Kill Shot

by Susan Sleeman

  “Well, yeah, I mean I am a nerd after all.” She grinned. “And not looking deeper would be like telling one of you not to get excited about the latest weapon to come on the market.”

  “Fair point,” Max said. “But we wouldn’t hack into a site to read about a weapon’s prototype.”

  “Because you can’t, but—”

  “But nothing,” Max snapped. “You better hope when we tell MilMed about the hack that they don’t press charges for going beyond proving they’re hackable.” Max mumbled something under his breath, then faced Rick. “Get Olivia.”

  As Rick headed for the door, he couldn’t help but smile over Kaci’s hack. She’d simply done what any of them would have done in the situation—gone the extra mile to try to end a very volatile situation.

  On the patio Rick found Olivia seated near the fire pit with his parents. Guilt over leaving her to fend for herself had him hurrying across the space. She looked up and met his gaze with a thankful one.

  “We’d like to talk to you.” Rick made sure to keep any angst over the latest killing out of his tone.

  She was out of the chair so fast he had to stifle a chuckle over her desire to leave.

  “Would you all like some coffee now?” his mother asked.

  “We’re good, but thanks.”

  “I’m still available to help,” his father offered.

  “Law enforcement isn’t in your wheelhouse.” Getting arrested for punching your son’s lights out is.

  Rick gestured for Olivia to precede him.

  Once they were out of earshot, she leaned closer. “I thought you were a force to be reckoned with. And Max, too, but I have never met a man as intense as your father. In a completely different way, though.”

  “Different how?” he asked.

  “His confidence isn’t real like yours and Max’s is. So he has to prove himself all the time. He’s afraid that someone will see through him and find his true insecurity, so he defends that soft underbelly even if it means becoming aggressive and disrespectful.”

  Rick stopped walking in the large lower-level rec room to look at her. “You got all of that in what, thirty minutes or less?”

  “I’m trained to read between the lines.”

  “And your between-the-lines reading says my confidence is real, huh?”

  She laid a hand on his arm. “If you’re worried that you’re like your father, you can let that go right now.”

  “I’m not worried about that. Trust me.”

  She nodded, but he could see she didn’t buy it. Shoot, maybe he had been harboring the belief that he acted like his dad and had been a tyrant and bully to Traci when he’d come home from deployment. He’d tried to adjust to civilian life as quickly as she’d wanted, but he’d just lost friends, mentors, saw others being blown up, losing limbs. So sliding back into the minutiae of everyday tasks like taking out the trash, fighting traffic, even showering seemed pointless when he would deploy again and see the same terrible things, maybe lose his own life.

  “But your mom is a real sweetheart,” Olivia continued, jerking him free from his thoughts. “Once you get beyond the social superficiality.” Olivia smiled. “She told me stories about you growing up, Ricky.”

  He groaned. “I wondered how long it would take for someone to use that name.”

  “You mean I was the first?” She wrinkled her nose, the freckles connecting into solid spots. “Then you all must be dealing with a huge problem, as I can’t imagine your teammates not ribbing you about that right away.”

  Exactly.

  “Can you give me a heads-up on what to expect?” she asked.

  “Sorry. I need to wait until the entire team is present.”

  She nodded, but her face took on the same hurt expression Traci had always worn whenever he’d failed her. He couldn’t do anything about it, so he started walking again and escorted Olivia upstairs.

  “I’m impressed with the way your entire team works together,” she continued. “I sense that there’s some strong egos in the group, and the fact that you all can put that aside and work as a team speaks to your skills.”

  “Some strong egos?” He laughed and shook his head. “We’re all guilty of that, but we have the same goal. Right the wrong and do so expediently. Plus we’re all former military and can draw on our ability to follow when needed. Gives you a sense of brotherhood like nothing else can.”

