by Jaci Burton
"Routine drive-by, like I've been doing lately, right?" he said. "I wanted to check to make sure the units were doing their job, that the surveillance equipment was in place and still working, right?"
He shifted, winced as he sat up straighter in the bed.
"Anyway, the unit was parked in the alley and the driver's-side door was open. Figured maybe Hannesey had gotten out of the car to do a walk through the alley. So I pulled up behind him and got out to go find him."
Dante was recording, Anna was listening.
"What time was this?" Dante asked.
"About ten-thirty or so. I was on my way home. Anyway, I get past the Dumpster and I see Hannesey down. I thought, shit. I crouched down, see that he's dead. But he's not beaten up like the other victims." Roman clenched his jaw. "He cut Hannesey's throat and just left him there to bleed to death."
Roman shoved his hand through his hair. His hand was shaking. Anna fought back tears, imagining what it must have been like for Roman to come up on that scene.
None of them wanted to lose one of their own, and a fellow officer being killed was like losing part of yourself. She felt responsible, as if she had started this chain of events. And now Hannesey was dead.
"I'm sorry, Roman."
"Anyway," Roman said, lifting his chin, "I called it in and stood up, ready to go hunting down the son of a bitch. That's when he jumped me from behind. I turned around and he stuck the knife in my upper shoulder. God, it hurt like hell. I turned around right away to face him, figuring he was going to kill me. I was trying to go for the knife in his hand, trying to wrestle it away from him, but I was down one arm. We fought and he hit me in the jaw, kicked my leg out from under me and I went down. That's when he kicked me in the ribs."
Anna could visualize the scene. Roman was lucky the same thing hadn't happened to him that happened to Hannesey. The killer could have taken the knife to his throat, too. "I'm glad you had fast reflexes."
"Me, too. I knew he was going to kill me, just like the others. I got mad. Mad for George, and your dad, and for Jeff. For Hannesey, too. I fought back. And then I heard the sirens. He must have, too, because he took off."
"I'm glad you made it."
"I can't believe the son of a bitch jumped me. I can't believe I didn't know he was there. How could I not know he was right goddamn behind me?"
Anna winced, knowing exactly what it was like to be taken by surprise in that alley. Images flooded her of that night so long ago, of what it felt like to have Maclin's arms go around her and drag her into the Dumpster.
This isn't about you. Snap out of it!
"Did you see his face?" Dante asked.
Roman shook his head. "He was dressed all in black, wore one of those biker skull masks that hide everything but your eyes. His eyes were dark brown. That's all I remember."
"How about build?" Anna asked.
"Pretty tall. At least six foot. Well built. Not like a bodybuilder, but good muscle. He wore thick gloves and shit-kicker boots."
Anna turned to Dante. "That explains the marks on the bodies."
Dante nodded. "But he stabbed Roman. That makes no sense."
"He didn't choose Roman as a victim. It was coincidence they were in the alley at the same time," Anna said. "I don't think he was prepared. Maybe he was setting the scene for his next victim."
"Or even revisiting the scene to relive the kills. Hannesey and then Roman surprised him," Dante suggested. "Maybe that's why there was a change in his method. Roman being there threw him off his game."
"I don't care what it was," Roman said. "I'm just damn glad I'm alive."
Anna leaned over and squeezed his hand. "So am I. Very glad."
Roman smiled up at her.
"Do you need me to call Tess for you?"
Roman shook his head. "Already did. She's out of town on an audit. Wanted to cancel it and come right back, but I told her no. They're going to spring me tomorrow anyway and she'll be back by the weekend, so I promised her she could wait on me hand and foot then."
Dante laughed. "Milk it for all it's worth, buddy."
"I intend to." Roman waggled his brows.
"You're terrible," Anna said.
"No, I'm not. And admit it. You're happy."
"I am," she said, fighting back tears.
He squeezed her hand. "Anna, stop that. I'm fine. Just some bruises and sore ribs, and the wound is superficial. A few stitches, is all."
