Interesting that all of the Dashford Reid sisters gravitated toward men of a certain type—nothing like their father. Military men, bodyguards. Fixers. Wealthy to be sure, but full of danger.
Danger that’s on your side isn’t really danger, though. It’s protection.
And in an instant, I see that all of the Reid sisters are painfully aware of their need for protection—and to protect each other.
Even though Taylor hurt Hailey a long time ago, wounds that haven’t healed, the middle sister is here, hating me for not protecting her sister enough.
“Thank you for seeing me. I understand you’ve been in contact with the Missing Persons Unit. And you get how it is. I can’t say anything that would jeopardize the investigation.” Or anything that might get picked up by microphones if the room is hot.
Cole reads my mind. “We’ve swept the space, and we’ve got signal disrupters in place. This is a safe space.”
“Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. But I don’t know you people.” I look at Hailey and Alison. “I know your sister. I know she wouldn’t want you to worry.”
“Someone wants to kill her,” Hailey finally speaks. There’s nothing soft about her voice. It’s full of steel. Regal. “If she’s harmed in any way, we’ll make sure the LAPD and the FBI are all dragged for that. If you can’t keep her safe—”
I can. I am.
“Could we speak privately?” I look at Alison. “Both of you. Just for a moment.”
Cole and Scott don’t move from their guard dog positions near their wives. Not until Hailey stands and nods. “Yes, all right.”
When we’re alone, I hand over the note.
Hailey starts to cry. “When did she write this?”
“After she left the police station.” Technically, that’s true.
“And she’s safe right now?”
“Yes.”
“They told us they didn’t know where she was.”
“Nobody does. That is keeping her safe, Ms. Reid. She’s very worried about leaks inside law enforcement that go to the highest levels of the government.”
Hailey’s eyes snap to my face. Searching. “And do you believe her?”
“Yes.” I don’t hesitate here. This is crucial. “I absolutely believe her. I know she’s in danger. I know she’s a survivor, and she knows things, and there are people who would hurt her for that knowledge.”
“Our parents?” This question is from Ali. Her voice cracks, and I don’t miss that Hailey takes her younger sister’s hand and squeezes.
“Anyone in a position of extreme power and privilege has a lot to lose if that position is threatened.” A lot of words to say, yes, maybe your fucking parents.
“Gerome Lively?” Hailey asks. Her voice doesn’t crack and she doesn’t need anyone to hold her hand. “The FBI won’t look at him. The civil case ground to a halt when Victor Best was elected president. If you have any power to look into him, you should do that. My husband can provide you with any information you might need.”
“Your husband’s information isn’t helpful to me, Ms. Reid.”
“Mrs. Parker,” she corrects me.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.” She flicks her gaze to the far side of the room, and her husband appears from behind a door.
Protection. Fear.
For all their privilege, these women didn’t know safety until they left their family—and still, threats bark at their door.
“Thank you for the tip,” I tell her. “I’ll see myself out.”
My next stop is the station, where the captain has organized a teleconference with the forensics team in Quantico. I arrive early to give myself time to check in with my team before Ferdinand arrives. I’ll stay well after he leaves, too, to make sure I’m not followed before I go home.
The first thing I do is run a more detailed report on Gerome Lively and make a few calls on the down low. A contact I trust in Miami, and another call to Kendra Browning in D.C.
She picks up on the first ring. “Detective Vasquez. I understand everything has gone sideways out there.”
“Sometimes shit has to fall apart before it can get pieced back together properly.”
“Is this an unofficial call? I heard the Feds have taken over the case.”
“Something like that.” I tell her about my conversation with Hailey Parker. “This guy seems above the law. That doesn’t scare me, but I don’t want to run into the same problems others have with getting blocked as the case moves through the system. Cop to cop, should I ask the Horus Group for their dossier on him?”
She hesitates. A long silence, followed by a frustrated sigh. “They’re good guys. But their means are dubious at best.”
“I got that impression.”
“If you aren’t sure you’re going to be able to take a case forward, it’s almost better to leave them alone to do their thing. Trust me on this—Cole Parker isn’t going to let that guy go without justice being done. He’s holding back for his wife’s sake. She wants it to go down in a legal way. But he’s watching. He’s got Lively on a digital leash, for sure.”
I don’t like that. Vigilante justice isn’t justice, because it’s not available to everyone.
But I get it.
“Patience isn’t the same as inaction,” she says in my ear. “But it can feel too damn similar sometimes.”
Don’t I know it. I’m restless and ready for the case to break open. “Thanks.”
“I’ll put my ear to the ground here and let you know if anything comes up.”
After I hang up, I rock back in my chair, thinking about how I want to document this new lead. It takes me a while to write up a short report on my brief interview with the Reid sisters. Then I carry it to Captain Woods’ office myself.
She looks up from her computer when I knock on the door. “Vasquez, how’s vacation going?”
“Turns out I don’t like taking days off,” I say, handing over the report. “Thanks for the heads up on the Reid sisters’ arrival. I went to see them. Turned over a bit of a boulder there. Hailey Parker says we should look at Gerome Lively.”
