The Third to Die

by Allison Brennan

  35

  Liberty Lake

  3:45 p.m.

  Kara spent most of Sunday reviewing all her notes from her investigation into David Chen and his associates. She called her closest friend on the force, Colton Fox. She and Colton had often worked undercover together, and he helped her with Chen. He wasn’t working on anything new, and it was probably killing him as much as her.

  “What the fuck is going on with the Chen case?” she asked after a brief hello.

  “You talked to Lex.”

  “And? You couldn’t call me?”

  “And say what? Thornton is an asshole? You know that.”

  “Thornton? What are you talking about.”

  Colton paused a beat. “Lex didn’t tell you.”

  “He didn’t tell me about that prick. Fuck. Thornton has had it out for me for years.” It figures Thornton was behind whatever federal bullshit was coming down in LA.

  “You broke his nose.”

  “I’ll break it again.”

  “It’s not going to hold. No one is going to believe Chen’s statement.”

  “In this day and age? When cops are put out to take the fall for everything? I swear, I wish I could twist the nuts off every bad cop out there who has set us all up for this bullshit.”

  “You’re preaching, sister.”

  “Do they have anything but Chen?”

  “Not that I know. I’d tell you.”

  Colton was one of the good guys. He could be a hard-ass at times, and he sometimes crossed the line, but he did a great job, and he took bad guys off the streets. The real bad guys, like Chen.

  “Will you keep me in the loop?” she asked.

  “As much as I can.”

  “What the hell?”

  “I’m building another cover. Going in tomorrow if we get the approval.”

  “I should be there to watch your ass.”

  “It’s a nice ass to watch, isn’t it?”

  She rolled her eyes, even though he couldn’t see her. “Be careful out there, Colt. I don’t want to break in another partner.”

  “Never. I hear you’re working hard.”

  “Found a dead body. Serial killer. Interesting investigation.”

  “You always loved that shit.”

  “Hobby. I much prefer playing in the mud.”

  “Playing in the mud” was how Lex, their boss, referred to undercover work. Because criminals were scum, but they were fun to put in prison.

  “Maybe I should be telling you to be careful up there.”

  “I’ll see you in a week. And seriously—if you need backup, let Lex know. I can be there in twelve hours—you know that. For you, I’ll take my lumps with IA and the FBI and any other alphabet agency they throw at me.”

  “I know. See you later.”

  She hung up. She and Colton had a long history. Friends, sometimes friends with benefits. It worked for them. But first and foremost, they were cops. They loved their job. And there was no one else in LAPD that she’d rather work with.

  She looked at her notes again. Talking to Colton helped, but she didn’t like knowing that Thornton was driving this train. That bastard had it out for her; always had, it seemed. Even before she popped him in the face. Earned her a seven-day unpaid suspension, but the applause of every cop on the force who’d had to put up with Thornton’s bullshit since he’d arrived in LA.

  Dammit, she’d built a good, solid case against Chen and his associates, and the DA himself had been thrilled when she turned it over to him. She was always great on the stand and had experience winning juries over when there was a complex case like this one. She’d had to take the mandatory three days because of the fatal shooting, but it was justified. Even IA, after she’d given her official statement, turned off the recorder and told her it was a no-brainer, knife thrown from less than twenty feet she should be lucky she’d survived. She had a fucking inch-long scar on her back to prove it.

  The human trafficking angle might be federal on the surface, but the sweatshops were under LAPD purview, and Dyson had prosecuted two high-profile cases over the years just like this one, one of which Kara had been instrumental in tying up.

  But she had to get this case to trial first, to put Chen behind bars for life, and the FBI was going to screw everything up if they took the case from LAPD and cut Chen a deal.

  Frustrated because she was stuck here in Spokane for another week, she grabbed a beer and sat back down at the kitchen table.

  Emily walked in and sat down across from her. Her grandmother smelled like she had just been smoking weed. Kara couldn’t get too angry with her—she was seventy and had chronic arthritis. And it was legal—now. It hadn’t been legal fifteen years ago when Kara moved in with her.

  “You look so sad,” Em said.

  Kara wasn’t going to talk to her stoned grandmother about her messed-up case in Los Angeles.

  “I’m good.”

  “Who were you just talking to? I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you told him to be safe. Another cop?”

  “A friend. Colton. You met him a couple years ago.”

  “Your boyfriend?”

  “No. A friend and colleague.” Though her grandmother was very hip about most everything, she really didn’t want to get in a conversation about her and Colton and how they occasionally had fun in bed but it didn’t mean anything more than they needed to let off steam and they trusted each other. As much as two undercover cops could trust. Besides, if there was something serious going on between her and Colton, she certainly wouldn’t have slipped between the sheets with Matt Costa. She was no saint, but she didn’t two-time her lovers.

  “You sounded worried.”

  “I can’t really talk about it.”

  Em frowned.

  “He’s working undercover. It’s a sticky situation.”

  “You work undercover.”

  How did she know that? Kara painstakingly avoided talking about work. She would have to be more careful around Em.

