Elly’s fingers hurt from being laced so tightly together to keep them from trembling. She felt safe in the squad, but watching as uniformed officers combed the area and rolled crime scene tape across the stairs leading up to her bullet-ravaged motel room only made her aware of how close she’d come to dying here tonight.
Joe too.
Turning in the seat, she tried to look through the rear window to see where Joe was. There was no sign of him, though, just the officer named Steele who had come to their rescue standing beside a tree.
Joe abruptly dropped to the ground next to him. Startled, she realized he’d been up in the tree. Was that where the shooter had been? Shivering, she thought that likely.
She needed to call Rhy, but her phone was up in the motel room. She leaned forward to catch the officer behind the wheel’s attention.
“Um, excuse me? Can one of the officers bring my phone down? I left it up in the room.”
The officer grimaced and shrugged. “It’s a crime scene. You won’t be able to get your phone back until it’s been cleared.”
“And how long will that take?”
He shook his head. “At least a few hours, maybe more. They’re taking photos now, but then will want to find every slug they can.”
“Okay, thanks.” She sat back and reminded herself that the phone was easily replaced. For all she knew, it had been broken by flying bullets or drywall debris. It was just the waiting that was getting on her nerves. Doing nothing while others searched for the evil man who’d done this.
She startled badly when a dark shape loomed outside the window. Then recognizing Joe, she relaxed and tried to smile as he opened the door. He dropped into a crouch near the door. “Hey. Are you okay?”
“Sure.” Her voice sounded shaky, and she hoped he didn’t notice. “Did you find anything?”
He nodded and reached inside to take her hand. The warmth of his fingers helped calm her nerves. Everything about him exuded confidence, and she knew without a doubt that Joe and the other members of the tactical team would do their job. “We’re finding evidence, which is good. But no sign of the shooter yet.”
“I figured.” She felt certain the atmosphere around the crime scene would have changed dramatically if the shooter had been found and taken into custody. “I saw you drop out of a tree.”
“Yeah.” His gaze held hers. “That’s where he was when he opened fire on your room.”
The statement made her shiver, and his fingers tightened around hers. “I—guess it’s good you found that.”
“Every little bit helps.” His smile was sweet. “Oh, that reminds me.” He released her hand to pull out his phone. After swiping at the screen, he handed it to her. “Your brother.”
“Joe? What’s going on?” her brother asked.
“It’s Elly. I—we’re at the American Lodge, but the gunman showed up. He—we’re okay, Rhy. No one was hurt. But Gary’s motel room is in shambles.”
“How were you found?” Rhy asked, his voice tense with fear and worry. “I’m glad you’re okay, Elly, but I need to talk to Joe.”
“Okay, here he is.” She handed the phone back to Joe.
“There’s no sign of the guy,” Joe said into the phone. He listened for a moment, and she could imagine Rhy grilling him for information. Sure enough, Joe gave him a quick summary of the shooting event.
She missed Joe’s warm touch but reminded herself that he was working. His job was to find this guy and arrest him. Not to waste time comforting her.
“Yeah, Rhy, I get it. Trust me, I thought we were off-grid, but obviously not.” Joe’s tone was laced with frustration.
“Tell him we’re fine,” Elly said. “None of this is your fault.”
Joe didn’t do as she’d asked. After a long pause, Joe said, “I plan to leave my SUV here and to ask Steele to give us a ride. But we’ll need a replacement vehicle by morning.” Another pause, then, “Yes, that works. I’ll be in touch. Do you want to talk to Elly again?”
Her brother must have said yes because Joe handed her the phone. “I told you we’re fine. No one was hurt. And this isn’t Joe’s fault.”
“I never said it was,” Rhy drawled. “But I’m trusting him to keep you safe, El. This shooter shouldn’t have found you once, much less twice.”
Difficult to argue that. “What about Devon and Colleen? I know Steele was keeping watch at the homestead; he was the first one to get here. I need to be assured your family is safe too.”
“We’re fine. Raelyn is here, keeping watch,” Rhy assured her. “Besides, I think it’s pretty clear this guy is after you, Elly. Not us.”
“Why? That part doesn’t make sense.”
“I don’t know.” Rhy sounded just as frustrated as Joe. “This guy doesn’t have the same MO as most active shooters.”
And that wasn’t good. Rhy didn’t say the words, but they reverberated through her head anyway.
“Elly? Are you sure you’re okay?” Her eldest brother’s voice pulled her from her troubled thoughts.
“Yes. Joe is doing everything possible. We’ll be in touch when we can. Just so you know, I don’t have my phone. It’s part of the crime scene.”
“You and Joe need to get different phones anyway,” Rhy said. “But that will have to wait until tomorrow too. Be careful. Get some rest.”
