Camden stepped out of the shower and grabbed his towel from the hook. Running it through his damp hair, he mentally prepared for what he needed to do next. He had to get taken off the Grace Colton case. There was no way he could be impartial, given his immediate attraction to her. Hell, Grace had even shown up in his dreams. She’d been in his arms. His lips had been on her neck. He’d woken hard with desire, something that never happened with an investigation’s subject before. In the end, his biases would cost them both.
Wrapping the towel around his waist, he walked to his bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he lifted the phone from a charger on his nightstand.
After pulling up Arielle’s contact, he placed the call.
“Hello. Camden? This is early, even for you. What happened?”
“We have to talk about Grace Colton,” he said.
“Okay. Talk.”
He paused. Where should he begin? “Last night, there were protesters outside the police station. They were calling for her to be fired. She was shaken by everything, and I offered to walk her home. We stopped at Mae’s Diner and spent some time together. She trusts me.” He paused. Be direct. Be professional. Be done with this case. “You have to talk to the mayor and reassign the Colton case. I can’t work it—not anymore.”
“Of course, you can. You’ve done a good job getting her to trust you. Now, let’s see what she shares.”
“I’m not setting up anyone.” Camden’s pulse rose with his temper.
“I’m not asking you to set up anyone. I’m asking for the truth,” said Arielle.
Camden exhaled loudly. If he was going to get the case reassigned, he had to do it now. Rip off the bandage quick. Wasn’t that the best way? “Someone else needs to take over.”
“I can’t call the mayor for no reason. Keep me posted throughout the day. We’ll talk soon.”
The line went dead.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, Camden stared at the phone. He hated that politics was part of his job.
Too much had happened recently for last night’s shooting to be ignored. The public wouldn’t allow it. Certainly, someone needed to be held responsible for the incident. After all, both the mayor and the DA relied on the voters to stay in office.
It meant only one thing. There was about to be a reckoning at the GGPD, courtesy of the DA’s office—and his boss.
The weather app predicted scattered showers throughout the day. To Grace, it seemed like fall had arrived overnight. Yesterday’s sweltering heat was replaced by cooler temperatures and a steady stream of rain.
Shoving her hands deeper into the pockets of her rain jacket, Grace hustled down the street. With the hood doing a decent job of hiding her face, she couldn’t help but be thankful for the storm. To any member of the press who might be lurking around the police station, Grace would be almost invisible.
The station came into view, and she stumbled to a stop. A podium, covered by an awning emblazoned with the GGPD seal, stood on the steps. Satellites, flowers of metal, bloomed from several media trucks that were parked across the street. Half a dozen officers were setting up a microphone. Grace recognized Daniel Coleman and approached.
“Hey,” she said. “What’s up?”
Coleman had been on the force forever and was like an uncle to every rookie. “Hey, kid. I heard about what happened. Tough break.”
“Yeah, tough break.”
Did everyone on the force know what had happened?
It was a stupid question to ask. Of course the entire force had heard. Even if they hadn’t been part of the investigation. Or assigned to stand on the steps of the station last night. Or if they’d missed the media coverage. They’d certainly heard the gossip.
Yet, Grace wasn’t sure if she hated the fact that she hadn’t been the one to share her side of the story. Or if she was relieved that she’d never have to tell people what happened. “So...” She rolled her wrist. The gesture took in the tent, the microphone, the press vans. “What’s going on?”
“The chief’s giving a press conference.”
Did it have something to do with last night’s shooting? Was there a development in her case? If so, why hadn’t she heard already? And if not, what else was going on? For a moment, Grace felt dizzy. Holding onto the podium for support, she asked, “What’s Melissa going to say?”
“You know how it goes. They don’t tell us street cops nothing.” Daniel hooked a thumb toward the front door. “Melissa’s been locked in her office with Brett Shea for the last hour.”
“I’ll let you get back to work.” Grace stepped from under the awning.
“See you later, kid. Don’t get too down about all of this.” He held his hand out to catch the rain. “Just like a storm, it’ll blow over.”
