Total Control
Page 14
“Are the victims a couple?” Charlotte asked.
“The vic works for the homeowner.” Phan smiled. “And last I heard, Brock Logan likes women.”
She turned around. “Brock Logan the lawyer?”
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
“Guy from the foyer is Logan’s investigator, apparently.”
Charlotte disliked lawyers in general and defense attorneys in particular. She’d never met Logan personally, but she’d gone toe-to-toe with plenty of defense attorneys in court over the years, and it was about as fun as a migraine.
Phan led her through the dining room and into a spacious kitchen. Most of the room had been taped off, including another bloody patch of flooring near the granite cooking island.
“Logan went down there.” Phan nodded at the spot. Once again, there was a great deal of blood. Near a door to the utility room, Charlotte noticed a smear of red on the wall beside a keypad.
“After the shooter fled out the back, Logan managed to get up and set off the alarm,” Phan said.
“What’s the status on him?”
“Both vics were transported to Hermann Hospital. I don’t have an update.”
“Get one.”
Phan stepped away and spoke into his radio as Charlotte studied the scene. The breakfast table was a mess of legal pads and index cards. File folders were strewn across the floor, along with loose papers and a FedEx envelope. Charlotte noted two black power cords plugged into the wall but no computers in sight.
“We’re getting an update,” Phan reported.
“Two laptops stolen?”
“Looks like. But nothing obviously missing in the rest of the house. There’s a bunch of high-end electronics everywhere. He’s got a gold Rolex sitting on the dresser in the master bedroom and a pistol in the top drawer of the nightstand, so not your typical burglary.”
Charlotte didn’t like the sound of that.
“There’s a partial footprint on the FedEx envelope on the floor there,” Charlotte said. “Make sure the techs see it.”
“I did.”
She shook her head. “So this guy just rings the bell, shoots Logan’s PI, comes in here and shoots Logan, then helps himself to some computers?” She glanced through the archway into the entry foyer. “Why’d the PI open the door in the first place?”
“Witness said they were expecting a food delivery.”
Charlotte’s gaze snapped to Phan. “What witness?”
“There was a girl here, too.”
“A child?”
“No, a woman. Sorry.” Phan cleared his throat. “She was here the whole time. The perp shot at her and missed.”
“Is she injured?”
“No.”
“Where the hell is she?”
Kira sat motionless on the patio chair.
Motionless except for her hands, which wouldn’t stop shaking. She clamped them between her knees but couldn’t get them to still.
The scene before her seemed far away. Detached. She was surrounded by people and noises and clipped commands, and she felt like she was on a movie set, watching a cast of characters rush this way and that. She kept thinking someone would jump into the action and yell “Cut!” and it would all be over.
But the people around her weren’t actors. They carried real badges and real guns with real bullets that could tear through flesh.
Kira’s stomach roiled, and she leaned forward, hoping she wouldn’t puke. She glanced at the huddle of cops on the other side of Logan’s patio. The pool lights cast their skin in a bluish hue, and again she felt like she was in some alternative universe. She was sitting on Brock Logan’s patio in a borrowed Harris County EMT sweatshirt with Ollie’s blood all over her jeans.
Police had arrived shortly after the alarm sounded, and Kira didn’t know whether it was her phone call or the security system that summoned them. Maybe both. Ollie had been loaded onto a gurney and whisked away. Logan, too. He’d been conscious, at least, and cops had pelted him with questions as paramedics wheeled him out.
Ollie hadn’t been conscious at all. Hadn’t been moving or even breathing, as far as Kira could tell.
She tucked her hands under her thighs, but still they trembled. She stared down at the little bits of glass embedded in her knees.
Kira took a deep breath to steady herself and got a whiff of chlorine. Logan must have just had his pool shocked. She looked out over the blue expanse, and again she felt like she was on a movie set.
As she watched the group of police officers, the patio door opened, and a tall woman with short blond hair stepped out. She wore pants and an HPD windbreaker, and she towered over her male counterparts, including the heavyset uniform who’d interviewed Kira earlier. Hanson? Hamlin? Kira couldn’t remember his name. Her brain was only minimally functioning, and her answers to his questions had come out garbled and disjointed. Embarrassed, she’d asked him for some water, and he’d given her a look of disapproval before he’d flipped shut his notebook and walked off.
