by Julie Miller
Eli leaned his hip against the counter and faced her. “Are you trying to stir up a hornets’ nest?”
Though his face was closer to her level, she still had to look up to make eye contact. “I’m trying to make sure we have the right man on trial. I don’t want to give anyone in Kansas City a false sense of security.”
Pulling back the front of his jacket, Eli propped his hands at his waist, unintentionally showcasing the chest that had shielded her from flying bullets and explosive debris. That chest was also radiating more heat than any other spot in her office. But he was regrouping to make a new argument, not issuing an invitation.
“That baby’s unsolved murder was front-page news for over a year. Once Gibbs was arrested, people started letting their children play outside again. The men and women on that task force were handpicked by you. They got commendations. Hell, they could get the key to the city if they wanted.” He hunched his shoulders, drawing his wounded face even closer. “You’re going to raise a huge stink if you reopen this case and try to prove those ten men and women were wrong.”
Shauna walked away, shaking off the inappropriate urge to gravitate toward Eli’s abundant warmth. She felt cold again, but that was merely a by-product of the strain she’d been under. A hot bath and a good night’s sleep would boost her flagging energy. Trusting the gut that had been honed by twenty-five years on the force and summoning the strength that had gotten her out of a debilitating marriage would bolster her courage.
“I can deal with criticism, Eli. It’s part of the job description.” Shauna stopped in the middle of the room and turned to meet the challenge in his eyes. “What I can’t live with is the guilt.”
“You’re that certain the task force arrested the wrong man?”
“After two years of nothing but panic and guilt and broken hearts guiding us, I worry that we were too eager to make this arrest stick. If the wrong man’s on trial, I want to know. An honest mistake I can forgive—I will explain it to the press and public—and I will back those officers one hundred percent.” She pulled back from her soapbox with a deep, steadying breath. “But if any man or woman on that task force skirted the facts or forced Gibbs to confess, I need to know. I need to find out who can tell me that little girl’s name.”
Eli nodded toward the stack of notes from Yours Truly. “Personally, I think you should be more worried about vigilantes than in getting Gibbs off.”
“I will not put an innocent man in prison or sentence him to death just to make the controversy go away.”
Shauna held her breath, watching the pros and cons and consideration of facts play across Eli’s face. He had to be evaluating how difficult such an investigation would be, and deciding if the grief he’d get from his fellow officers would be worth it. Damn, the man was thorough. “What if I say no to this assignment?”
“It’s not a request.”
“I see.” Eli strolled off the distance between them. “So you asked Chang who the biggest hard-ass in I.A. was, and he came up with my name for this job.”
“I asked Chang who his best investigator was. I could figure out the hard-ass part on my own.”
His mouth quirked at the corner, as if her assessment of his character amused him. “You think I can take on the task force, the pride of KCPD and the sentiment of an entire city by myself?”
“I’ll be working on the investigation as well.”
Casting amusement aside, he dismissed that idea. “You’re an administrator.”
She’d never liked being dismissed. Pulling a ring of keys from her belt, Shauna picked up the file and opened her desk to lock the papers inside. “I’ve been a cop for a long time. I think I know my way around the job.”
“Not this job, Shauna.” He followed her, propping his fists on the opposite side of the desk and leaning over it. “You don’t know what an I.A. investigation is like. You’ll make enemies. You run the whole show. You need your people to stay loyal to you.”
“I have enemies. Political ones,” she amended, as soon as she realized she might have revealed more than she should. Shauna fisted her hands and countered Eli’s stance. “Look, I can cut through red tape more easily than anyone on the force. I can get you any files you need, any transcripts—I can put you in contact with the D.A.’s office as well as Gibbs’s attorney. But, like you said, I have to balance the department’s reputation with the needs of the investigation. I can’t go to my people and ask a lot of questions. Not that they’d share their secrets with the boss, anyway. That’s why I need a front man to take the heat while I work behind the scenes.”
