by Karen Rose
“Belmont,” Tom said grimly. “And the cruiser? Did he steal it?”
“He did, but didn’t take it far. It was found on the shoulder of Airport Boulevard with the body of a young woman in the back seat.”
“Fucking hell,” Tom whispered.
“You have all the information. I’ll expect you to be at the scene as soon as you can.”
Tom had bounded down the stairs and was already in his own vehicle. “Sir? Mercy’s birthday party tomorrow is at the Sokolovs’ house. If Belmont followed Bowie Security’s SUV, he was in the Sokolovs’ neighborhood.”
“I’ll tell them to cancel the party.”
“I think it’s too late for that. All of the guests were to have arrived by now. They’re all in the Sokolovs’ house. Rafe Sokolov hired the off-duty cops as security. Ten of them. I hired six more of Bowie’s employees. I think we should have Bureau presence on the Sokolovs’ perimeter. If Belmont tries again, we can find him.”
“I’ll arrange it,” Raeburn promised.
Tom started his engine. “Do we have an ID on the victim left in the cruiser?”
“Not yet. Belmont destroyed her phone and she had no other ID. Midtwenties, Caucasian, and dead. That’s all we know.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll be there in thirty or less.”
TWENTY-TWO
GRANITE BAY, CALIFORNIA
SUNDAY, MAY 28, 3:15 P.M.
I’m glad that you came today,” Irina said, sitting on the sofa beside Liza. The Sokolov house was brimming with people, Mercy’s party in full swing. “I feared you would not.”
“I almost didn’t,” Liza admitted, watching Abigail play with Irina’s grandchildren. Liza had retreated to one of the quieter corners. “But I didn’t want to hurt Mercy’s feelings.”
“You have a good heart, lubimaya.” Irina gestured to the children sitting in a circle on the floor playing a card game. Abigail was listening to the rules with the attention of someone learning the nuclear codes. “I’m so glad that she’s having fun.”
“She was nervous,” Liza murmured. “Wanting to be ‘normal.’ She had a meltdown this morning. She’d insisted I put her hair in rollers overnight, but a few of them came out and her puppy stole them. One side of her hair was ringlets and the other was like cooked spaghetti.”
“So you fixed it?” Irina asked fondly.
“I did. It didn’t take long. Just took a curling iron and most of a can of hair spray.”
“You spoil her.”
Liza shrugged. “She’s gone through so much upheaval in the last month. I think it’s okay if she gets spoiled a little. Even her meltdown this morning was polite by normal-kid standards. It’s awful good to see her with kids her own age. She spends too much time with adults.”
“When this is over—” Irina began, then sighed. “I feel like I’ve been saying that a lot.”
“Me too.” Liza looked from the children to the living room doorway, her attention caught by a flash of gold—the light reflecting off Tom’s hair. He looked as amazing in jeans and a T-shirt as he did in a suit and tie. Her gaze lingered, remembering how hard the muscle was under that shirt. Then she resolutely looked away, only to find Irina watching her.
“I thought as much,” Irina murmured.
“Not his fault,” Liza murmured back, not trying to hide it anymore. “He loves it here. Don’t blame him. He’ll pull back into his shell, and he needs this family.”
“So do you.”
“And I’ll keep coming by. Don’t worry.”
“But I do. Did you get that job?”
“I did. I’m going to be working with a pediatric patient.” Liza patted the older woman’s knee. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
“Do not tell me not to worry. It is what I do best.”
Liza smiled at that. “I thought party hostessing was what you did best. I bet there are a ton of Mercy’s family who would love to talk to you.”
“You are a menace, Liza. But you are right. Do not hide here all afternoon,” Irina chided, pushing to her feet. “Mingle with Mercy’s family. They are good people.”
“I know. I will.” But there were so many of them and Liza was still raw from yesterday’s argument with Tom, so she’d hide in the corner until she could make her excuses and escape.
“Well, hello.” The Southern drawl belonged to Farrah Romero, a beautiful Black woman who was a brilliant biophysicist and Mercy’s best friend. “Mind if I sit down?”
Liza patted the sofa cushion next to her with a smile. “Please do.” She liked Farrah a lot. The woman was one hundred percent loyal to Mercy. “How was your trip?”
Farrah and her fiancé, André, had arrived from New Orleans the night before with a number of the Romero family. A few of her half siblings had also flown in.
“Worth every harrowing moment,” Farrah said. “We were so nervous, worrying that Belmont would jump out from behind a luggage cart and shoot us, especially since André also shot him last month. But Rafe had it managed.”
“He really did. I didn’t understand why he’d hired so many security people, but now I get it.” Mercy had said he’d hired six people, but Liza had counted at least a dozen. Some were posted around the house and others accompanied the drivers of the SUVs that had shuttled them back and forth from the Sokolovs’ house.
“You knew there’d be security?” Farrah asked. “Rafe asked us to keep it a secret.”
“I’d heard rumors” was all Liza would admit to. Mercy had played shocked and amazed very well. “It’s hard to keep a secret around here. We had to get creative to keep Mercy off social media this weekend, just in case she saw a post from one of you about your flights.”
