With Visions of Red 3

by Trisha Wolfe

  “How do you know how to do this? You’re the last person I’d assume to be computer savvy.”

  A smile twitches at his mouth. “I’m full of surprises, Bonds.” He looks over and winks before returning to his search. “Bingo. It’s not a full record, but it’s enough. Her last entry was on evidence identifier three-oh-one.” He pulls up the chain of custody files and locates the item information. “The rope recovered at the third crime scene on the suspended vic.”

  I’m out of the seat and searching the evidence lockers for the rope.

  Quinn puts in a call to the evidence room in the station. “Who signed it out? When?” His gaze follows me around the room. “Okay, thanks.”

  “Let me guess. It was already signed out by Avery,” I say, shutting the locker.

  “Yeah.”

  “The rope isn’t here. Neither is the sample I gave her.” I press my hands to my forehead, trying to push away the growing ache. “Avery had him. She found his mistake. She had to—and it cost her.” I steeple my fingers over my mouth, thinking. “Who else would have access to her notes? The whole lab? Someone else has to know what she found.”

  “Kyle has every lab tech up in holding taking statements.”

  “We need to be ahead of this. We have to consider the possibility that—”

  “I know, Sadie.” Quinn shoves a hand through his hair. His phone beeps, and he looks down at the message. “Damn. Kyle says one tech didn’t come in today. It was reported to be her day off, but no one can get ahold of her.”

  “She could know what Avery discovered.” A sinking feeling pulls at my stomach. “She could also be the leak, Quinn.”

  “Maybe.” Quinn grabs an evidence bag and drops the scalpel inside. “Let’s secure the scene, then we’re heading to that tech. She can’t come in to make a statement, we’ll go to her.”

  I nod and quickly mark the hanger, shoving my fears aside. My hands suffer a sudden tremor, and I drop the roll of evidence tape. “Crap.” I watch it roll under Avery’s desk. Crouching down, I reach for the roll and spot something on the underside of the desk.

  “Oh, my God. Avery, you’re so sneaky.” I reach up and detach a notebook from the desk.

  Quinn walks over. “You got trace?”

  I smile up at him. “Better.” Dropping the book into a bag, I say, “We got Avery’s personal notes. Old-school style.”

  He lends me a hand, helping me to my feet, then taps his phone. “Kyle, forward me all the statements of the lab techs and have the analysts go through the lab surveillance and the servers. Someone deleted files. I want to know why and how it was missed, and how someone got into the system. See if there’s any altered surveillance and keep me updated.”

  “You didn’t tell him about the missing evidence.”

  He drops his phone into his trench coat pocket and guides me toward the double doors. “That’s because I don’t want the lab techs to know what we know yet.”

  “You don’t trust Kyle?” I ask as I grab my bag before we push through the doors.

  “I don’t trust anyone anymore.”

  A heaviness weighs on my chest. I’ve lived with that mistrust my whole life—and now it’s returned with a vengeance.

  5

  Frailty

  Colton

  “You scored big.”

  I ignore Carson’s comment and instead check my phone. Sadie had one of the computer guys at the station install GPS software on our phones so we can locate the other quickly.

  Right now, she’s still at the department. As long as that little green dot on my screen stays active, I’m able to breathe. And to put up with Carson’s shit. He hasn’t stopped talking since we got in the car.

  “I mean, a member of the ACPD. A profiler, no doubt.” Carson glances over at me, a smug smile stretching his face. “That’s a pretty worthy notch. Makes you look real good. Hell, and it’s Sadie. Tight little ass. Nice, perky tits. The other officers will probably take it easy on you just for the fact that you got in her pants, man. Not that she hasn’t been around. But that’s just inner office gossip.” He sends me another smile. “You know that, right?”

  Normally, I’d have him jacked up against his seat and on his way out the car door for talking about her that way, but I’m letting his bullshit roll right off. I get it—the petty attempt to rile me, to trip me up. I’m just offended he thinks I’m simple enough to fall for some cliché detective shit.

