At Close Range

by Laura Griffin

  They lay together, sweaty and sticky, listening to the rhythmic thump-thump of someone’s party upstairs.

  He felt the tickle of her fingernails tracing a path down his arm, then up again, then down. It was relaxing. Something about that nagged at his brain, but he didn’t have the energy to analyze it. He just wanted to lie here, holding her warm, naked body against him like he’d dreamed of doing so many times.

  Her nails trailed over his shoulder. She pushed up on her palm and stared down at him, and her brows drew together with worry. “What’s this gunk on your wound?”

  “Superglue.”

  “Are you kidding me?” She sat up straighter. “What is that, some SEAL trick?”

  She had perfectly round breasts with small pink nipples. He sat up to kiss them, but she tipped his chin up. “Hey. Do you need to go to the ER?”

  “No.” He leaned back against the headboard and arranged her in his lap so she was straddling him.

  “There’s one twenty-five minutes from here. It’s in the next town.”

  “Forget it.” Nothing short of nuclear Armageddon would make him leave this room right now.

  The volume of the bass increased and she darted a look at the ceiling. “It’s getting worse.”

  “So?”

  “So, it’s obnoxious.”

  “You weren’t really planning to sleep tonight, were you?”

  “Maybe.”

  He pulled her forward to kiss him. “That’s not happening.”

  “How would you know?”

  “Trust me, I know.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Sean tromped through the woods, ducking low under a branch.

  “Watch your step there,” the deputy told him, shining his flashlight on a rut in the ground.

  Sean stepped across it and followed the deputy through some bushes into a clearing. He halted and stared. The car in the center of the clearing was burned beyond recognition.

  “Borrow your light?”

  The deputy handed it over, and Sean aimed it inside the car. No human remains that he could see. It was hard to tell, given the extreme damage caused by the fire. Not even the glass windows were left—they’d evidently shattered in the heat. Sean walked around the four-door car. The plates had been removed. He took out a pair of gloves and pulled them on, although he doubted he needed to worry about marring any prints here. He managed to pull open what was left of the door and located a VIN number. He took out his phone and snapped a photo of it.

  Beside him, the Clarke County sheriff’s deputy shifted from foot to foot, clearly nervous. He looked about twenty and couldn’t have had more than a few months on the job.

  “No witnesses to the fire?”

  “No, sir.” The deputy cleared his throat. “Course, people burn trash around here, so it might not have attracted much notice. We wouldn’t have found it at all except we had a team back here today looking for some meth heads from that trailer park over there.” He nodded in the direction of Shady Creek Estates, a notorious haven for meth cooks.

  “When was this raid?”

  “This afternoon. And then I saw that message come across my computer. That you guys were looking for a Ford Taurus? I happened to notice the make and model, so thought I’d pass it along.”

  Sean swept the flashlight over the backseat. The cushions were almost completely incinerated.

  “You think it’s the car y’all are looking for?”

  “Might be.” Sean rounded the front, shining the flashlight over the soot-covered hood. Beside the driver’s-side window was an exterior spotlight that could be controlled from inside the vehicle. Every patrol unit used by Sean’s department, and even most of the unmarked units, were outfitted with the same type of spotlight.

  Sean’s pulse picked up as he stared at the light. He muttered a curse and pulled out his phone. Brooke answered on the second ring, and he smiled at the sound of her voice.

  “You agreed not to bug me.”

  “That’s not why I’m calling. This is something else.”

  Silence.

  “Work related,” he added. “I’m at a crime scene and I could really use a hand.”

  “Let me guess. It’s related to your all-important murder case? And I need to drop everything I’m doing and get there right now, this minute, and it can’t wait till morning?”

  “You guessed right.”

  • • •

  Dani woke up alone.

  The room was quiet, and a band of gray seeped through the gap between the curtains and the wall. She closed her eyes again and took a mental inventory. Her body felt heavy. Her limbs were cemented to the bed, and she felt sore in places she hadn’t been aware of yesterday.

  A door opened, and she smelled steam and soap. She heard Scott rummaging through his stuff, and then he came to stand beside the bed. The mattress dipped down as he sat beside her.

  She opened her eyes. He wore jeans and boots—no shirt—and his hair was damp from the shower. She looked at the boots again, and something bothered her, but her mind was too groggy to follow the thought.

  He picked up her hand. “We need to talk, Dani.”

  His expression was unreadable, and she felt a flurry of nerves as she sat up. She glanced around and her gaze landed on the clock: 7:13.

  She pushed the covers away and got out of bed, grabbing a T-shirt off the nightstand. She slipped it over her head.

  “Talk about what?” she asked, crossing the room to pick up the rest of her clothes.

  He stood and watched her, and she realized why the boots bothered her. She was still half-asleep, and he was practically out the door already. He grabbed a fresh shirt from his backpack and pulled it on. “This could get complicated.”

  A tiny dart landed in the center of her chest.

  “I don’t see why. It’s not like I have any expectations of you.”

  He looked at her. “That’s a little harsh.”

  “Scott, come on. I know you, remember?”

