“Joseph Rico.”
“Sergeant Joe Rico,” he clarified. And with that announcement, he turned back around to face her. “Homicide. S.A.P.D.”
Her breath landed somewhere around that knot in her stomach.
Katelyn shook her head. The badge had to be a fake. Except it wasn’t. She scratched it with her thumbnail, or rather tried to. It was as real as the one in her purse. Still, there was something off here. “Impossible. I work Homicide, and I’ve never seen you before in my life.”
“Because I was just assigned there.” He enunciated each word as if she were mentally deficient. “By the chief of police.”
Judas Priest. That bit of information cleared the buzz in her head. Katelyn wasn’t sure exactly where this was leading, but she knew for a fact that she wouldn’t like its final destination.
Joe Rico calmly picked up his gun from the floor and reholstered it. Somehow, he managed to look cocky even while doing that little chore. No hurried moves. No overt display of emotion.
“Well, Detective Katelyn O’Malley, I’d say we have a problem. A problem with you being here because this isn’t your case. Why am I so certain of that?” He aimed his thumb at his chest. “Because it’s mine.”
Katelyn hadn’t thought this moment could possibly get more frustrating—or embarrassing—but she was obviously wrong.
“Yours?” she demanded.
“Mine.” Sergeant Rico muscled her out of the doorway and turned to leave, delivering the rest of his news from over his shoulder. “Oh, and by the way, I’m your new boss.”
Chapter Two
Well, it wasn’t exactly the smooth start Joe wanted for this particular investigation. While undercover, he’d been made quite easily—by his subordinate, no less. And then that subordinate had frisked him.
He was sorry to say the frisking had been more enjoyable than it should have been.
Far more.
“The chief assigned you this case?” Katelyn O’Malley asked, following him.
Since he’d already made that perfectly clear, and since he detected some resentment in her voice, he surmised that she’d heard him correctly but wasn’t in agreement with the chief’s decision.
Joe stopped at the edge of the narthex and pressed the transmitter of the communication device hidden in his jacket. “Did anyone come in the church in the past three minutes?” he asked the backup officer who was positioned in an office building directly across the street.
“No.”
So they’d been lucky. Katelyn O’Malley’s stunt hadn’t allowed the sniper to walk in unchallenged. Of course, if the killer followed the method of operation of the last shooting, he or she wouldn’t burst into the church until the I do’s had been said. There’d be a frenzied battery of gunfire from a ski-mask-wearing shooter who wouldn’t actually enter the sanctuary but would stay in the narthex and then make an easy getaway. Just the way it’d happened to the victims, Gail Prescott and Raul Hernandez.
Joe clicked off the transmitter and glanced back at Detective O’Malley.
She was staring at him as if he were a member of the fungus family.
Too bad he couldn’t say the same for her.
She was attractive. Damn attractive. Not like a beauty queen either, but in a strong, athletic, kick-butt sort of way. The girl-next-door meets Buffy type.
The type he found attractive.
And no amount of denial would make his body think otherwise. Fortunately, the parts of his body that noticed her attractive looks didn’t have any say in the decisions he made.
“There’s been some kind of mistake.” She jammed her gun back into her holster. “After the initial investigator dropped out because of family illness, I requested this case, and I was told my request was under consideration.”
“It was,” Joe calmly assured her. “But the considering part is finished now, and I’m the lead investigator. End of discussion.”
There was nothing calm about her response. He saw some fire dance through ultraclear, cool green eyes. He’d obviously stepped on her toes, toes encased very nicely in a pair of sex-against-the-wall stilettos.
Something else about her that he truly wished he hadn’t noticed.
Joe quickly pushed that, her physical attributes and the remnants of the frisking aside. What the devil was wrong with him anyway? Even if he’d been looking to spice up his love life, he darn sure wouldn’t have been looking in Katelyn O’Malley’s direction.
“I knew the woman who was killed last week,” she added.
As if that would help her cause.
“Gail Prescott,” Joe supplied. “You went to high school with her and you’ve maintained occasional contact with her and her family. You probably would have attended her wedding even if you hadn’t been on a stakeout. Your relationship with the victim, however, doesn’t give you priority in this investigation. In fact, it does just the opposite. I don’t care to work with an officer who comes into a case with a personal chip on his or her shoulder.”
She unclenched her teeth before she could speak. “There’s no personal chip, Sergeant. Just my desire to bring a killer to justice.”
“Good. Then, we’re in agreement. I have that same desire, but that doesn’t mean I’ll allow you to be part of this case.” But the moment the words left his mouth, Joe remembered a vital point that had come to mind. “By the way, why’d you stake out this particular church?”
The fire in those baby greens dwindled a fraction. She pulled back her shoulders as if preparing to defend herself and met him eye-to-eye. In those heels, she could almost manage it, even though he was just over six feet tall.
“Because the bride and groom met through the Perfect Match Agency, the same matchmaking service that Gail and her fiancé used,” she explained. “They both also had the same florist. I thought there might be a connection so I contacted the minister here at the church—”
“You told him about this possible connection?”