“Someone who has a problem keeping partners and wouldn’t automatically be linked to you?”
“Exactly.”
She wasn’t ashamed to reveal why she’d chosen him. It was the only tactical move that made sense without plunging the entire force into chaos. She needed a super-tough, super-smart SOB who could keep his head under the controversy that raising the ghost of Baby Jane Doe would surely generate. But as they stood there, almost nose-to-nose, her pulse racing and her breath coming in deep, uneven gasps, Shauna felt something inside her soften. Yearn. Need.
The air of warmth and strength that encompassed Eli reached out and touched her. Supplanted her own strength. Made her feel a lot more sheltered and a lot less alone in her quest for the truth.
“Please.” Shauna shrugged off her unsettling emotions and reached deep inside to find the cool detachment and superior tone she was famous for. “Help me do this.”
Eli released a huff that stirred a fringe of hair out of place across his forehead. “Do I have a choice?”
Her fingers itched to smooth the dangling lock away from his injury. But what she saw as an intimate caress he might see as mothering. She couldn’t have one, and she didn’t want the other.
“No. You’re on my team now.” Shauna had to step away to keep those traitorous feminine urges from upsetting the code of honor and decorum the job forced her to live by. A knock on her office door intruded, scattering both desires and resolutions.
“Shauna?” Michael Garner rattled the doorknob before his clipped voice grew more urgent. “The door’s locked. Betty’s gone home for the day. I know you’re in there. Is everything all right?”
Glancing out the window, Shauna took note of the sun sinking like a giant golden orange ball on the horizon. She checked her watch. She and Eli had been hashing through the case for nearly three hours. “Oh, no.”
“Shauna?” The deputy commissioner’s knock shook the door.
Eli turned toward the door, his posture bristling. “What’s he in such a tizzy about?”
A key scraped inside the lock. “I’m coming in.”
Eli pulled back his jacket, sliding his hand to his gun.
The overprotective testosterone level on the top floor grew exponentially and Shauna roused herself to action. She laid a warning hand over Eli’s, keeping the gun and the detective in place.
“I’m coming, Michael.”
The door swung open as she reached it, and Michael blew in, snatching her by the arms and backing her up into the room. His eyes were dark with concern. “Why didn’t you answer me?”
“You’re overreacting—”
“This place is dead up here. I saw your light. I thought…” He looked past her and the worry on his face hardened with suspicion. In a subtle yet obvious move, he pulled her behind him, positioning himself between her and Eli. “What’s he doing here?”
Groaning at his mistimed machismo, Shauna quickly extricated herself from his grasp. “Detective Masterson and I had a meeting. We were just wrapping up.” She slipped back into completely professional address now that they had an audience again. “Have you two met?”
Introductions were brief, the handshake briefer. Michael looked from Eli’s impassive expression back to her. “He’s Internal Affairs. Is there a problem?”
She turned away from his question and spoke to Eli. “Will that be all, Detective?”
&nb
sp; With a silent plea, she begged him to keep the purpose of their conversation secret. She didn’t need the rumor mill getting ahead of, and possibly impeding, the investigation. Thankfully, she saw that those golden brown eyes could observe and understand without revealing anything. With a curt nod, Eli adjusted his tie and headed for the door. “I’ll report as soon as I know anything. Deputy Commissioner,” he acknowledged. He waited for Michael to move aside before leaving. “Talk to you later, boss lady.”
WHATEVER ENERGY Shauna had felt dissipated as Eli strode down the hallway and disappeared from sight. Strange that the touch of Michael’s fingers on her arm failed to generate even a fraction of the heat she’d felt just bantering words with Eli.
“Boss lady? That’s practically insubordination. Tell me you called him in for a reprimand of some kind.”