“You too. Bye.” She ended the call and handed the phone back to Joe. “Thanks.”
He nodded and glanced over as Steele approached.
“Area has been cleared, you and Elly can leave anytime,” Steele said. “You mentioned wanting a ride?”
“Yes.” Joe straightened. “My SUV is parked alongside the building, but I can’t take the chance the shooter noted the plate number, so I’m leaving it here.”
“Understood.” Steele glanced around, then added, “Stay here. I’ll run back to Rhy’s place and get my vehicle.”
“Thanks,” Joe said.
She slid out of the back seat of the squad to stand beside him. It was all she could do not to throw herself into his arms. She turned, her gaze going back to the tree. What had gone through the shooter’s mind when he sat up there, aiming at the motel room window?
Maybe nothing. His cold, dead eyes made her think he didn’t have any emotions. No good ones anyway.
She shivered and folded her arms across her chest. To her surprise, it didn’t take long for Steele to pull up, well beyond the perimeter that the cops had set up around the motel. Joe’s phone dinged, and he glanced at the screen.
“That’s Steele. Let’s go.” He curved his arm around her waist, urging her forward. She caught a few curious gazes aimed at them as they crossed the parking lot.
Five minutes later, she was settled in the back seat of Steele’s SUV. “Do you have a destination in mind?” Steele asked.
“Yeah. The City Central Hotel.” Joe glanced back at her. “Have you been there?”
“No.” But her siblings had. “I’ve heard it’s nice.”
“They have two-bedroom suites,” Joe said. “And it’s far from Brookland.”
“You want me to book it under my name?” Steele asked.
“That would be good.” Joe agreed.
Steele took a moment to call to reserve the suite. Thankfully, they were accommodating despite the late, or rather, early hour. They’d been at the hotel for several hours, but this close to the winter solstice, dawn hadn’t brightened the day yet. Sunrise was a good three hours away.
Joe sighed. “I still can’t figure out how he found us at the American Lodge.”
“You’re sure you weren’t followed?” Steele asked as he drove through the suburban neighborhood.
“I did everything possible to shake a tail.” Joe looked thoughtful. “Although if he was using a scope, who knows?”
“We cleared the scene, so heading to the City Central Hotel should work,” Steele said.
Steele headed straight for the interstate, which was blessedly empty at this hour. Elly felt herself relaxing against the seat cushions.
The trip down to City Central took about fifteen minutes. She glanced around curiously as Steele pulled in. It was a step up from the American Lodge, but not by a lot. She knew from her siblings that the DA’s office used the place for their witnesses, keeping them close for trial.
Joe got out of the car, then opened her door. He took her hand as they followed Steele inside. She told herself not to overreact to the simple, kind gesture.
Steele obtained the keys, then escorted them to the room. She belatedly realized Steele had a computer case with him, setting it on the small table. The suite was nice, with bedrooms located on either side of the small living space.
“I need to get back.” Steele clapped Joe on the shoulder. “Keep your head down.”
“You too.” Joe walked Steele to the door, then closed and locked it behind him. He turned to face her. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really.” She headed toward the closest bedroom. “We should try to rest.”
“Sounds good.” He held her gaze for a long moment. “Good night.”
“Good night.” She entered the bedroom, closing the door behind her. The darkness outside should have helped her fall asleep.
It didn’t.
Elly tossed and turned, then gave up. It was no use. Slipping out of bed, she pulled the blanket off and eased into the main living area. The sofa faced a TV. She turned it on, instantly decreasing the volume so as not to wake Joe.
He needed to sleep more than she did.
She curled up in a corner of the sofa and tried to focus on the movie playing on screen. It was, of course, a Christmas movie, one she normally loved.
The sound of a door opening startled her. She turned in time to see Joe emerge from his room. “Can’t sleep?”
“No.” She gestured to the television. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“You didn’t.” To her surprise, he crossed over and dropped beside her. “I was worried you’d have nightmares.”
“That’s the reason I was in the bathroom when the shooter opened fire.” She sighed. “And likely why I can’t fall asleep, now.”
“Elly.” He said her name on a sigh and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “I wish you weren’t stuck in the middle of this mess.”
She leaned gratefully against him. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”
“Always.” He drew her closer still.
She buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder. She knew Joe was just being kind and supportive because Rhy was his boss, but breathing in his musky scent made her wish for something more.
Much more.
Listening to Elly’s deep breathing, Joe smiled when he realized she’d fallen asleep. Holding her like this was incredibly wonderful and pure torture at the same time. No matter how much he wanted to kiss her, she was Rhy’s baby sister and, therefore, off-limits.
He’d promised his boss to treat her with the respect and professionalism she deserved. And he would.
