by L. T. Ryan
Etched in Shadow
A Cassie Quinn Mystery
L.T. Ryan
with
K.M. Rought
Copyright © 2021 by L.T. Ryan, K.M. Rought, and Liquid Mind Media, LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the authors’ imagination or used fictitiously.
Contents
The Cassie Quinn Series
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
The Cassie Quinn Series
Concealed in Shadow
Concealed in Shadow: Chapter 1
Concealed in Shadow: Chapter 2
Concealed in Shadow: Chapter 3
Also by L.T. Ryan
About the Author
The Cassie Quinn Series
Path of Bones
Whisper of Bones
Symphony of Bones
Etched in Shadow
Concealed in Shadow
1
Detective Adelaide Harris missed the chill of Montana’s mountain air. There was something invigorating about the biting cold. Most people would bury themselves deeper into the comfort of their warm bed, but not her. She lived for the way it sharpened her senses and lit up her nerve endings.
Savannah’s mornings were never cold enough. Even now, in the middle of December, the nightly temperatures rarely dipped below forty. Every morning, the soft heat of the day coaxed her back to sleep. Coffee overheated her body, so she took cold showers to remind her of those longed-for chilly mornings back home.
But today was different.
This morning, she had been awake the moment her feet hit the living room carpet. The only sound she heard was Chief Clementine’s voice echoing in her head. Harris had fallen asleep on the couch again, and the peal of her phone’s ringtone woke her from an uneasy rest. The sun had risen hours ago, and as she fumbled for her cell, she wondered how she could’ve overslept. When she finally raised the device to her ear, Clementine sounded surprised, like she had almost gotten away with not having to pass along the news.
Harris had always respected Chief Clementine’s strength and dedication, her innate ability not to mince words. So when Harris heard the hesitation in the other woman’s voice, something shifted inside her. Her body prepared for the worst, and when it came, she absorbed the shock to her system.
“I need you to come in.” Clementine weighed her words. “Something’s happened.”
That’s all the Chief had told her. Something’s happened. But Harris knew what it was, even if she couldn’t put it into words. The dread pooling in her stomach sent an icy chill up her spine. It worked its way into the base of her skull, causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end.
Still, she took the time to shower. Get dressed. Eat breakfast. She didn’t dawdle, but she didn’t rush. It wouldn’t have changed the outcome of the situation, and she’d need her strength for the day.
Clementine had brought her into the station to break the news. Harris didn’t bother asking questions or denying the validity of the Chief’s claim. She had walked into Clementine’s office with a stone mask on her face, and she had refused to let it slip in front of her superior officer.
Or anyone else, for that matter.
Harris had only one desire—to see the body. Clementine had protested. Harris had insisted. She would not back down, and after a full minute’s deliberation, the Chief relented. Clementine drove the detective to the scene herself, which was all the better for Harris. The detective may have been able to control her face, but she couldn’t control the shaking of her hands.
The twenty-minute ride to a warehouse just outside the city proper was a silent one. Harris did not feel motivated to fill the silence, and she assumed Clementine didn’t either. Any words at this point would have been empty. Proof, evidence, and tangible details were the only elements that mattered.
Most of the other officers still wore their jackets despite the sun being at its zenith, but Harris had left hers in the car. The heat of the day didn’t register against her skin, nor did the crunch of gravel under her boots. Even the patrol cars’ flashing lights, competing with the sun’s rays, were distant. All she saw was the loading dock entrance, the caution tape, and the crumpled body laying just beyond.
Clementine put out her arm to stop Harris’ approach. The Chief waited until Harris looked her in the eye. “I’m giving you five minutes to do what you need to do. Scream, cry, punch a wall, whatever. After that, I need you back here with me. All pistons firing. We’re going to find who did this.”
Harris nodded, but when Clementine didn’t drop her arm, Harris felt obligated to meet her eyes. “I got it. Five minutes.”
The Chief nodded, then cleared everyone out. A few officers tried to give their condolences, but she ignored them. She didn’t want the pity or the sorrow or the sympathy. She wasn’t the only one suffering today, even if she was the only one who had gotten an escort from the Chief of Police. They all thought they knew what she was feeling, but they didn’t have a clue.
Harris put one foot in front of the other until the toe of her boot hit the first step of the stairs leading to the dock. She took each step with deliberate care, feeling the stretch of her muscles before they contracted and lifted her upward. When she made the platform, she forced herself forward.