“I’m glad you did,” Farrah said fervently. “She does not need to know about those cops.”
Liza’s smile faded. “What cops?”
Farrah blinked. “The cops who got killed. Oh God, you didn’t know, either?”
Liza felt like she was going to throw up. “No. We all stayed off phones and computers. Rafe was very firm about that. He wasn’t even on his phone, just in case Mercy looked over his shoulder. Then Gideon and Daisy came over last night and made us put our phones in a box because we were playing a trivia game.” She looked around to be sure no one was listening, then leaned closer to Farrah. “What happened?”
Farrah sighed. “The guy who was scheduled to pick us up was followed from this neighborhood to the airport. He’d just dropped off Mercy’s sibs and was coming back for us because Mama, André, and I caught a later flight. A big truck followed him and made the driver and the off-duty cop with him twitchy. They called for backup and a cruiser tried to pull the truck over. It got away. The cops found the truck abandoned on a side road. When they began searching . . .”
“DJ killed them,” Liza whispered. “Oh no. Does Rafe know?”
“I don’t think so?” Farrah shook her head, uncertain. “André got the details from the people who eventually picked us up. There was . . . well, he killed a woman, too. To get her car.”
“Rafe can’t have known. He couldn’t have gone on with this party had he known.”
“I agree. We all made a pact not to mention it to Mercy, but I thought since you knew about the security and you’re friends with Agent Hunter . . . I thought you knew.”
“Poor Mercy,” Liza murmured. “This has to end.”
“I know. Mercy’s gonna go off the deep end when she finds out. I’ll be here till tomorrow if she needs me.”
Liza winced. “She’s going to be so angry with us for keeping this from her.”
“But she gets her birthday with all of us here. I wasn’t going to take that from her.”
“I won’t, either. It’s just . . .” She trailed off, having no words to complete her thought.
“I know.” Farrah straightened her spine and smiled, but
it looked forced. “Gotta go back into the fray and mingle. My mama and Irina are comparing notes.”
“Recipes, I hope?”
“I hope so.” Farrah mock-shuddered. “If they start comparing notes on us, we’re screwed.” She started to walk away, then turned back. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being there for Mercy. I love her like a sister and it’s been tearing me up not to be here for her. She told me that you’ve been supportive and I appreciate it.”
Liza didn’t deserve thanks. She didn’t want it. “She’s supported me, too.”
Farrah just smiled, squared her shoulders, and reentered the party chaos.
Liza took out her phone and googled the shooting from the night before. The details were worse than she’d expected. Both of the fallen officers were family men who’d left wives and small children behind. There were photos of the scene and . . .
There, in the photos, was Tom. He and his partner, Ricki Croft, were talking to a uniformed officer. Everyone in the picture looked exhausted.
She found herself texting him a message of support before she remembered. They weren’t friends right now, and that was on her. She felt small and petty. This was a big case and he probably needed someone to talk to.
She could do that. Just talk to him. Couldn’t she?
Yes. She wasn’t seventeen anymore. She was an adult. Then act like one. So she texted him.
Saw the story from last night online. You look tired. Call if you need to talk. Still want to be there for you if you want me to. That’s what friends are for, right?
She hit send before she could change her mind, then watched Abigail play.
GRANITE BAY, CALIFORNIA
SUNDAY, MAY 28, 3:15 P.M.
Tom had been waiting for Rafe to leave Mercy’s side for an hour. He needed to talk to the man, but this wasn’t a conversation he wanted documented in any way.
He also didn’t want to disclose any details that would be distressing, not yet. He especially didn’t want to mention last night’s murders. Tom had suggested that Rafe keep Mercy off social media until after her birthday party. He hadn’t wanted her to know about the two dead cops and one dead civilian woman.
She deserved one day free of stress.
What he hadn’t anticipated was that Rafe would also stay offline. The homicide detective had been in communication with his off-duty cop friends and the Bowie security guys, but Tom had instructed them not to mention the incident from the night before, either. It seemed that no one had said a word, and Rafe and Mercy were having one wonderful day.
Gideon knew, though. He’d seen the police report the night before. Tom was grateful the other agent had called him before calling Rafe or Mercy.
Together, Tom and Gideon had determined how to best protect the Sokolovs. Having called this house his second home since he was a teenager, Gideon had directed Raeburn’s agents, placing them strategically around the perimeter. They’d personally knocked on neighborhood doors, advising the locals that security was heightened so that no one would inadvertently cross the perimeter and set off alarms.
Many of the neighbors were gone because of the holiday weekend. Tom was grateful for that. He didn’t think any of them were in danger unless they got caught in the cross fire. He’d been personally patrolling the streets, making sure everyone was safe.
He needed to get back outside and was about to give up on talking to Rafe when the man left Mercy to cut her cake, retreating to the corner of the kitchen to watch her with a sappy smile.
Rafe gave Tom a nod as he approached. “What’s up? Is Liza okay?”
Tom’s jaw tightened. No, she wasn’t. Anyone with eyes could see that she wasn’t okay. But he just shrugged. “You’d have to ask her.”
