by G. K. Parks
It was open, and I crouched down. The strangled gasp I’d heard earlier could only mean one thing. Was I too late? My fingers brushed against a piece of cloth. Crouching down, I wished the smoke would clear so I could see. But I didn’t have time to wait. “Lucien?” I asked.
Whoever was on the floor didn’t move.
My fingers followed the sleeve of his shirt to his collar. Once I touched skin, I felt for a pulse. I had to reposition my fingers three times before I found it, but it was there. Letting out a breath, I lifted my hand toward his mouth and nose, but I couldn’t tell if he was breathing.
“Lucien,” I said again, convinced the shirt had to belong to my boss. How many suspects were wearing Armani when they were arrested? “Wake up.” I gave him a slight shake, but he didn’t respond. “Help. I need some help over here,” I bellowed.
The yellow beam of a flashlight cut through some of the smoke, but it did little more than headlights in fog. Someone knelt beside me, and when she spoke, I realized it was the desk sergeant. “Get those windows open. We need the air cleared out now. And get the EMTs down here.” Her elbow knocked against mine as she felt for his pulse. “Who is he?” she asked.
“I can’t be positive, but I think it’s Lucien Cross.”
“Shit.” A cool breeze came from somewhere, and the thick clouds began to thin. Through the haze, she felt around his head and neck for any injuries. “Where’s this blood coming from?” She pointed to the stains on his shirt.
“Me.” I noticed it dripping from a gash on my upper arm. Until now, I’d been numb to the pain, but it hit me like a brick. My arms, my back, my chest, and my legs all competed for my attention, but I ignored it. “I don’t see any obvious injuries on him.”
“What the hell happened?”
“I don’t know. I came down here to make sure he got out okay. The smoke was too thick to see, but I heard someone. He shoved me and ran for the stairs. Before I could get a good look at him, he knocked me back down here.”
“The guy in tac armor?”
“Yes.”
“Who are you?”
“Alexis Parker. I work for him.”
“Cross?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Before she could ask anything else, the EMTs arrived. Visibility had improved to the point where I could see a few feet in front of me. The paramedics cleared me away. Within a matter of seconds, Cross was awake, confused and agitated, but awake.
“Thank god.” I watched as they took his vitals and checked him for signs of a concussion. But they couldn’t determine why he’d blacked out. Near the desk, I spotted a metal canister. Grabbing a latex glove out of the EMT’s bag, I reached down to pick it up, yanking my hand away when I realized how hot it was.
“Don’t touch that. It’s evidence,” Lt. Moretti said, appearing in the doorway. He jerked his chin at me, and a female medic entered the room. “Make sure you patch her up. This one’s trouble, so don’t take any of her gruff.”
“Yes, sir,” the medic said.
“Parker, why do you always have to make my life so damn complicated?” he asked.
“Do you believe me now?”
Moretti eyed me. “We’ll see.” He headed toward the stretcher the EMTs had wheeled in for Cross. One of the officers had handcuffed him to it. “Any idea what’s going on, Mr. Cross?”
Cross sneered at him. “I’m pretty sure one of your guys just tried to kill me.”
“Are you sure about that?” Moretti asked. “What do you remember?”
“An attack, but I’m not saying another word without my attorney. You’re not going to twist this around on me. I won’t let you.”
“Someone just attacked you and you still won’t cooperate? I didn’t realize you had shit for brains.”
“Whoever attacked me was one of yours. For all I know, it could have been you.” Cross glared at him, the heart monitor beeping a warning. I watched the exchange, but I kept my trap shut. Cross rubbed his throat with his free hand. “I require medical attention. You can’t deny me that.” He stared daggers at Moretti.
“Fine.” The lieutenant raised his palms and stepped back. “Go with him,” he said to the two officers.
“I’ll go,” the desk sergeant volunteered.
“Okay.” Moretti came back to the desk just as the EMT finished wrapping the bandage around my arm. “Since he won’t cooperate, you’re going to tell me what happened.”
Cross looked surprised to see me. “Why are you here?”
“She might have saved your life, numbnuts,” Moretti mumbled.
A stern warning replaced the surprised look on Cross’s face. “Careful what you say, Ms. Parker. The sharks always smell blood in the water.”
Fifteen
After telling Moretti everything that happened, he had the canister from the smoke grenade taken to evidence collection. No one from the bomb squad had strayed off course. Every single member had been present and accounted for. The same was true of the few ESU members who’d been assigned to secure the armory.
The sergeant who’d been keeping an eye on the holding cells had supervised the evacuation of the prisoners until he’d been told to go outside. The man who’d taken over had lieutenant bars, but the sergeant didn’t recognize him. When asked, he couldn’t remember the man’s name either. So much for taking precautions.
Moretti promised he’d check the CCTV feeds. Since the precinct was lousy with them, he was positive the bastard must have gotten caught on camera. I didn’t share his optimism, but there was little I could do.
Before leaving, I thoroughly checked my car, but it hadn’t been tampered with. As I climbed off the ground, I could feel every bruise and cut. My shins had several welts, and I dreaded the thought of how my back would look by morning. But I was okay. I just didn’t know if Cross could say the same.
