The Shark (Forgotten Files Book 1)

by Mary Burton

  The time for her coyness had passed. “Look, I know the last time we hooked up, it meant more to me than it did to you. I get that. I’m trying not to make the same mistake twice.”

  “It was a tough time for me. You were a perfect light in the darkness, but I wasn’t ready to feel good or be happy. I woke up that morning and for the first time didn’t think about Karen, and I felt guilty as hell.”

  She braced for another rejection. “It’s okay.”

  “I’m not that guy anymore.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not the same gal. My life has more complications than it did before.”

  “Hanna’s a good kid.”

  “She is and she’s also a teenager with abandonment issues. It’s not always easy. We’re a package. Like Cooper and I are a package on the job.”

  He traced her jawline with his thumb.

  “I understand.”

  A muscle tensed in his jaw as he stared at her. Without a word, he tipped his head forward and kissed her. Against her lips, he whispered, “You’re better than I remember. And a few hours isn’t going to cut it for me.”

  His hand came up and stroked her breast and she leaned into the touch, every nerve in her body firing again.

  “I love your hair,” he said as he raised a lock of it to his nose. “It still smells like roses.”

  When he entered her the second time, her breath caught in her throat and she had to fight not to rush to orgasm. It had been too long since she’d been touched like this.

  He rose, staring at her with an intensity that stole her breath. He moved faster and faster while the heat built inside her so quickly she couldn’t stop it. Within seconds her body tensed and she climaxed, the sensations rolling over her like crashing waves.

  “Riley,” he said.

  He kissed her as he thrust deeper inside her, and within seconds, climaxed even harder than the first time. Finally, he rolled on his back and stared up at the ceiling. Despite what they shared, she couldn’t read his expression. She’d promised herself this would be casual. She would not get invested. But she’d dealt with enough liars to know she was lying to herself.

  Her phone rang, and as she sat up to get it, he grabbed a handful of her hair and playfully tugged.

  “I need to check. Hanna is traveling.”

  He released her, relaxing back against the pillow. This was a man who understood duty.

  She found her pants on the floor and unclipped her cell phone from the waistband.

  “Tatum, this is Sharp. I thought you might like to know we have two more bodies.”

  Her thoughts went to Sandy, to Jo-Jo, and other girls she’d spoken to over the last few days. “Who?”

  “Not over the phone. You have to see this. I’ll text you the address.”

  “Okay, I’ll be right there.” She hung up, holding the phone close to her chest before she squared her shoulders.

  Bowman traced his hand over her back. “What?”

  “They found two bodies. Sharp won’t say who.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “Thanks. Second set of eyes might pick up something.”

  She quickly dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and ankle boots before going to get Cooper. “Work time, Cooper.”

  No matter what time of day it was or how little sleep they’d both had, Cooper was always ready to work. After Riley texted the address to Bowman’s phone, she pulled on her belt and holstered her gun. She ran fingers through her hair and made a ponytail.

  At the front door, Bowman grabbed her arm and tugged her close, kissing her on the lips.

  She smiled, and without a word, they each got into their vehicles. Twenty minutes later they arrived at the rural scene.

  Several marked local and state cars were at the scene, as was the news van with Eddie Potter. The man must live on the police scanner.

  Potter spotted her and started to move toward her. She heard Bowman get out of his SUV and slam the door closed, but she didn’t dare look back. The last thing she needed was Potter suspecting a connection between her and Bowman.

  She moved toward the reporter, her hand outstretched. “Mr. Potter, you keep long hours.”

  “I couldn’t pass this up. Can you tell me anything about the victim?”

  “I just arrived. I suggest you talk to Agent Sharp.”

  The reporter’s face soured. “Tried that. Would rather not get my head bitten off again.”

  She forced down a smile. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I do need to check in.”

  “You’ll double back and talk to me?”

  “Can’t make any promises.”

