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David chuckled. “Dedicated is hardly the word for it. Obsessed describes it better.”
Although Matt had talked to Rachel several times, he’d never suspected she might be so driven to succeed. “But why?”
“It has to do with her family.”
Matt nodded. “Oh, I see.”
If there was anything he understood, it was how a family could influence the way a person approached life. He should know. His life was the perfect example of what a dysfunctional family could do to a person. Thankfully, he’d escaped them and found God in the process.
Matt pushed back from the table and stood. “Maybe she’ll get active in the church.”
David picked up the cup and took a sip. As he put it down, he smiled at Matt. “Or make new friends there that will occupy some of her time.”
Matt’s face burned, and he stuck his hands in his pockets. “Maybe so. Well, I guess I’d better get on home. I’ll see you later.”
As he walked to the parking lot, Matt thought about what David had said. Maybe Rachel was so involved with her job that she didn’t want anything else.
After they first met, he knew he wanted to know her better. He’d been in the middle of giving the local television station a statement about one of the gang-related murders when she had walked up beside the cameraman and proceeded to write down every word he said.
The sun had sparkled on her shoulder-length blond hair, and she had chewed on her lips in concentration, nodding every once in a while as if she agreed with what he was saying. When she had glanced up, her piercing blue eyes had stared at him with an intensity that made his heart do flip-flops. Then she had smiled, and he couldn’t finish his interview quickly enough. He had to find out more about this willowy blonde who took his breath away.
Now two months later, he still knew very little about her. One of the reasons for going over to her at the crime scene today had been to ask her to go with him to the ballet at the Fox Theater. Instead he’d lost his nerve and they’d discussed the murder.
He reached his car and climbed inside. Weariness surged through his body. He hoped he wouldn’t be called out tonight for the murder of another kid. This last one had been younger than the others, not much over sixteen. It troubled him to think of the wasted lives he’d seen in the past few weeks. Gang violence in Lake City was escalating out of control and he had to help the department find a way of stopping it.
There had to be a solution, but what it was he didn’t know yet.
The next morning, Rachel strode down the hallway of the Lake City Police Department toward the open office door a uniformed officer had pointed out. She peered inside at Matt Franklin. He looked tired this morning. His dark eyes, usually filled with excitement, appeared bloodshot.
The pencil he held dropped to the pile of papers in front of him. He yawned, rubbed his hands across his eyes and then ran his fingers through his thick dark hair. She knocked on the door frame. “Good morning. Are you up to having a visitor?”
His eyes lit up when he saw her. “Rachel? What are you doing here?” He rose and came around his desk.
She laughed, dropped her briefcase on the floor and shrugged out of her coat. “You look tired this morning. Did you work last night?”
He shook his head. “No, I went to the Bible study at church, then dropped by the Youth Center to do some work.” He took her coat, hung it on the rack and pulled out a chair for her. Walking behind his desk, he sat down and folded his hands on the top. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from Lake City’s favorite investigative reporter so early in the morning?”
Rachel chuckled. “Favorite reporter? I don’t know about that. You should see some of the emails I get. You might change your mind.”
Matt’s tired eyes twinkled. “If they’re anything like mine, I completely understand. If we don’t solve a crime, we’re wasting the taxpayers’ money. If we do make an arrest, the jailed person’s friends think we’re persecuting him. Sometimes it’s a no-win situation.”
Rachel nodded. “I guess we have something in common.”
Matt smiled. “So tell me, what brings you to the station this early in the morning?”
Rachel took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday about being careful about the stories I write.”
“Good. I’m glad you listened. I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I don’t either, but I have a job to do. I have to tell the stories of the gang killings and how their presence in the neighborhoods is a danger to the people there. This may mean I have to dig a little deeper into the gang culture. I thought you might be able to give me some pointers about how I should proceed.”
Matt frowned and leaned forward. “These are dangerous people, Rachel. They don’t appreciate attention. I’m not about to give you advice that might get you killed.”
Rachel waved her hand in dismissal. “So far I haven’t focused on them other than to report what the police have told me about the murders.” She scooted to the edge of her chair. “But the facts are that at least six gang members have been murdered in the past few weeks. I’m beginning to wonder if there’s more to the story.”
Matt’s hair tumbled across his forehead and he brushed at it. “What do you mean?”
She got up and closed the door. Returning to his desk, she planted her hands on the top and leaned forward. “I talked to a mother at that murder scene yesterday. She’s scared for her son to leave the house. I feel a responsibility to the people who’re living in the shadow of these bullies.”
He jumped to his feet. “They’re more than just bullies, Rachel. They’re dangerous. You need to stay away from them.”
Rachel straightened and crossed her arms. “I’m not looking for trouble. I just need to know how to talk to them. You probably encounter them on a daily basis in your job, and I know you volunteer at the Youth Center. So you deal with the kids who live in the neighborhoods controlled by them.”
Matt walked around the desk, stopped in front of her and shoved his hands in his pocket. The muscle in his jaw twitched. “I do. And I see what it does to their lives. They live in a violent world.”