  He pulls into a spot in front of The Lair. Turns toward me as he opens his door. “Of course, not all the rumors are that far off. You know how freaky she is. It’s kind of obvious why Quinn has me babysitting you. Keeping you away from Sadie so he can have her to himself.”

  Still, I’m not above jealousy when it comes to Sadie. Carson is probing for a weak spot. And when my grip tightens on the phone, he chuckles.

  “For Sadie’s sake, and what she’s going through right now…” I say as I get out of the car and look at him from across the roof. “I’m not going to give you what you want. We can spend all day taking jabs at each other. Or we can work together.”

  His eyes squint. “We’re not partners. We’re not working together, dude. You’re a fucking suspect in a criminal investigation, and your brother—and this club—is in the middle of all of it.”

  I shrug. “Even so, you need my cooperation.” I slam the door shut. “You need a lot more from me than I do from you, rook. Trying to push my buttons so I take a swing at you and get locked up for the day? Not happening. Though, I would really love to put my fist through your face.” I smile. “Rain check?”

  He flips me off.

  As we head to the front door, I pull my key ring out and Carson straightens his tie. “Just get your brother here. That’s all the cooperation I need from you.”

  That tick in my eye has Carson’s name on it. As soon as this is over…

  My train of thought veers off as I nudge the door and it cracks open. Carson already has his gun drawn as he pushes me aside and takes up the front.

  “Stay here,” he says, knocking the door open with his foot. He quickly checks all angles before he moves into the club.

  Watching him is like watching a cop show. For all of Carson’s douchery, he takes charge like a true cop. But I’m not one to hang back. I follow his lead, checking the hallway entrance twice, before I enter the main level.

  “I should have a gun,” I say as I look for anything out of place. This could’ve been a break-in, but what kind of person needs to rob a BDSM club? I can’t imagine anyone being that hard up.

  Carson called it when he said the club is at the center of all this. I know my role, why the UNSUB has it out for me, but there’s got to be more. Which really has me questioning what my brother’s part is. Julian has to play some role of his own. I need to get a handle on that before Carson does.

  When Carson feels the bottom level is clear, he lowers his gun. “The last thing I’m doing is giving you a gun.” He shakes his head. “You’re a fucking suspect. Do you not get that?”

  “Yeah, I get that. But according to Sadie’s profile, so is everyone at the department. That includes you, Detective Dick.” He starts toward me, but I keep moving toward the stairs. Every second wasted fighting with Carson is a second keeping me away from Sadie. “Let’s check the surveillance. It doesn’t look like whoever was here stole anything. Nothing’s wrecked or damaged. Doubt it’s vandalism.”

  He laughs. “Now you’re a detective? Why don’t you stick with the pervy shit and leave the detecting to me.”

  I start to lead the way up the spiral staircase, but Carson jumps ahead. Fine by me. He can take the bullet.

  Once we reach the top level, I find the office door unlocked and open. A sick feeling worms its way into my stomach as I enter. Nothing looks touched, but there’s an eerie feeling floating through the room, as if someone was just here.

  “Pull up the surveillance,” Carson says. He sinks into one of the cushioned chairs, but keeps his gun at the ready.<
br />
  I take a seat behind the desk. “We’re not partners, remember? And I sure as hell don’t work for you. So don’t bark orders at me.”

  He smiles and bats his eyes. “Pretty please?”

  I punch my password in and glance up. “What is your issue with me? Just because you think you have some evidence…that proves what? That I know my rope?”

  His brow furrows. “My gut instinct says you’re involved.”

  I guess I can’t argue with that. I’m not exactly innocent. But I keep Sadie’s words from last night close. She’s all the exoneration I need.

  “It’s up,” I say. Carson moves to stand beside me as I launch the playback footage of last night. “I should check the log of the break-in first.”

  He pulls up a chair. “Keep rolling last night’s footage. Finding the UNSUB is more important than your insurance claim right now.”