Rafe winced. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
Relieved that Rafe had changed the subject, Tom leaned a little closer to murmur, “I was wondering if you’d ever considered going into the private sector.”
Rafe frowned, his confusion clear. “Like . . . what?”
“Like private investigating.”
“Sure. Of course I have. But I’ve been advised not to make any huge career shifts for a little while longer. Why?”
“Because I have need of a PI.”
Rafe turned from Mercy to give Tom his full attention. “Is it Eden?”
Tom laughed bitterly. “What else might it be?”
“Did you find them?”
“Not yet, but we’re close. If you’re interested in hearing more, we can meet tomorrow. Somewhere quiet.”
“And Mercy?”
“Don’t mention it to her for now. I don’t expect you’ll keep it quiet forever, but for now keep it to yourself. Let her enjoy her birthday.”
Something in his tone must have given his anxiety away, because Rafe frowned. “Is she in danger?”
Tom took that to mean Rafe was asking if she was in any new danger. Which, given the sheer number of security they had around this house, she wasn’t. “Not to my knowledge. Tomorrow?”
Rafe’s eyes narrowed. “Send me a time and place. I’ll be there.”
“Thanks.” And because Rafe appeared ready to push for more information, Tom took a step back. “I’m going to get some cake.” He walked back to the kitchen table and kissed Mercy’s cheek. “Happy birthday.”
Mercy studied him with eyes that saw way too much. “Thank you. She hasn’t left yet.”
Not pretending to misunderstand, Tom nodded once, then headed for the front door, pausing at the living room. Liza sat with Irina, the two watching Abigail play. He almost went to her, but he had no idea what to say. Plus he had a job to do.
Leaving the house, he did a perimeter walk, working off the energy that had kept him edgy all day. A glance upward confirmed that the sniper Raeburn had sent was still in place. One of the neighbors had nearly died the month before when Ephraim was watching the Sokolovs’ house. The old man had given them permission to use his home as a vantage point, telling them to “get the motherfuckers once and for all.”
Tom was good with that.
“Seen anything?” he asked the agent leading the effort.
“Nope. Been quiet. Only a few of the families are even here. A few took off this morning.” The man lifted a brow. “For their cabins in Tahoe. Must be nice.”
“Must be,” Tom agreed. “I expect the party to go on for another few hours. Bowie Security will shuttle some of the guests to the airport tonight for red-eyes back east. Everyone else will stay here overnight and leave throughout the day tomorrow.”
“We’ll be here. Shift change happens at six tonight, then again at six in the morning.”
“Thanks. I’ll stay until the party breaks up.” Tom took another trip around the Sokolovs’ property, paying attention to each bordering house, wondering where DJ Belmont was hiding. It had to be close. He wouldn’t have been able to follow the Bowie SUV otherwise.
He wished they could search each house, but unfortunately they didn’t have cause. It was frustrating as hell knowing that Belmont was close by. Maybe even watching him now. But so many of the houses were empty because of the holiday weekend. If he was hiding in one of the houses nearby, all he’d have to do would be to ignore their knock. Without a search warrant, they’d never know he was there.
It didn’t have to be a direct line of sight, though. Not like Ephraim had achieved in the house across the street. It could be a block away. Two blocks, even. Probably no farther than that.
Grabbing a tactical helmet from the back of the Bureau van, Tom strapped it on and shrugged into a bulletproof vest.
“Going somewhere?” the agent asked him.
“For a walk. Belmont is here. I know it.”
“Give me a second to gear up. I’ll go with you.”
The two of them walke
d the Sokolovs’ neighborhood, eyes peeled for anything out of place. They still didn’t have an ID on the woman Belmont had murdered the night before and they didn’t know what kind of car had been stolen. But they were looking for anything out of place. Anything that caught their attention.
It didn’t matter, though. There were no cars visible in driveways. All had been parked in the garages or had been driven out of town by the homes’ occupants.
“I see nothing,” the agent said when they’d walked two blocks in each direction.
Tom blew out a breath. “Me neither. Dammit, this is so frustrating. I know he’s here.”
“Maybe he’s hiding somewhere else after last night.”
“Maybe. But this is a prize that Belmont won’t be able to easily ignore. Mercy is here and so is Gideon. He has to know that. He was watching last night. He knows that we had SUVs going back and forth to the airport. I can’t see him walking away from this opportunity.”
“If he makes a move, we’ll be ready. If only we had search warrants for the neighborhood.”
“I wish,” Tom muttered as they started the walk back to the Sokolovs’. When they’d reached the van, he took off and stowed the tactical gear.
He needed to tell Rafe about the dead cops before he and Mercy were driven home. Rafe needed to be on full alert, even if he didn’t share the reason with Mercy.
Tom entered the house, flinching at the roar of noise that assaulted him. The house was normally boisterous, but today . . . It was as loud as a home team crowd at the Garden.
Some days Tom missed playing basketball, but he did not miss that noise. Bracing himself, he walked toward the kitchen, pausing once again in the doorway of the living room. Liza was sitting on the sofa in the corner, just as she’d been when he’d left for his perimeter check.