him move her beneath him again. She liked the feel of his weight over her, the feel of his body pinning hers to the bed. There was an eroticism in it she hadn’t felt with other men. When his mouth traveled over her body, stopping to tease first one breast, then the other, before moving south, she thought she might lose her mind.

She was wet and swollen and so damned ready for him. She laced her hands in his hair and held on as his mouth did wicked things to her, but when he began to travel north again, she didn’t object. She wanted to see his eyes when he moved inside her for the first time. To watch him as they came together.

There was the momentary loss of his body while he put on a condom, but then he was right back with her.

“You’re so damned beautiful, Eve. So sexy.”

His words did almost as much to her as his body did when he slid inside her, filling her, stretching her to fit him. They moved together, slick skin against slick skin, and Eve felt her orgasm build deeply, slowly.

When it hit her, she cried out, clamping her legs around Cal’s waist and raising her hips to try to take him deeper. She wanted more of him, all of him.

He answered by plunging harder, deeper, again and again before he ground out her name through clenched teeth and she felt him come. Another orgasm flowed over her, or maybe it was the same one. She didn’t know. All she knew was she felt incredible as they came together.

Cal held himself above her while they fought to catch their breath, but Eve pulled him down.

“I’ll hurt you,” he said.

“You’re an idiot,” she answered. “I won’t break.”

Cal let his weight fall on her at that, with a laugh, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Why did she love the feeling of his weight on her so much?

They lay like that for a few minutes, her running her hands over his shoulders, letting the feel of his skin soothe her. When he rolled to the side of the bed to remove the condom, she immediately wanted him back.

“I knew that would be amazing,” he said, coming to her side and pulling her against him again. She snuggled in deep, letting one leg drape over his. They fit together well, she thought.

“I had a feeling,” she said, and she wouldn’t have been able to stop the stupid grin on her face if she’d tried. She really had no interest in trying, though. It felt too good to be laying in his arms. Thoughts of what other people might think when their relationship came out were pretty far from her mind at that point.

Eve’s phone buzzed with an incoming text and she and Cal both groaned. He looked at his own phone as she rolled to grab hers.

“I’ve got nothing,” he said. “Are you getting called in?”

Eve realized how nice it would be to be with someone who understood when she got called in to work on a case. She wouldn’t have to try to explain the job to him. She opened her text messages and had to read it twice to be sure she was getting it right.

“What is it?” Cal came up on one elbow, his hand on her leg.

“I didn’t have a chance to tell you, but I reported Dyson’s sexual harassment.”

“Any fallout?” Cal asked, eyeing her phone like he was getting ready to jump to her defense.

She shook her head. “I thought it would mean I’d get pulled from the Genesio task force, at least temporarily while they looked into the claim.”

“Is that what’s happening?” She had to smile at the near growl in his voice and the way he sat and reached for his pants. As nice as it was to know she was an independent woman, it felt good to have someone on her side, someone who had her back in life no matter what.

She put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“No, not at all. Three other women have come forward. I turned him in because I overheard one of the support staff talking. He was doing a lot more to her than he was to me. With me, he just pressured and hinted. With her, he’d outright threatened her job. She was a single mom and she didn’t know if he could really get her fired or not. When I heard her, I realized I was being selfish. I was leaving it to someone else to stop him. I thought I was being strong by handling it myself, but what I was really doing was letting him move on to someone who couldn’t fight back as easily as I could. It turns out, there was no shortage of women who’d experienced this. He’s on leave pending an investigation, but with more of us coming forward, it’s a lot less of a he-said, she-said than I thought it would be.”

He reached up and placed a hand on her cheek. “You did a good thing. It sounds like you gave other women the courage to speak up.”

Eve shrugged and put her phone down. “They might have come forward themselves anyway.”

Cal pulled her toward him, and she found herself going so easily. She wanted nothing more than to get closer to this man. He kissed her lips long and slow and she knew they were headed for round two. Her body knew it, too, stirring to arousal again at the simple touch. She hoped they’d have the night together without being called back to deal with anything at the precinct. The night to make love again and again, and to sleep wrapped together. She was in this now. One hundred percent. There wouldn’t be any more holding back, and the knowledge seemed to loosen something tight in her chest that she hadn’t even realized had been there.

Chapter Forty

It was eight days before they were able to question Rebecca Evans because of the heavy narcotics she was on, and even that was surprisingly early. Detective Reynolds had quickly realized she’d been shot in the lung at the scene. He’d gotten a plastic cover over the wound to act as a one-way valve, likely saving her life until the EMTs had arrived to do a needle decompression of the air surrounding her lung. The doctors had had her in surgery for hours before letting the police know she would likely survive her injuries.