“If it doesn’t?” she asked, pausing. “You know, blow over. What happens then?”
“Me, I’ve been around a long time. It always blows over.”
“Thanks, Dan,” she said. With the injection of the older cop’s no-nonsense positivity, her spirits lifted. But by the time she walked through the front doors, the mental storm clouds had returned.
She didn’t bother checking in with the duty sergeant. Why should she? She’d been put on administrative leave. Grace checked her watch. Nine o’clock. At this moment, she was supposed to be sitting down with Camden, reviewing anything that she’d forgotten or answering new questions. Yet, she couldn’t help but wonder: What did Melissa plan to say at the press conference?
She bypassed the conference room commandeered by Camden. Instead, she headed directly to Melissa’s office. Who knew? Maybe she’d get lucky and catch her cousin as the meeting was ending.
Water dripped from her raincoat, hitting the floor and leaving a trail. The door to Melissa’s office was stubbornly closed. Pausing, Grace lifted her hand, ready to knock. She stopped at the moment flesh connected with wood. With a sigh, she let her hand drop.
Could she really interrupt?
“Damn it,” she muttered, softly kicking the door.
Her phone, tucked into the pocket of her jacket, began to ring. She fished it out and looked at the caller ID. Camden Kingsley.
Her pulse spiked. Why the reaction? Was she nervous about the investigation? Or was she excited to see Camden again?
Pivoting, she swiped the call open. “I’m here,” she said, by way of a greeting. “I’m in the building. I’ll be at the conference room in just a second.”
“Good,” he said. “You noticed the podium outside? Any idea what Melissa plans to say?”
“That’s actually why I’m late,” she said. “I stopped by her office to see if she’d share anything with me.”
“And?” Camden asked.
Grace stood on the conference room’s threshold, the phone to her ear. “I didn’t bother,” she said to both Camden on the phone and in person. His dark hair, still damp from a shower, curled slightly at the end. He wore black trousers, a pristine white shirt and a yellow tie. Even in business attire, Camden’s strong shoulders and the muscles in his arms were hard to miss. What would it feel like to have him hold her? She swallowed. His dark brown eyes pinned Grace where she stood. She couldn’t help it: at the sight of him, her pulse did a little stutter-step. She lowered the phone from her ear. “Melissa’s door was shut.”
“Damn it,” he cursed, ending the call.
“Did any other evidence turn up? Any idea what happened to my body cam?” Grace asked. “Anything about my case?”
Camden shook his head. “No. Sorry.”
“Oh.” Grace’s pulse, racing only moments ago, slowed to a sluggish beat. “I was hoping that Melissa learned something. Maybe she heard from one of the witnesses.”
In the narrow corridor, several police officers passed Grace.
“You coming?” one of the cops asked.
“Where?”
“Melissa’s press conference,” he said, walking backward. “It’s about to start.”
Grace was supposed to be interviewed again by Camden Kingsley. Yet the IA investigator had already lifted his suit jacket from the back of a chair and slipped it on. “After you,” he said.
Without speaking, they walked down the corridor. Several police officers—both those in uniform and those in plain clothes—gathered in the lobby. Grace and Camden took up a spot near the doors. Through the glass panels, they had a perfect view of Melissa, Brett Shea and others from the rear.
The local press stood at the bottom of the steps. Their spot had them sandwiched between the podium at the front and more than two dozen protesters at the back.
Many of the protesters carried signs. From where she stood, Grace could read them all. There was Ditch the Chief. Or Chief Colton Has Got to Go. Or Grace’s least favorite, Jail to the Chief.
“Is that Harper Sullivan?” Camden asked. “From the TV station in Kendall?”
Grace peered into the crowd. Sure enough, the dark-haired reporter stood in the drizzle.
She didn’t have time to react before Melissa approached the podium.
She started speaking. “I’d like to thank you all for coming today, even though I ordered the rain special—hoping that it would keep the press away.” Polite laughter rippled around the group of cops inside and reporters outside. “Let me begin by giving you an update on what happened last night. There was a police-officer-involved shooting in downtown Grave Gulch. While this incident is being investigated by both the District Attorney’s office and the GGPD, we need the public’s help.”