Anna exhaled a sigh and nodded. "I can't tell you how relieved I am that you're all right. I don't think I can take losing anyone else. We have to catch this guy before anyone else dies."
"We have leads now that we didn't have before," Dante said. "He's losing his grip. I can feel it. He's going to fuck up and then he's ours."
For the first time since this whole thing started, Anna was beginning to believe it.
"It's also possible the suspect thinks Roman can identify him. That might make him desperate, and careless," Dante added. "He might come after Roman."
Roman laid his hands over his stomach. "Gee, thanks. Make me a target again."
Anna turned to Roman. "There are uniforms stationed outside your room, and when you're discharged there will be someone at the house."
Roman laughed, and then winced, grasping his side. "I was teasing. I don't need protection at the house. A good night's sleep and I'll be fine once I go home."
"And we're not taking any chances on your life," Anna said. "You take the protection, understand?"
Roman looked to Dante, who just shrugged, so he said, "Yes, ma'am."
She stood, leaned over and kissed Roman's brow. "Rest."
He grabbed her hand. "He's going to keep doing this until we're all dead."
She nodded. "I know."
"You need to get them out of here."
"Them?"
"Dante and Gabe. They're next."
She closed her eyes, knowing Roman was right. "I know."
Roman looked worried, his normal bravado gone. "I don't want to lose anyone else, Anna."
She sucked in a breath and swept her hand over Roman's hair. "I don't want that, either. We're going to protect all of you. I promise. No one else is going to die."
Anna decided that testosterone made men stupid. What part of bodies dropping all around them could they not fathom? Even strong, capable men could be killed.
But no, they wouldn't listen, and now Dante was off meeting with Gabe about some lead he was working on. She was so irritated with him--with them both--she hoped he hung out with Gabe all night.
Dante had asked her to come with him, but she declined out of simple anger. And then he'd irritated her even more by telling her that whenever he wasn't with her, a uniform would be. She was a target, too.
She'd argued with him until they'd ended up shouting at each other, but she couldn't argue with her captain, who'd insisted that either Dante would be there to provide protection or a uniformed officer would.
Dammit. She hated feeling as if she couldn't take care of herself.
She had agreed with Roman's statement in the hospital: Dante and Gabe were targets and they should leave. They both said no and neither of them were her favorite people right now. And she still couldn't convince Pohanski to put her back on the case.
Damn men.
The less she saw of any of them right now the better. The only male she liked at the moment was Rusty, and he had no balls, so he was an acceptable choice.
She and Rusty were curled up in bed and she was going to read every square inch of case files tonight if it took her the entire night. It wasn't as though she spent any time sleeping anyway.
They needed a break in the case. Surveillance equipment at the scene in the alley showed the suspect sneaking down the alley on foot and disappearing behind the Dumpster. He lingered there for a while, but their view was skewed, so no idea what he'd been doing back there. Then Hannesey had shown up and was taken down, and Roman came on the scene to find Hannesey and the suspect jumped h
im from behind. But Roman was right--it was hard to distinguish anything from the way the killer was dressed all in black, his face obscured by the skull mask.
So she was going to go through the entire case tonight, starting from the beginning--the very beginning--until she found something.
She grabbed Tony Maclin's file, wrinkling her nose as she did. She hated reliving the nightmare, hated Tony Maclin with every fiber in her body, but she had to look over the case again, had to look over everything one more time.
This time she was determined to read every single damn word of this file and study every photograph until she had them committed to memory. She'd lost a best friend and her father, a uniform had died and she'd almost lost Roman. It was time to push her trauma behind her and focus on Maclin's case with an objective eye.
She opened the autopsy file and read from the beginning, taking her time. She wasn't squeamish. Hell, she attended plenty of autopsies. She could handle the written word, even if it brought back memories she found unpleasant. He'd shown her no mercy. She'd be equally as merciless as she read his autopsy.