  He opened the glass library doors and waited for her to enter, but she stopped to look around the room. He wondered what she thought of the heavy furniture his father had chosen. Or the many bookshelves his mother had packed with first editions and other expensive leather-bound books. All books his father never took a moment to read. Fiction, he said, was for the lazy. Self-help and entrepreneurial books were for the successful man.

  At a small round table, Rick pulled out a chair for her. She sat and clasped her hands in her lap. “Okay. I’m ready. What is it?”

  “Do you know a Cesar Santos?” Kaci asked.

  “He was my client. Don’t tell me he’s involved in this.”

  “Did he know Ace?” Max asked.

  “Not that I remember, but I worked with Cesar long before I knew Ace, so it’s possible.” She shifted in her chair. “They were both marines. I suppose they could have met there.”

  “With the size of the marine corps, the opposite is also possible,” Rick said, but he doubted his own statement.

  Olivia sat forward. “If it’s important, we can check my records first thing in the morning to see if they ever mentioned each other in a session.”

  “What about your other clients? Might they have known Ace or Cesar?” Rick decided to follow the same tack they’d taken with Griffin, using his first name to keep Olivia more relaxed and open.

  “Again, not that I know of, but I mostly work with PTSD clients, so it’s possible.” She shifted in her chair, sitting up higher.

  “How are clients referred to you?” Brynn asked.

  “I can’t receive official referrals from the VA because I’m a Christian counselor, but there are a few doctors on staff there who send patients my way. And doctors in private practice who don’t handle PTSD refer, too, as do clients.”

  “Do you keep a record of how a client is referred?” Brynn asked.

  “If a doctor or the VA refers them, yes, as I also request records. If they self-refer or another patient refers, no.”

  “There was nothing in Ace’s file about Cesar referring him, but might he have done so?”

  “I don’t remember that happening.”

  “When’s the last time you spoke with Cesar?” Rick asked.

  “At his last appointment. Right before he moved back to Mobile. Again, it’s been years, so I’ll have to check my records to be certain, but I don’t recall having a reason to talk with him after that.”

  Rick watched her carefully for any disingenuousness but found none. But then, how could she be so uncertain about a former client? Didn’t sit right with him, as if he’d been wrong about her, and she really didn’t care about her clients.

  “So he moved, and that’s why your counseling relationship ended?” he asked.

  “That and he’d finished his treatment, so it would have ended soon anyway.” She rubbed her palms over her shorts.

  He hated seeing her so nervous, but couldn’t let that stop his questions. “Do you know why he moved?”

  “Cesar and his wife reconciled during counseling, and they moved back to her hometown.” She cocked her head. “Why all the questions about him anyway?”

  “He was killed six days ago by a large-caliber round,” Rick said.

  She gasped, and her hand flew to her chest. “Like Ace, you mean?”

  “We don’t have details, but there are some similarities.”

  “Then you have to look into it. Find out why anyone would kill him.” She bit her lip and seemed to be processing the news when her eyes suddenly widened. “Oh my gosh. Do you think someone is targeting my cli
ents or former clients? But who? I mean that’s crazy, right? Wait. This killer is crazy. Okay, fine, that’s not a word a psychologist should use. So unstable, then. Demented. Either way, he’s a killer.”

  She drew in a deep breath and panted as if heading for an anxiety attack.

  Rick sat in a chair next to her and made eye contact. “Breathe, Olivia. Just breathe.”

  She shot a look around at the team members. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually this unsettled, but he killed two of my clients.” She shot out a hand and gripped Rick’s arm. “Could this be why he shot at me today? Because he has some grudge against me, like you said? Maybe something related to Ace and Cesar?”

  “Or he has an unhealthy attraction to you,” Cal said, and Rick knew he was thinking about the man who’d targeted his wife not too long ago. “He might want to eliminate the men in your life.”

  “The only man in my life is my brother, but I suppose if the killer had lost touch with reality he could see my clients as something other than clients. Still, I can’t think of anyone who displayed such an attraction.”

