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Rafe swore under his breath and kept running, moving into and through the maze—
Now the guy was on the street and jumping into a gray BMW. The engine roared to life as Rafe vaulted the hood of a junked Mazda and scrambled after him.
Just as he reached the street, the BMW’s rear tires began to spin and smoke, the car laying rubber as it tore away from the curb.
Rafe tried to read the license plate, but the streetlight was too dim and the plate was obscured by darkness. He whirled around, hoping his cruiser was still good to go, and found that the shooter had hit his mark. The right front tire was shredded and leaking air. Fast. No way he’d get very far.
Swearing under his breath again, he watched the BMW disappear down the street, then reached for his radio.
“The suspect has escaped,” he said. “He’s headed north on Davis Avenue in a gray BMW, license plate unknown. My vehicle has been compromised.”
“Roger, Fourteen. Patrol’s been alerted and backup is on its way.”
AS HE WAITED for his fellow deputies to arrive, Rafe went back into the garage. He found the switch for the overhead lights and took a closer look at the bodies inside the Jaguar.
Two males, approximately thirty years old, one with a tattoo of a spider on his neck. They both looked Slavic to Rafe, maybe Russian, which immediately brought to mind the Russian mob.
Were these guys connected?
Was it a contract killing?
Judging by the placement of the wounds, Rafe had no doubt it was a professional hit, but he’d failed to get a look at the shooter and had no idea if he’d been chasing another Russian or someone else entirely.
Knowing full well that he was breaking protocol, Rafe untucked and used his shirttail for protection as he reached for the passenger door handle. He’d have a heck of a time explaining any stray prints. Swinging the door open, he leaned inside and carefully checked the pockets of the victim closest to him.
Nothing. No wallet. Keys. Coins. Cigarettes. Not even a stick of gum. Rafe closed the door, then moved around to the driver’s side and did the same thing with the other victim, getting the same results. The shooter had obviously cleaned house after he’d made the hit.
Rafe was about to close the car door when he spotted something on the floor mat near the driver’s left foot.
A small, narrow slip of paper.
He reached down, snatched it up and tilted it toward the light, noting that it was a receipt for a fill-up at a Western Star service station just across town.
The time stamp read 2:45 a.m.
Rafe knew this could very well be the key to identifying the victims—and, by extension, the shooter. He also knew he should return it to the floor mat where he’d found it. But as the sound of approaching sirens filled his ears, he stuffed it into his jacket pocket and closed the car door.
A moment later, he stepped outside to greet his colleagues.
Chapter Three
“Let’s go through it one more time,” Kate said.
Rafe balked. “Seriously?”
They were standing outside the auto repair shop. The roll doors had all been raised, the garage overheads lighting the yard as a flurry of crime scene techs moved in and out of the building.
“Look, Rafe, I know it’s late, I know your shift is almost over, but if this is a mob hit, things could get sticky. I want to make sure all our bases are covered.”
Rafe hadn’t been surprised when his big sister, Kate, showed up at the scene. She was the Homicide Squad’s best investigator, specializing in organized crime, and anything that smacked of a professional hit was usually passed off to her. She took her job very seriously and had the tenaciousness of a bulldog. She also got results and was the envy of every investigator on the squad.
Growing up in Kate’s shadow had not been easy for Rafe. Ever since he’d graduated from college and had joined the department, he had been trying to live up to her reputation. He had put in extra hours, volunteered for event work, even worked the holidays no one else wanted to—all in hopes that he could make just the fraction of the impression that his sister had made. Unfortunately, nobody seemed to have taken notice of these sacrifices.
Including Kate.
“I don’t care about working a little overtime,” he told her. “I’m here for the duration.”
It wasn’t as if he could go anywhere anyway. His cruiser was being towed to the police garage as they spoke and he’d have to hitch a ride with one of the other deputies to get back to the station. He was bound to be here at least another hour.
“Good,” Kate said. “So let’s go through it again.”
Rafe sighed. “As I said, I got the call out at about 0300 hours, give or take. Dispatch’ll have the exact time.”
“And no ID on the caller, right?”
“Right,” Rafe said. “Although he said his apartment overlooks the lot.”
Kate turned to her partner, a burly guy named Eberhart who stood nearby. Rafe got the feeling the guy had always regarded him as an irritant, and the feeling was mutual.
She signaled to him. “Charlie, get a canvass going on the apartment building. We need eyes on this thing.”
Eberhart smirked. “Maybe your little bro here would like to volunteer. He’s gotta be good for something.”
Kate frowned. “Just get it started, all right?”
Eberhart gave her a salute. “Your wish is my command, O Great Leader.” Then he turned and called to a couple of deputies who were huddled near their cruisers. “Look alive, knuckleheads, you’ve just been recruited.”
The guy was a jackass.
When he was gone, Kate returned her attention to Rafe. “Okay, so you responded to the call and arrived at approximately what time?”
“About 3:10. The place was dark, so I notified dispatch and decided to take a look around.”
“Did you request backup?”
“We didn’t even know for sure that shots had actually been fired at that point, so I didn’t think backup was necessary.”
Karen gave him a stony look. “And as a consequence, you almost got your rear end shot off and the suspect got away.”