They had collected more than enough evidence to charge her with the crimes and to announce to the press that the sniper had been caught. They’d found the hiding place she’d built into the wall of her home, along with the sniper rifle she’d used to make the kill shots.

Still, waiting days for answers as they finished typing up reports and sifting through evidence was hell. Of course, that was only while they were on the job. In every other way, life was damned good. Eve was back at the FBI and back at work on the Genesio task force. That left them free to date as they pleased.

Cal was pretty sure he’d never get tired of hearing her laugh. They didn’t have many days off, but they took advantage of the ones they did. They’d spent a day sitting on the couch in pajamas reading together. He never thought he’d like a day so lazy and easy, but with Eve there curled up next to him, he’d been content. They’d gone for dinner at Joy’s house one night and seeing Eve and Joy together made him smile. The women seemed to really hit it off. Eve never questioned Joy or pressured her to leave the house. There was no judgment. That meant a lot to him.

The best part of the last eight days had been the nights. They’d slept at her house or his house together every night, spending hours learning what the other liked in bed. He loved to listen to her soft moans when he touched her just right or the cries of pleasure when he made her come. And when she climbed on top of him, straddling him and riding him, her eyes would darken, the blue becoming even more striking as heat and pleasure filled them. She looked like a goddess in bed and out.

There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he’d never tire of making love to her. To his Eve.

“I love you,” he’d told her one night as they lay together, legs and arms tangled the way he loved to be with her.

Her eyes had given away the slightest hint of surprise.

“You didn’t expect me to tell you that?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not so soon. I thought you’d hold out for ages,” she said, drawing out the ages part as she laughed.

“Hell no. What’s the point in keeping it from you?”

She lifted a shoulder. “You’re a guy. Isn’t it a requirement of something?”

“I must have missed that memo. You going to tell me you love me?”

She wrinkled her nose at him and shook her head. At that, he’d climbed over her and tickled her until she admitted to it. Hearing those words on her lips, hearing her say she loved him meant everything, as it turned out. And it also turned out to be a huge aphrodisiac. All she had to do was whisper those words in his ear and he was hard and ready for her. She’d learned that trick, too, and liked to take advantage of it.

So yeah, the eight-day wait hadn’t been the worst thing in the world. Jarrod was back at work with Cal, and his partner hadn’t taken long to broach the subject of Eve.

“It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Jarrod asked the second day they’d been back on the job together, as Cal spread on sunscreen.

“What, sunscreen? Yeah, actually it is. I mean, when you think about it, it’s pretty cool we can put some lotion on that somehow blocks out the damaging rays of the sun.” Cal was forever lecturing Jarrod on protecting his skin, so he took advantage of the chance to taunt his partner, even though he knew full well there was no way Jarrod was talking about sunscreen.

“Asshole.” Jarrod tossed a pen across the desk at Cal, making Cal grin as he dodged the projectile. “You know what I mean. Eve is different, isn’t she?”

Cal laughed, but sobered, as he looked around at the fairly empty room. “Yeah, she’s different. And, it is pretty amazing, mom. Now can we drop it?” That was about as far as he and Jarrod were going to go in talking about their feelings. He knew Jarrod got it, though. For the first time in a while, Cal didn’t feel that pinch of jealousy when he thought about what Jarrod and Carrie had.

So now, Eve and Cal walked back into the hospital together. She’d come to the precinct to do the final interview with Rebecca Evans by his side. They had visited Evans twice over the past week to check on her progress, even though the doctors had said she wouldn’t be ready to talk on the record for weeks. Off the record, she’d been cooperative and willing to talk to them. When the call had come in that Rebecca had refused to take more narcotics and was weaned down to nonnarcotic pain medication, they’d been more than a little surprised. She’d also asked the nurses to call for Cal and Eve so she could give her statement.

“From what the former militia member told us, I have to wonder what kind of drills her dad put her through,” Eve said as they entered the hospital. “If you were training a soldier, you’d put them through a lot of threshold and resistance training. Could be, she’s still got the mental toughness to withstand a lot of pain.”

Cal shook his head. He couldn’t imagine doing that to your own child. Which reminded him, he hadn’t asked Eve about kids. “Hey, do you want kids?”

She stopped in the hallway and laughed at him. “You’re asking me now?”

He grinned. “Why not? I mean not that I’m asking you to have kids with me now. But yeah, why not have the conversation now. Seems as good a time as any.”

