Despite being woken up, he didn’t mind having the chance to keep an eye on her. With the police presence here, she should be safe. Didn’t mean Grady would let down his guard. He would do his job and do it well for this slain family once Ainslie cleared him to access the scene. But he’d also keep an eye out for imminent danger, too. He’d learned to combine tasks with that sixth sense in Delta, and that was something you never lost.
He planted his hand on his sidearm as a reminder while he waited and watched her work alone under bright klieg lights, the only nearby person the officer of record. She moved through the scene with effortless ease, clearly comfortable with her camera. She’d put on a baggy Tyvek suit like all the forensic staff in the house were wearing, including him, but he could still imagine the curves hidden under the shapeless fabric. Could imagine going back in time to her home invasion and holding her instead of walking away. Maybe back to earlier tonight. Instead of kissing her on the forehead and running like the chicken that he was, telling her about his uncle, and her saying it was all okay and she didn’t think less of him because he’d hidden such a big thing for all those years.
She lowered her camera and crooked a finger at him. He stepped over the crunchy brown grass to where she stood near the building.
She squatted and set a tent marker near a dried out shrub with leaves desperately clinging for life, then tipped her head at the wall above. “Thought you’d like to get a look at this spray pattern.”
He crouched next to her and glanced at the deformed brass that had cut into a rotting landscape beam. Then he took a long look above at the wall peppered with bullets, each one embedded in decayed siding, the window shattered.
“Pattern definitely suggests a submachine gun. I’ll need to get my tools to do some calculations and maybe I can weigh in on the weapon used.” He rose.
“You’ll have to wait until I have my final overall shots taken care of.” She stood and looked at him.
He’d never really paid attention to when Sierra had taken her own crime scene photos and had only once been on a scene since Ainslie had been hired, so he didn’t know the correct terminology for her work. “Overall?”
“I shoot evidence from a distance, mid-range, and close-up perspective.”
“So this slug for example. You’ll take two different views of it?”
“At least two, but yeah. Getting the closeup is important for many reasons I won’t bore you with, but also capturing the artifacts in a mid-range shot helps put the item in perspective for detectives and a potential jury.”
He got it now. “You give them a background reference so they can put it in context and know where you found the item.”
She nodded vigorously. “And at times, it also helps them identify the item. Without documentation like that, getting a conviction using evidence can be problematic.”
“And here I thought you just showed up and took pictures.” He grinned.
She raised an eyebrow, the hint of a smile on her face. “You mean like anyone can do my job?”
“Well, anyone with a cell phone.”
“Right…yeah. You got it. Just like you show up and glance at holes in the walls.”
He laughed. “Touché.”
Her smile widened, and her high cheekbones rose. He couldn’t stop looking at her, and she locked gazes with him. He wanted to weave his fingers into her hair. Pull out the tight ponytail and release her thick locks. Then kiss her and never stop.
Oh, man. He was in so deep. Acting like a lovesick fool, and at a crime scene no less. He stepped back and shoved his hand into his own hair. “I’ll just get those tools.”
“Um. Yeah. Good.” She spun and raised her camera, but he saw a slight tremble in her hand. She was as affected by their shared moment as he was.
Chastising himself for not keeping a professional demeanor, he marched back to his truck parked on the far side of the fluttering crime scene tape. He reached inside for his gear, and the hair on the back of his neck rose. He knew this feeling. Knew it well. They were being watched. And not in a good way.
He dropped the tools and whipped his body out of the truck. He wouldn’t put it past the thugs who riddled this house with bullets finding out they missed their target to come back and go all kamikaze on them.
He scanned the property. Then across the street. Down the street. His eye caught on a glint in the window of an apartment building. Movement. Something poking out, highlighted by a nearby streetlight. A rifle barrel? Maybe.
“Sniper. Everyone down!” He drew his sidearm, but the distance prohibited getting off an accurate shot.
