by Lori Ryan
He needed to get his ass over to the hospital. He should be there for Carrie. He shouldn’t leave her waiting for news on Jarrod by herself.
“Any word on the officer who was shot, detective?” She drew the last out, clearly reminding him he hadn’t bothered with the niceties of introducing himself.
His jaw clenched and he struggled to let out a slow breath through his teeth. “Detective Cal Rylan. My partner, Jarrod Harmon is the injured detective. Flesh wound to his arm, but his head took a bad hit. Waiting for news.”
She nodded.
He looked around at the mess of bloody gauze and footprints that morning’s events had left in their wake before turning his attention back on the woman. “What can you tell me about this witness?” He asked. He needed information and she was likely his best shot at getting it. Truth be told, he never actually minded working with the FBI. Most cops didn’t. That came from the movies.
The FBI had resources they didn’t. More resources meant more bad guys put away. Simple math.
“He claimed to have information on the Genesio crime family. No one was putting much stock in it, though. He seems to have no ties to them that we can find.”
Cal looked down at the floor again and gestured at the carnage. “I’d say this lends a little more credence to his claim.”
“It does.” Her face was grim as she followed his gaze.
“Detective.”
Cal turned to the uniform who approached. “What did you find?”
“We had two alerts from Shotspotter come in, but I don’t think either of them is your shot,” the man said. The Shotspotter system now covered a five-mile area of New Haven. When a shot was fired anywhere in that range, devices picked up the sound and the police station received an almost instantaneous report of the general location of the shot. It didn’t provide an exact address, but it let them know where to begin looking.
“Why’s that?”
“One was a few gangbangers over on Oakwood.” The uniform looked down at his notepad. “The other was a single shot three quarters of a mile away. Officers responded but found nothing in the area.” He shrugged. “Probably a car backfiring.”
Cal shook his head. “Shotspotter rules out noises like cars backfiring at their central location within seconds of receiving the report, before they even forward any information on to us. If they sent us the report, it wasn’t a car. Get some uniforms back over there to canvas.”
He turned toward Agent Sands and read on her face the same thoughts running through his head. “Three quarters of a mile. This isn’t an amateur.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not. That’s a hard shot to make.”
Neither voiced the implications. They were looking for someone with some serious training here. Maybe even military.
Or worse, one of their own.
“I’ll have someone run it through IBIS, see if there’s a match once we get ballistics back. Shots like that aren’t a dime a dozen. We could get lucky.” Cal called out to the medical examiner, who stood talking a few feet away. She’d already sent the body over to the morgue with her assistant. “Dr. Kane.”
Mary Kane turned and walked toward him. After introducing her to Agent Sands, he filled her in on the Shotspotter report. “Is it possible this shot came from that far away?”
She nodded. “I need to get inside the body and look around,” she said, making him cringe at the thought. “But, yes, it’s definitely possible based on what I saw of the angle of the wound, the tearing. I can confirm for you in a few hours.”
Cal and Eve shared a look. It was hardly welcome news. They were looking at a frighteningly skilled sniper.
Chapter Three
Scout bent over and retched again. Vomiting after a shot like that was something Scout had gotten used to a long time ago. It was like the General still stood whispering directions before each shot. “Settle in. Wait for the moment. That sweat spot between the breaths. Wait for it.”
Scout would make the shot, then puke within minutes, a result of stomach muscles clenched tight from the stress.
The sneer on the General’s face would come right after Scout puked. Of course, the General only upped the pressure. A favorite game was to stand Scout’s friends along the line of fire. If the shot wasn’t just right, one of those people would be hurt.
At least today, there had been time to get out of the building and away from danger.
“Snap out of it, soldier!” That voice came again, clear as day, as though the General were still standing there.
Scout shook the memory loose and stood, wiping at the vomit. It was time to move. Three blocks away from the sniper’s nest wasn’t far enough.
“Don’t be an idiot. Keep moving, Scout.”
People who didn’t know any better thought a sniper shot was impersonal. That you didn’t have to get close to the target, so the physical distance allowed you to distance yourself emotionally. They couldn’t be more wrong.
A sniper often had to look their victim dead in the eye before a shot. The eyes let you into that person’s head, their heart, their soul. Shooting someone after witnessing that meant calling on the ability to block your own heart and soul. The General had drilled that into Scout.
Getting in and out of that building had been the easy part. Taking the shot? Pulling the trigger and doing what had to be done? That had been harder. But it had been necessary. It was well past time for this to happen.
Chapter Four
Eve followed Detective Rylan up to the Captain’s office on the third floor. She’d been in the detective’s division of the New Haven Police Department before, but it had been awhile. Not surprisingly, not a whole lot had changed. It was the same large room with desks stacked nearly on top of each other. The Captain’s office and interrogation rooms were off to one side. Bathrooms at the back. Same dingy washed-out furniture.
She felt eyes on her as they headed for the Captain’s office. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t experienced before. Eve knew she didn’t look like she belonged on the job. Her own mother had told her she should be doing something “softer,” as she’d put it.