On my way home, I called Almeada. Tonight, the attorney was earning his overtime. He assured me Cross was irate but otherwise fine. The doctors wanted to observe him overnight, but a light bruise had appeared on his neck. They believed the unsub had locked him in a chokehold, resulting in his loss of consciousness.
Every piece of evidence pointed to someone in the department being involved. I just didn’t know why. No matter how I manipulated the facts, I couldn’t fathom how Knox’s murder connected to any of this, but Cross must have the answers. Despite the fact I was supposed to clear his name, I was more interested in finding out who wanted to murder him.
But it was late and I was tired and sore, so I headed to our apartment instead of commuting back to Martin’s estate. Martin and I agreed earlier it’d be best to remain close to our respective offices given the Cross debacle. But I dreaded having to tell Martin what happened.
“Honey, I’m home,” I called, but he didn’t answer. I dropped the files on the kitchen counter, made sure the balcony door was locked, even though we were twenty-one stories high, and changed into yoga pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt, to hide as much of the damage as I could.
Even though I was hurt and exhausted, I forced myself to stretch. My muscle fibers needed to relax. Hell, I needed to relax. But the stretching only made the pain worse and did nothing to calm my mind. Instead, my synapses fired on all cylinders.
I lifted back into downward dog before pulling my left leg through and folding forward into pigeon. The killer can’t be a cop. But I had to assume the man who left the threat on my car and the one who attacked Cross in the precinct were one and the same. Both times, he wore police garb. He was in a police station and at an active crime scene. He had to be a cop.
So how did this factor into Knox’s murder? Did this guy kill Trey Knox? Or was he just taking advantage of the situation by framing Cross for murder, only to try and kill him before the truth could come out?
Exhaling, I came out of pigeon, flipped around, and stretched my legs out in front of me, flexed my feet, and folded forward. Fortunately, my hamstrings didn’t snap, even though they felt like they wanted to.
My back, on the other hand, wasn’t happy with the movement. After breathing into it as long as I could stand, I moved into a lunge to stretch my quads, switched sides, and decided that better suffice.
Despite the stretching, something told me I’d feel even worse in the morning. So I poured myself a glass of water, popped a few pain relievers, and rummaged through the cabinets while I replayed my conversation with Moretti. Who could have recorded Cross threatening Knox?
The only people who even knew Cross had left the country after Knox’s disappearance were the cops, who’d been keeping tabs on him, and Justin. Could Cross’s executive assistant be involved? After a moment of careful consideration, I ruled him out. Moretti checked alibis, and Justin never made the suspect list. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to ask.
Dialing the office, I wondered if anyone would answer. A skeleton crew of techs and medics were always on call, but the office staff kept normal business hours. Most of the investigators did too.
No one answered the main line, so I tried Justin’s office number. When he didn’t answer, I considered heading back to work and digging through the filing cabinets and servers until I found what I wanted, but that thought held little appeal.
A few seconds later, my phone rang. “Did you just call?” Justin asked.
“Yes. I have a few questions.”
“What’s going on?”
From his tone, he hadn’t heard what happened, and I wasn’t about to tell him. “I thought I’d tackle this mess from a different angle and wondered what you know about the trip Cross took a few weeks after Knox disappeared. Do you know where he went? Did you go with him?”
Justin laughed. “I wasn’t invited. Lucien took off after things calmed down. His back was acting up, and he’d just gotten his nose fixed. He wanted to go somewhere warm to rest and recover.”
“His passport records indicate he left the country for four days, but the police said he was gone for two weeks.”
“He went to work things out with his ex-girlfriend. They ended up in Las Vegas for a week and a half, until the tables cooled down.”
“Jade McNamara?”
Justin hesitated for a moment. “Yes. How do you—”
“Did she go with him on his excursion out of the country?”
“I’m not sure. He didn’t mention it.”
“Did Cross tell you what he was planning to do or who he was going to see before he left?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Okay.” I opened the fridge and stared at the nearly empty shelves. We hadn’t stayed at the apartment lately, so aside from a few condiments, the fridge was empty. I thought about ordering from one of the late night delivery places, but I didn’t have much of an appetite. Instead, I grabbed a box of sugary cereal from the pantry. “What did you do while Cross was gone?”
“We were in the midst of moving offices. I had to oversee the construction, make sure the phone lines and internet got connected, and set everything up. I was supposed to have that time off, but it never happened.”
“Are the contracts and installation receipts you signed in records?”
“Yes, Cross Security has copies of everything.”
“Just checking.”
“You think the police will want these details?”
“Probably.” I pulled out a spoon and filled my bowl. No milk. Oh well, at least it wouldn’t get soggy if I got distracted, even though I enjoyed soggy cereal.
“Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”
“Get some sleep,” I said. “Tomorrow’s another day.”