Melissa held up two sheets of paper. They were the sketches Desiree had drawn based on Grace’s description of the witnesses. “We have reason to believe that these two individuals witnessed the shooting. Obviously, we are interested in speaking to them immediately. We need to know what they know. The individuals fled the scene, so it’s likely that they don’t want to talk to the police. But someone knows these two. To let them disappear—all without making a statement—is a gross miscarriage of justice.”
Lowering the pages to the podium, Melissa continued. “Copies of both sketches will be provided to anyone who wants them. Also, they have been emailed to all local newsrooms.” She sighed. “If anyone sees these individuals, they should contact the police. Questions?”
Harper was the first to raise her hand. “Is it true that the person who was shot, Robert Grimaldi, was unarmed?”
“I cannot comment on an ongoing investigation,” said Melissa.
“Is it true that the officer’s body cam wasn’t used during the incident?” Harper asked.
The cramped vestibule grew warm. Grace started to sweat.
Outside, Melissa exhaled. “Again, I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation.”
“What’s the status of the police officer who fired their gun?”
“She’s been put on administrative leave,” said Melissa. “Pending the outcome of the investigation.”
Harper asked, “Is it true that the officer in question is also your cousin, Grace Colton?”
Grace wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole.
Melissa’s voice was a low growl. “No comment.”
Daniel Coleman stood in front of Grace. Peering over his shoulder, he whispered, “It’ll all blow over, just like a storm. Remember that.”
She wanted to believe him. Yet, nothing had been okay—not since she’d seen Robert Grimaldi in the alley last night.
“One last question, Chief Colton.” Harper continued, the phone still in her hand. “A serial killer, Len Davison, is on the loose. A crime scene investigator—one who worked for your department—fabricated evidence that both implicated the innocent and exonerated the guilty. Why should the public trust you now?”
“Well.” Melissa drew out the single word. “I have a second announcement to make. I can see that the citizens of Grave Gulch have lost confidence in the GGPD and in our ability to keep peace in the city. It’s my responsibility to maintain a trust between the town and the police department. I haven’t. Therefore, I’ll be temporarily stepping down as chief of police.”
Gasps rippled around the room.
Grace went numb.
No. No. No! She wanted to scream. This couldn’t be happening. Melissa was Grace’s cousin, her role model, her protector and champion on the force. How could she be stepping down now, at the exact time Grace needed her most? Melissa continued. “Beginning now, all my duties will be handled by Detective Brett Shea.” She concluded, “It’s been the honor of a lifetime to lead the fine men and women who make up the Grave Gulch Police Department. I will do anything—including releasing my position—to assure that they’re able to do their job. Thank you for your time.” Reporters yelled questions. Protesters began to cheer.
Without another word, Melissa stepped away from the microphone. One of the officers held the door as she crossed the threshold. All eyes, including Grace’s, were on Melissa.
“You all heard what I said out there. I meant every word. Being chief of police has been an honor and a privilege. But I can’t stay. I’ve become a distraction. Like I said, Brett Shea will be acting chief, and I expect you to keep acting in the same professional and caring manner you do every day. Whether the people out there realize this or not, they need the police.”
She paused. “There are a lot of cases to work, but the top priority is to find the witnesses from last night’s shooting.”
“What about social media posts?” Officer Daniel Coleman asked. “Have the witnesses posted anything online?”
Grace knew it was a good question, but she also knew the answer. Neither one of them had recorded the incident with their phone or shared any information on social media.
“We feel that the witnesses didn’t want proof of what happened,” Melissa said. “But Ellie will continue to monitor what’s being posted.”
Brett added, “Our best hope is that someone will recognize the sketches and give us a call.”
“On that note,” said Melissa, “I’ll let Brett take charge.”
She walked forward, with Brett at her side. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, and she strode across the squad room, before disappearing inside her office.
