by Aimée Thurlo
Kendra stepped out onto the front porch, her weapon holstered now, then walked across the remnants of the lawn toward Thomas’s car. “How did you know where I was?”
“Gun!” Paul suddenly yelled from inside. “Driveway—across the street!”
Kendra dove to the grass, rolling as three shots rang out. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Thomas flinch, then fall to the driveway, groaning.
Pistol out, she squeezed off two of the six or seven rounds that suddenly erupted from all around her, all aimed at the gun flashes coming from a hundred feet away. The shooter, barely visible before, tumbled to the ground.
“Cover me,” Paul yelled to his brothers, then ran to Kendra’s side. “You okay?”
Kendra was already on one knee, her weapon trained on the fallen target. “I’m fine, but Evan took a hit.”
“Hold your positions! Look for a second shooter,” Preston yelled, then ran out from behind the corner of the house.
Preston continued across the yard to where Supervisory Inspector Evan Thomas sat, his back against the side of the car.
“I’m fine,” Thomas said. “The round went through my arm. Check out the shooter.”
A porch light came on in a house farther down the street, and an elderly woman poked her head outside. “What’s all that racket?”
“Go back inside, ma’am,” Preston yelled out to her as he crossed the street. “I’m a police officer and there’s been a shooting.”
Preston reached the downed perp and, using his foot, pushed aside the Ruger carbine that lay next to him. “The shooter’s alive. Call 911, Dan,” he yelled to his brother, who was standing in front of the house to Kendra’s left.
“Already on it,” Dan said.
Kendra crouched by Evan, who was now holding a blood-soaked handkerchief against his upper arm.
“Wanna get a first aid kit? I’m losing a lot of blood here,” he said, his tone a professional blend of anger and pain.
“I’ll see what I can find,” Kendra said.
Paul joined Preston by the gunman, who lay on the grass beside the concrete drive, his breathing shallow and labored. He’d taken multiple hits but was wearing a vest, and the rounds that had struck his torso hadn’t penetrated. He was bleeding heavily, however, from two hits to his upper thigh. The man would live if he had immediate care, which was on the way.
Preston placed a handkerchief over the leg wounds, applying pressure to reduce the flow of blood. “Hold this in place if you want to live,” he ordered. The wounded man complied without comment.
Paul looked at the gunman’s sunburned face, concentrating on the eyes. “Miller,” Paul said in a quiet voice. “About time we met up close.”
The man made eye contract, but there was no discernible expression on his face.
“I’ll need a positive ID,” Preston said. Crouching down, he pressed the suspect’s finger to his cell phone’s screen, sending the image to a database thousands of miles away. “Chris Miller,” Preston said a moment later. “A perfect match to his military prints.”
“You’re going down hard,” Paul told the wounded man, who continued to stare back at him blankly. “You killed a federal marshal, which means life as you know it has come to an end.”
Kendra came over and crouched next to Miller. “You’re never going to see freedom again, but if you give us the name of the person who hired you, we might be able to cut a deal. Think about it. Maximum security prison time safely away from the cartel’s hit men, versus lethal injection.”
Miller said nothing.
“I know you came looking for me at the coffee shop, impersonating an officer,” Paul said, but Miller still didn’t react. “The evidence we’ve already got will bury you. Get smart and cooperate. You’re a liability to your former employer now, with makes you a soon-to-be dead man. Without some form of protective custody, it’s just a matter of days or weeks.”
This time Miller looked away and closed his eyes.
“You’re an excellent marksman, yet you failed three times trying to kill Paul, my supervisor and me,” Kendra said. “The big question is, why? You gave me a chance, and now I’m giving you one in return. You need protection, and we need your testimony.”
Miller opened his eyes and looked at her for the first time.
“That’s all I can offer you,” she said.
The sound of approaching sirens filled the air, and as the paramedics arrived, Kendra rose to her feet and waved them closer.
* * *
FORTY MINUTES LATER Kendra sat by Preston’s desk at the station. Both Chris Miller and Evan Thomas were in the regional medical center, protected by local police officers and hospital security.
Preston placed Chris Miller’s file in front of Kendra, but after a quick look, she realized she’d had nearly identical copies on her laptop for days. “There’s nothing here I don’t already know. Miller’s strictly a gun for hire, a freelancer with no real ties or allegiances. With him, it’s all about the money. We need the person who hired him, and that’s information only he can give. Without that, we’re only buying time. His employer will just send a new shooter after us.”
“What I want to know is how Inspector Thomas found you. We never gave him your location,” Paul said.
“Yeah, we did,” Preston said. “Supervisory Inspector Thomas called my captain earlier today on another matter. Kendra’s name came up, and Captain Johnson told him where she’d be. He knew I’d requested the safe house on her behalf.”
Seeing Paul’s expression harden, he glared back at him. “I’m part of a police department, bro, and we have protocols to follow. Without going through those channels, I wouldn’t have been able to use the place.”
“Okay, one mystery solved,” Kendra said. “Now here’s another. I’m guessing that the leak in the marshals service took Miller to Thomas, but I still don’t understand why my boss suddenly became a target, too,” Kendra said. “Anyone?” she asked, looking at Paul, then Preston.
