ABBY AND BILL FOLLOWED the dispatcher’s directions to the parking lot of River’s End Café. The lot sparkled with emergency lights —police, fire, and paramedics. After they parked behind a black-and-white, she and Roper walked down a short embankment to the bike path. They had to squeeze around a paramedic rig and through a growing crowd of spectators. The bike path was busy all day with bikers, joggers, and walkers. This close to the beach meant a lot of watchers.

Abby saw a Seal Beach officer involved in a radio conversation. She didn’t see Officer Jensen right away, and her curiosity festered. Why were they specifically requested? Orange County sheriff’s deputies handled Seal Beach homicides, and it would be a while before they got here.

She saw a familiar Long Beach patch, Boy 10, and asked, “Who requested us?”

“One of the victims.”

“There’s more than one?”

He pointed. “One dead, one alive, and a weird situation.”

Abby started that way, but her cell phone buzzed and she saw it was the homicide office. As she slipped the phone off her belt to answer, dispatch called them to a clear channel.

“I’ll take that,” Roper said, and Abby stepped away to take the call while he answered the radio.

“Detective Hart, do you have such a light caseload that you can handle homicides for Seal Beach?” Deputy Chief Cox’s voice assaulted her ears and rocked Abby back on her heels.

“We were in the field already and were requested on scene by a Seal Beach unit.”

“It’s not your case. Get back to the city you work for and handle your own caseload.”

The call ended and Abby flushed as anger lit her up in a wave of heat. Why was Cox micromanaging her all of a sudden? The fact that she was right on top of this call meant she was paying close attention to the radio and stepping all over the watch commander. She had the rank to do that, but in Abby’s entire career she’d never heard of a DC sticking fingers directly in the pie as Cox just had with this phone call. She stared at the river, stunned, clenching and unclenching her fists.

“Abby.”

She jerked around at the sound of her name and saw Roper watching her.

Blowing out a breath, she worked to keep her voice steady. “We were just ordered back to handle our own caseload.”

“What?” Roper frowned. “Did you mention we were requested?”

Still working hard to stay calm, Abby looked toward the channel. “And we need to find out exactly why we were requested.” She stepped past Roper toward Officer Jensen, who was climbing up the rock embankment. Anger with Cox overrode better judgment.

“Detective Hart.” Officer Jensen extended his hand. “Detective Roper, thanks for responding.”

“What can we do for you?”

He waved his hand. “Come take a look at the dead victim; tell me if you know him. The second victim is with medics. He’s the one who actually requested you.”

Abby frowned but said nothing as Jensen led her and Bill back down the way he’d come to where a body lay on the sand. Were these Long Beach crooks shooting it out in Seal Beach?

“Was the second victim shot as well?” Roper asked.

“Scraped up. Medics didn’t think they’d need to transport. They said they’d release him once they were sure.”

With that, they came to a stop at the body. Abby saw a fit-looking older man wearing a plaid shirt open over a gray T-shirt. His close-cropped hair made her think military or law enforcement, but she didn’t know him. His blanched complexion told her that he’d lost a lot of blood.

“I’ve never seen him before.” She turned to Bill. “You?”

“Nope.” He knelt down to inspect the wound. “He probably took a shot right to the heart.”

“According to the other victim, the shooting happened under the Seal Beach Boulevard bridge.” Jensen pointed. “The pair ended up in the water and he dragged himself and this guy out.”

“Did he say what the shooting was about?”

“The Triple Seven.”

Abby jerked around at the sound of Luke Murphy’s voice. Coming down the rocks was a bedraggled, bloody figure.

“There were two guys —this one and the shooter —and they warned me to stop any investigation into the Triple Seven.”

“The Triple Seven?” Jensen asked. “Are you two looking into that old case?”

“No —” Bill said.

Luke kept his gaze on Abby. Her face briefly registered shock and concern before the cop face set in stone. He’d requested her and Bill, hoping that this development would reactivate the case.

“I’ve been making inquiries,” Luke cut in, “and obviously made someone mad.” He limped to where everyone stood.

Abby looked away, back to the dead man.

Bill spoke up. “If they warned you, then why is this guy dead?”

Hands on hips, Luke tilted his head. “I don’t know.” He told them everything that happened, including the picture the two men showed him of Madison.

“Your daughter?” Abby stared, and Luke knew it angered her as much as it angered him.

“Was there anyone else on the path?” Bill asked.

“Not that I saw. I was running, my mind wandering. Then all of a sudden there were two guys waving me to a stop.” He pointed to Plaid Shirt. “He went into the water first; the other guy started shooting . . .” Luke raised his hands. “They must have seen me start my run. They could have driven down here to meet me. Once I was on the path, there’s no mystery where I was headed.”

“Does this mean Long Beach will take over the investigation?” Jensen asked. “Freddy —uh, Detective Wright —should be here momentarily.”

Luke saw Bill and Abby exchange a glance.

“It would make sense for you two to take it over,” Luke said, hoping they’d agree.

Finally Abby spoke up. “I doubt that will be possible. We’ve already been ordered back to the city. You guys have everything buttoned up, so I doubt we can justify being here anymore.” With that, she glanced at Luke and Jensen, then turned and strode back to the parking lot.

Luke shot Bill a questioning glance and got a look that said, “I’ll explain later.” He followed his partner, leaving Luke to wonder what was going on.