He held the elevator door open for her and they stepped in, taking space at the front as people moved over. She didn’t answer his question in the full elevator, but she was still laughing and shaking her head at him.

When they stepped off the elevator, he pulled her to a stop, holding her hand. “So, how about it? Are you going to have my babies someday or is that not in the cards for us?”

She raised a brow. “It’s all up to me?”

He thought for a minute about the question. He could almost see her pregnant with his kids. It had to be some kind of stupid caveman kind of response, the way it made him feel. Like he could take on the whole damned world and win. He could see the amusement in her face. “I guess I’d be disappointed if you don’t want them someday,” he said, a little cautiously.

She laughed again and pulled him down the hall. “I’m probably going to make you wait a couple of years, but yeah, I’ll have your babies. Someday.”

The whoop he let out was wholly inappropriate for a hospital and she turned and shushed him. He got himself together before they turned down the hall where Rebecca Evans was recovering. The uniformed officer looked up as they approached. He only nodded at them as they entered the room. Initially, reporters had tried to sneak into the hospital, but things had died down now.

The tubes that had led to Rebecca’s arms during their earlier visits were now gone. The one that had come from underneath the sheet near her chest leading to a contraption used for drainage, that had been hanging on the side of the bed, was also absent. She would still have a long recovery before serving whatever sentence she was eventually given, but she was sitting up in the bed and ready to speak with them.

Cal and Eve waited for the nurse to leave the room before beginning. Eve sat next to the bed.

Cal hung back as Eve spoke to Rebecca. Rebecca had already signed a Miranda waiver and Eve placed a small recorder on the bedside table. They would normally video an interrogation, but given the hospital room setting and Rebecca’s willingness to talk to them, they’d decided to opt for audio recording only. “We’d like to give you a chance to tell us what happened, Rebecca. I know you’ve signed the Miranda waiver, but can you state for the record that you’re waiving your right to have an attorney present, as well as your right to remain silent?”

“Yes.” Rebecca’s voice wasn’t as weak as it had been, but her face was ashen. The doctor had said she was expected to make a full recovery, but Cal had to wonder if she wanted to. There seemed to be an air of defeat about her, and he could feel a weight to the air. It was hopelessness, he realized, and it was palpable taking on a life of its own. He guessed that losing her husband and son had done that to her.

“And you understand that anything you say to us can and will be used against you in a court of law?” Eve went on.

“Yes.”

“Can you tell us about the shootings, Rebecca? Why don’t we start with the first one, Eddy Preiss. Do you want to tell me about Eddy?” Eve’s voice was gentle, coaxing.

Rebecca spoke in phrases rather than sentences. “At the station to talk to detectives. Officer said Preiss was going to get off. Had info about crime so he’d get off.”

Cal waited as she spoke. It made sense, now, how she’d known about Preiss. It was one of the big questions they’d had, but Rebecca had been in and out of the station house often. It wasn’t uncommon for cops to bitch when a witness made a deal based on testimony against someone else. You bring them in and think they’re going to serve time for something they’ve done, and then the lawyers get involved and deals are struck, and the case is out of your hands. The need to bitch or blow off steam about that is natural.

“Go on,” Eve said. She wasn’t guiding Rebecca too much. She wanted Rebecca talking.

“Just couldn’t take it. My boys were gone. No arrest. This guy was going to get away with his crime. Couldn’t take it.”

“Where did you get the rifle you used?” Eve asked. They had found no record of Rebecca owning a gun, yet she’d had the rifle and several hand guns in her home.

“Mine from childhood. Bryan thought I’d gotten rid of everything, but kept the guns.” She frowned. “I don’t know why, really. The General always said your weapon needed to be a part of yourself. I guess I just couldn’t give them up.”

“Your husband, Bryan?” Now Eve was documenting things for the record. Clarifying details for the trial, if Rebecca didn’t plead out.

The pain that ripped across Rebecca’s face was plain. She closed her eyes and tears shone in the corners. “Yes.”

Neither of them spoke for a minute as Rebecca kept her eyes closed.

After a long pause, she spoke, looking to Eve once again. “Dad. Had to hold my dad off with those guns when Bryan and I left. Became a safety net for me.”

“The guns became a safety net?” Eve asked.

Rebecca nodded. “Made me feel safe.”

Cal could understand that. The woman had been raised by a maniac who’d tried to turn her into his own personal soldier. He supposed she could have gone the other way; never wanting a gun around her. But both directions made sense to him. Being raised the way she had been would mess with you one way or the other.

“So you heard Preiss might get off and you decided that couldn’t happen?”