Even if it killed him.
His thoughts went back to the shooter. The sketch of his likeness had been all over the news. What was the point of silencing her now? Sheer revenge? Seemed like a huge risk considering the guy had escaped the scene of the Christmas parade without being caught.
He needed to dig deeper into the victims, specifically Gabrielle and Henry, the ice skaters. The more he thought about this perp, the more he believed the guy had either military or cop training. Maybe Gabrielle had a former boyfriend or husband who fit the profile.
Steele had left a laptop for him to do some digging, but he didn’t want to disturb Elly.
Yeah, he was in trouble. Deep trouble. But that wasn’t enough to make him move away. No, instead, he rested his cheek against Elly’s hair and closed his eyes.
He must have slept because he awoke when she shifted against him. He blinked, noticing the sun had finally risen enough to lighten the room. Elly stirred in his arms but then seemed to relax again. He was glad she was getting some rest.
He eased away from Elly, gently setting her prone on the sofa. She was beautiful, even in sleep. He tore his gaze from her with an effort.
Enough. There was work to do. He knew from Rhy all about the Finnegan family reunion and Christmas party Elly had planned—he glanced at his watch—one week from today.
They needed to find this son of a gun and toss him behind bars well before then.
He took a moment to clean up in the bathroom, then tiptoed to the small table. Seeing the coffee maker, he glanced back at Elly, wondering if making a pot would wake her up.
Forcing himself to wait, he opened the laptop and powered it up. The noise made him wince, but Elly didn’t stir.
Taking that as a good sign, he opened a browser and began to dig into Gabrielle and Henry’s social media pages. Unlike him and a lot of other cops, the skaters had a huge social media presence. He supposed that went along with being professional athletes.
Ignoring the rumbling in his stomach, he began reading the comments. Someone, likely a public relations rep, had posted the news of the devastating death of Gabrielle and the critical injuries suffered by her partner, Henry.
Every comment, and there were literally hundreds of them, were messages of shock, sympathy, and grief. After going through half of them, he decided to switch gears.
The shooter wasn’t going to post on social media that they deserved what had happened to them. He was smarter than that.
If their perp knew Gabrielle on a personal level, it was more likely he’d be featured in previous posts. Not the most recent ones. He scrolled through them, overwhelmed by the sheer number, and tried to find any photos of Gabrielle with a man who wasn’t Henry, her ice-skating partner.
After a solid twenty minutes, he had nothing to show for his efforts. Then he realized he should be looking at their personal pages, not their professional ones.
Mentally kicking himself for being stupid, he found Gabrielle’s personal page. To his surprise, that one wasn’t private. And he found one photo with Gabrielle smiling into the camera with a man beside her. He stared at the image for a long moment, but the guy’s face didn’t match the sketch Elly had done.
Still, he made a point of digging further to find the guy’s name. Keith Daniels. He made a note of the name, then checked the simple case search to see if the guy had been in trouble with the law. Since he didn’t have a date of birth, the results were inconclusive.
He’d have to check with Steele on whether he could find any intel on the guy. He didn’t honestly think Gabrielle’s boyfriend, if that’s who Keith was, would have hired the shooter to do the deed. But they needed to cover all their bases and follow up on every possibility.
No matter how remote.
“Joe?”
Hearing Elly’s husky voice sent a ripple of awareness shimmering down his spine. He glanced over to find her sitting upright on the sofa, her auburn hair mussed from sleep.
“Hey.” He smiled. “You look better after your nap.”
“It was nice to sleep without dreams,” she admitted.
Her comment hit him hard. He hated knowing she’d suffered nightmares after the shooting event at the parade. Granted, her nightmare had meant she wasn’t lying in bed when the guy had taken his third attempt to kill her. “I’m sorry about the nightmares, Elly. They’ll get better over time, but you may need to see a specialist.”
“I’ve considered that.” Her smile was sad. “It seems wrong to be so traumatized when others lost their lives. Their loved ones.”
“Everyone suffers in an event like this.” He longed to pull her into his arms for a kiss but stayed where he was. “Don’t downplay the actions you took last night. You ran into danger to help others.”
“Surprised myself,” she murmured. “Basically, I acted without thinking.” She hesitated, then added, “Honestly, a lot of that was because of you being there too. When I saw Kyle lying on the ground, bleeding, I feared the worst.”
He tried to think of something else to say. Her comment about his being there was humbling. They’d both done their jobs, yet here they were, spending time together because the danger was still out there.
“I know God was watching over us, Joe.”
He nodded slowly. He knew the Finnegan family was big into their faith and church. He used to attend church as a kid, but that had changed when his father began drinking. Maybe he needed to reconsider going back at some point.