The Captain nodded for her and Detective Rylan to sit, and they waited as he finished a phone call. She could guess who he was speaking with. Dick Dyson probably hadn’t wasted any time calling over here to page her back to the FBI building so he could send someone else to cover things now that it had become clear this witness might have had real information.
She hadn’t decided yet if she’d try to fight him on that. If she did fight it, she’d have to plead her case higher up the chain. It wasn’t something she relished doing. It smacked of ratting Dyson out and she’d been avoiding doing that. She’d rather just keep her head down and do her job. It didn’t mean she’d wouldn’t continue to stand up to him when he was being an ass. But there was a fine line between that and running to the boss to fight her battle for her.
“Works for me if it works for you, Jordan.”
Eve’s head snapped up at the Captain’s words. Jordan Carter was the Supervisory Special Agent in Charge of the New Haven office. She and Dyson both answered to him. They all answered to him.
Captain Calhoun hung up the phone, but didn’t bother with any niceties. He must have known who she was because there were no introductions.
“I just got off the phone with your boss.” He seemed to be talking to her, but he was busy riffling through papers on his desk. “You and Detective Rylan will be working together on this. Technically, NHPD will be leading this with an assist from the FBI, but that can change if we tie this to your task force.”
Cal’s brows rose. She hadn’t told him about the task force yet. She mouthed “Genesio task force” at him and got a nod in response. Now the Captain did look up, splitting his gaze between the two of them. “You need to close this case quickly. Get yourselves set up in the incident room. It’s yours for the time being. We’ve got enough pressure and bad press coming in from the James murders. I don’t need th
is piled on top.”
Eve nodded. She didn’t need to be told what the James murders were. No one who lived in or near New Haven did. The press had made sure of that. The murder of Bryan and Christopher James—a Yale Professor and his son—had triggered a backlash against the New Haven PD. Sadly, people weren’t looking back at the record decrease in crime or the uptick in the rate of case closures New Haven had enjoyed over the last two years.
When they hadn’t been able to make an arrest in the mugging-gone-bad case because there hadn’t been enough evidence to prosecute, the city and its police department had been targeted. Everyone under the sun was Sunday morning quarterbacking the case.
Eve didn’t envy any of the brass in the department right now.
“Yes, sir,” Cal answered and stood. Eve stood as well, following his lead. The Captain waved a hand at them to go when his phone began to ring again. No, she didn’t envy the man his job right now at all. Dealing with the politics of their job wasn’t something she’d wish on her worst enemy. She wouldn’t even wish it on Dick Dyson, and that was saying something. She’d wished some pretty foul things on the man.
They walked from the Captain’s office but didn’t make it far before a detective who had apparently used a gallon of gel to slick back his hair stepped into their path. The man looked like he’d had a hard night of drinking and had cleaned himself up as well as he could. The effort didn’t cover the red-rimmed eyes or the hint of unshowered body that hung around him.
“Let it happen again, huh, Rylan?” He went so far as to hike up the belt of his pants as he got in Rylan’s face. It was almost comical. He turned to Eve. “You might not want to partner with this one. His partners don’t tend to come out in one piece.”
“Piss off, Jep.” She heard a growl from deep in Cal’s chest as he stepped to the asshole.
Fantastic. She was partnered with a head case who couldn’t blow off a taunt from someone who was clearly trying to get a rise out of him. She had neither the time nor the patience for this shit.
Eve stepped between the two men, turning her back on the asshole and squaring off with her new partner. “Save it for the case,” she said quietly.
To her surprise, he grinned like he was having the time of his life and shrugged his shoulders. “Okay.”
Yup. Head case.
Chapter Five
“I need to get over to the hospital. I want to be there with my partner’s girlfriend. She’s probably going nuts waiting for news.” Detective Rylan looked over his shoulder at Eve as he spoke and she had to school her face to hide the surprise. She wouldn’t have taken him for the kind of guy who would go hold a girlfriend’s hand. If anything, she’d have thought he’d be uncomfortable with tears.
He was your typical cop, and touchy feely wasn’t exactly part of that job description. Hell, she was the same way. She couldn’t criticize him for it.
Before she could answer, the detective’s phone rang. She watched as he barked an answer. “Rylan.”
Seconds later a genuine smile lit up his face. “Hell of a way to get yourself a vacation. Next time just put in for time off, okay?”
Several of the detectives closest to them had gathered around as soon as Rylan’s phone rang. When they heard his words, the relief was palpable and shoulder claps and punches went around the room as they all tried to act nonchalant about the fact one of theirs had made it. Rylan said a few more things into the phone before hanging up.
“Jarrod’s all good?” one of the other men called across the room.
Rylan nodded. “Yeah. Concussion and some stitches on the back of that hard freaking head of his, flesh wound on his arm. A week off.”
“I’da been back tomorrow,” one younger uniform said with a grin and Eve recognized the need to laugh off the mortality they’d witnessed in their own house.
Rylan looked at her, producing a tube of sunscreen from the drawer of his desk, said, “ME’s office?”
She nodded as she watched him apply the cream to his neck and arms. “Yeah, and then I’ve got a lead for us to check out.” He raised a brow at that but didn’t argue.