Someone had rolled up the bay door and draped caution tape across the entrance. Harris ducked under it, forcing her eyes to the body in the center of the room. There was no point in denying it was him. That would only postpone the inevitable, and they couldn’t afford to lose that kind of time.
Detective David Klein had been shot once in the head and once in the heart. The wounds were clean. In and out. No suffering. One minute he was alive, and the next he was not. He probably hadn’t even seen it coming.
It was a minor comfort, but even through the fog of her pain, Harris recognized it for what it was—a mercy. Every police officer, from the beat cops to the Chief of Police herself, had thought about what it would be like. Whether you’d suffer for days before succumbing to your wounds or feel a sharp pinch before it was lights out and you never opened your eyes again.
One arm was trapped under his twisted body. She wanted to push him onto his back, to straighten him out and maybe fold his hands across his stomach. But she resisted the urge. The crime scene had to stay intact. They couldn’t afford to lose a single piece of evidence.
Harris waited for tears that never came. She wished they would, to blur the scene in front of her. Inst
ead, she saw David’s dead body in high definition. Every drop of blood, every scratch on his skin, every contorted muscle of his body was in sharp relief.
There was no doubt in her mind that she’d see him every time she closed her eyes for the rest of her life.
Footsteps echoed around the room. Harris turned to see Clementine approaching. The Chief was alone. Were the five minutes up already? She knew she wouldn’t cry with the other officers so close, but Harris hadn’t had time to figure out what she’d wanted to do first—scream or punch something.
“This is my fault.” The words were out of Harris’ mouth before she could stop them. “I did this.”
“You didn’t.” Clementine’s voice wasn’t gentle. The sharp look in her eye quieted any of Harris’ protests. “You didn’t pull the trigger. You didn’t kill him.”
“I should’ve been here.”
“If you had, then I might’ve had two dead detectives on my hands instead of just one.”
Harris looked down at David. She heard Clementine’s words, even registered they were true, but the guilt that ate away at her stomach lining didn’t recede. If anything, it doubled its efforts to consume her from the inside out.
“I need to know what you know.” Clementine’s voice was all business, but when Harris turned back to her, the sharpness in her eyes had lifted. “All of it. Even the parts you don’t want to tell me.”
Harris stood, but couldn’t put David at her back. She needed to know he was still there with her, at least in some capacity. “Two nights ago, we were grabbing a beer when he got a phone call from a witness who wanted to turn on Aguilar.”
“Francisco Aguilar?” Clementine’s eyebrows pinched together. “Why?”
“David said it was because the guy had a kid on the way. He didn’t want to be part of it anymore—the drugs, the murders, none of it. He wanted out, and he wanted protection for him and his family.”
“And you guys believed that?”
“David did.” Harris blew out a breath, and it ruffled the hair around her face. “But I think it was more than that. The witness must’ve said something else because David looked scared. He told me the other guy said Aguilar had people in the department doing his dirty work for him. People you wouldn’t suspect.”
Clementine narrowed her eyes. “You never want to hear something like that.”
“David didn’t seem surprised. More resigned. He didn’t want me involved, but I insisted. He’d already told me too much. He couldn’t get rid of me that easily.”
Clementine glanced at David’s body and then back up at Harris. “So why aren’t you lying next to him?”
“The witness wanted him to come alone. I wouldn’t let him.” She ground her teeth. “He gave me an address, told me to show up ten minutes after he did. I was to stay close but not intervene. We needed this guy to take down Aguilar and whoever he had in the department. We couldn’t risk spooking him.”
“I’m guessing he didn’t give you this address?”
“He sent me across town. By the time I figured it out, he had already turned his cell off. I drove around for a while, but I had no idea where they were meeting. Eventually, I went home.”
“There’s nothing you could’ve done, Adelaide.” Clementine put a hand on Harris’ shoulder and forced the detective to meet her gaze. “I mean it. This was David’s choice. Don’t bear the responsibility of decisions he knew could have this outcome. He probably saved your life.”
“Did he know?” Harris looked down at David, and for the first time that morning, she felt a well of emotion creep up her throat. “Did he know he was going to die?”
“Only one other person might know the answer.” Clementine gave her a pointed look. “Are you going to call her, or do you want me to?”
“I’ll do it.” Harris wondered if Cassie already knew. Had David visited her? Had he told her exactly what happened? Would Cassie blame Harris for not being with him? “But I have to figure out what to say first.”
“If you’re looking for the right words for a situation like this”—Clementine returned her gaze to David–“you’ll be looking for a long time.”
