At Close Range

by Laura Griffin

  She looked at him but didn’t respond. She knew he was right, but she had trouble admitting it. This whole leadership thing still felt unnatural to her.

  He leaned closer. “I’m saying this as your friend, Dani. You need to ratchet it down.”

  • • •

  Scott found her at Smoky J’s surrounded by men. He shouldn’t have been surprised. She was surrounded by men more often than not because of her job. But Scott hadn’t seen her since she’d come home, and the sight of her at a table with a bunch of jacked-up cops put him on edge.

  He stayed by the door to watch her. She looked tired, and her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. He had the urge to get her alone somewhere so he could take it down and run his hands through it, but he doubted he’d get that lucky tonight.

  Three seconds. Scott knew he was skilled, but he’d never managed to make a woman come inside three seconds before. And it hadn’t happened just once, but over and over. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Maybe it had been a long time since she’d been with anyone. The idea cheered him up. But the inevitable afterimage of her having that kind of mind-blowing sex with anyone else quickly killed his mood.

  Sean Byrne slid his beer in front of her and leaned close to tell her something. Dani picked up his bottle and took a sip, and Scott bit back a curse as he crossed the restaurant.

  She glanced up. “Hey,” she said, clearly surprised to see him.

  “You got a minute? I need to talk to you about something.” He nodded at the door.

  She hesitated a moment, then got up and walked out with him, keeping plenty of distance between them. When they were out on the sidewalk, she turned to look at him. “What is it?”

  “I need to show you something,” he said, leading her to his truck in the front row. He stopped beside the passenger door and opened it.

  Her brow furrowed. “What?”

  “Could you get in, please?”

  She watched him, her eyes suspicious.

  “Please?”

  Maybe it was the uncharacteristic manners that did it, but she climbed inside. He closed the door, then went around to the driver’s side and slid behind the wheel. For a long moment he just looked at her.

  Was something going on between her and that detective? Scott didn’t think so. The guy wasn’t her type. But what did he know, really? It wasn’t like she told him about the men in her life. And he’d never had a reason to ask before now. If he did ask, she’d probably tell him it was none of his damn business.

  He wanted to ask anyway.

  “How’s your injury?” she asked, looking at his shoulder.

  “Fine. How are you?”

  “Fine.”

  “You look tired.”

  “That’s because I am tired. What did you want to show me?”

  He opened the console and took out an iPad. He tapped a few icons and opened up a picture for her. It was a driver’s-license photo from the Virginia DMV.

  “Rodney Doern.” He handed her the tablet.

  She studied the face, then looked up at Scott. He took the tablet back and clicked open another photo, a still shot from the security footage taken at the firing range.

  “This is the same guy?”

  “Same guy.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Marine, Special Forces. Left the service in 2008, went to work in the private sector.”

  Her head jerked up. “He’s the one who shot at us?”

  “Yes.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, as if she didn’t believe him. “But how can you be sure?”

  “He didn’t pick up his brass. His prints were on two of the shells.”

  “What the hell, Scott? You picked up his brass?”

  “That’s what I do.”

  “I knew it.” She pounded her fist on the door. “You lied to me!”

  Scott didn’t respond.

  “You freaking lied to me, over and over. You shouldn’t even be involved in this.”

  “I am involved.”

  “Not like that. Not with evidence.” She leaned closer. “What do you expect me to do with this, Scott? The chain of custody is destroyed. Any chance we might have had to connect him to the crime is blown to hell, thanks to you.”

  “Not true.”

  Her eyebrows tipped up.

  “I left four shells on the ground. Plenty of evidence left, even for the feds. I called the sheriff’s office and gave them an anonymous tip about where to look, too. They can recover the shells and make the same ID we did.”

  “We didn’t do anything! You did this all by yourself.” She turned toward the window, shaking her head. Her hand was still clenched in a tight fist resting on the door.

  “After he quit the marines, Doern took a job with Black Echo, which is a private security outfit in South Carolina. He spent almost five years OCONUS, out of the continental US. The last three years, he’s been off the radar, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been in Iraq and Syria, where the company has covert contracts with various foreign governments.”

  “He’s a mercenary.”

  Scott nodded. “Lot of money in it. Death for hire is a lucrative business.”

  “How would you know?”

  “I know people. Guys who went to the dark side. Happens all the time.”

  “But why?”

  “Lot of reasons. People are disillusioned. Desperate. Broke. Take your pick. Some people come home and realize there’s nothing here for them. Or maybe they’re addicted.”

  Her brow furrowed. “To what?”

  “Conflict. The adrenaline rush. The insanity of it.”

  She stared at him. Okay, too much information. She didn’t need all this from him.

  She gazed down at the photograph again, and Scott watched her face, trying to read her reaction.

  “What do you see?”

  She glanced up. “You mean—”

  “Is he familiar to you?”

  She stared at the picture. “I don’t know.”

  “Really look, Daniele. Is this the man who broke into your house?”

  Seconds ticked by as she studied the image. “Maybe.”