  “But you can’t totally rule it out?” Max asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Would explain why someone tried to kill you outside your office,” Rick said. “But with no contact with Cesar for years, it wouldn’t explain why he was murdered.”

  “Then let’s push this thought to the back burner for now,” Max said.

  Rick regretted having to say his next thought aloud, but it was best coming from him. “We’ll need to know where you were at Cesar’s time of death.”

  “Me? You suspect me?” He hadn’t thought her voice could go higher, but it was as shrill as a bottle rocket screaming into the air. “You think I killed him. That’s ludicrous. I’ve never even held a gun, much less shot one. I hate them. Ever since my dad…I would never own one. The police even checked at Ace’s murder scene to see if I had a bruise from shooting a gun. I didn’t then. I don’t now.” She pulled aside her shirt to reveal a bruise-free, creamy shoulder.

  “We’ll take that into account.” Rick wished not having a bruise proved she hadn’t fired the M82A3 rifle that had been modified for smart bullets. The weapon had a significant muzzle suppressor that helped reduce the recoil, thus reducing bruising. Also it was heavy, and the resulting recoil wasn’t bad. If she’d fired this bad boy and hadn’t wanted a bruise, she’d have had to pull it tight and make good contact between the weapon’s shoulder stock and her shoulder.

  He tried to imagine her lying behind this weapon, one of the girlie skirts she liked to wear splayed out. Her sky-high-heeled pumps lying flat. Her finger with the brightly polished nail dropping down to the trigger.

  Nah. She was a girlie girl. All feminine and seemingly without the least interest in firearms. True, that was a superficial, maybe sexist evaluation, but his gut said he was on target. So if she’d never shot a gun, hated them actually, that would make her a prime candidate for not holding the weapon correctly and sustaining a bruise. Still…

  “Our background check on you will continue,” he said.

  “It’s a waste of time looking into me. I could never…I never.” She sighed. “I wouldn’t hurt Cesar or anyone else.”

  “Doesn’t mean you don’t know the shooter.”

  “But I don’t.” Her eyes filled with anguish. “Have you all been thinking I was the killer all this time?”

  Rick wanted to assure her that he didn’t think she was the shooter, as he really didn’t, but he couldn’t speak for everyone in the room. “The person who finds a body is always suspected of a connection to the murder until we can rule them out, and you found Ace.”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose, and it cut him to the quick to have to keep her on his suspect list, but like it or not, he had a job to do here. “If there’s anything you think I should know, you should tell me now.”

  “Like what? That I’m a secret serial killer? That I have an arsenal of weapons hidden in my home?” Her voice rose with each statement, and her gaze cut wildly around the room, her crestfallen expression making him feel even worse. He wished he could let go of his distrust, but he couldn’t until clear-cut facts proved her innocence.

  “We have to do our due diligence,” Max said. “And that means knowing where you were when Cesar died.”

  “Okay.” She clasped her hands together. “I keep a detailed schedule. If he was killed during the day, I’ll be able to give you my exact location and my clients can vouch for me. Weekends and evenings I spend with Dianna.”

  Rick nodded and refrained from saying that with her sleeping pills, Dianna was in no position to provide a nighttime alibi for Olivia. “Once we have the details on the investigation, we’ll let you know.”

  “I don’t want that suspicion hanging over my head, so how long will that be?”

  “I’m heading to Alabama tomorrow to talk to the detective for Cesar’s investigation, and maybe that will shed light on the subject.”

  “Wouldn’t it be faster to request his reports by e-mail?”

  “Perhaps, but I want to visit the crime scene and talk to any witnesses.”

  She nodded absently, seeming lost in her thoughts, before her eyes widened. “Can I come with you? I’d like to pay my respects to Cesar’s wife. My friend Patsy lives in Mobile, so I can stay with her if we need to spend the night. You could, too, if you want.”