The woman turned, and her gaze rested on Kira. She broke free from the others and walked over.
“You’re Kira Vance?”
“Yes.”
“Detective Spears, HPD.” She took a notebook from her pocket. “Can you tell me what time you arrived at the residence?”
“Where’s Ollie?” Kira sat up straighter and squared her shoulders. “Oliver Kovak. He had a pulse when they took him out of here. I heard the paramedics talking.”
The detective looked her over. “He’s been transported to Hermann Hospital. That’s all I know.”
Kira’s chest squeezed. A tremor went through her, and she broke out in a cold sweat.
“We should know more soon,” the detective said. “Can you tell me what time you arrived at the residence?”
Kira took a deep breath. “Around six forty.”
“And you were coming from . . . ?”
“Work.”
The detective nodded. “Where do you work?”
“I work for myself. Not, like, for a company. I’m a licensed PI.”
The woman’s eyebrow tipped up as she scribbled in her notebook. “And you were coming from . . . ?”
“Downtown,” Kira said. “I had some papers for Ollie that I knew he’d want for tonight’s meeting.”
The detective flipped a page in her notebook. “Officer Hanlin tells me you got a look at the shooter.” Her eyes locked with Kira’s. “Can you describe him?”
“It was a blur, really. I didn’t see much.”
“Was he white? Black? Tall? Short?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you get a look at his clothing?”
“He wore a gray sweatshirt. He—” Kira halted. Her throat went dry.
“Ms. Vance?”
“I saw him before.”
The detective’s gaze sharpened. “When?”
“When I pulled up. He was jogging. He had a gray hoodie and shorts, and he was jogging down the street right in front of the house.” The words spilled out of Kira’s mouth, and she was sweating again. “I had a fleeting thought about how that takes discipline, jogging in the rain like that, but maybe . . . I don’t know.”
“You think he was casing the house?”
Kira nodded.
Spears eased closer, her gaze intent now. “What else do you remember?”
“He was white.” Kira visualized the jogger. “Caucasian but . . . tan. He was tall. And he was wearing these tinted glasses. Amber-colored.” Which was odd, now that she thought about it, given the weather. “I didn’t notice his hair because of the hoodie.”
Officer Hanlin was back, and he looked Kira over as he handed her a bottle of water. Spears motioned for him to step away with her, and they spoke together in low voices.
Kira twisted the top off the water and took a gulp. It felt cool on her throat, and she realized how thirsty she was. She guzzled half the bottle. Then she poured the remainder over her fingers,
trying not to think about Ollie’s blood as she wiped her hands on her jeans.
Another cop approached. He talked to Spears, and Kira overheard the words “Kovak” and “hospital.” She held her breath as the detective stepped over.
“Ms. Vance? We just got word about your friend.”
One look at her eyes, and Kira knew.
Continue Reading…
Her Deadly Secrets
Laura Griffin
More from this Series
Alpha Crew: The Mission…
At the Edge
Book 1
Edge of Surrender
Book 2
Cover of Night
Book 3
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Her Deadly Secrets
Stone Cold Heart
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
LAURA GRIFFIN is the New York Times bestselling author of the Tracers series, the Wolfe Sec series, the Alpha Crew series, and several other novels. A two-time RITA Award winner and a recipient of the Daphne du Maurier Award, Laura lives in Austin, where she is working on her next book. Visit her at LauraGriffin.com and on Facebook at Facebook.com/LauraGriffinAuthor.
FOR MORE ON THIS AUTHOR:
Authors.SimonandSchuster.com/Laura-Griffin
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ALSO BY LAURA GRIFFIN
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Twisted
Snapped
Unforgivable
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Unspeakable
Untraceable
Her Deadly Secrets
Desperate Girls
Far Gone
Whisper of Warning
Thread of Fear
One Wrong Step
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Deadly Promises (anthology)
The Alpha Crew Series
Total Control*
Cover of Night*
Alpha Crew: The Mission Begins*
*ebook only
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Laura Griffin
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ISBN 978-1-5011-6246-6