  Scott’s stomach twisted. The answer didn’t surprise him—he’d expected it. What he hadn’t expected was the white-hot fury he felt right now.

  “Daniele, look at me.”

  She lifted her gaze.

  “If you see him anywhere, pretend you don’t. Do not mess with him, you understand me? He’s dangerous.”

  Her eyes widened. “What should I do? Maybe call the police?”

  “Don’t be a smart-ass. You cannot apprehend this man alone. He’s highly trained and extremely lethal. I need you to promise me you won’t confront him.”

  She blew out a sigh. “The way this case is going, I won’t be lucky enough to even see him, much less apprehend him. He’s probably not even in Texas.”

  Scott wasn’t so sure. Whatever was going on, they seemed to be at the epicenter of it. Scott believed Doern planned to come back here. Scott also believed that when he did, he planned to put Dani in his crosshairs.

  She set the tablet on the console, and Scott clamped his hand over hers.

  “Promise me, Daniele.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine what?”

  “I won’t confront him alone.” She jerked her hand away, and in that one little movement he realized something important. He’d hurt her. Way worse than he’d thought.

  His hightailing it out of that motel room hadn’t been all about rushing back to run evidence, and Dani knew it.

  Everything’s short and sweet with you. Commitment isn’t your thing.

  Her words definitely bothered him, which was her intention. He’d pissed her off, so she’d taken a cheap shot. But, looking at her now, he understood that she wasn’t so much angry as she was hurt, and the realization put an uncomfortable tightness in his chest.

  He needed to make things right with her. But right now she was determined to blow
him off.

  She pushed open the door. “I need to go.”

  “I’ll follow you home.”

  “Thanks, I’m good.”

  “I’m not asking.”

  “Well, I’m not going home, so I guess you’re out of luck tonight, huh?” She slid from his truck.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Back to work. Thanks to you, I’ve got a new lead to follow.”

  • • •

  It was almost midnight when Dani left the station house, but the roads were still busy with Saturday-night traffic. She battled drowsiness as she made her way home, trying to stay alert for any suspicious cars or pickups in her rearview mirror.

  Rodney Doern.

  She pictured the flinty look in his eyes. Had he been in her home?

  He had. She knew it. For some reason she felt certain, even though she hadn’t wanted to tell Scott.

  A cold-blooded mercenary had been in her house.

  And the very next day he’d put her in his sights and tried to kill her. The only reason she was alive right now was that Scott had been there to yank her out of her shock and formulate an escape and evasion plan. He’d done it calmly, too, as if dodging bombs and bullets were no big thing.

  Had he ever thought about crossing over, like those men he knew? Something was in his voice, something . . . empathetic, when he talked about vets coming home and realizing there was nothing here for them.

  Dani’s heart ached at the thought. She hoped he’d never felt that way, desperate or alone or like he didn’t have anything to come back for. He had a darkness about him now, and she yearned to talk to him about it. But he kept his personal life locked up tight. So often she’d wanted to coax him into sharing things with her, even painful things.

  But . . . that would require intimacy, which he didn’t seem to want.

  How had she ever thought she’d be okay with this? How had she thought she’d ever be satisfied with an offhanded compliment after sex?

  He’d looked into her eyes and told her she was beautiful. She’d felt his sincerity, and his words had filled her up. But now she wasn’t full at all. She wanted more. She wanted him.

  She shouldn’t let her thoughts go there. She’d slept with him—seduced him—with her eyes wide-open. He’d even warned her. She had no right to feel disappointed.

  It wasn’t just disappointment, though. It was wounded pride. The only thing worse than throwing herself at him was clinging to him afterward and pressuring him to feel things he didn’t.

  Dani pulled into her driveway and checked her mirrors one last time before climbing from her truck. She glanced up and down her street for any unfamiliar vehicles, but didn’t see any. Her neighbor’s daughter was home from college, from the looks of it. Her little hatchback was in the driveway, and her dad’s pickup was parked on the street. It had a vanity plate that said HOOKEM along with a UT bumper sticker: MY MONEY AND MY DAUGHTER GO TO UT.

  Dani stopped in her driveway and stared at the license plate.

  Someone’s bankrolling this thing.

  A shiver of excitement moved through her, and she hurried up the steps and unlocked the door. She dumped her stuff on a chair and yanked out her phone to call the station.

  “SMPD.”

  “Jasper? You’re still there?” She locked her front door but didn’t turn on any lights yet so she could look out without being seen.

  “That report just came in. I’m sending you an email now.”

  “The stolen Taurus?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Listen, there’s something else I need you to do. I have a hunch I need to follow up on, but I can’t do it from home. Can you look something up for me? You have a pen?”

  “Hang on.”

  She stood beside her window, gazing out at her darkened street as she waited.

  “Okay, shoot.”

  “I need a rundown on a red Ferrari with New Mexico tags. It’s got a vanity plate: A-M-I-S-H.”

  “Amish? For real?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Okay, I’ll see what I can find.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Sean watched Dani hurry up the sidewalk. Today she looked just as tired as she had last night, but now she was armed with an extralarge cup of Starbucks.