“No. Of course not. There’s only been one shooting, and I have no proof that there’ll be another one. I didn’t want the couple to bring a possible lawsuit against the department for disrupting their wedding, so I simply reminded the minister of some recent robberies in the area and offered my services as a temporary security guard. He agreed, and we came up with the idea of using the guest registry as my cover.”
So she’d done her homework. He liked that. But this wasn’t a time when Brownie points counted. “The florist and Perfect Match could be a coincidence. There are other possible angles.”
“Yes. Gail’s fiancé was Hispanic, so the shooting could have been racially motivated. Or maybe their deaths are linked to some other aspect of their personal lives.” She paused. “But I don’t believe that, and apparently neither do you, or you wouldn’t have come here today.”
Touché.
Joe fought back an urge to smile. Under different circumstances, he might have enjoyed this verbal sparring, but these weren’t different circumstances. Katelyn O’Malley would be in his way, because despite her denial, this case was personal for her. In his experience, when it got personal, people made mistakes.
That wasn’t going to happen on his watch.
“I came here to follow up on one particular theory. One theory of several,” he assured her.
Joe checked the entryway. No new guests, and the others had already moved into the church. He could hear the organ start to play, an indication that the bride and groom were about to make their entrance.
Hopefully, it wouldn’t be their last.
Katelyn huffed. “I know those theories as well as you—”
“Caucasian male is approaching the church,” the backup officer said through Joe’s communicator.
That, and the sound of hurried footsteps, interrupted whatever else she was about to say. Frantic footsteps that sent them both reaching for their guns. In the same motion, she stepped into the hallway beside him. However, the threat for which they’d braced themselves didn’t
materialize.
Judging from the strong family resemblance, the man who came into sight was Sergeant Garrett O’Malley. His gun was already drawn, but he held it discreetly by his side so it wouldn’t easily be seen.
“Katelyn, what’s going on?” her brother demanded.
Because Joe was standing arm-to-arm with her, he felt her muscles relax.
“False alarm,” she let him know. Once again, she reholstered her gun. “This is Sergeant Joe Rico. Homicide. This is my brother, Sergeant Garrett O’Malley, Special Investigations.”
Unlike Katelyn, Garrett didn’t appear to relax. Just the opposite. It was obvious he had issues, and Joe didn’t have to guess who or what those issues were.
“Rico,” Garrett repeated in the same tone that he no doubt reserved for profanity. “According to the rumor mill, the chief sent you in to investigate our brother, Brayden. And possibly Katelyn and me, too.”
“The chief did what?” Katelyn asked. Mouth gaping, she stepped in front of Joe and pinned her gaze to his.
This obviously wasn’t the way to win friends and influence people. But that didn’t matter. He had a job to do, and he’d do it, with or without the O’Malleys’ approval.
“Since it appears you can answer your sister’s questions,” Joe said to Garrett, “I’ll leave you to it and see what’s happening in the church. I’d prefer that people didn’t die while we’re standing around chitchatting.”
It was a good exit line. The only thing missing was, well, the good exit. Katelyn didn’t get out of his way so he could leave, and the hallway was too narrow to go around her. He really didn’t want to play bump and grind just so he could get past her.
Really.
Even if there were various parts of him that thought it might be fun.
Her hands went to her hips. “I don’t know what your agenda is—”
“To do my job,” Joe insisted.
That earned him a scowl. “My brothers are good cops. Don’t judge either of them by the fact that I came here today. This undercover investigation was my idea and mine alone.”
Since it was clear this argument wouldn’t be resolved in the next couple of minutes, Joe put his gun back into his holster, firmly caught her shoulders and moved her out of his path. “I’ll see you both back at headquarters when I’m finished here.”
Joe turned to leave. But he still didn’t manage that exit. A few steps was as far as he got. The sound stopped him in his tracks. Because it was the last thing he wanted to hear. A sound he’d anticipated, and dreaded.
A shot blasted through the church.
THE EMOTION of her argument with Sergeant Rico evaporated instantly, and in its place, Katelyn felt the barrage of instinct and adrenaline.
Sweet heaven. The gunman had attacked after all, and she hadn’t been able to stop it. She prayed the bullet had missed its target and that everyone was safe.
“The shot came from outside,” Rico offered, taking the words right out of her mouth. “The west side of the building, maybe. Maybe the rear. Garrett, secure the front doors, and just in case someone else hasn’t already done it, call for backup. Katelyn, you’re coming with me.”
Rico didn’t hesitate. Neither did Garrett nor she. Her brother hurried to the front door, kicking it shut and locking it. He kept his weapon ready, secured a spot near one of the sidelight windows and then pulled out his cell phone. Rico went in the direction of the sanctuary, and Katelyn followed.
“Get down!” Rico yelled to the guests.
Most had already done just that, squeezing themselves underneath the pews. There were raw screams. Chaos. The smell of fear. And in the middle of that, Katelyn saw the bride, groom and the minister cowering between the altar and an archway of pale peach roses.
No visible evidence of blood. Thank God. They seemed unharmed.
For now.
“There’s an auxiliary building out there. Two story, brown brick,” she relayed to Rico. “Our gunman could be using it as a catbird seat.”