Ainslie spun to look at him as if in slow motion. Her eyes wide, terror dawning in them.
His heart shredded. “Down!”
She dropped.
Crack. A bullet fractured the air. Thudded. Dirt puffed up next to her head. Grady didn’t think but charged across the lawn. He hurled his body in her direction. Landing hard, taking his weight on his arms, before cocooning her in them and rolling toward a broken-down pickup truck.
Pfft. A bullet whizzed past his ear, pierced the open lid of Ainslie’s kit and lodged in the steps. Grady held Ainslie tight and put his back to the shooter to insulate her from danger. He let out a breath of thanks when they made it behind the truck.
Her body shook in his arms. “Were those bullets meant for me?”
“Either that or someone is hunting crime scene workers.” Grady listened for additional reports, but all he heard was the closest police officer’s radio squawking from his car.
“What are the odds of that?” she asked.
“Not high,” he said, but regretted it when her trembling increased. “We’re good until the officer gets help out here. Besides, the shooting stopped and the shooter likely took off.”
“Is it safe for you to let me go now?”
“Safe. Probably.” Do I want to? No.
He relaxed his arms. Instead of slipping away, she curled to face him. She rested her fingertips gently on his face, the touch like a butterfly, sending a million points of awareness through his body. He waited for her to speak. To say something—anything—she didn’t, and he couldn’t stop the emotions flowing through his body. He couldn’t stop himself, and he leaned closer. Her gaze heated up. He lowered his head. Kissed her. Her warm lips sending a fire racing through him.
She leaned back. “You saved my life. I could have died out there. I’ll forever be indebted to you.”
Not what he’d expected her to say. Not at all, and he didn’t know how to respond. Here he thought she was feeling the same racing emotions he was. The desire to take this thing between them to the next step. To admitting they had feelings. Strong feelings. Her wanting the same thing. But did she?
She slid her hand behind his neck. Drew him closer.
“I want…” she said, her voice breathy as the words fell off and those lips that had enticed him for months connected with his again.
He didn’t care who saw them. Who walked up. He tightened his arms. Lost himself in the feel of her. Drawing her against his body and throwing himself into the kiss. Kissing Ainslie. Here in his arms. Finally. What he wanted. He was home. Totally home and at peace.
“Is everyone okay?” Sierra shouted from inside the house, and Grady heard the raw fear in her voice, snapping him free from his emotions. Bringing him back like a plunge into an icy river.
Ainslie had almost been killed. He’d barely warned her in time. And kissing her, here or anywhere was wrong after her comment. She was feeling vulnerable. Thankful for his rescue.
Was she now going to confuse her feelings of gratitude with the raw, aching emotions that traveled between them? How could he ever know if she was expressing gratitude for saving her life, or if she truly did have feelings for him?
18
Ainslie looked at the warring emotions in Grady’s expression before scooting away, her face hot with emotions morphing into embarrassment. She wished she could read what he was thinking. She c
ouldn’t. He was hiding his feelings well. But more importantly, what had she been thinking? Kissing him. Here at a crime scene. At work. She’d lost her mind. Her ever-loving mind. Gone. In a flash as quick as the bullets.
“Ainslie? Grady?” Sierra called out again.
“We’re fine,” Ainslie shouted, but she didn’t know if Sierra could hear her above police sirens screaming down the street, the cars racing closer.
Ainslie looked around the truck, checking for what she didn’t know, but she had to quit touching Grady before she told him about those feelings that swamped her at the lab and surfaced again when she was in his arms.
“We’ll wait here until we get the all clear,” Grady yelled back to Sierra, his voice rising over the wailing. “You do the same.”
“I’m going to call you.”
Ainslie’s phone rang, and she shifted to get it out of her pocket inside the Tyvek suit. Her shaky hand made it more difficult, but she finally grasped it and answered. “No one was injured, right? The bullets didn’t pierce the house.”