“What about you?” Harris asked. “What are you going to say to the others?”
“Only what they need to know. If we have a rat, we need to flood the ship.”
Clementine waved the other officers back inside. Harris stepped back under the caution tape, walked down the stairs, and moved off to the side of the loading docks. A small crowd had gathered on the far end, but three police officers kept them at bay. Harris drew a deep breath and blocked them all out.
As she pulled out her phone, her stomach twisted. She hadn’t known Cassie for long, but they had forged their friendship in the heat of battle. She was the one person outside David’s family who would understand what Harris was feeling right now, and it was her job to deliver the killing blow.
Before she could lose her nerve, Harris dialed Cassie’s number.
“Hey.” Cassie sniffled. “What’s up?”
“Cassie.” Harris’ voice sounded unnatural, even to her ears. It was too full of emotion, too full of heartbreak. “Am I interrupting?”
“No.” Cassie sobered instantly. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t really know how to say this.” She was losing it. “It doesn’t feel real.”
“Adelaide. What happened?”
“It’s David.” Harris’ voice shook, despite her best efforts to stay calm for her friend. “He’s dead.”
2
If Cassie Quinn ever thought there was a limit to how much one person could cry, today had proven her wrong. Her throat was raw, her nose was red, her cheeks were puffy, and yet tears continued to stream down her face with great abandon.
It was a cruel trick of the universe that her life had come together for the briefest of moments before falling apart again. Cassie had repaired her relationship with her sister and her parents. She’d discovered she’d had her abilities far longer than she could’ve imagined. And she’d even solved the murder of her childhood best friend, finally allowing souls like little Sebastian Thomas to rest after twenty long years of turmoil.
If it were any other day, Cassie would be on cloud nine. Savannah had greeted her with open arms. The sun was warm, and the chill breeze made her want to bundle closer to the people she loved. Work was going better than ever before, and she and Jason were texting daily now. Slowly but surely, they were getting to know each other.
But today was not like any other day.
Today, Cassie watched as her best friend was laid to rest.
The funeral was beautiful, if such a word could describe the somber event. David’s casket had been draped with the American flag, and his colleagues, dressed in their finest, carried him with a strength Cassie couldn’t imagine mustering at a time like this.
She sat behind David’s wife, Lisa, while the woman clutched her daughters’ hands and cried. Half a dozen grandkids surrounded her. David’s legacy watched as each person took a handful of dirt or a fistful of flowers, tossed it on top of his coffin, and said their goodbyes.
When it was Cassie’s turn, she felt Lisa’s eyes burning into the back of her skull. But whatever answers the other woman wanted, Cassie didn’t have them. The world around her was as silent as it had ever been.
A three-volley salute honoring David’s life shattered that silence. The bang of the rifles tore their way through Cassie’s patchwork façade, unlocking a newfound wave of pain that existed somewhere deep inside the darkest reaches of her soul. She clung to Harris, burying her face in the detective’s shoulder and sobbing until her entire body ached.
David’s funeral affected every person in attendance, and when it drew to a close, Cassie witnessed some of the hardest, toughest men wiping away tears as they headed back to their cars. Some would go home and find comfort in a bottle. Others would find that same comforting bottle at Lisa’s house, where she had invited David’s closest friends and colleagues t
o eat, drink, and remember the life he had led.
Cassie rode with Harris, not trusting herself to keep a car on the road in her current state. She was grateful for the detective’s presence, but it was a harsh reminder something was missing. She and Harris were no longer whole without David by their side.
The Klein residence was bursting at the seams with food, booze, and people. Clusters of men and women had formed in the front yard, and Cassie could hear crying, laughing, and the clinking of glasses. The porch sagged under the weight of a dozen men telling stories about David—some heroic, some hilarious. She and Harris had to squeeze through the front entrance, only to pop out the other side into another group of officers.
Harris put her hand on Cassie’s shoulder. “Are you okay? There are some people I want to talk to, but I can stay with you if you need me to.”
“I’m fine.” When Harris didn’t look convinced, Cassie gently shoved the woman away. “Really. Go. I need to find Lisa.”
Harris nodded and left, leaving Cassie alone in a sea of people far bigger and taller than her. Immediately, a cloud of anxiety engulfed her, squeezing her lungs until she felt so lightheaded, she stumbled. Someone righted her, and she mumbled a thanks before winding her way through the crowd and ascending the stairs. Just like that, she could breathe again.