He nodded and without taking his attention off the partially shot-out stained glass window, he whispered to her over his shoulder. “You don’t happen to have another brother stashed in the parking lot, huh?”
“I wish. But no. We’re on our own until backup arrives.” Which wouldn’t be for minutes. Long, critical minutes.
Where just about anything could happen.
“Good,” Rico responded. “Because I have an officer out there. One who’s officially on this case, and I didn’t want any of your relatives accidentally shooting him while he’s trying to do his job.”
Katelyn didn’t appreciate the sarcasm but welcomed all the help they could get. Maybe the officer would be able to stop the gunman before any more damage was done.
But at the moment that seemed a lot to hope for.
There’d been damage already. Even if they stopped the shooting here and now, every one of the guests would remember this horrifying ordeal for the rest of their lives. Katelyn blamed herself for that. She’d been in a position to stop this and had failed.
A second shot rang out, quickly followed by another. And another. Two of the three went through a window on the right front side of the church and tore chunks of glass from the frame. No doubt that’s what the shooter had intended to do. Now he or she had a direct line of sight into the church.
Yelling and crying out, the bride, groom and minister scurried to the other side of the altar, but it wouldn’t give them shelter for long. Bullets could easily eat through that wood.
“I’ll make my way over there.” Rico tipped his head to a set of ornate double doors, which were only a couple of yards away from the shattered window. “If necessary I’ll return fire to draw the shooter’s attention. I might be able to get a visual and take him out.”
Yes. Or maybe the gunman would get him first. Of course, that was a chance they had to take.
“I can help.” Katelyn kicked off her shoes and peeled off the silky jacket so they wouldn’t get in her way. “There aren’t any guests near that other window next to the doors. I’ll knock out the glass and return fire, as well. Don’t worry—I’ll keep watch for your officer and make sure I don’t send any friendly fire his way.”
Rico might have disagreed with that impromptu plan, but he didn’t get a chance to say anything. More shots came crashing through the building.
Heavy, thick blasts.
Nonstop, this time.
The sounds were deafening. And they drowned out the shouts, screams and prayers that increased with each new round of fire. Just as Katelyn had figured, those shots were aimed right at the wooden altar. It was the same as the first shooting, the one that had killed Gail and her fiancé. Shots and plenty of them. But that knowledge gave Katelyn no comfort whatsoever. She’d already guessed that Gail’s murder wasn’t some random act of violence.
For all the good it’d done her.
Her guess was right, and yet it’d still been repeated right under her nose.
The bride screamed. Maybe in pain. Maybe just from fear. Katelyn prayed it was fear.
Rico moved. Fast and low. He was almost graceful, surprising for a man his size. With Katelyn following closely behind him, they went toward the door. Along the way, he identified himself and doled out assurances to the terrified guests.
He kept close to the perimeter wall until he got to the row of the stained glass windows, and then he lowered himself to the floor and proceeded to the doors.
The shots stopped for only a couple of seconds. Not for reloading, Katelyn soon learned. And they didn’t stop because the gunman was finished for the day. The break was so the person could change out rifles. The sound of the new shots told her that much since it was a different calibration. Whoever was doing this had certainly come prepared to kill but wasn’t necessarily an expert marksman. The stray bullets were landing everywhere—which, of course, made the situation all the more dangerous.
Katelyn made her way right along behind Joe Rico. Trying to time
it perfectly to coordinate with his efforts, she sheltered her eyes and used the grip of her gun to knock out the glass that formed the image of the archangel, Michael. The glass was solid and held in place by not just strips of lead solder but also a sturdy frame. It took several hard jabs before she managed to dislodge enough of it so she could see into the parking lot.
Pressing her back against the narrow section of wall next to the doors, she rotated her body and did a quick check outside. She had a fairly good view of the building—and the dozen or so windows facing the church. Too many windows, and the reflection of the early afternoon sun didn’t make things easier. She quickly scanned them all as best she could.
No shooter in sight.
Yet, he had to be there.
Somewhere.
Because he was still firing.
While still low on the floor, Rico reached up and turned the old-fashioned brass handle on the door. He opened it a fraction and looked out. Katelyn waited for a signal so she could return fire.
And just like that, the shots stopped.
She felt another surge of adrenaline slam through her. A bad-feeling kind of surge. If the gunman wasn’t shooting, then he was likely making his getaway.
That couldn’t happen.
Because she knew in her heart that he would continue this until someone stopped him.
It was a risk, but Katelyn moved closer to the window so she could check the parking lot and the grounds. Rico did the same to the door. He stood, took position and aimed.
“Think,” she whispered to herself. If she were a killer, what would be her escape plan? Not the parking lot. Too visible. Not the side either since it bumped right against a fairly busy street.
No.
He’d go out the rear of the building and slip into the myriad of old shops and businesses that were crammed into this particular part of the downtown area.
Katelyn heard the sound of sirens the moment that Rico opened the door wider. Mumbling something, he peered out. He’d perhaps come to the same conclusion as she had. The gunman was getting away.
Veiled Intentions Page 2