  Bowman had moved across the field toward the yellow crime scene tape and caught Sharp’s attention. As she moved toward them, she heard Sharp’s deep voice. “We don’t know much at this point. I checked local property records on the way out here. No connection to the victims.”

  “Who are they?” Riley asked.

  “Jax Carter and Darla Johnson,” Sharp replied.

  “What!” Riley didn’t hide her surprise.

  “Go look for yourself.”

  Sharp handed them latex gloves, which they each donned before ducking under the tape. Riley walked up to Martin as he snapped pictures. “Mind if Mr. Bowman has a look? He’s worked his share of homicides.”

  “Sure. I don’t mind.”

  Bowman followed Riley into the crime scene. They stared at thick ropes tossed over a beam and wrapped around the man’s and woman’s necks. The two dangled, their heads slumped forward, mouths agape, and the settling blood darkening their limp fingers. “Have you checked their pockets yet?” Riley asked.

  “Not yet,” Martin said. “I’m still photographing the scene.”

  “Mind if I check?” Bowman asked.

  Martin stood back. “Let Agent Sharp do it, and I’ll photograph him.”

  Sharp stepped forward and reached into Carter’s back jeans pocket. He found a wallet stuffed full of money. “Not a robbery.” He dropped the wallet into a plastic evidence bag and checked the other back pocket. Sharp pulled out a playing card. It was a joker.

  “Another card?” Martin asked.

  Sharp held up the card and studied the morbid smile of the joker in the center. The very ordinary card wasn’t like the ones found on the dead girls. “I suppose this is some kind of message.”

  “They both were bit players in all this,” Bowman said. “And whatever they did, the Shark didn’t like it.”

  The Shark stared at the videotape of the girl sitting in the chair. Drugged and nearly unconscious, she possessed the physical beauty he always craved. Long dark hair. A slim face. Tapered hands. Like Angie. All were angels damaged and ruined by the streets, all of whom he set free from this world’s pain and suffering.

  Angie had been dead for twelve years, but he still couldn’t forget her. He’d thought killing her would cleanse her from his senses, but she had burrowed deep under his skin and pierced his soul. Even now, she invaded his dreams, laughing at him, calling him common. “You’re pathetic,” she said.

  Killing her was never the plan. He’d wanted her to love him and to understand the depth of his feelings. But instead of acceptance, she’d laughed and turned away from him. She’d shown him her back. Disrespected him—something she’d never have done if not for the streets.

  On that long-ago night, he’d snapped, grabbed her, and spun her around. Still, his frustration had amused her. She’d pouted as if looking at a small harmless child. He never remembered wrapping his hands around her neck. He was so lost in his own grief, he didn’t hear her choke and gasp as he squeezed until the smile vanished and panic bloomed in her gaze. Her fingers, long and delicate, rose to his, trying to pry them free as pain distorted her features.

  Her killing should have satisfied him. But even after all these years, he still heard her laughter. He still saw her in his dreams, mocking him.

  The girl on the tape was not Angie. She was Riley. But she was so very similar to Angie that the
y could have been sisters. He traced the computer screen with his index finger; the sight of her could make him weep. She didn’t look damaged, but he knew the streets had ruined her as they had destroyed Angie.

  “I’ve won,” the other player said.

  Twelve years hadn’t dulled the sting of disbelief. For the first time, he’d lost.

  “Pay your debt,” the winner said. “Give me my money and the girl.”

  Watching the recording, the Shark reached for a glass of bourbon and drank it in one gulp, wincing as the liquid burned his throat. She had been so drugged, she barely noticed his touch.

  Refilling the glass, he raised it to his lips and stared at Riley’s image, picturing the cord wrapping around her neck. He imagined her rapid pulse beating against the cord. The need to kill her—to kill Angie again—burning so strong.

  Shoving aside the countless regrets he still attached to the day he lost Riley, he curled his fingers into fists, remembering what the video recording didn’t capture.

  “You aren’t doing her any favors,” the Shark said. “She’s been on the streets. She’s damaged. She’ll never be right.”