Bruising to his chest and back. Three of his ribs had been broken. His nose had been shattered and two of his teeth had been knocked out. Blunt-force trauma to his head, and pieces of brick found in his scalp.
Wait. She stopped, read that section again.
Brick? What brick?
She flipped through the medical examiner's notes, read that blunt-force trauma to the head was listed as the cause of death, attributed to being struck by the brick.
Again, what brick?
She'd been dazed and in shock that night, but as she'd lain there against the wall and watched the guys pummel Tony Maclin, she sure as hell never saw any of them pick up a brick and hit him over the head. Sure, they'd struck him with their fists, but no one had used a brick on his head. Not that she remembered.
Maybe Dante or Gabe would, though.
Where had she left her phone? Kitchen, when she went in there to fix a soda. She slid out of bed to go get it, stopping cold when she heard a noise in the backyard. Something had either been bumped into or knocked over.
And it wasn't windy outside.
Rusty leaped off the bed on alert, the hairs on his back rising. He started to growl.
"Shh," she whispered. "Rusty, down. Stay."
Rusty did as ordered. She turned off the light in her bedroom, then reached for her gun. A round was already racked in the chamber, so she crept out of the bedroom, closed the door to keep Rusty in there and headed down the hall toward the back door.
She saw her phone on the kitchen counter, grabbed it and dialed Dante's number, holding the phone up to her ear.
He answered on the first ring.
"What's up?"
"Nothing, probably, but I heard something in the backyard."
"Where's the uniform?"
"I don't know. Out front, I guess."
"Go get him. We'll be right there."
"Don't. It's likely just a cat or the wind. The uniform and I can check it out."
"There's no wind and you're wasting my time talking. Don't go out there. We'll be there in ten minutes."
"Okay."
She clicked off and slid her phone in her pocket, went to look out the back door.
But she also wasn't stupid. She went to the front door and opened it.
No one was there. Uniform was supposed to stay at the front door at all times. She walked outside a few steps and didn't see him.
She shut the front door in a hurry, locked the dead bolt and pulled the chain across, then turned to face the back door.
Shit.
She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, trying to calm the pounding of her heart.
Maybe the uniform went to take a leak. It was plausible enough, right?
Yeah, and it was going to snow in July.
She was going to try really hard not to conjure up the boogeyman where there wasn't one.
But then Rusty started barking in the bedroom, and she saw something move out back.
Dante said to wait for him. But dammit, she was a cop. She wasn't some untrained bimbo who needed a man to come save her. She was going to check it out.
She unlocked the slider, then pulled it open slow and easy.
It was muggy tonight, the air totally still. She couldn't hear anything but her own breathing. And Rusty, who was still barking in her bedroom.
She pulled the screen door back and stepped onto the patio. She made a quick glance over to the table and chairs, then over to the barbecue. Nothing looked out of place. She moved farther out into the yard and leaned out toward the back door by her bedroom, saw nothing and decided it had to be some kind of animal, but she'd do a thorough search.
She'd made one step into the grass when a body slammed into her.
Stunned, she was tossed into the grass and she lost her grip on her gun. It went flying a few feet out of her grasp.
Shit! Whoever knocked into her was big, heavy and definitely male, from the size of muscle mass and how hard he hit her. She tried to fight him off, but he was too big for her. He was a blur dressed all in black and she couldn't even see skin. He pinned her to the ground with the sheer size of his body, and memories of that night twelve years ago came flooding back.
"No!" she shouted. This wasn't twelve years ago, and she wasn't a scared sixteen-year-old anymore. He lay on top of her and she raised a leg up, effectively jamming it into his balls. She heard him grunt, and she used the advantage of his temporary pain to throw him off, then scramble away for her gun. But he grabbed her leg and jerked her back just before she could get her fingers on her gun, dragging her into the grass.
Then he slapped her across the face. He wore gloves, making the smack more painful.
Stunned at the impact, she lay there for a few seconds, trying to get the ringing out of her head as sharp pain sheared through her senses. He rose up and she saw the glint of a knife.