Preston shrugged. “We need to gather more evidence and identify at least another player or two before motives become clear. For now, let’s concentrate on the physical evidence we have,” Preston said. “Miller’s Chevy, which was stolen earlier today, is still at the crime scene. Officers discovered it parked one street over from the safe house. The tags were stolen, along with the car.”
“So the crime scene unit is processing the car right now?” Kendra asked.
He nodded. “Here’s what we’ve got so far.” He looked down at the small notebook he pulled from his pocket. “With Miller, there was the carbine and two spare magazines loaded with nine millimeter ammunition. In the stolen vehicle we found a smart phone under the driver’s seat, and a disguise kit—two wigs, a mustache with stickum on the back, and a beard with the same type of adhesive. There was also a tube of rubber cement.”
“Anything yet on the carbine?” she asked.
“The serial number was run, and the weapon was traced to an estate sale in Arizona. We’ve got people trying to contact the seller to see if they kept a record on the buyer,” Preston said, then shrugged. “Private sales...you know how that goes.”
“Yeah. Usually impossible to trace. Was there a navigation unit in the vehicle?” Kendra asked.
“Yes, but Miller knew how to disable the system, which means we can’t trace his travel route after the vehicle was stolen.”
“I’d like to revisit the crime scene and take a look around,” Kendra said. “Since I can’t speak to Evan yet and Miller’s still in surgery, maybe I find something that’ll give us a few more answers. I came here to collar Miller, and I’ve done that, but now I’ve got to make sure he stays alive. He’s a potential federal witness and the next likely target of whoever’s running this operation.”
“Yeah. It’s clear Miller wasn’t working alone. The fact that he was able to take his shot right after Thomas arrived proves it,” Paul said.
“Exactly. Miller had to have known Evan’s movements, do
wn to the exact address of his destination,” Kendra said. “He was already set up to take the shot by the time Thomas got there.”
“Good point,” Preston said. “One thing—since all this is taking place on my turf now, I want to be kept current on whatever you find.”
“Consider it done,” Kendra said.
“We know where he ended up, but where was Miller staying?” Paul asked Preston. “Does the department know yet?”
“He didn’t have any key cards or house keys with him, but we’re on that now. I’ll let you know.”
Paul and Kendra left the station shortly thereafter and walked directly to Gene’s truck.
“My gut’s telling me that the answers we’re looking for are staring us right in the face,” Paul said.
“Once we’re able to question Miller again we’ll get what we need,” Kendra said.
“I’m not so sure. He’s a hard case. I’ve seen his type before. He’d rather rot in jail for the rest of his miserable life than give us anything,” Paul replied.
“He heard my offer. When he wakes up and realizes how vulnerable he is now, unarmed and immobile, I think he’ll come to his senses and cooperate,” Kendra said.
After ten minutes of light traffic, they arrived back at the safe house. Yellow crime scene tape cordoned off the area where Miller had gone down, and the crime scene team was spread out, working under floodlights.
“Where do you want to start?” Paul asked her.
“The vehicles. Let’s take a look at Evan’s rental while the police are concentrating on Miller’s car.”
They walked over to the sedan, and Kendra studied the exterior. “The police will want to extract the two rounds that struck the door, but let’s check out the interior.”
Kendra put on a pair of latex gloves, then slipped behind the driver’s seat and looked around. While she flipped down visors and looked in the center console, Paul checked the glove compartment.
“We need something brighter than the dome light that’s in here,” he said. “Let me borrow something from the crime scene van.”
As Paul strode away, Kendra saw Evan’s hard-sided rifle case still lying on the back seat cushion. Beside it was a leather portfolio. Under the circumstances, looking inside for his notes seemed like a good idea. Maybe Evan had left a copy of a memo or correspondence that would reveal who else knew of his travel plans.
It was unlocked, and Kendra brought out several folders. The first was a file on a case she wasn’t involved in, so she set it down. The next folder turned out to be a copy of her marshal service personnel file.
Kendra skimmed the top page, and as she did she felt a coldness envelope her. Evan’s latest recommendation was that she be removed from the field entirely and reassigned to desk or training duty permanently. Anger filled her. He’d never believed she was being tailed, but with an informant still in place, things would continue to get worse.
As she glanced at Paul and saw the resolve etched on his face she knew that, like her, he was in this to the end. No matter how tough things got, Paul would remain beside her until they completed what had to be done.
Chapter Eighteen
Once she’d finished checking the interior of Evan’s sedan, Kendra went to the crime scene van to look at the items removed from Miller’s car. The first thing she did, still wearing latex gloves, was remove the cell phone from the evidence bag.
It seemed odd to her that Miller had chosen a smart phone instead of a cheap throwaway. Something like this could be traced, even if it had been stolen, as she suspected it had been.
She turned on the phone, but there were no saved names or numbers, only a huge collection of apps that came with the device. Seeing an unfamiliar icon among the rest, she activated it with a touch.
Kendra realized almost instantly what it was. Hurrying out of the van, she signaled Paul. “Miller has a GPS app on his phone, and it’s indicating this location. See if there’s a GPS sender in Evan’s car somewhere.”