  I hate this guy—but he’s right. The sooner we can discover the identity of the UNSUB, the sooner Sadie is out of harm’s way.

  Carson looses a heavy breath. “Damn. This is going to take hours. Skip ahead to the timeframe where the UNSUB sent a pic of Sadie to your phone.”

  He doesn’t know all the details, but he knows just enough to make me uncomfortable. The letter the UNSUB pushed under my door last night feels heavy in my pocket. It’s too damn close to him right now.

  I move the footage up to later in the night…and spot Sadie. Sitting at her table, just like the image of her on my phone. I try to remember the angle of the pic. Where is he? My eyes scan the edges of the room, the stage, the bar…and then the screen goes black.

  “What the fuck?” Carson says.

  My sentiment exactly. I tap the keyboard, trying to figure out the glitch. But my gut says this is no malfunction. “It’s gone. Deleted.”

  “Sonofabitch.” Carson slams his hand on the desk. He whips out his phone. “Quinn, we have a problem. The security files at the club have been tampered with. Some footage from last night is missing.” A beat. “All right. I’ll keep you posted.”

  He ends the call and says to me, “Make a copy. I’m getting a uni to deliver the original to the techs at the department. They might be able to recover the deleted footage. We’ll keep watching the rest to log any suspects.”

  And so that’s what we do. We settle in for the long haul. With hours and hours of surveillance footage to watch, and my goddess too far away.

  * * *

  My eyes feel like they’re bleeding. Carson isn’t fairing any better.

  “I thought this would be awesome,” he says, rubbing his temples. “Hot Dominatrixes working guys over. Nasty sex kittens getting it on with each other… But I gotta tell you, I think I’m scarred for life.” He blinks hard at the screen. “There is such a thing as too much porn.”

  I exhale heavily. “It’s not porn. No sex happens on the floor.”

  “And off the floor?”

  I grit my teeth.

  “Whatever,” he says. “You know what I mean. Too much of a freaky thing is just too much of a freaky thing.” He checks the time on his phone. “Why isn’t your brother returning your calls?”

  “He’s recently engaged. I’m sure his fiancé is keeping him busy.” Or he left. Sadie’s call to him to obtain a lawyer for me probably scared him off. Julian’s already been through one investigation with Carson; he won’t stick around for another.

  “You want to know what I think?” Carson says, propping his booted feet up on the desk. I crane an eyebrow, annoyed. “There was no forced entry. Someone with a key walked right into this club and deleted surveillance files. And now, that someone is nowhere to be found.”

  As much as I loathe the guy, he has a point. Julian and I are the only ones with keys to the club. Since I was with Sadie at the department this morning, that leaves the question of my brother. But why? Not to protect me, that’s for sure. And doing something so obvious only implicates him further. There has to be another reason, like high profile members being on those surveillance files. Maybe he’s trying to protect his cash cows.

  Or… “Someone could’ve stolen his key,” I say, a sudden fear washing over me. The UNSUB got to me easily; he could’ve just as easily gotten to Julian.

  Carson sinks his chin on his hand, his eyes looking glazed and far away as he considers this possibility. “We need to go.” He leaps up, already grabbing his jacket.

  “I’m not going anywhere. I’m sticking right here and finding this son of a bitch on this footage. He’s here somewhere, and I’m going to match him to Sadie’s profile.”

  “Profile,” he mocks. “I spent time at Quantico. I can tell you the fucking basics of a serial killer, too. And I can tell you he’s not on that footage. He’s smart enough to have us chasing our tails for weeks. You think he’s just going to pop up on the screen? We’re wasting our time here. Besides, the techs are going over the surveillance. They’ll find something before we do.”

  “I’m not here for you. I’m here for Sadie. This is how she feels I can help, so it’s where I’m focusing.”

  He smirks. “Man, she has you whipped. Not hard to figure out who’s the dominant in your relationship.”

  Fire simmers beneath my skin. “I’m not ashamed to admit I serve her. Worship her. If you think you’re insulting me, you’re wrong. I’ll always obey her orders.”