He tilted the sunscreen her way, a smirk crossing his face. “Protection?”
Eve shook her head, not entirely sure what to make of the man.
A woman in a suit with her detective shield clipped to her belt laughed, leaning in to talk to Eve. “He’s obsessed with protecting that precious mug of his. Says the sun leads to wrinkles.” Eve found herself wondering just how precious the woman thought Rylan’s mug was. Maybe he was one of those cops who slept around in the precinct.
Why did she hope like hell that wasn’t the case?
“One day you’re gonna wish you’d all listened to me, Mathewson,” Detective Rylan said to the woman. She made a face and kept moving with a laugh as Eve and Rylan walked out of the station.
“Is that Ann Mathewson?” Eve asked.
“Yeah, why?” Cal now wore a wary expression.
Eve shook her head. “I’ve just heard good things, that’s all.” Mathewson had done a few undercover operation jobs a few years back for the FBI. They’d needed someone fitting her description to step in during a case, and she’d stepped up. Word was, she’d handled herself more than well. She’d gotten all the information needed to take down their target, but also maintained her cover and gone back in two months later for another round. She’d impressed a lot of the agents she worked with.
Ten minutes later, Eve focused on the doctor standing in front of her in the medical examiner’s suite. Dr. Kane. The woman seemed to be competent and knowledgeable, if not at least a bit harried and overworked, but weren’t they all?
“We’re waiting on an official ballistics report, but I can tell you your shooter is using .338 Lapua bullets,” the doctor said.
Eve frowned. She knew her weapons and the ammo to go with them. “You can shoot those from a lot of weapons.”
“That you can,” the doctor agreed. Dr. Kane confirmed her previous estimate that the bullet was shot from more than half a mile away.
“Uniforms are checking in the area of the Shotspotter report,” Rylan said, “but they don’t have anything concrete yet. A few people in the area are pointing them toward an apartment building, but others sent them to another building across the street, claiming the sound came from there. Both are within the range the system picked up.”
As they walked out of the suite, Eve looked at her watch. “Come on. Let’s pay a visit to Genesio.”
“Just like that? You’re going to walk in and talk to the head of one of the area’s most notorious crime families?”
She shot him a look. “We go way back.” She didn’t expand on that and she hoped he left it at that. She had no desire to explain her past to anyone right now, least of all a detective who seemed to have enough quirks he could be a character in a movie instead of a plain old average detective.
Chapter Six
“I remember the first time I saw this place,” Cal said. “It shattered all my images of mob bosses hanging out in a dark back room of a dive bar.” He was trying to break the mood that’d been hanging over Eve since they’d gotten within three blocks of the office building that housed the business empire of Dominic Genesio and his sons.
Not that he really knew how to read her moods yet, but the change had been sudden and damned near palpable. She’d gone quiet.
He looked up at the office building. Gone were the days when mobsters hung out in back rooms. Nowadays, their business dealings took place in large office buildings like the one they were about to enter. It wasn’t dead center in downtown New Haven, but it was close. And there were plenty of legitimate businesses on the other floors of the building. The top floor, though—that one was reserved for the Genesios.
Eve snorted and he had the bizarre thought that he liked the fact she wasn’t all hung up on acting girly and shit. She didn’t seem to care if he thought she was sexy or hot. Of course, that made her all the more sexy to him. That and t
he gun she was carrying. Why was that? What the hell made that so hot? He’d never thought that with any of the other women he served alongside.
“Yeah, Dominic decided a long time ago to give up hiding out in dark rooms like his dad and granddad. He’s ballsy as hell and doesn’t care if people know who he is and what he does. Just as long as none of it can be documented and proven.” He raised a brow. She was on a first name basis with the guy?
They entered the lobby and got into the elevator for the ride to the top floor.
“Hi Dawn,” Eve said, flashing her credentials, but not slowing down as they approached the reception desk. She veered around it and kept right on walking. “I’ll show myself in,” she said over her shoulder to the woman perched on a small leather rolling chair. “Feel free to call ahead and warn him.”
Cal grinned as he watched Eve walk to the largest office at the back corner of the space. She opened the double doors, with both hands, flinging them wide, and he had to wonder at her unorthodox approach. What agent waltzes right into the office of the head of one of the largest crime families on the East coast? The odd punch of attraction he’d been battling all morning tripled, and he had to work to ignore it.
Dominic Genesio sat in an enormous leather chair behind a desk that demanded a chair of that size, lest it dwarf it and look ridiculous. The office was gaudy with gold trimmed picture frames and a large mirror in a gilded frame taking up too much space on one wall.
Cal recognized the man standing at Genesio’s right shoulder as Sal Bassani. He was Genesio’s enforcer, although technically on the books he was labeled Head of Security. He didn’t recognize the man to Genesio’s left, but his stunned look and business-like demeanor said he was more on the office side of the business and less involved with the kneecap-breaking side of things. And yes, despite their cozy digs and attempts to look like your everyday-average business nowadays, they still broke kneecaps. It was a sadly effective way for them to maintain order among the rank and file, and collect on debts.