Rafe felt his cheeks go red. As a big sister, Kate had never been much of a nurturer, and it was just like her to point out any mistakes he may have made.
He frowned at her and said, “Are you going to bust my chops or let me talk?”
“Go on.”
“When I got close to the building, I saw the door was ajar—”
“And you still didn’t call for backup?”
Rafe sighed. “What exactly are you investigating here? Me or the murders? I told dispatch what I was doing every step of the way. I’m not exactly a rookie, you know.”
Her frequent interruptions and insistence that he repeat his story made him feel like a suspect, as if she were expecting to expose him in some kind of lie. But he knew from previous conversations with her that this was merely a technique she employed to try to jog a witness’s memory and draw out more details.
“Just tell me what happened when you got inside,” she said.
“I saw the Jaguar, the bodies, then the shooting started.”
“And where was the suspect?”
“Across the garage.” Rafe pointed to the building behind them. “He came out that door and was gone before I could stop him.”
“Did you at least get a look at him?”
“My answer hasn’t changed since the last time you asked me. It was too dark. And he was wearing a hoodie.”
“And no license number from the car he was driving?”
Rafe just gave her a look.
“Okay,” she said, reading his unspoken message. She flipped her notebook shut and clipped her pen to it before putting it in her coat pocket. “Enough business for now. How are you doing? It isn’t fun getting shot at.”
“The only thing that’s hurting is my pride,” Rafe said. “I wish I could’ve caught the guy.”
“Sounds like you did what you could, little brother. I wouldn’t sweat it, if I were you.”
“Thanks. What do you want me to do now?”
Kate waved a hand at him. “You’re done here. Find your ride, go back to the station and write up your report.”
“That’s it?”
Her eyebrows went up. “You have a better idea?”
He shrugged. “I thought I might be able to assist somehow. Maybe help Eberhart with that canvass. Or help you inspect the crime scene.” He paused. “I’m thinking the owner of the auto repair shop must be connected to these guys somehow. Otherwise, what were they doing here?”
Kate smiled. “You just can’t wait to get rid of that uniform, can you?”
He hadn’t realized it was so obvious. The last thing he wanted was to come across like an anxious puppy. At twenty-five, he was still young, but he’d always thought he was pretty mature for his age. Ready to take the next step in his career.
Maybe he’d been deluding himself.
“As I said, I just want to help.”
Kate’s smile disappeared and she suddenly looked very serious. “You can help by being patient and doing your job, Rafael. Your time will come, but it may not be as soon as you want it to be, and that’s something you’ll just have to live with.”
Spoken like a true big sister, he thought. With just the right amount of condescension. Rafe had the urge to tell her where to stuff it, but remained professional.
“So are we good?” Kate asked.
“We’re good,” Rafe said.
She turned away and was about to start toward the garage when she stopped. “Just one last question.”
“Which is?”
“You didn’t touch the car, right? Didn’t try to do a little investigating of your own?”
Rafe felt his heart kick up and thought about the gas receipt that was still in his pocket. He’d meant to give it to her, but now he wasn’t so sure that was a good idea. Surely they’d be able to identify the bodies through fingerprint analysis, and his breach of protocol would never have to come to light.
If worse came to worst, he could give it to her later, claim he’d found it on the garage floor and in the excitement that followed had forgotten about it. But handing it over now would be a mistake. Especially after she had just treated him like a redheaded stepchild.
“Rafe?”
He blinked at her. “Give me some credit, sis, I’m not stupid enough to interfere with a crime scene.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Yes,” he lied. “Absolutely sure.”
She studied him skeptically. The woman had always had the uncanny ability to read him. Had caught him in a number of lies as they grew up, but had always been merciful enough not to tell their parents.
Kate was a good six years older than Rafe and that gap had given her enough insight to avoid the pettiness of sibling rivalry. She may not have been a nurturer, but she wasn’t a traitor, either. And nobody could ever say that the Franco kids didn’t look out for one another.
Even so, she really annoyed him sometimes.
“I’m going to trust you on that,” she said. “But if any fingerprints show up, you’re on your own.”
“They won’t,” he told her, relieved that he’d had the wherewithal to use his shirttail for protection. “I promise.”
She studied him a moment longer, then nodded and walked away, heading into the garage.
When she was gone, Rafe let out a long breath and tried not to feel too guilty.
Chapter Four
“So is your sister seeing anyone these days?”
The deputy he’d snagged to drive him back to the station was a guy named Phil Harris. Harris was what qualified in the patrol division as an old-timer, although he couldn’t yet be over forty. He’d been with the department since he was Rafe’s age and had never progressed further than a RS-3 pay grade.
Harris was a good cop, but not the most ambitious guy in the department.
“Sorry, Phil, I don’t keep track of her love life. You’d have to ask her.”
Harris wasn’t the first deputy to approach Rafe about Kate. One of the hazards of working in the same department as your sister was that you had to put up with every hot-to-trot single—and sometimes married—guy on the job, looking to get into her pants. Rafe would be the first to admit that Kate was a looker—she did have the Franco genes, after all—but the last thing he wanted to think about was who she may or may not be sleeping with.
“I was hoping you’d put in a good word for me,” Harris said. “Let her know I’m interested.”
What was this—high school?