  His forehead creases. Then he turns to go. “Fucking freaky shit…” he says under his breath.

  “Good luck trying to find Julian on your own.” I have a good idea where my brother took off to, but I’m not letting Carson bring him in without me.

  Carson reaches for the doorknob right as the door opens. He steps back as a man in a black trench coat enters. “Who the fuck are you?”

  The guy—his face impassive at Carson’s remark—flashes an ID badge. “FBI. Special Agent Proctor.”

  “Fucking hell,” Carson says.

  I glance at the monitors. Four other FBI agents are on the main level overturning furniture. Shit. I let Carson distract me and didn’t even see them enter.

  I stand. “You can’t be in here without a—”

  “Warrant?” Agent Proctor interrupts. He slaps a folded paper against my chest as he passes. “We’re now heading up this investigation. Everything in this club is considered evidence.”

  I scan the warrant. I’m not sure what I’m looking for, but it seems legit. Carson snatches it out of my hands and looks it over. “You can’t just come in and take over. We’ve been working this case since the beginning. Who called you in?”

  Leaning over the desk, Proctor eyes the computer screen. “You know how this works, detective. The FBI has jurisdiction in any city. Let’s try to work together on this. There’s no call to start a pissing contest.” He glances up at Carson. “You have two options. Work with the FBI to bring in the perp, or use your sick days to take a vacation. Your choice.”

  Arms crossed, Carson matches the agent’s stern glare. “I don’t take sick days.”

  “Good,” Proctor says. “Your department is being briefed right now. You should probably check in there to get your new assignment, detective.”

  Carson’s jaw ticks. As the agent pulls my chair up to the desk and starts scanning the surveillance files, Carson cocks his head toward the door. I follow him into the hallway.

  “You have anything incriminating on that computer?” he asks me.

  “You’re not using this to interrogate me. I told you. I have nothing to hide.” Which is true. There’s nothing on that computer or in this club that should set off red flags to the Feds. Even Julian’s stash under the floorboard shouldn’t raise too many questions. It’s all just memorabilia of the investigation into Marni—which I’m sure the FBI already knows everything about.

  The club has plenty of higher-ups as members—the ACPD captain, for one—but those files aren’t located on the system. They’re safely hidden in Sadie’s car.

  There’s still a thick feeling of dread coming over me, however. Hav
ing the FBI in my club isn’t good. Not at all. If they deem, they can shut it down until this investigation ends, and the only place we know for sure that the UNSUB has been is in this club. Right now, Carson is more of a comrade than these agents. That’s a fucked up thought.

  “You have the addresses of those two suspect members?” Carson asks.

  I nod. “It’s better to bring them here rather than go knocking on doors, though. Don’t you think?”

  His face hardens. “Yeah. That was the plan before the damn turf invaders showed up. You think anyone’s going to want to come here tonight with the black coats skulking about?”

  He just voiced my fear. “Looks like you’re getting your way, Carson.” At his confused expression, I say, “We’re going to my brother.”

  6

  Pulse

  Sadie

  We have been invaded.

  The stench of leather and fast food and cheap coffee saturates the air of the ACPD. It’s a nauseating smell that seeps past my practicality and triggers my defenses.

  The FBI blew in like a hurricane, sweeping the task force up into a funnel of federal ordinances and churning out a well-oiled, bureaucratic command post.

  We should’ve known it would come to this. With the extensive news coverage on the killings, and now the abduction of a medical examiner, it was inevitable. Actually, I’m surprised it’s taken as long as it has for the Feds to intervene…or interfere, as that’s how Quinn is seeing this new directive.

  Amid the functioning hub of the task force, a showdown is looming. I stealthily slip Quinn’s laptop into my bag as he marches toward the special agent dictating the operations.

  “Get your lead agent here now!” Quinn shouts. This agent must’ve drawn the short straw when they were deciding who would inform Quinn of the takeover.