“They’re making them smaller and smaller these days, so it may take a while. Let me check the typical hiding places first.” Paul walked around the car, checking the easily accessed wheel wells, and stopped as he reached the rear.
“I’ve got something.” He pulled out a device the size of a pocket calculator and showed it to her. “Here’s the tracker. It was glommed in place with what feels like rubber cement. Didn’t Miller have a tube of that stuff in his car?”
“Yeah, but how on earth did Miller know which rental car Evan would be using? That sedan isn’t from the motor pool.” She paused. “I’m going to have Preston get a warrant so we can access Miller’s complete call record-and another one to search his room, when we find where he’s been staying.” She placed Miller’s phone back in the evidence bag and added her initials and the time to the tag.
“I’ll call my brother for you,” Paul said, but before he could dial, Preston pulled up. “That son of a gun has his own built-in radar. Even when we were kids, he was like that. Whenever I needed him, there he was.”
“Maybe that’s part of the gift that comes from his fetish. Yours is lynx. What’s Preston’s?” she asked.
Paul shook his head. “That’s his secret to share—not mine.”
As Preston joined them, Paul showed him what they’d found.
“Thomas picked up the rental car at a lot right across from the Hartley airport,” Preston said, “so Miller must have arrived first and attached it, or he had an accomplice waiting and watching. Maybe the tracker was put there in case Thomas decided to change his destination. That way Miller could set up another shot.”
“It helped that Evan wasn’t on his guard and didn’t spot the placement of the GPS. He also ignored my reports and refused to believe there was a problem,” she said, then told him about the personnel file she’d found.
“If you hadn’t stood your ground and fired back at the shooter, Thomas might be dead right now. I’ll be happy to remind him of that for you,” Paul said.
She barely managed to conceal a smile. Paul was a fiercely loyal, unwavering ally, and that was one of the things she loved most about him.
She’d never met a man quite like Paul. In his arms, she’d found both gentleness and strength waiting for her. His touch could make her burn with passion, or soothe her, if that’s what she needed. That calm steadiness that came from his unflagging courage continued to draw her to him.
Kendra took a breath and forced herself to focus on the case. “Do you have anything new for us, Preston?” she asked.
“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do. I found out where Miller was staying, a motel not far from here. That’s now named in the search warrant. It’s my next stop, and I thought you’d want to come with me and take a look around.”
“You bet,” she said without hesitation.
With Preston in the lead car, they made their way southeast across Hartley.
“We’re close to finding the answers,” she said softly. “Can you feel it?”
He nodded. “Yeah. It’s something that starts in your gut, then all your senses become fine-turned. Smell, taste, everything becomes super sharp. There’s no other feeling like it. Well, maybe one.”
She laughed. “Stay on track. Even with Miller sidelined, we’ve never been in more danger. Whoever hired Miller will throw everything he’s got at us now.”
“I know.”
“There’s something I need to do.” She took a long, deep breath. “If we run into trouble, you’ll need the authority to act in an official capacity, using deadly force if necessary. I have special deputation authority, so I’d like to swear you in.”
“All right,” he said with a nod.
“As soon as we get to the motel, we’ll make it official,” she said.
Ten minutes later they arrived at an upscale motel at the junction of two main city streets that merged onto the highway leading out of Hartley. The five-story building was roughly stuccoed with a Mediterranean look that included balconies a
nd a red slate roof. The landscaping was immaculate, even for this time of year, and a sign proclaimed the presence of an indoor pool, sauna and gym.
“Guess Miller doesn’t like to rough it,” she said.
“In his shoes I wouldn’t have stayed in a cheap dump either. Those attract low-end criminals, generate trouble and, ultimately, the police. Here, the room rates alone guarantee him more privacy.”
Once out of the car, Kendra saw Preston parked just ahead, talking on his radio. While he finished his business, she stood before Paul. “Are you ready to be sworn in?”
“Absolutely.”
“Raise your right hand. Do you solemnly swear to faithfully execute the duties of a U.S. Marshal, so help you God?”
“I do,” he said, his voice strong and clear. Something in the tone made Kendra realize just how much he still missed his old job.
“It’s like a step back in time for you, isn’t it? I’m—” She started to say she was sorry, but the last thing Paul wanted was her sympathy. She fell into an uneasy silence.
“I do miss the job,” he said, “but I meant it when I said I wouldn’t go back even if I could. When I first started my business, I saw it as a temporary thing, something to keep me distracted while I sorted myself out, but I’ve made a place for myself in Hartley. Now that Grayhorse Investigations is turning a steady profit, I’m going to accept the offer Daniel made me when I first opened my agency’s doors. He wanted to merge our companies and make it a family-owned business. I didn’t jump in back then because I didn’t feel I was bringing enough to the table, at least in comparison to him, but he said he’d be ready whenever I was. Now I am.”
“It sounds perfect, you two working together,” she said. “It would also broaden your options, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “I’d get to do more field work, which is something I’ve wanted.”
Preston stood by the side door and waved. “You two coming, or taking a vacation?”
Paul laughed. “Let’s go.”