She yawned, covering her mouth. “No coffee?” She looked disappointed.
“I held off because I didn’t want to wake you.” He jumped up, anxious for something to do. “I’ll make it now.”
“Thanks.” She rose and tugged the blanket off the sofa. “I’ll be back in a few.”
He nodded, busying himself with the in-room coffee service. What was wrong with him? He needed to bring his emotions down a notch. Or two.
Or ten.
He’d known Elly for years. Granted, he’d only gotten to know her a little better during this past year when it seemed the Finnegan family was constantly in danger. He needed to think of her as Rhy’s baby sister.
When Elly emerged from the bathroom, he knew his attempt to keep her at arm’s length was failing badly. Yet he did his best not to let his feelings show. He poured a cup of coffee for her, then found the powdered creamer and sugar that he knew she liked. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” She smiled gratefully as she doctored her cup and took a sip. Then her gaze darted to the computer. “What are you doing?”
He drank his coffee black, the way most cops did. He set his cup near the computer and dropped back into his seat. “I’m digging into Gabrielle and Henry’s social media posts. I keep thinking there might be a reason she was the first victim.”
“Can I help?” Elly pulled the other chair over to sit beside him. He wanted to protest, but of course, he couldn’t.
“Sure.” He took another sip of coffee, then tapped the screen. “I found a photo of Gabrielle and this guy, Keith Daniels, from a year ago.”
“They look close,” Elly admitted. “But he’s not the shooter.”
“I know.” He was glad Elly sounded so certain. She was the only witness they had so far that had been close to the shooter. “I’ll keep going back in time, maybe we’ll find another picture featuring our perp.”
“It never ceases to amaze me how many people put their entire lives online for anyone to see,” Elly murmured, a frown puckering her brow. “Rhy always made it clear we needed to stay off social media to protect the family.”
“I can understand that.” Most cops didn’t want their information out there either. And Rhy was always protective of the younger siblings. “Safer that way.”
“I know.” She smiled. “I wasn’t quite so understanding as a teenager, though. I remember wishing I could be on the same sites as my friends.”
He didn’t know Elly as a teenager; he hadn’t transferred to the tactical team until four years ago. She’d just turned twenty, he remembered, and even then, he’d thought her cute.
Five years, he reminded himself. He was five years older than she was. She needed to date someone like that guy Derek. The one she’d claimed was too young.
The guy he’d instantly hated on sight when he’d thought they were seeing each other.
He forced himself to focus on finding a clue about the shooter. Not on Elly as a possible date.
“It’s a good policy to keep your personal life private,” he said. He pointed to the screen. “And this is why. Look how easy it is to find information on Gabrielle, without leaving the hotel room.”
“You really think Gabrielle knew the shooter?” Elly asked. “He didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who made a habit of watching figure skating.”
“It’s one theory.” Among others, but he kept that to himself. “And he wouldn’t have to be the kind of guy to watch it to have dated Gabrielle.”
“I guess.” She leaned in to see better, making him wish there was a second computer. She was far too close for his peace of mind.
Doing his best to remain professional, he continued scrolling through Gabrielle’s posts.
“Hold on a minute.” Elly covered his hand with hers. “Did you see that?”
“What?”
“There was something about another pair of skaters.” She pushed his hand away from the mouse pad to maneuver the pointer. “Here. This post here is about how Gabrielle and Henry beat out Alicia and Thomas White for the number one slot.”
“Yeah, but there’s always someone who is going to come in second place, right?” He didn’t see this as a big deal. “Everyone can’t win.”
“I know but read through the comments.” Her voice held a note of excitement. “It sounds like this is a long-standing rivalry.”
He could see what she meant, but he still wasn’t impressed. “Okay, maybe these two couples were rivals on the rink, but this Thomas White guy doesn’t look like our shooter. And I think it’s a stretch to believe Thomas and Alicia would hire someone to shoot Gabrielle at the Christmas parade.”
She turned to look at him. “Remember Nancy Kerrigan and Tonya Harding? Tonya convinced her ex-husband to take a police baton to break Nancy’s leg.”
He arched a brow. “How long ago was that?”
“Years.” She waved a hand. “I only know about it because I like watching ice skating. The announcers have mentioned it a few times, even though I think that happened back in the early nineties.”
Well before Elly was born. But he understood her point. “Okay, maybe you’re right. It might be wise to consider the rivalry as a motive to the crime.”
“A drastic solution,” Elly agreed. “At least Tonya Harding only injured Nancy Kerrigan. She didn’t have her murdered.”
Murdered. Was it possible a professional rivalry could have caused this? He hated to admit it wasn’t a stretch. These days people tended to solve their disagreements with violence rather than common sense and calm conversation.
It was a lead, one they desperately needed.