  Rick nodded and caught the look in his teammates’ eyes. They were thinking the same thing he was. She might have made her quick request to accompany him because she was a special person who really did want to offer condolences to a grieving widow, or because she had other motives. The very reason he would make sure she remained in his sight at all times.

  Chapter 16

  Friday, September 15

  8:12 a.m.

  Olivia and Rick headed up to the stairs to Olivia’s office, where they planned to review her records to see if Ace or Cesar ever mentioned each other. Key at the ready, she rounded the corner to her office and came to a screeching halt. “The door’s open.”

  Rick pushed past her and drew his weapon. “Stay out here and call 911.”

  She reached for her phone, but Rick’s smooth movements mesmerized her as he eased up on the door and flattened his back against the wall, reminding her of a sleek panther seeking his prey. He shot a quick look inside, then back at her. “Make that call.”

  His pointed look had her dialing while he disappeared inside.

  “FBI,” he called out. “Show yourself.”

  The 911 operator answered the call, and Olivia reported the break-in while trying to listen for any indication that Rick was in danger. She heard only silence from her office. She moved closer to the door to listen.

  “Is anyone injured?” the operator asked, making Olivia jump.

  “I don’t know about injuries. I’m with FBI agent Rick Cannon, and he’s gone inside the office to check things out.”

  Rick stepped into the hallway, and Olivia barely heard the operator promise to send a patrol officer before she hung up.

  He holstered his gun. “The office is trashed.” He gestured at her phone. “Are they sending an officer?”

  She nodded and pocketed her phone. “But what’s the point when you’re already here?”

  “Break-ins don’t fall under the FBI’s purview, so you’ll want a local officer to take a report for insurance purposes.”

  She glanced at the doorway. “Can I take a look?”

  “Yes, but be careful not to touch anything.”

  She entered the waiting room, thankful to see it was undisturbed. She approached her office, and her heart fell. Sure, Rick had told her it had been trashed, but seeing folders and reports that she’d carefully filed strewn across the floor, along with books from her shelves and items from her desk, sliced through her heart. When she spotted her favorite crystal lamp shattered in pieces, she could barely contain her tears.

  She clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from s
obbing and took breaths in and out through her nose. Rick stepped up behind her. Even if she hadn’t heard him, the warmth of his body told her he was there. Warmth that gave her the courage not to flee. Not to turn tail and run from the invasion of her privacy and all the other disasters in her life right now.

  “Does your waiting area camera record or just let you see the visitor?” he asked.

  “No recordings.”

  “Too bad. We might have gotten a lead from it.” He paused, remaining completely still behind her. “Your computer is gone. Means your files are gone, too.”

  She spun to look at him. She could clearly see the pores on his face and realized she was standing way too close. She stepped back rather than give in to the temptation to lean against him for support. “Why would anyone want my files?”

  “As far as I see it, there are a few possibilities.” His gaze darkened, telling her she wouldn’t like what he had to say.

  “Like?”

  “Like the person who emptied your bank account believed you might have something to incriminate him on your laptop and so he took the machine.”

  “Then he’s out of luck. I have nothing but client files on that computer.”

  “It could also be that Ace and Cesar’s killer is worried you have something in their files that will incriminate him.”

  “That makes sense.” She pondered other reasons to take the computer, setting her breakfast churning in her stomach.

  She glanced at Rick and found him watching her, the same suspicion lingering in his eyes that had been there last night.

  “With the way you’re looking at me,” she said, “I’d think you believe I had someone steal my computer so you couldn’t request the rest of my files or calendar to prove my alibi.”

  His eyebrow went up, and he didn’t deny her claim.

  She stared at him for a long moment, trying to make sense of the fact that he seriously believed she was a criminal. “How can you think such a thing after getting to know me?”

  “It’s my job. I don’t have to believe everything I speculate on, but I do have to follow up.”

  Disappointment radiating through her, she lifted her chin. “I’d thought…I mean…” She shrugged.