Boss lady. Shauna allowed herself a hint of a smile. At least Eli understood who was in charge here. Though she felt that Michael’s concern was sincere, there was something more controlling than caring in his loyal defense of her. Letting him interpret her smile as a show of thanks, she shrugged off his grip and crossed the room to get her jacket and retrieve her purse. “It was a personal meeting, Michael. I can’t disclose the details. How did the meeting with the Chamber of Commerce go?”
“Fine.” Though his mouth was set to push for more information about Eli’s visit, Michael let her change the topic. “They want to do something for Baby Jane Doe. I suggested updating the playground equipment in one of the parks. They could post a plaque with the girl’s name.”
If they knew it.
“‘Baby Jane Doe’ on a plaque, huh? That’s sweet that they want to remember her.” Gesturing for Michael to exit first, Shauna turned out the lights and closed the door, locking it behind her. “I’d appreciate it if you’d continue to pursue that with them as KCPD’s official liaison.”
“You’re stalling, Shauna.” He fell into step beside her along the carpeted hush of the hallway. “Did we receive another threat from Yours Truly?”
Besides Eli and Betty, who handled the mail and might inadvertently compromise evidence or put herself at risk by opening one of YT’s weekly harangues, Michael was the only person who knew of the threats against the department. And she’d confided to no one, not even Eli Masterson or her children, about just how very personal the messages were becoming. “No, I haven’t heard from him recently.”
“One of these days I’m afraid he’ll put his threats into action. I thought maybe that’s why you wanted me to deal with the Chamber and their memorial plans—that it was an uncomfortable reminder of his complaints about the case.” Shauna quickened her pace, avoiding another hand on her arm. “Or are you still shaken from yesterday’s shoot-out? I.A.’s not accusing you of anything, are they?”
While frustration screamed inside her head, Shauna kept her voice cool and calm. “I wasn’t ‘shaken’ yesterday, Michael, and I’m not shaken by anything this evening. I’m just tired.”
“So I shouldn’t ask you to dinner then?”
He was a handsome man, in a mature-movie-star kind of way, and his PR skills made him an obvious boon to the department. But he couldn’t take a hint. Even without the departmental rules and regs in place, smooth-and-suave just wasn’t her type. Not after Austin. But a good friend she could always use. So she smiled and gentled her rejection. “Can I tell you about the headache I have? A set of chills I can’t seem to shake, too. I’m going home to some soup and aspirin and heading to bed.”
“It’s probably the aftermath from yesterday morning. Nerves are setting in now that you’re starting to relax and put it behind you.”
Behind her? “I understand that the older guard is still in critical condition. I won’t put that holdup behind me until both men are out of the hospital, and I have a motive for Richard Powell’s actions.”
“He’s lawyered up already, but we’re working on him. Homicide’s running the investigation. I’ve asked them to give me a daily update.”
“Good. Any ID on the vics yet?”
“The guy in the sweatshirt was Charlie Melito, small-time hood for hire. Cleaning out the Cattlemen’s Bank would have been his first successful job.”
“Instead, it was his last unsuccessful one.” As they passed the lineup of commissioners’ portraits, the frozen stares gave Shauna the feeling of being watched. Scrutinized like a specimen under a microscope. She shrugged off the sensation she could do nothing about and concentrated on what she could handle. Work. “What about the banker?”
“Victor Goldsmith. We still haven’t uncovered his connection to Richard Powell.”
“Powell said he was following orders. If we could find out who hired him, I’d rest easier.” If she could find out whether those mirrored sunglasses had targeted her specifically, or if she’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time to wind up in his sights, she’d rest a hell of a lot easier. “Let me know as soon as you find out anything.”
“Yes, ma’am. I won’t let this be a blot on KCPD’s record.”
Unexplained motives. Anonymous threats. Wannabe suitors who should stay friends. It was no wonder Shauna was so overly sensitive to her surroundings. An uneasy twinge of suspicion slowed her steps as they reached the foyer.