  “Grams, I can’t talk about what I do.”

  “I worry about you.”

  “I know you do. I’m good at my job.”

  I need my job. I am my job.

  Fortunately, the doorbell rang, saving Kara from any further explanations—which she couldn’t give, and would end up hurting Em’s feelings. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt her grandmother.

  “I’ll get that,” she said, motioning to her grandmother to sit. She walked through the cluttered house to the front door—surprised and pleased that Matt Costa was on the stoop. She smiled and said, “You could have called.”

  “Andy told me you were taking the day off. After yesterday, I don’t blame you, but I had hoped you’d be at the briefing.”

  “I had some work to take care of, and it was easier to do it here. Related to my last case in LA.”

  “Oh. Right. Sometimes I forget you’re out of your jurisdiction. You’ve really been a great help to my team. I mean that. Ryder and Michael sing your praises.”

  “They’re smart,” she said with a grin. “Come in.” She closed the door behind him. It was cold—and she wondered if snow would be hitting in the next day or two. She knew a storm was coming in, just didn’t know how fierce it would be.

  Costa took off his coat and frowned, glancing around.

  “Not me,” she said, knowing exactly what he was smelling. “My grandmother. I run the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ program when I visit.”

  “I guess that was the last thing I expected to hear.” But he smiled. Definitely not a by-the-book fed.

  She walked through the kitchen, where Em was washing vegetables she’d pulled earlier from her small greenhouse. “Grams, this is Matt Costa with the FBI. Matt, my grandmother, Emily Dorsey.”

  Matt extended his hand. “Pleased to mee
t you, ma’am. Your granddaughter has been a great help to us this last week.”

  “Of course she has. She doesn’t know the meaning of the word relax or vacation.”

  Grams was testy today.

  “I took today off, didn’t I?”

  “Working from home is still working.” She waved her hand. “Go on, offer your guest a beer and take it outside. I don’t want to hear about any of this stuff. It upsets me.”

  She kissed her grandmother on the cheek. “Love you, Em.” Then she grabbed two beers from the refrigerator and went outside. Matt followed. She turned on the fire pit and it roared to life. The heat felt good.

  “I know you’re busy, Matt, so spill it. You must have a reason for stopping by.”

  “Andy is struggling with this case.”

  “I know. I told you that yesterday. I talked to him this morning. I didn’t exaggerate or downplay it. He’s not used to this level of investigation.”

  “I had Michael Harris stick with him most of today.”

  Kara realized why Matt must be upset. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

  “About what?”

  “I’d been partnering with Andy and I bailed on you today. If you needed me, I would have been there. All you had to do is ask.”

  “No—that’s not it. I mean, maybe—partly—I expected you at the station when I got there this afternoon. But you’re on vacation. I can’t expect you to devote 24-7 to this case.”

  The way he said it made Kara think there was something more, but she hoped she was wrong.

  You’re not wrong about these things.

  “I promised to help for the duration,” she said. “But today I needed to take time to go over my last case. It’s—well, it’s a clusterfuck right now and my boss needed specific information.”

  Not completely true. Kara needed specific information so she knew that she hadn’t left any holes in her case.

  “I know we’re on a clock here,” she continued. “In fact, I’m having dinner with Brian Maddox and his family tonight. He worked in Liberty Lake during your window of time, and he lives here. He’s one of the smartest cops I know. I was hoping we could talk things out informally.”

  “He mentioned the dinner earlier.”

  “You want to come? He wouldn’t mind,” Kara said.

  “I would—but I can’t. We believe that the Triple Killer also killed three homeless men fifteen years ago. And this time, he screwed up. We found blood in Ogdenburg’s bathroom that doesn’t match the homeowner. We’re getting closer.”

  “But.”

  “But a cop is at risk and we’re not close enough. I reiterated to Andy, and earlier on the phone to Maddox, that they both need to be extra careful—and be particularly sensitive to anyone watching them. Even if they just feel like they’re being watched.”

  “I’ll make sure Maddox takes it seriously. He’s a good cop—he knows he’s not invincible.”

  “I’m frustrated,” Matt said. “It’s March 7. End of day. That means not only does the killer know who his next victim is, he’s been stalking him. Ogdenburg was killed early the morning of March 6. The coroner puts TOD between one and four—said the ME can probably narrow it down. The guy was in his bed. Didn’t fight back. The killer came in and killed him while he was sleeping. Only a short time after Andy was there.”

  “I know,” Kara said, her voice tight.

  I found his body after all...

  But Matt didn’t seem to read between the lines, which was probably a good thing. She didn’t need to be coddled.

  “Our guy could kill a cop at midnight March 9...up until 11:59 p.m. This guy knows his next victim’s schedule. He’ll see that the cop has deviated from pattern.”

  “He’s been reading the newspapers. He knows cops are riding in pairs.”

  “What if we’re wrong and the victims are truly random? And it’s only their profession or the location that matter to the killer? He could grab a cop in, hell, Boise, Idaho, and drive eight hours here and kill him in Liberty Lake.”