Her eyebrows hit the roof. “This isn’t our case anymore.”
“Then let’s make a new case.”
“You can’t simply start investigating private citizens who’ve had their day in court already.” She holds up her hand when I start to hotly protest. “I’m not telling you he’s not worthy of investigating. I’ll have your back here. But I thought you wanted to transfer to undercover? Are you sure you want to start something that could take months or even years to come to a close?”
That pulls me up short.
She gives me a grim frown. “Think before you leap, Vasquez.”
Fuck.
Pulling open her drawer, she puts the report away. “After this video call with Quantico, I want you to take your vacation time. For real. Go home. Be bored. And think about what you really want to do for your next move. Maybe you don’t need to get tangled up in a case here, when you’ve been itching to move on to a whole new challenge for the last year.” Her knowing, experienced gaze searches my face. “Unless all of this has shifted your thinking.”
Something has shifted. A seismic crack has formed beneath my feet, but God damned if I know what’s going to happen next.
“I’ll take some time,” I finally say. Gruff. Humble.
She hears it, too. Her eyes light up with clear amusement. “Any chance you’ll have company for that thinking time?”
The captain knows I know where Taylor is. She doesn’t know that Taylor is at my house. “No comment.”
“I like her,” she says.
I hear footsteps behind me, and twist around to find Ram and Sarah approaching. Saved by the crowd. “Are you guys going to sit in on the conference call?”
“Wouldn’t miss a chance to see how the big boys do things,” McBride cracks.
“I’m bringing popcorn,” Singh adds.
I roll my eyes. “Maybe I shouldn�
��t transfer. Fewer chances of gold-level comedic relief on undercover details.”
“You shouldn’t transfer because we solve your cases for you and make you look good,” Sarah says. “The real reason we’re sitting in is because we’ve caught a break. There was a note left at the very first reservoir murder. And I think—”
Ram clears his throat.
“Singh and I think it may be from the same person who left the threatening note for Taylor Reid.” She hands over a photocopied piece of paper.
My blood turns cold as I look down at it.
That does look like the same handwriting. “You’ve sent it to Quantico?”
“Our guys have uploaded the scan to their servers, yep.”
“Jesus.” I turn back to the captain, who already has my report pulled back out of her desk. I take it from her and hand it to McBride. “Then you might want to pull all flight records for Gerome Lively, and see if his travel to and from California line up with your murder dates.”
“The billionaire?” Sarah scans the notes of my brief conversation with Hailey and Alison. “Shit, Vasquez. What have you gotten us into here?”
“A case that could make your career.”
I don’t want it. And as soon as that thought flashes through my mind, I know it’s true. I’m too close to Taylor. I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but I can’t be on the case. Not officially. But before I walk away, I’m going to make sure they know just exactly how complicated this could get.
“He’s dirty, and well-connected. He got a sweetheart of a deal from the US attorney in Miami, who is now the Under Secretary for Agriculture for Natural Resources, not a portfolio he has any experience in—curious. Lively’s relationship with the president goes back decades. And even though he was caught red-handed for kidnapping, somehow he managed to skate. The civil suit stalled out. The whole situation stinks. He will think he’s above the law.”
Singh whistles, a low, dark sound. “Maybe he is.”
Anger curdles in my gut.
Captain Woods stands up, her eyes flashing. “Not if he’s killed women in Los Angeles. We’ll nail his ass to the fucking wall. I don’t care if the president is his best fucking friend.” Her gaze locks on my face for a moment then snaps to Singh and McBride. “Let’s keep that element to ourselves for now. We’re not handing this part of the case over to the FBI, and they’ve bungled the Lively file before. Got it?”
“Got it, boss.”
She exhales roughly. “Let’s go see what the lab rats have done with our evidence.”
The elevator dings as we cross the squad room. Agent Ferdinand steps into the hallway, and he’s not alone. There’s another generic looking white guy with him, this one with white-blond hair.
“Newcomb,” he says, holding out his hand to introduce himself. “Secret Service.”
The same one who punted us the bad tip in the first place. I shake his hand as I size him up. “Vasquez.”
His hand tightens around mine. “The one who went to Washington.”
I give him a neutral, but rueful smile. “Yeah, that was a bit of a waste of time.”
“Shame to hear that Ms. Reid went on the run. She didn’t need to do that.”
Captain Woods interrupts. “We were all disappointed in how that went down, and remain hopeful that she’ll contact us—and her family, too. Shall we go into the briefing now?”
I’m disappointed that Ram doesn’t actually have popcorn, but we don’t need it because the Forensics lead agent on the other side of the country has some bombshell news for us once we’re all seated and the video conference has begun.
They start with a round of introductions, then an overview of what analysis they’ve completed so far, and what is still outstanding. But it doesn’t take them long to get to the meat of the news. “Long story short, the device was not a high explosive. It was designed to look like a bomb and scare someone good, but since they chose to set it off when she wasn’t near the car…” She trails off when Ferdinand waves his hand at the camera on our end.