Oh, no. Not again. As he came for her she figured he probably thought she was scared and wouldn't move.
But this time she wasn't scared. She was angry.
That gave her the element of surprise this time. She bent her knees and shot them out, jamming her feet into his stomach and sending him flying backward. She scrambled and grabbed her gun, but by then he was on the run. She fired off a shot as he flew through the gate.
"Anna!"
She swiveled to see Dante and Gabe tear through the doorway, both of them with guns in their hands. She aimed the gun barrel toward the ground. "He just left through the gate," she said, panting and out of breath.
"Stay with her," Dante said, then tore out of the yard.
"You okay, honey?" Gabe asked, hooking one arm around her and holding his gun in his other hand. He pointed it toward the gate, but backed them toward the house so they'd have a position of safety.
"Yeah, I'm fine. He knocked me around a little, but I'm okay. Where's the uniform?"
"In the bushes outside."
Dread made her stomach drop. "Is he dead?"
"No. Looks like someone slammed his head good into the side of your house. He's out cold. We already called for an ambulance and the cops."
She blew out a sigh of relief. "Thank God."
She followed him out front and they saw to the uniform, who was coming around. He had a bad gash on his forehead, but she was so damn happy he was conscious. When the ambulance and police cars screamed into her driveway, they stepped out of the way to let the paramedics deal with him.
"Let's go inside."
Gabe sat her down on one of the kitchen chairs, then turned on the light.
"You need some ice on your face. He walloped you," Gabe said, giving her a once-over and frowning.
She put her hand to her swelling cheek. "Yeah, the bastard slapped me a good one. I saw stars for a few seconds."
"What the fuck happened?"
"Hang on." She got up, winced a little as she limped down the hallway to let Rusty out, praisi
ng him for being such a good dog. He wagged his tail, went over to warily sniff Gabe, then laid his head in her lap when she sat again.
Gabe was already crushing ice and putting it in a bag.
"I heard a noise outside. So I went to investigate. The asshole football tackled me as soon as I cleared the patio."
"No sign of him," Dante said as he came through the slider and closed it.
He came over to her, lifted the ice pack away and winced. "Damn."
"I'm okay."
"You're lucky he didn't do more damage. Why didn't you stay in the house and wait for us, or call the cops?"
She tilted her head to the side and gave him a "duh" look. "I am the cops. I went out front to get the uniform but didn't see him."
Dante dragged his hand through his hair and paced. "So you go outside in the dark by yourself when you know a killer is after you? What the hell are you thinking, Anna?"
She shrugged and put the ice pack back on her cheek. "I'm thinking I was lucky you two showed up when you did, though he seemed to be on his way out of here as soon as I got hold of my gun and aimed it in his direction."
Dante kneeled in front of her. "Did he have a gun?"
"Not that I could tell. He had a knife, though. When he stood over me he pointed it at me."
Dante swept her hair away from her face. "That's not good."
"No, but the odd thing is, he had me at an advantage and didn't use it. He slapped me so hard I was dazed, and when I shook it off he was hovering over me with the knife. He could have stabbed me right then, or even when I was temporarily out of it, but he didn't."
Dante stood and pulled up a chair. Gabe handed him a beer and pulled out another chair. "Hesitation?" Gabe asked.
"Maybe. Or maybe he wanted to threaten me. I got the idea I wasn't really a target."
"Like he wanted to scare you more than hurt you?" Dante asked.
"Something like that. I could be wrong, though."
It took a couple hours to take statements and for Forensics to sweep her backyard. As Anna suspected, they didn't find much. With the battle between her and the assailant, and Gabe and Dante back there running after the suspect, the grass was a wreck and they couldn't get decent footprints.
Gabe called Roman, who rushed over. His arm was in a sling and he still had a limp and was bruised up, but he was starting to look a little better. He frowned when he saw her.
"Son of a bitch," he said, leaning over to brush her hair aside. "He hit you?"
"Yeah."