The emptiness of the tiled area around the elevator wasn’t completely unusual after hours. But something about the stillness nagged at her. The officer on duty at the information desk generally popped his head in to say goodnight if she was working late and was the last one on the floor to go home. But he would also leave to escort Betty down to the parking garage beneath the building if she asked him. Shauna frowned as Michael pushed the elevator’s call button. “Did you dismiss Officer Tennant when you came up?”
Michael plunged his hands into his trouser pockets and assumed a casual stance. “He was gone when I got here. Why do you think I was so worried? I thought you were alone.”
Being alone didn’t bother her. The idea that someone might be watching her while she was alone did.
The rustling behind the stairwell door was probably a figment of her weary imagination. Or something as easily explained as a mouse. But imagining it twice?
Shauna turned toward the emergency exit. “What was that?”
Michael watched her with a blank expression. “What was what? Where are you going?”
She pushed open the stairwell door, hanging back in the foyer a moment until she was sure the landing was clear. Nothing. Just a yawning chasm of steel and concrete, angling round and round on itself. No one on the ladder to the roof, no movement on the stairs.
“Shauna?”
Sniffing the air, she detected the scents of dust and damp and the chemicals the cleaning staff used. Nothing out of the ordinary. But proof that her senses were playing tricks on her didn’t make her breathe any easier. Shauna backed into Michael as she snapped the door shut behind her. “You didn’t see anyone else up here?”
“No.” Absorbing her tension, he glanced around, apparently deciding whether he should be alarmed. “Just your friend Masterson.” Michael’s hand settled at the small of her back, a guarded suspicion tensing his posture. “We never did actually see him leave the floor.”
Shauna waved aside his suggestion, silently cursing her own paranoia. She had nothing to fear from Eli. “Believe me, the way he argues a point, he wouldn’t be skulking in the shadows. If he had something more to say, he’d be in our faces. It was probably a sound echoing from farther downstairs.”
“Are you sure you’re all right? You’re acting kind of funny.”
The number for the top floor lit up and the elevator opened. Shauna hurried to catch it and pushed the button for the parking garage. “I’m pooped, is what I am. I’ve been in meetings non-stop all day. I’ll feel better once I’m home relaxing.”
“Let me go with you.”
“Michael. Please.” She touched his arm to reassure him. She’d worry about the fine line they walked between friendship and whatever feel
ings he wanted from her later. “I just need some downtime. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. But thanks for caring.”
“All right.” The devilish points of his receding hairline softened as he smiled. “But I’m walking you to your car.”
Shauna laughed at his stubbornness and relented, knowing it was easier to go along with Michael Garner than to say no. And knowing some company—even a meticulously attentive coworker like Michael—was better than none.
Because, despite any rational explanation to the contrary, she hadn’t imagined those footsteps scuffling behind the door.
“SO, WE GO straight from ‘how’ve you been?’ to ‘let’s talk about an old autopsy case’?” Holly Masterson downed half her iced tea and signalled the waiter for a refill. “I thought I’d at least get my food before we ran out of things to talk about besides work.”
Eli had to gauge the expression in his sister’s hazel eyes to determine whether that was teasing or a comment on his social skills. Looked like a little of both. “Sorry, Holl. How have you been?”
“Fine. I’ve taken up running again.” He could tell that by the trim fit of her clothes. “It gets me out of the lab when I need to.”
“How have you gotten along since Jilly’s sentencing?”
“Why do you think I need to get out of the lab?” Holly’s smile faded and he could see the lines of strain bracketing her mouth. “I suppose you’re still keeping it all bottled up inside, snapping at people or cracking wise when an emotion tries to slip through?”
“Is sarcasm the only habit you picked up from me growing up?”
Holly laughed, and for a split second they were kids again—before the plane crash had killed their parents, before Jillian’s wild-child escapades and their futile efforts to help her had fractured what was left of the closeness they’d once shared. “No, big brother.” She toasted him with a fresh glass of iced tea. “I also learned how to take down any guy who gets too fresh with me—not that they’re lining up—and I learned that you would always be there when the chips were really down.”