“Right.” Sierra let out a long breath. “And you’re sure you’re both fine?”
“I suspect Grady will have some bruises from protecting me, but I’m good.” She looked at him, but he was avoiding eye contact. Maybe he didn’t like that she’d kissed him. Nah, she knew that wasn’t true. Fire lit in his eyes, and he’d returned the kiss with zeal. Man. It was amazing. Super amazing and incredible. Something like she’d never experienced before. Never. Her heart burst with emotion. Love? Maybe.
But it didn’t matter. Not until she found out what was making him hold back from a relationship. She needed to have that conversation that Sierra had suggested and have it soon, because she was falling hard for him, and her reasons for not pursuing a relationship just didn’t make any sense anymore.
But now, she needed to focus on this incident. To stow her feelings. To stay alive. “His warning call saved me.”
“Yeah, I heard that.” Sierra’s long exhaled breath whispered through the phone. “Thank God he was here.”
Yes, thank You, God! Thank You. Thank You. Thank You.
“Can you put me on speaker?” Sierra asked.
“Sure.” Ainslie stabbed the screen and held out her phone. “Go ahead.”
“Your thoughts on if this shooter was targeting Ainslie or if it’s related to the drive-by?” Sierra asked.
“Based on where the bullets hit…” He paused, his tone holding a lingering tremor of adrenaline. “I’d say targeting her.”
Hearing him confirm the directed attack again nearly brought a gasp from deep inside, but Ainslie swallowed it. “If so, that means I’m being watched or tracked.”
Grady grimaced. “Agreed. We need to get the team and Drake together to see if we can figure out how.”
“Maybe someone put a tracker on your phone,” Sierra suggested.
Was that possible? “I don’t see when that could’ve happened. I have a password and don’t leave my phone lying around where others can access it.”
“Still, we can have Nick review it,” Sierra said. “For now, though, once the police take your statement, I need you to head back to the center and stay there.”
“I’ll make sure that happens,” Grady said.
She thought to tell him that, though she might have feelings for him—that though she might honestly be falling for him—she was still her own person and in charge of her life. She decided when to stay and when to leave. But his behavior was fueled in part by lingering adrenaline and in other part by his fierce need to protect those he cared about. He’d just saved her life because of the second trait. How could she not at least listen to him and do what he suggested if it made sense?
“If I know you, Ainslie, and I think I do,” Sierra said. “You’re trying to think about how to stay and finish the job here. But even if I would let you stay—which I won’t—if you’re the target, then your objectivity is compromised, and you can’t shoot the new evidence anyway.”
Ainslie hadn’t thought of that.
“Besides, if you head back to the lab now, you can get everyone together quicker to figure this out.”
Ainslie gaped at her phone. “You want me to call a meeting of the partners at this time of night?”
“No, I’m going to call Maya and have her arrange it.”
“But it’s the middle of the night.”
“Time is of no consequence when someone tries to take out a family member,” Sierra said with vehemence.
Ainslie knew they thought of her as family, but man, their care and consideration went beyond any family support she’d experienced, and she was so deeply touched that tears sprung to her eyes.
She suddenly got God’s plan here. He was showing His love through these people. Showing her that she mattered. That He did indeed choose her. She wasn’t just some lost cause like so many people had told her. She was loved by Him. By others. And she could in return love others, too. Other people like Grady.
“I’d like to run the trajectory for these sniper shots and search the shooter’s hide before I go,” Grady said,
“Didn’t you see the gun?” Sierra asked.
“I saw a flash. About a hundred or so yards down the road. Then a gun barrel. Second story window. But that’s not enough to hold up in court, and there is no way I’ll let anyone get away with taking potshots at Ainslie. No way.”
“Of course,” Sierra said. “I would expect no less from you.”
He made firm eye contact with Ainslie. “While I run this down, will you wait in the house in an interior room?”
“You don’t think the shooter will come back, do you?” Ainslie asked.