“Yes, Agent Ferdinand?”
“Can you clarify that? They chose to set it off when she wasn’t near the car?”
“That’s right. We have verified that the explosive was detonated by a cell phone signal, not the key fob trigger as initially hypothesized.”
Shit. I share an alarmed look with McBride, and I can feel the captain looking at Ram in the same way.
My brain starts spinning, putting that afternoon together in a different way now. Did the stalker want her to think she’d detonated it? Was he watching her remotely? We fanned out pretty quickly. The bird in the sky didn’t see anything. We’ll have to go over the video footage again, but I don’t think we missed anything there. He wasn’t right fucking there, watching her, was he?
Or was it just a fluke that she’d been so desperate to get away from me that she happened to jab the key fob at the same moment the bomb detonated?
On the screen, the lab specialists go through the evidence.
The electric detonator, the container of the device stuffed with black powder, but less then they’d normally expect, and a lot of glitter tissue paper.
“Glitter tissue paper?” Again the question is from Ferdinand.
The agent on the screen nods. “I’m going to switch cameras so you can see it. It’s fascinating.”
Normally I’m all for the morbid curiosity of the Forensics crews, but not tonight. The burn in my gut gets worse as the screen flickers and changes to an overhead shot of an evidence table.
Taped-together tissue paper scraps litter one half of it like a bizarre ticker-tape parade had rained down on the lab counter. Pink, shiny glitter and torn scraps of gauzy white. The bizarre puzzle that needed to be solved.
She shows us the detonator next then Newcomb has some questions for her that I tune out because Sarah pokes me and shows me a scribbled note on her pad of paper. Glitter tissue paper???? A PRESENT. A GIFT. Then she pauses before adding, STALKER.
I nod. I’d already started thinking along that line, and this reinforces it. That kind of touch might be an accidental tell on the part of the perp. Presents, gifts—they’re personal. It would change it from a crime for hire to something with a more sinister agenda.
Revenge?
Whoever did this didn’t want to kill Taylor.
And if they’ve killed other women…
Sarah taps her pen against my fist, clenched at my side. Then she starts writing again.
We’ve got this. You can go to her.
I jerk my gaze up to find hers. She gives me a tight, small smile, then quietly rips off the top sheet of paper and pushes it into my hand
Go to her.
I’m on vacation, after all. I don’t need to stay for this.
I need to trust my team and give them some distance before I do something that could endanger everything because I’m too close to the target.
Before I can talk myself out of being selfish, I get up and leave the conference room. I’m running by the time I hit the garage, the note shoved deep in my pocket.
I can’t go straight home. But I will lose any tail they have waiting for me, and then, eventually, I will make my way back to Taylor tonight.
And I won’t leave her again until they catch this fucker, whoever he is.
20
Taylor
Luke isn’t back by the time it gets dark. I turn off most of the lights, leave him a note on the kitchen table, although I’m sure his observation net will catch that I’m going into the backyard. Then I put on my bathing suit and open the back door, stepping into the warm evening air.
It’s nice to be outside after being cooped up all day, even if the space around the pool is completely fenced in and private enough that it might as well be a part of the house. If I had to sit and wait alone, for even a second more, I would have gone crazy. Swimming is just active enough that it may give my brain something to focus on instead of panic and worry.
Wha
t’s taking him so long?
I sink into the water, up to my neck, and undo the strings of my bikini. That gives me a little rush, a dopamine hit that soothes my nerves.
When I first moved out here, I went through a long dark period. It wasn’t until a therapist gently pointed out that I had been using sex to manage my brain chemistry—and deal with the trauma of my life—that I realized that by depriving myself of that completely was a mistake.
But I couldn’t just jump onto Tinder. What would my profile look like? Check out my highlight reel, widely available in all corners of the internet, starring me and the guy who used to be number two in line to run the country?
And I didn’t even want to have sex with men. Or women, although I did consider that as a seriously good idea for a while.
No. I needed to learn how to have sex with myself, first. How to flirt with myself, tease myself, make myself happy on my own terms.
So this is like a little date with myself. A little thrill, a little gimme of happiness in the middle of terrifying darkness.
Sadly, terror isn’t new to me. I’m a pro at coping.
I roll onto my back and float like that, blinking up at the stars.
When the living room light blinks on, casting a yellow glow across part of the yard, I know Luke is home. But before I can swim to the edge and grab my bikini top, the back door opens, and he steps outside.
“Hey.” His voice sounds rough. Tired.
“Welcome back.”
“All was quiet?”
“Very.” Too quiet.
He nods. For a moment, he looks like he’s going to launch into saying something then he stops. He tips his head to the side. “Can I join you?”
I laugh. “You’ll have to pass me my bikini top first.” Lifting my arm out of the water, I point at the scrap of white fabric at his feet.
“Taylor, are you skinny dipping?”
“Not exactly. I just took my top off.”
“Ah.”
“Are you disappointed?”
“Not at all.” He reaches down and snags my top then tosses it carefully so that it lands right in front of me. “I’ll, uh—”
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