  “Matt—I don’t think your Dr. Jones’s profile is wrong on this. It’s a weird pattern, but it is a pattern. It may not make sense to us, but it makes sense to the killer.”

  “You sound just like Catherine.”

  Kara finished her beer. “Another?” she asked him.

  He shook his head. “I need to work through this tonight with Andy. We’ve gone through so much paperwork, even with everything we did yesterday, but there’s still more.” But he didn’t make any move to get up.

  “What else?”

  “Nothing.”

  He spoke too quickly. He knew it. She knew it.

  “I’m getting another beer. I am on vacation after all.” She got up.

  When she was almost to the back door, Matt said, “Are you on vacation? Or mandatory administrative leave?”

  She hesitated only a fraction of a second, then opened the door and went inside.

  Kara stood at the refrigerator and stared at the beer bottles. Her grandmother didn’t drink beer—wine, Em was all over it, but beer was Kara’s preferred beverage. Staring wasn’t going to do her any good—they were all the same beer, a local craft beer she liked. She didn’t even want another beer.

  Matt had talked to Bryce Thornton. Whether Matt dug around or Thornton heard about Kara’s adventures in Washington through one of the traitors at LAPD, Kara didn’t know. Did she care?

  Yes. She did care. She’d asked Matt not to talk to LA-FBI and he had.

  She grabbed two beers and went back outside.

  She slammed down the beer in front of Matt. “What do you want to know?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t insult me by lying.”

  “Everything.”

  “I can’t tell you everything.”

  “What can you tell me?”

  “What did Thornton say?”

  Matt was a good cop, but he didn’t have much of a poker face. She’d read the situation correctly.

  “That fucking bastard.”

  “Well?”

  “I don’t know what he’s saying about anything. I never do. I’ll find out, but I skipped town before I had to deal with that federal bullshit.”

  “A federal investigation into a deadly force accusation is not bullshit, Kara.”

  “What?” Kara—who always controlled her reactions, even when she was angry, hadn’t even suspected. She would have laughed if she didn’t want to hop on a plane and punch that scumbag Bryce Thornton in his too-perfect jaw.

  Break it, to go with the broken nose she’d given him eleven years ago when he was a measly, low-ranking agent. Damn, why did the pricks always rise to the top?

  “Thornton said there was a federal investigation in your use of deadly force against an unarmed suspect.”

  “Thornton opens an investigation into me every chance he gets. I’m his pet project.”

  “It doesn’t work that way, Kara. The FBI is a bureaucracy. He would have to jump through hoops to open and reopen investigations into one individual.”

  “Every time he comes after me, he loses. He’ll lose this time.”

  “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  “No.”

  “Dammit, Kara—this is serious.”

  She fumed. She would have told Matt—on her own terms—if she wanted to. She refused to discuss anything with a federal agent when she wasn’t 100 percent positive she could trust him. She’d thought Matt was one she could trust.

  She was wrong.

  And being wrong just pissed her off.

  She said, “You either trust me or you don’t.”

  “I met you four days ago, Kara.”

  “And you’ve known Thornton for how long?”

  “That’s not the same thing!”

 
; “I’ll tell you one thing. I have used deadly force seven times in my twelve years as a cop. Yes, more than most cops, but most cops don’t work undercover and with the scummiest of the scum. It’s the nature of my job—it’s dangerous and necessary. Every single time, I’ve been cleared. They were all just. Every. Single. One. I already told you that I was forced to take a vacation. Bryce can call it administrative leave all he wants, but it’s my vacation time I’m cashing in. But the reason Lex told me to take a hike was not because of my use of force.”

  “Then why?”

  She wanted to tell him—not to justify or explain herself, but because losing Soon Chi Chu hurt. Kara didn’t get emotional about her cases—she couldn’t and still do what she did. Lex told her she was getting too close to the young Chinese girl Kara called Sunny, and Kara had dismissed him as being the overprotective father she didn’t want. But he was right. Because he was always right about things like this.

  When that bastard David Chen killed Sunny, Kara compartmentalized her murder like she did every other victim she’d ever come across. But it was hard. Too hard. Okay, down right impossible. Sunny gave Kara information because Kara pushed her. Sunny had never wanted to get involved, but Kara was good at getting people to do what was against their best interests.

  They were so close—so damn close—to Sunny being free. No human being should ever be in captivity. No human being should suffer slavery. No human should be subjected to the pain and humiliation of being treated worse than cattle in a sweatshop where they made pennies a day.

  And then Sunny was dead, and her blood was on Kara’s hands. Literally and figuratively.

  “Call me if you need my help on your case, otherwise, goodbye. Show yourself out.”

  “Don’t—” Matt said as Kara walked inside.

  She kept going.

  She would destroy Bryce Thornton as soon as she was back in LA, and he would never see it coming.

  36

  Liberty Lake

  5:00 p.m.

  Matt regretted his conversation with Kara. What had he been thinking? He hadn’t. Why had he thought she’d just explain? She was hostile and defensive, and under normal circumstances he’d think that was a sign of guilt, but with Kara, he didn’t think so.