  “That’s my problem. Not yours.”

  “You’re making a mistake. Kill her.”

  “Not today.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Conscience? Hedging my bets. Who knows?”

  The Shark cursed. “Take your money. Take the girl. And be grateful Lady Luck favored you today.”

  Now twelve years later, he wanted a rematch. He was all in.

  Riley stayed at the crime scene for hours. She hoped that there’d be some bit of evidence that would tell her anything about this killer who had landed in her backyard and was circling around her like a stalking panther.

  It was after eight when she walked through the back door of her house after disarming the newly installed alarm. Standing in the utility room, she didn’t turn on the light as she stripped off her clothes, shoved them in a garbage bag, and tossed them outside. They smelled of death, and she did not want the stench coming into her house.

  She locked the door behind her, checking it twice, and moved to the shower. Andrews had told her to keep the bandage dry for a couple of days, so she wrapped plastic wrap around her arm and turned on the water. When it was hot, she stepped under the spray, washing off the scent of the crime scene.

  She dried off her hair and body and slipped into an oversized shirt before she unwrapped the plastic from her arm. She inspected the small insertion site, and the gravity of the Shark’s reach struck home.

  Threading her fingers through her wet hair, she moved into the kitchen and pulled out yesterday’s leftover chili from Duke’s. She popped it in the microwave and hit two minutes. Her doorbell rang and, without a thought, she reached for her gun. She moved to the side of the door. “Yes?”

  “It’s Duke.”

  She opened the door. “What brings you here?”

  “I came to check on you.”

  “Alive and well. Come on inside.” He moved into the house. She glanced around, seeing Hanna’s extra junk shoved in a corner and her own coat draped over a chair by a stack of magazines and papers. She didn’t care that Duke was seeing the mess but remembered Bowman had seen the chaos that came with a teenager in her home. She’d scared him off once before, and if she didn’t now with her more complicated life, she’d be shocked. “I was heating up some chili. Can I offer you some?”

  He slid his hand into his pocket. “Naw, had my fill of it today. I heard about Jax and Darla.”

  “Isn’t that something? Guy tangles with the devil and gets nabbed.”

  A frown deepened the lines in his forehead. “What does that mean?”

  She smoothed her hand over her head, knowing anything she said to Duke wouldn’t be leaked. “Without going into a lot of detail, the man that Bowman is chasing might have killed them.”

  “The man who killed Vicky? I thought he was dead.”

  “There’s another man who’s setting up these poker games. The stake in the game is a girl with a very specific look.”

  “Shit.”

  “You used to gamble a lot. Did you hear of games like that?”

  “Life-or-death games. Sure, I heard rumors. But I always figured it was a lot of hype.”

  “Yeah. I don’t understand it myself. But if Jax and his girlfriend knew anything, they took it to their graves.”

  “Can’t say I’m sorry they’re dead. Scum. I told Jo-Jo. She didn’t say much, but I know she’ll sleep better tonight knowing they’re no longer a threat.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “It’s going to be a long haul. And girls like her sometimes never completely leave the street behind. They’re scared. At least she has a decent chance now.”

  “That’s all anyone can ask.”

  He snapped his fingers, as if remembering the reason for the visit. “Maria wants you and Hanna to stay with us until this is over.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not leaving my home. But I will take you up on the offer to keep Hanna.”

  He allowed his gaze to roam the house, settling on the windows and the back French doors that opened to a small backyard. “Riley, we don’t like the idea of you being here alone. It scares the hell out of us.”

  “I’ll manage. I even have a fancy new security system courtesy of Shield.”

  He shook his head. “I can tell by the tone of your voice that your mind is made up.”

  “It is.”

  “When is Hanna due back?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  He took a step forward and wrapped his arms around her. She relaxed into the embrace, thinking this is what it must feel like to have a father that loved her. “You’re going to be okay, kid.”

  “Right.”