  His gaze narrowed. “What is it you think you know?”

  “Your MO with women. Everything’s short and sweet with you. Commitment isn’t your thing.”

  He folded his arms over his chest. “Are you trying to make me feel like shit here?”

  “I’m not trying to make you feel anything. That’s the point.” She slipped on her panties and yoga pants, as if getting dressed in front of him were no big deal. “Look, this was a onetime thing. I get it. We can go back home and pretend nothing happened.”

  Surprise flared in his eyes. And something else, too. Relief. He covered it quickly, but she knew him too well.

  She needed to get out of here. She grabbed her keycard off the nightstand and crossed to the door, but he caught her arm.

  “Hey.”

  “What?” she asked.

  The sound of a car outside had him glancing at the window. He released her arm and stepped over to shift the curtains.

  “God damn it.”

  “What?”

  He glanced at her. “Did you call the feds?”

  “What? No.” She stepped over and peeked through the gap. Sure enough, a four-door Taurus was parked in the handicapped space near the motel office. Two men in suits were out of the car, and one was looking at his phone.

  “Ric must have called them,” she said. “Or Ric’s brother.” She turned to see Scott zipping his backpack. “What are you doing?”

  “I’ve got a flight at ten thirty.”

  “A flight?”

  “Whatever they’re doing here is going to involve red tape and paperwork and bullshit.” He shrugged into his jacket. “I don’t have time to get involved.”

  “But you can’t just leave.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  “But you were there last night. They’re going to want a statement.”

  “They’re here to talk to you, not me. You can connect the dots for them.” He shouldered his backpack, and she felt a stab of panic.

  “But . . . what about
the car?”

  “I’m sure they’ll give you a ride back to Albuquerque. That’s where they’re based.” He walked over and looked through the curtains again before turning to face her. “They’re in the office now. I need to hit it.”

  “I’m not going to lie for you.”

  “I would never expect you to. Give them an honest statement, but do it without me.”

  She stared up at him, fuming. Tears stung her eyes, but she forced them back.

  “We’re not done talking, Daniele.”

  She ignored that. “These are federal agents, Scott. You’re putting me in an impossible situation here! What the hell do you expect me to do?”

  “Do what you always do.” He reached for the door. “Handle it.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Brooke stepped out the doors of the Delphi Center and stood for a moment in the fresh air. The day had flown by in a blur of work, and it was already almost dark. Her windowless lab reminded her of a casino sometimes—it was much too easy to lose track of what time or even what day it was.

  Friday, she reminded herself as she hurried down the steps. And she was heading into yet another weekend with nothing on her calendar besides work and maybe some laundry. She walked toward her car at the far end of the parking lot, wondering why she wasn’t more depressed about her lack of weekend plans. Maybe something was wrong with her. But the simple fact was that she enjoyed her job more than she enjoyed socializing.

  “Brooke Porter?”

  She jumped and whirled around. Holy crap, how had she missed the muscle-bound man lurking in the parking lot? He sat against the back bumper of a pickup truck, watching her. Slowly, he stood up and walked toward her. His gait was casual, and she could tell he was trying to look nonthreatening, but her heart was hammering anyway.

  “Sorry to startle you. You don’t know me, but—”

  “Scott Black.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “I’ve seen you around.” She cleared her throat. “What can I do for you?”

  “A favor.” He stepped closer, watching her carefully. He dipped his hand into the pocket of his black leather jacket and pulled out an envelope.

  She waited for him to explain.

  “I’ve got two shell casings I need fingerprinted. It’s important.” There was a certain force behind the last two words.

  She glanced around the parking lot but saw no one else there. Her gaze settled on him again. “Why should I help you?”

  “Truthfully, you shouldn’t. I’m suspended right now. It’s probably better if you don’t even talk to me.”

  She laughed at the words. And because his blue eyes looked so sincere. She’d heard he was a charmer, and she could tell why people said that. It was some kind of stealth charm that you didn’t see coming.

  “You’re friends with Roland,” she said, because she’d seen them talking together in the coffee shop. “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “You’re the best we have.”

  She gave him a Yeah, right look. “Flattery won’t work with me.”

  “It’d be a personal favor.”

  She watched him, weighing what to do. She’d already decided, but she was still trying to understand her decision. She didn’t even know this guy, and she was swamped with work, and another favor was the last thing she had time for.

  She sighed and held out her hand. He gave her the envelope. It felt heavier than she’d expected.

  “Two casings,” he said again.

  “Type of ammo?”

  “Three hundred Win Mag.”

  “When do you need the results?”

  “Soon.”

  She sighed. “Of course.”

  “Check military databases.”

  “If I find prints, you mean.”

  He nodded. “I’ll text you my number and you can call me. You probably shouldn’t do it from work.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “You don’t have my number.”

  “Yeah, I do.” He backed away, hands in his pockets, looking completely harmless, as though he hadn’t just ambushed her in a parking lot and blown up her plans for Saturday.

  Not that she’d had anything planned besides work, but still. “I’ll try to get to it, but I’m not making any promises.”

  “Understood.”