Rachel thought about the whispered words she’d heard the night before from someone wanting to escape that environment. To help him she needed to understand it. “That’s why I came to you. I know all about the Center’s success record with these inner-city kids. You can help me understand what it’s like for them.”
He pulled a hand from his pocket and raked it through his hair. With a sigh he returned to his chair. He sat in deep thought before he looked up. “I can’t even imagine the terror they feel each night. Afraid that at any time a stray bullet could sail through their window and kill one of their family members like it did Carlos’s baby brother last month. I was the detective who questioned the family after the shooting.”
Rachel swallowed and eased into her chair. “That must have been difficult.”
His eyes took on a faraway look. “Can you imagine what it’s like to tell a mother there was no reason for her baby to die? Or to calm down a teenage brother when he’s ranting that he’s going to find whoever shot into their house and kill him? And all the while the mother’s begging him to be quiet, she doesn’t want to lose another son.”
A bitter taste flowed into Rachel’s mouth. “That must have been horrible.”
“It was, but the sad thing is it only seems to be getting worse. When morning comes, I don’t know how the kids gather their courage and go to school where they know at least half the students are carrying concealed weapons.” He took a deep breath before he continued, “How do children survive in such surroundings?”
The concern she saw in Matt’s eyes pricked Rachel’s heart. “These kids are lucky to have people like you who care.”
Matt shook his head. “I don’t know about that. I’ve been fighting the effects of these criminals ever since I came to Lake City five years ago, and I’m mystified by what I see. No matter how bad it gets, too many kids long to be like the guys who are destroying their neighborhoods. Wannabes, I call them. They hang around the fringe of the gangs just waiting until they’re old enough to throw their lot in.”
“Surely there are some success stories.”
He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Yeah, there are some. I’d like to have more, though.”
Guilt coursed through her. “David’s asked me several times to volunteer at the Center but I’ve always put him off. Maybe it’s time I did my duty and helped out more.”
Matt smiled. “He’d like that. We can always use extra help.”
Rachel nodded and stood. “I’ll talk to him about it. This might help me to understand better what I’ve been writing about.”
Matt walked around the desk, pulled her coat from the rack and held it for her. “The gang members tend to stay away from the Center, but there’s one thing you need to remember. With them, it’s all about respect. They see themselves as the most respected individuals in their neighborhood. If you ever come in contact with them, be courteous. They’ll respond to you in the same way. They leave the Center alone because of the way David treats them.” He chuckled. “He told me once that it’s because a lot of them are kids he didn’t save.”
She turned to face Matt. “I’ll remember everything you’ve said.”
Concern flickered in his eyes again. “Remember what I told you yesterday. You need to be careful with your stories. I don’t want to answer a call that you’ve been hurt.”
The warmth of his voice flowed over her and her breath caught in her throat. “I will be. But you’re the one out on the streets. You take care of yourself, too. Thanks for seeing me, Matt.”
He stared at her for a moment before he backed away. “Drop by anytime, Rachel.”
Rachel glanced at her watch. “I’ve gotta go. See you later.”
With a wave, she headed into the hallway. Before she exited the building, she looked over her shoulder. Matt stood in his office doorway watching her. She was relieved they had gotten on the subject of her volunteering at the Youth Center. At least he hadn’t seen how his warnings about the gangs scared her.
She wondered what he would say if he knew what she intended to do tonight. A chill raced up her spine at the thought. Dangerous or not, she had to find out if her source was telling the truth.
She glanced at her watch and swallowed. Rendezvous time was a little over twelve hours away. If she was lucky, she might have a good story. She chuckled and shook her head. No. In the words of her confidential source, she might have a story that would rock this city.
Matt’s words of warning rang in Rachel’s head as she pulled her car to the curb a little before midnight, turned off the motor and stared at the dark streets. Her skin prickled with fear. A city park one night and a slum the next. At least she was becoming familiar with new areas of the city.
She stepped from the car and started toward the meeting place two blocks away. In the glow from a streetlight, she glanced at her watch. Eleven forty-five—fifteen minutes until showtime. She’d have to hurry if she was going to find a vantage point for watching. She pulled her coat tighter and hurried through the night.
Rounding the corner at Walters and Branson, she looked around for a hiding place. The stores still in business on the street were deserted, having closed hours ago and pulled iron gates across their fronts. Others sat like ghosts in the darkness with their doors and windows covered with boards.
Pondering which side would afford the best view, she crossed the street and walked several feet to a narrow alley that ran between two of the deserted stores. She flattened herself in the shadows against the brick exterior of one of the buildings and hoped that she was hidden from sight.
Her heart beat in her ears with a deafening thud. She pressed her hands to her chest and breathed deeply. No matter what happened, she had to keep control of her senses and observe every detail accurately.
The thumping in her chest slowed and she relaxed. Careful not to make a sound, she scrunched against the wall and waited.
From his position at the second-floor window of an abandoned building, he watched her slip into the alley across the street. “Well, Rachel Long. What are you doing here? If you’re looking for a story, maybe I can oblige.”
He had to hand it to her—she had spunk. Not many women would put themselves in danger by coming into this neighborhood at night, not even for the promise of a sensational story.