Rebecca nodded and went on to talk about the other crimes. Duerte had been easy because she’d simply had to watch the news to know what was happening, then watch his girlfriend’s social media feeds.

At some point, she’d decided being mobile would let her do more.

“How did you come upon the attacker in the park that day?” Eve asked, referencing the Mary Gentry attack.

Rebecca’s face was beginning to show more and more signs of pain and he had a feeling they wouldn’t be getting much more out of her today.

“Looked at crime rates and waited in the right areas. Inevitable.”

Cal’s gut twisted at the statement. The city as a whole had enjoyed lower crime rates in recent years, but there were pockets that still needed a lot of focus if they were going to make a difference.

“And the gas station hold up?” Eve seemed to sense the urgency in getting Rebecca to speak on the record about each of the crimes as well. They wanted closure for each shooting, but Rebecca was getting more pale. Someday, they’d want to interview her about the General. They wanted to find out if the rumors were true. If he’d been having her assassinate people for money.

“Part luck, part police scanner. In the area when it came over scanner.”

A nurse came into the room. “That’s all for today, detectives.” Her tone was firm as she turned her back on them and spoke to Rebecca. “Do you want me to get you something for the pain, Rebecca?” There was almost a pleading to her voice, as though she would feel better if Rebecca would accept the medication.

Eve and Cal stepped out of the way. Chances were, they’d need to do this interview in pieces, but they’d gotten what they needed for now. Their major questions had been answered, and they had her confession for each of the murders on record for the prosecutor. They’d be able to bring the case to a close.

Chapter Forty-One

Cal drove them back to the precinct. They would write up their report and then Eve would head back to the FBI. Cal spotted him as soon as he and Eve walked in. He stopped at the sight of Ray Lansing talking to one of the uniforms in the lobby. Cal hadn’t had a chance to confront Lansing yet. He’d seen him at the press conference they’d held after Rebecca Evans’s arrest, but hadn’t been able to get to him one-on-one yet.

He needed to be damned sure Lansing understood he couldn’t screw with his sister. Joy was too damned vulnerable for a guy like Lansing to be hanging around her. Cal started toward him but felt Eve’s hand on his arm. He turned, prepping for an argument. No way would he let her talk him out of confronting the guy.

He was surprised to see her eyes looking as ferocious as his might. And her gaze was trained on Lansing. Something kicked over in his chest at the sight of that.

“Allow me,” she said, not waiting for an answer.

Cal crossed his arms and clamped his mouth shut and his feet to the floor. Eve crossed the room and smiled her winning smile for Lansing, drawing him away from the officer.

It was all Cal could do not to laugh. He wondered if Lansing was foolish enough to think he was going to get an interview with one of the chief investigators on the case. Cal had to admit, though, he’d always thought Lansing was a smart guy. Chances were, he was too sharp to think that.

Eve drew Lansing over to a row of chairs and sat down, waiting as Lansing sat down next to her. She spoke as though she were talking to a friend, but Cal saw Lansing pale the slightest bit. He had to admit, the guy recovered well.

Lansing gave Eve a small nod and said something to her before looking up and giving Cal a nod, too. Cal would rather have seen him running away with his tail between his legs. He doubted the man would do that, but at least he’d been warned. Lansing hadn’t seen the last of Cal or Eve.

Eve was laughing when she rejoined Cal.

“What did you say to him?”

He swiped his keycard and they walked through the doors to the first floor of the station together, heading for the elevator.

She waited until they were inside the small space before taking his hand and squeezing it. “I explained that I’m good friends with Joy. Then I told him what I would do to him if he hurt my friend.” She paused and her grin was wicked. “In great detail.”

Cal let out a laugh. He had no doubt Eve would defend his sister as fiercely as he would. And that was a damned good feeling. She fit his life, fit him, in ways he never could have imagined.

He glanced up at the light letting him know they were almost to their floor. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, before pulling back and letting go of her hand. They faced forward as the elevator chimed, signaling the doors would open momentarily. But not before he had time to tell her once again how he felt.

“I love you, Eve.”

A saucy smile was all she offered as the doors slid open and they went back to work. It was all he needed.

Do you want to see more of the men in the New Haven Precinct? Zach Reynolds is up next in Latent Danger!

About the Author

Lori Ryan is a NY Times and USA Today bestselling author who writes romantic suspense, contemporary romance, and sports romance. She lives with an extremely understanding husband, three wonderful children, and two mostly-behaved dogs in Austin, Texas. It’s a bit of a zoo, but she wouldn’t change a thing.

Lori published her first novel in April of 2013 and hasn’t looked back since then. She loves to connect with her readers.

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