  “What do we got?” she asked, looking around. So far, it was just an unmarked unit and a patrol car out front.

  “Audrey’s neighbor called it in,” Sean told her. “She came by to pick her up to go to a prayer group. When Audrey didn’t answer the door, the woman let herself in.”

  Dani mounted the steps and paused beside the beveled-glass front door. “What do you think?”

  Sean shrugged. “Hard to tell. It could be nothing. Audrey’s purse isn’t here. Her cell phone isn’t here. Her keys aren’t here. So, maybe she just forgot about the prayer group and went out to do some errands.”

  “You said her car is here, though?”

  “Yeah, that’s why the neighbor’s worried. Evidently, the Jeep is in the garage. I haven’t had a chance to look yet. I just got here five minutes ago. Christine took the call from Dispatch and rolled up before I did.”

  Dani walked into the house, and Sean followed her. He was once again assaulted by the cloying smell of funeral flowers. Almost every tabletop had an arrangement.

  Dani stood in the marble foyer and looked around. Audrey lived in a fancy house. It was big, too, even though she and James hadn’t had any kids. Dani paused beside a hall table and glanced at a tray filled with sympathy cards. She looked at him. “What’s the neighbor’s name?”

  “Joanne Applegate. She said she was supposed to pick up Audrey at eleven.”

  “For a prayer group?”

  “That’s what she said. She’s been calling and texting but Audrey hasn’t answered, which isn’t like her, supposedly.”

  Dani walked through a living room that reminded Sean of a Restoration Hardware catalog and into the kitchen, where almost every inch of counter space was covered with pies and Bundt cakes. None looked like they had been touched.

  Christine sat at the kitchen table, chatting with the young neighbor. The woman had been nearly hysterical when Sean showed up, and after taking her statement he’d asked Christine to try to calm her down with some small talk while he had a look around.

  Dani introduced herself and got the conversation rolling. While she was occupied, Sean crossed the kitchen and slipped through the laundry room.

  The Ayerses had a spacious three-car garage, and Audrey’s white Jeep Cherokee was parked in the center bay, just as the neighbor had said.

  The floor of the garage was immaculate. No oil stains or paint spills or even dirt tracked in from someone’s shoes. The far wall was lined with stacked red and green tubs, probably containing Christmas decorations. To Sean’s right were three entire shelving units filled with paint cans, all arranged perfectly like they were on display at some hardware store. The wall to Sean’s left was home to an elaborate scheme of hooks and bungee cords that kept expensive camping equipment off the ground.

  “Sean?”

  He turned around as Dani walked up behind him. “Her Jeep is here,” he reported. “It’s a three-car garage, though, and that’s the only vehicle.”

  “The Accord is still at Delphi.”

  “Yeah, but maybe they had a third car. Her dad’s in the auto business, right?”

  “Good point.” Dani rested her hands on her hips. She was in her typical jeans and blazer, with her detective’s shield clipped to her belt. “And it adds to the picture that maybe she just went out on her own. There are no obvious signs of foul play here. Nothing broken, no sign of a struggle.”

  “I checked all the locks, and no evidence of forced entry.”

  Dani looked at him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing. I feel like we shouldn’t even be here. Maybe she blew off the prayer group and went to a Pilates class.”

  “Yeah, her friend checked there
already.”

  Dani rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. Audrey Ayers is an adult. She’s only been ‘missing’ a few hours, and it looks like she took her purse, her phone, and her car keys with her, so what’s the big concern?”

  Sean just looked at her. They both knew what the big concern was. The woman’s husband was part of an ever-expanding murder plot. Four people were dead already—that they knew of—and they still didn’t understand what was going on.

  “Okay, I admit this feels off,” Dani said. “But I can’t put my finger on why, specifically.”

  “So, what do you want to do? Send the neighbor on her way and take off?”

  Dani tipped her head back. “I’m thinking.” She glanced into the kitchen.

  “There’s an address book in there by the phone,” Sean said. “I could make a few calls, see if Audrey’s parents or siblings know where she went today.”

  “Good plan. At least we should be able to figure out how many cars should be here.” Dani peered past him. “Damn, that garage is almost as big as my house.”

  “No kidding.”

  “This place is huge. Are you sure you checked all the doors?”

  “Every one. No sign of anything wrong. And the house is clean, too. Every bed is made and the carpet’s been vacuumed recently. And yet—” He started to say something and shook his head.

  “And yet what? Spit it out.”

  “Same as you. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

  • • •

  Dani returned to the station and found Ric with his files spread out in the conference room. He had several case files open in front of him and a half-eaten sandwich at his elbow.

  “The widow still missing?” he asked.

  “She’s not officially missing yet.”

  He leaned back in his chair and laced his hands behind his head. He wore a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, which meant he’d probably been to mass earlier.

  “I don’t know. Everything looks okay, but Sean’s following up.” Dani nodded at his paperwork. “How’s it coming?”

  Ric pulled a piece of paper from beneath one of the folders and slid it toward her.

  “Ten Most Wanted?” She looked up from the mug shot. “When did this happen?”