Grace was many things—angry, scared, outraged—but confused wasn’t one them. True, Melissa had said she wasn’t stepping down because of a single case. But that had been a partial lie. She was stepping down because a single incident had proven to be the last straw. It was the police shooting that had happened last night.
It meant that Grace hadn’t simply ruined her own life but Melissa’s, as well.
Standing taller, her spine filled with a steely resolve. She had to make this all right. She had to find those witnesses.
But how?
Daniel Coleman held a stack of sketches. He walked through the crowd, handing them to police officers. “Plaster the city with these things, folks. We need to find this couple and get a statement.”
“Hey, Dan,” said Camden. “Can I have a couple of those?”
“Sure thing.” Dan held out two sets. “I hear that you’re looking into last night’s shooting.”
Camden wasn’t surprised that the entire force knew about his role. “You heard right,” he said, taking the papers.
“Grace Colton is a good kid, you know.”
“You make me sound like Santa Claus. It’s not my job to decide who’s good or bad. I’m here to find the facts. That’s it.”
Papers in hand, Camden scanned the entrance. Grace, huddled in a corner, chewed on her bottom lip. The need to reassure and protect Grace came on strong. Despite the fact that he should feel neither, he made his way to her. “That announcement was a shocker.” Although he doubted that Arielle or the mayor would be upset.
Grace drew in a deep breath. “I wasn’t expecting Melissa to step down, that’s for sure.”
“Like she said, it’s just temporary.” Camden didn’t know what else to say—or do. Grace looked miserable. His fingers twitched with the need to reach out and touch her. Yet, giving her comfort would be beyond inappropriate.
He’d hoped that a decent night’s sleep would rid him of his infatuation with Grace.
It hadn’t.
He had to get this case reassigned to another IA investigator and soon. Until then, maybe he could both help Grace and do his job at the same time. “Come with me,” he said, heading for the door.
She followed. “Where are we going? Don’t you want to interview me some more?”
“We can talk,” he said once they stood on the steps. The rain had stopped, but the sky was still gray and the air cool. “We can do more than two things at once.” He held up the sketches. “I have an idea of where we can look for the witnesses. There’s a neighborhood a few blocks from here where a lot of young adults live. Small apartments. Lots of coffee shops and restaurants. Let’s walk the neighborhood and show these. Maybe someone will recognize them.”
He handed Grace a set of sketches. Her fingertips brushed the back of his hand. His skin warmed, and his pulse raced.
“Thanks,” she whispered, pulling her hand away.
Damn it. There had been something in their touch, something more than a simple attraction. Camden needed to ignore his reaction.
“It’s this way,” he said, striding down the sidewalk.
Grace jogged to catch up. “So what’s next?”
“Hopefully, Ellie can pull something off your body camera after all. If not, it’s old-fashioned police work. Let’s start here.”
He was supposed to find out what happened with the shooting and the couple was an integral part of the investigation. Find the witnesses and find the truth.
Several sidewalk cafés sat in a row. Tables were filled. Some people sat alone and stared at laptops. Others were crowded around a table meant for two. Dozens of people passed them on the street. Camden’s blood buzzed in his veins. If the couple Grace saw was anywhere in Grave Gulch, it was in this neighborhood. And if they were here, he’d find them.
“It might be easier if we separate,” Grace suggested. “I’ll start across the street and at that end of the block.” She pointed. “And you can work from here. We’ll meet later and compare notes.”
“Makes sense,” said Camden with a nod. All the same, he hated not being at her side. Or maybe that was the best reason of all to split up.
“I’ll see you in a bit,” she said.
Camden watched as she called out to a duo—two men with beards and beanies.
“Excuse me.” Grace held up the sheets of paper. “I’m wondering if you’ve seen these two.”
“Sorry,” said one. “Never seen ’em before in my life.”
“Me, either,” said the other.
Grace smiled. “Thanks for your time.”
Camden felt a smile pull at his lips, as well. The young men didn’t know the witnesses, but he liked watching Grace work. She was competent and professional and kind. She moved on to another group, farther away, and Camden could no longer hear what she was saying.