“We can’t be too careful.” He curled his fingers into fists.
“And I’ll get Drake out here, too,” Sierra said.” He can help escort Ainslie back to the center.”
“I hate to bother him,” Ainslie said.
“He won’t think it’s a bother,” Sierra stated. “In fact, he’ll be mad that you didn’t wake him up in the first place.”
“You know he will.” Grady’s attention switched to movement on the street. “Detective Gaines is heading toward the house. Looks like we’re clear. I’ll get right on that trajectory to confirm the hide and get a look at the slugs.”
“Good. I’ll get an update from him, and we can move forward from there.” Sierra ended the call.
Grady started to stow his phone, but it rang.
“It’s Coop.” Grady quickly answered using his speaker.
“Eggen ditched me,” Coop said by way of greeting. “He’s in the wind, and you need to take precautions.”
Grady flashed his gaze to Ainslie, whose face had paled, then looked back at his phone. He didn’t even know how to respond to Coop’s announcement. Grady first needed details to take any action. “What happened?”
“Eggen was sleeping when a light came on in his room, and I saw shadows,” Coop said. “Looked suspicious but movement stopped before I could determine if it was two people. I kept watching and got a hinky feeling. So decided to go check it out.”
He paused and sucked in a long breath. “I couldn’t see through the front window so I went around back. Bathroom window was wide open. Figured he climbed out. I busted down the door. Guy was gone. Not sure if he was alone or with someone. His rental car’s still here, so I cruised the area looking for him on foot. Didn’t find him. Seems like someone came in that window and they left together.”
“How long ago did this happen?” Grady tried hard to keep his disappointment from his tone so he wouldn’t make Coop feel even worse.
“Ninety minutes. Maybe more.”
Grady ran the logistics in his head. Plenty of time for Wade to get over here and take a few shots at Ainslie. Grady told Coop about the shooting, and Ainslie glanced around the area, maybe looking for another threat.
“Aw, man is she okay?” Coop sounded even more distressed.
Grady honestly didn’t know how she was doing
.
“Shaken up, but fine,” he said and hoped it was the truth.
“You think it was our guy?” Coop asked.
“I don’t know what to think,” Grady replied. “But I’ll update the detective in charge here and get him to put an alert out on Wade.”
“Sounds good.” Coop let out a long breath. “I’ll hang here and let you know if he shows up again. And I’ll get Jackson out here to scour the area. If Eggen’s nearby, we’ll find him.”
“Thanks, man.” Grady tried to sound appreciative and not upset.
“Don’t thank me. I blew it.”
“Coulda happened to anyone.”
“I’m not just anyone,” Coop snapped and hung up. He took this situation personally.
Grady got it. Totally. He would feel the same way if he were in Coop’s shoes. He stowed his phone and looked at Ainslie and found her staring at him.
She blinked a few times as if trying to process the news. “You think Wade knew where I was somehow, and he was the one who shot at me?”
“Honestly, I don’t know what to think.” Grady had to work hard to keep his frustration from his voice so he wouldn’t make this situation harder for her. “Let me get working on the trajectory and maybe we can figure that out. First, we talk to Gaines.”
She turned toward the house, where Gaines had gone, and Grady escorted her inside.
Gaines stood by the door talking to Sierra. He looked at Grady. “I’ll need to interview you both.”
“Then you’ll have to join us in an interior room. There’s no way I’ll allow Ainslie to remain out here.” Grady motioned for her to keep going, and they stepped into a narrow hallway that led to an outdated but clean bathroom.
Gaines trailed behind and lingered at the doorway. Grady didn’t waste any time telling the detective about Wade.
Gaines tugged on the lapels of his ill-fitting suit jacket, pulling it closed. “From what you’re saying, you really don’t have any solid connections here. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to put an alert out on the guy.”
“While you do that and interview Ainslie,” Grady said. “I’m going to run trajectory on the slugs.”
Dead Center Page 17