He picked up the sniper rifle lying beside him and stroked the weapon. Never had he seen a better barrel contour than this masterpiece exhibited.
He raised the rifle to his shoulder and peered through the scope. Rachel’s image came into his sights. It would be so simple. The paper might offer a reward for information leading to the arrest of the gang member who killed a crusading reporter.
His index finger hovered over the trigger. So simple.
The roar of an engine shattered his focus. He watched as a black sedan with tinted windows pulled to a stop, just over ten feet from Rachel.
He frowned as he studied the vehicle. He knew the owner, Terrence Cooper, well. Tonight was shaping up to be a fun-filled outing. Terrence might not think so if he knew what was about to happen.
Within moments, another car drove up and parked behind the sedan. A man jumped out and hurried toward Terrence’s car. Even in the shadows he recognized Tom Carr.
A movement from the alley caught his attention and he swung the rifle to his shoulder. Evidently Rachel wanted a better view. He grasped the rifle tighter. The stock felt cool against his cheek and sent a thrill coursing through his body.
He peered through the scope at Rachel’s magnified figure and then focused on the man on the sidewalk. Terrence, who had an envelope in his hand, emerged from the car and appeared in the scope’s crosshairs. Three people who had no idea of the danger around them. He wavered back and forth. Who should be first? Tom reached for the envelope and stuffed it in his coat pocket.
There really was no choice. It was time for retribution. He held his breath and pulled the trigger.
THREE
The sharp crack of a rifle ricocheted off the brick buildings. Rachel slammed backward into the recesses of the alley. With the second shot, she fell to her knees and covered her head with her arms. Panting for breath, she waited for another report. When a third didn’t follow, she pushed to her feet and inched toward the sidewalk.
The black sedan, its motor idling and its windshield shattered, hadn’t moved. Beside it, a man with blood pouring from his head lay on the sidewalk. Another man sprawled next to him.
Afraid to expose her position, Rachel debated on whether or not to go to their aid. A third shot hit bricks on the front of the building. She screamed and jumped backward.
Yanking her cell phone from her pocket, she called 911.
The operator’s voice crackled in her ear. “What is your emergency?”
“There’s been a shooting at Walters and Branson. Two men are lying on the sidewalk and the shooter is firing at me.”
“Help is on the way, ma’am. What’s your position?”
“In an alley. Please tell them to hurry.” She flipped the phone closed before the woman could ask more questions.
Footsteps pounded on the asphalt street. Rachel peeked out. A man sprinted from the shadows of a building across from her. Zigzagging as he ran, the shadowy figure headed toward the two lying next to the car.
Rachel’s chest pounded with fear. Could he be the shooter? As if in answer to her question another shot rang out. The runner dived to the pavement behind the car as the bullet hit the back window.
Her chest heaved in panic as she looked around for an escape route. She took a step backward and her foot struck a tin can. As its clatter echoed in the alley, the man next to the bodies cocked his head to one side and pushed into a crouching position. His gaze locked on the alley.
Cold fear crept through Rachel’s body. She had to get out of there. A streetlight burned at the far end of the alley. Willing her unresponsive body to move, Rachel turned and ran toward it as fast as she could. Behind her, footfalls echoed on the concrete.
“Police! Stop!”
The words registered in her mind, but the voice from behind only served as a command for her feet to move faster. How could the police have gotten here so quickly? It had to be the shooter chasing her. If she could get to the next street, maybe she could find a place to hide from him.
“I said stop!”
The light came closer and she pushed harder. Just a few more feet and she would—
Something blocked her path. Before she realized what was happening, she plowed into a rusted garbage can that sat in the middle of the alley.
She clawed at empty air as she fell forward. With a scream, she landed facedown on the hard concrete.
A hand clamped around her left arm and pulled. Pushing to her feet, Rachel straightened, whirled to face her pursuer and stared into the barrel of a gun. She shook free of the restraining hand. “Get away from me.”
A loud gasp sounded and the hand released her arm. “Rachel?” The surprised croak bounced off the brick walls.
Shaking, she inched backward. Her attacker took a step forward into the light filtering into the alley. Rachel’s knees almost buckled and she staggered even farther away.
She tried to speak but her vocal cords felt useless. She shook her head in denial. “Matt? What are you doing here?”
Matt blinked in disbelief and lowered the gun he held. He didn’t know if he was more surprised at the two bodies lying on the pavement behind him or Rachel’s presence at the scene of a murder. He rammed his revolver back in the holster and advanced on her with fists clenched.
Every expletive he’d ever heard came to mind. With a shake of his head he tried to banish old habits from the days before he turned his life over to God. Besides, if David had been right about Rachel’s commitment to her job, nothing he said would faze her.
“What am I doing here? I’m a policeman doing my job. Do you realize you could’ve been killed?”
Her chin quivered. “I—I’m doing my job, too. I w-was following a lead for a story.”
Matt leaned forward. He could smell the perfume he’d come to associate with her presence. The familiar reminder calmed his racing heart. “And did you just happen to pick this spot out of all the other streets in town?”