  He kissed her on top of her head and stepped back. “I know you’ve had a long day, so I’ll go. Lock the doors after I’m gone. Call if you need anything.”

  Unshed tears tightened her throat. “Will do.”

  When she locked the door behind him, she leaned against it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Friday, September 23, 6:03 a.m.

  Riley’s ringing phone woke her up minutes after six, and she realized she’d overslept. She pushed up and grabbed it, glancing at the number. She didn’t recognize it. Groaned. Then remembering Hanna was traveling, she shoved the phone against her ear and said, “Tatum.”

  “Riley, this is Hanna.”

  She sat up, glancing at the red digital numbers glowing from the nightstand. The girl sounded agitated—no, terrified, just as she had when she’d first found her. “Honey, what’s wrong? Where are you?”

  “I’m at this house.” She pulled in a breath as if trying to stem the tide of tears. “And I don’t know how I got here.”

  Riley swung her legs over the side of the bed, her heart kicking into high gear. Her thoughts jumped to the Shark. “Are you sure you’re not in the hotel room?”

  “No. I remember the hotel room. We woke up early to get on the road. An hour ago, we were at a gas station. I went to the counter to get a drink. I drank about half, but it tasted funny, so I threw it out. I said I was going to be sick, and some man helped me out to the alley to throw up. I passed out. And now I’m here.”

  “Where is here?” Standing, Riley frantically searched for her clothes. Fear circled around her.

  Hanna began to cry. “Riley, I’m scared.”

  She glanced toward the other side of her bed, noting only the faint impression of Bowman’s head still etched in the pillow. She struggled to keep her voice calm. “I need you to take a deep breath. Stay focused, Hanna.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “You’re doing just fine.” She hurried to her dresser drawer, where with trembling hands, she yanked out jeans and a clean shirt. “Do you know where the house is? Do you remember any part of the ride?”

  “I don’t remember anything.”

  “What about sounds. Did you hear anything
?”

  “No.” She drew in a ragged breath. “You’re supposed to come. He said there will be a car outside for you.”

  Panic rose. She’d thought Hanna would be safe out of town, but now she could see that was foolish. The Shark had found her. She struggled to keep her voice calm. “Who is he?”

  “I don’t know. I do know the car will be there in three minutes.” She started to weep. “Riley, I’m scared.”

  Her heart hammered as her mind raced to the next step. “It’s okay, Hanna. I’ll be there. I’m coming for you.”

  Silence filled the line.

  “Hanna!” When the girl didn’t answer, Riley shouted her name again. God, this was her kid, and it was her fault that Hanna was now in danger.

  “He said to leave your phone and gun,” Hanna finally said.

  “Okay, honey. I’ll do whatever it takes. Tell him, I will do what he says.”

  “He’s watching.” Hanna’s voice cracked with fear. “Riley, hurry.”

  “Okay.” The line went dead, leaving Riley to stare at her cell. As a cop she’d been trained to act in times of stress and to not panic. But all the scenarios she’d ever run had never involved her own child.

  She set the cell on the rumpled sheets of her bed and tugged on her jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt that covered her bandage. “Bowman, if I ever needed you, it’s now.”

  She shoved her feet into ankle boots, grabbed her phone and a hair tie, and fastened her long hair into a bun. She smoothed damp palms over her jeans and opened the gun box that contained her service weapon. She shoved her weapon in an ankle holster and strapped it under her pant leg. She also grabbed a pocketknife, which she slid in her boot. She dialed Bowman.

  “Riley,” he answered.

  Bowman’s deep voice was tense, cutting, and she nearly broke at the sound of it. God, she needed him now. But instead of giving in to the tears, she dug deep and fell back on her police training. “The Shark has Hanna. He’s sending a car for me in three minutes and I have to go.”

  “Riley, don’t get in that car.”

  “I don’t have a choice. Let’s hope Mr. Andrews knows his stuff.” She didn’t dare say tracker, as her cell phone was likely compromised.