It was time he got to work.
Grave Gulch Coffee and Treats was on the corner. Half a dozen tables filled the sidewalk. At one of the tables, a lone woman wore noise-canceling headphones and stared at her phone.
“Excuse me.” He waved to get her attention.
The customer looked up and smiled. “Hello?”
“Sorry to bother you, but I’m wondering if you’ve seen either one of these people.” He held up the sketches.
“Oh, those two. Sure, I’ve seen them.”
Camden had hoped it would be easy to locate the witnesses, but he’d never dreamed it would be this easy. “Really? Where?”
The woman held up her phone. The screen was filled with the same sketches he now held. “They’re all over the place. Social media. The actual news.”
Camden wanted to groan. He didn’t. “Have you seen them in real life? Like, around here?”
Pursing her lips, she considered his question. “Not that I remember.”
“Thanks for your time.”
Camden worked his way up the block. Dozens of times he asked the same question. “Have you seen these two?”
Dozens of times, he got the same answer.
“No. Never.”
It was as if these people had disappeared. Or maybe they didn’t exist at all.
What if that were true? What did it mean? Was Grace guilty of framing a suspect and an unlawful shooting after all?
Pausing on the sidewalk, he searched for Grace. She walked down the opposite side of the street. He watched as she talked to another group of people, gathered around a bench. They all glanced at her sketches. They all shook their heads.
No luck, either.
She glanced across the street. Her gaze stopped on Camden. She waved.
He didn’t want to feel anything. He didn’t want his chest to get warm. Or for his pulse to race. He definitely didn’t want his mouth to twitch up into a smile—and yet, they all did.
He waved back. She jogged across the street.
As her foot hit the curb, a few fat raindrops splattered on the sidewalk. Camden glanced skyward. Black clouds roiled, and then a deluge began.
Holding the sketches overhead, Grace ducked into a recessed doorway. Camden followed. The space was just a small square of concrete beneath the building’s brick overhang. They were both wedged in tight, her shoulders pressed against his chest.
“That rain came from nowhere,” she said, water dripping from her nose. She wiped a hand down her face. The gesture was vulnerable, unpretentious and somehow sexy. “I’m soaked. The damn sketches are trash.” She held them up. The paper was waterlogged and shredding. She turned her gaze to Camden. “And look at you. Your suit. It’s ruined.”
Camden glanced at the clothes. The jacket was stained with water, the hem of his trousers damp and dirty. “It’s nothing that dry cleaning won’t fix.”
“So what do we do now?”
The cafés, busy only moments ago, were vacant. Coffee cups, forgotten in the rush, filled with rainwater.
Suddenly, he didn’t care about the investigation.
He watched her lips and wondered what it would feel like to have her mouth on his. To taste her. To touch her. She was so close that he could feel the whisper of her breath on his neck. The floral scent of her shampoo surrounded him like a fog. From where he stood, he could see the swell of her breasts beneath her shirt.
It was then that Camden realized she was watching him, as well. Their gazes met and held. Her sleeve brushed against the tips of his fingers. He wanted to touch her. Hold her.
But he couldn’t. Shouldn’t.
He swallowed and shifted. The wall was at his back. He was trapped, with no place else to go. Camden wouldn’t try to escape—even if he had the chance. His hand brushed her waist.
She drew in a short breath.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to touch you.”
“It’s okay,” she said, her gaze on the ground. She lifted her eyes. “I don’t mind.”
He moved closer. She didn’t retreat. Camden bent toward her, then stopped.
What the hell was he doing?
It didn’t matter that he was drawn to Grace Colton. Standing tall, he smothered a curse behind his hand.
She hitched her chin to the side. “Looks like the rain stopped.”
It was a small torture to look at anything other than Grace. Puddles dotted the sidewalk and street. Sodden tablecloths hung limp. Awnings dripped. The downpour was over as soon as it had begun.
She stepped away, and his chest ached.
He’d stopped himself from kissing Grace this time. The question was: What would he do if he got another chance?