I considered working at the counter, but my body would have none of that, so I sprawled out on the couch and picked at my bowl of cereal while making a list of police personnel who could be involved in Knox’s murder. Cross always said the police hated him and the feeling was mutual. Until tonight, I hadn’t witnessed anything firsthand. Now, I wasn’t so sure.
The settlement the police department paid Cross came with an NDA. He couldn’t give me any gruesome details, and neither could the department. Is that what caused the animosity between them? Cross killed one of their brothers-in-blue. Even if it couldn’t be talked about, the rumors must have spread. Could this be retaliation for that?
A key scraped in the lock, and I reached for my gun. A moment later, the door swung open. I jumped but didn’t aim. Martin entered, looking as tired as I felt.
“Hey, sweetheart.” He came over for a kiss, noticing my firearm. “Expecting company?”
“Sorry, I’m just…”
“Freaked out?”
“Yeah.”
He tugged on his tie. “Want to tell me why?”
That was the last thing I wanted to do. “This case has me twisted around. I think a cop might be involved.”
He winced as he took off his jacket. “A cop?”
“Whoever killed Knox must have known about the recording, or someone else stumbled upon it.” I wondered if Knox or the killer had sent it to a cop, who waited for the right time to make it resurface. I’d have to get the information on the safe deposit box from the bank in the morning. Until then, all I could do was speculate. “The killer might have even filmed it. The ring found on Knox’s body had been inside his house, but the police had access to it. A cop could have planted it on the body.”
“I hate to play devil’s advocate,” Martin said, moving into the kitchen to wash his hands before pouring himself a bowl of cereal, “but couldn’t Knox have gotten the ring and done everything else himself?”
“He didn’t shoot himself four times in the chest.”
“Not that, but he could have made the recording, decided that was enough of an insurance policy, returned home, stuck the tape in the safe deposit box, and picked up his ring.”
“Knox lived in a gated community. No one went to his house except for the police and eventually Knox’s sister and her family. Sure, someone could have found another way in besides the front entrance, but if Knox planned to return to his life, why wouldn’t he go through the front?”
“Good point. Maybe Knox didn’t want anyone to know he was back. Maybe he avoided the security guards for a reason.” Martin dug into the cereal, crunching loudly. When he swallowed, he said, “Why do you think a cop’s involved?”
“Cross always says the police hate him. He has enemies. Believe me.”
Martin assessed me, his eyebrows raising slightly. “What am I missing?”
It was my turn to take a bite in order to buy time.
He slid onto the sofa. “Alex, just tell me whatever it is.”
“Someone left a note on my windshield warning me to back off.”
He put his bowl on the coffee table and took mine off my lap. “Do you know who did it?”
“Not yet. I had Cross’s people run it. Then I showed it to Mark and gave it to Moretti.”
“All right. Good.” He entwined his fingers with mine. “Are you okay?” He cocked his head at the long sleeves. “You look a little stiff.”
“Someone attacked Cross in his holding cell. I was there when it happened, but I didn’t get a good look at the guy. I’m fine. Don’t freak out.”
“I won’t, if you won’t.” He glanced at my gun.
“Deal.”
“Is that why you think a cop killed Trey Knox and is framing Lucien for his murder?” Martin asked.
“The man who attacked Cross dressed like a cop, just like the guy who left the note on my windshield.”
“Cross and the police department have a history of bad blood, according to the story I was told.”
“Speaking of, do you still have Jade McNamara’s contact info?”
“Lucien’s girlfriend?”
“That’s the one.”
“Let me check.” Martin scrolled through his list of contacts. “You know, if I hadn’t run into her at the tech conference and she hadn’t told me about how she and Lucien met, I never would have agreed to partner with him to create body armor from biotextiles.”
“I’ll try to listen next time.” Martin handed me his phone and stole a kiss. “Do you want me to call her?”
“No.”
He grinned. “You’re so damn sexy when you’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous. But I dare you to say that again when I’m armed and angry.”
“You’re always armed and angry, but you’re still damn sexy.”
I entered the number into my phone and handed him back his when it buzzed with an incoming message. He went into the other room, giving me some privacy to talk to Jade. Luckily, she lived in Colorado. Even though it was late, it wasn’t nearly as late as it was here. Good thing the time difference worked in my favor.
The women’s shelter Jade McNamara ran had someone manning the phones twenty-four seven. When I said I was calling on behalf of Cross Security, the call was immediately redirected to Jade.
“Hello?” The worried tone told me this woman cared a great deal about Cross.
“Hi, Ms. McNamara, this is Alexis Parker. We met briefly several months ago at the tech convention. I work for Lucien Cross.”
She thought carefully. “Lucien spoke to you at the pool. Blue bikini, right?”
“Yes.”
“I remember. Is he okay?”
“Um…well…”
“Oh god, what happened?”
“He was arrested.”
She didn’t say anything right away. I wasn’t sure how to take the silence. “What for?”
“Murder.”
“What?” she squeaked. “Does this have anything to do with Scott?”
“Scott?”
“My ex. The cop.”
“No, sorry. He’s accused of murdering Trey Knox.”
Again, silence.
“Is that name familiar to you?” I asked.