  • • •

  The station house was unusually busy for a Saturday morning. Dani topped off her travel mug with coffee on her way to the conference room where Sean and Jasper waited for her, looking annoyingly well rested.

  “Hey,” Sean said, “heard you had an eventful trip.”

  “You could say that.”

  “You all right?”

  “Never better.” She took a chair and guzzled some coffee to bolster her energy. She was still feeling the effects of her ditch-diving incident as well as a grueling trip back that had included a four-hour delay in the Albuquerque airport. When she’d finally made it home, she found the window on her door fixed—thanks to Dax—but her nerves were in an even worse condition than when she’d left. She’d tossed and turned most of the night and barely managed two hours of sleep.

  “Thanks for coming in early,” she told her team as Reynolds stepped into the room. The lieutenant parked himself at the head of the table, and Dani tried to gauge his mood. Not good, judging from his sour expression.

  She was at the top of her boss’s shit list since New Mexico. He’d threatened to not only make Sean the lead but yank her off the case completely because she’d been “consorting” with a possible suspect. Dani wasn’t sure exactly what he meant by “consorting,” but she couldn’t argue with him. Letting Scott get involved had been a bad idea. She had no defense, and now she had to prove herself all over again.

  “So,” she said, looking at Sean and Jasper, “where’s Ric?”

  “Don’t know,” Sean said.

  “Let’s get started,” Reynolds said gruffly. “Ric can catch up.”

  Dani opened her file and tried to collect her thoughts. She felt exhausted, both physically and mentally. But she was also inundated with responsibilities and she didn’t have time for a break. She had to push through.

  Do what you always do. Handle it.

  Dani swallowed the bitter lump in her throat. She hadn’t spoken to Scott since those glib parting words that had made her want to slap him.

  She took a deep breath and plunged in. “Before Nathan Collins was murdered, I had a chance to interview him about his three former coworkers. He told us some things we didn’t know.” She glanced at Reynolds. He knew all this already from their phone conversation, so this rundown was mostly for Sean and Jasper. “One thing he mentioned that we definitely should have known was that at the time James Ayers left Trinity, he was being investigated by the administration for possibly having sexual relations with a student.”

  “Was Tessa the student?” Jasper asked. “I thought she was his research assistant there.”

  “She was. This was a different woman. I have her name, and I plan to talk to her. Another interesting point, Nathan Collins also was being investigated for improper relations with a student. He claimed the charges were bogus, but Trinity had put him on leave anyway.”

  “Ric interviewed Kreznik, who supposedly hired James down here,” Sean said, “and he didn’t tell us anything about that. Were the charges legit?”

  “I don’t know. But while I was in New Mexico, I had a chance to talk to Tessa’s older sister in Santa Fe.”

  “Oh, yeah? How was she?” Sean asked.

  “Emotional. And busy. They were having the funeral that day, so our conversation was short, but she said Tessa was fully aware of the allegations against James, and she insisted they were made-up.” Dani flipped through her notes from the conversation. “The sister wasn’t buying it, though. She said she never liked James Ayers and she told her sister any man who would cheat on his wife would probably hit on a student, too. She’d been trying to talk Tessa into breaking up with him, but Tessa blew off that advice. Even aft
er the move, she continued to try to convince her sister to end the affair, but supposedly Tessa wouldn’t listen.”

  “Baby sis was in love,” Sean quipped.

  “Very much so, according to this woman. Love wasn’t the only reason she moved here, though. The sister also said Tessa thought it was, I quote, ‘a killer opportunity’ that she couldn’t pass up.”

  “ ‘A killer opportunity’?” Reynolds frowned. “She really said that?”

  “According to the sister, those were her exact words.”

  “It’s slang,” Sean said. “I doubt it means anything.”

  “Whether it does or not,” Dani said, “I’m not seeing how taking a pay cut to be a research assistant is much of an opportunity. I think there was more going on in that biology department than we know.”

  “How sure are we that the murder in New Mexico is related to the killings here?” Reynolds asked.

  Dani stared at him. He stared right back, waiting for the answer that seemed beyond obvious.

  “Well.” She cleared her throat. “A number of things. For one, the timing. Four deaths in five days? That can’t be a coincidence. All four of these people worked together on the same project at the same university, at one point. And three of them worked together here. And the three Texas victims each called Nathan Collins shortly before they were murdered.”

  “There’re some parallels with the crimes, too,” Sean added. “Especially when you look at the new forensic evidence we have.” His phone rattled on the table, and he bent forward to check it. “Brooke’s here. I invited her in to explain the results. Just a sec.” He got up and stepped out of the room.

  “Who’s Brooke?” Jasper looked at Dani.

  “Brooke Porter, with the Delphi Center. She’s working on the house fire and the car.”

  “Kreznik’s lake house?”

  “That’s right.”

  Sean returned, ushering Brooke into the room. The CSI wore a black hoodie and jeans that made her look about fifteen years old. Dani cast a glance at Reynolds, who continued to look unhappy as Sean made quick introductions.

  “Could you explain to everyone what you were telling me on the phone?” Sean asked her.