Birmingham Police Department, 5:58 p.m.

Dan Burnett understood there would be hell to pay with Jess for the decision he’d made on the Chandler case, but there was no way around it. Keeping the peace in the department and ensuring the smooth operation of all divisions was his job.

The job was rarely easy, and at moments like this he wondered why he had ever agreed to accept the position. Years of counseling likely wouldn’t uncover all the reasons he’d felt it necessary to attain the highest law enforcement position in the city. Then there were the marriages and divorces… and Jess. His and Jess’s relationship would provide enough fodder for a multivolume boxed set of couples therapy journals.

Nothing was ever simple or routine between the two of them.

Now was a perfect example. Jess stood before his desk, arms crossed over her chest as daggers flew at him from those furious brown eyes. Her blond hair and the sleek-fitting rose-colored dress with the matching sexy high heels could not camouflage what was on her mind. But they went a hell of a long way in distracting him from what he knew had to be done.

Oh yes. There was hell to pay, and he had the decidedly unpleasant task of doing the paying.

“My detectives and I were on the scene first. Territorial issues aside, answering the call from the initial officers on the scene should account for something. The least Chief Black could do is acknowledge my assessment and consider my suggestions for interviewing the family.”

“Have a seat and we’ll go over this once more if that’ll make you happy,” Dan offered.

As difficult as squaring off with her like this was, their future working relationship depended upon the standard he set now. Today. On this case. With their shared history common knowledge and considering the position he had created specifically for her, the whole department was watching their every move. Jess had reminded him of that point repeatedly over the past week. The problem this morning was that she wanted the Chandler case and Deputy Chief Black was claiming dibs. An unaccompanied death with violent circumstances could logically fall under the scope of either Jess’s new unit or Black’s division. Admittedly there was some gray area here, but Dan could not afford even the suggestion of favoritism. The buck stopped here, and this was the first necessary step in proving to the entire department that their shared history carried no impact on his and Jess’s ability to do the job.

Even if finding the zipper on that dress and getting it off her this instant was the prevalent image moving through his mind. It had been a long day. He was weak.

Her eyes narrowed, warning that his high-handedness was duly noted and absolutely not appreciated. Or maybe she’d read his mind. “Darcy Chandler’s husband has not one witness who can confirm his alibi between eleven this morning and one this afternoon.” She made a face that indicated just how unbelievable she found his alibi. “He was driving around and then meditating at the Botanical Gardens?” She spread her arms wide apart and turned her palms upward in disbelief. “Really? We’re just going to take his word for that and give him a pat on the back and say how sorry we are for his loss?”

“Chief Black was showing respect for the deceased and the husband who, so far, we have no reason to suspect of wrongdoing other than his inability to remain faithful, and that’s hearsay,” Dan pointed out. “Down here in the South, if you think back, I’m sure you’ll recall, respect and compassion are SOP, especially at times like this.”

Jess dropped her head back and made an exasperated sound.

Her assessments were valid. There was no denying that. Mayakovsky had stated that he’d spent a good deal of the morning driving around arguing with his wife by phone and attempting to make sense of what came next in their marriage. That part of his statement, at least the calls, was corroborated by the victim’s cell phone call list. During the interview Mayakovsky had broken down in tears at the idea that his final interaction with his wife was such a fierce battle. She had made up her mind to proceed with the dissolution of their union and he’d been beside himself. He’d said things he now regretted, but he hadn’t harmed her. He swore over and over that the last time he saw his wife she was alive and well.

Dan understood a little something about the end of a relationship and the dreaded journey through divorce. A man didn’t always show the depth of pain he experienced, but the inability to convey those emotions in no way diminished his pain. In Dan’s estimation Mayakovsky was sincere when he lamented the agony of having his wife kick him out of their home, and then just this past Saturday she further informed him that he would no longer be a part of the renowned dance school in any capacity. Those statements were substantiated by the interviews Jess and Prescott had conducted. Mayakovsky seemed genuinely shocked and devastated that his wife was dead.

“Chief Black is working with the cell carrier to confirm exactly where Mayakovsky was while he made those calls to his wife,” Dan added, no matter that Jess was fully aware of the steps. “We’ll know in a day or two whether or not he’s telling the truth.”

Jess harrumphed her discontent and her arms went back over her chest. “Like it’ll matter in a day or two. The first words out of the victim’s father’s mouth when he heard the news was a demand to know what the hell his son-in-law had done. That tells us something about the relationship between Chandler and her husband. And Black just lets him go his merry way? A well-traveled man of means with a valid passport? By the time Black’s finished checking out his alibi, Maya-whatever-his-name-is could be back in the motherland. Do we have an extradition agreement with Russia?”

She was not making this easy. “The husband is under surveillance. If he attempts to flee we will intervene. Since, at this time, we have no evidence indicating he’s guilty of any crime, he has the right to mourn his wife. In fact, we don’t even know if her death was anything more than a tragic accident.” He paused, dialed back the frustration and impatience that had been ramping up the decibel level of his voice. “There’s this little”—he held his thumb and forefinger close together—“thing called the law that determines in large degree our actions on this case and all others. Until we have proof this was no accident and that there is guilt on his part, we can’t hold or charge Mayakovsky.”

Completely unmoved by his logic or his authority, it seemed, Jess popped her chin up even higher in barefaced defiance. “It wasn’t an accident, Dan.”

At least she’d called him by his first name. Maybe there was hope she would get over being mad as blazes at him. Why that continued to matter more than whether she paid the proper respect to his position defied all reason.

“The shoes alone aren’t sufficient evidence, Jess. That said”—he held up his hands stop-sign fashion when she would have interrupted—“you don’t know Chief Black or the others here like I do. I can assure you that he will give this case due diligence. He’s meeting with Chandler’s attorney right now to see if he’ll share any thoughts on his client’s frame of mind or any suggestions of violence she may have shared relevant to her husband.”

“Good luck with that,” Jess grumbled. “Zacharias Whitman didn’t get to be Birmingham’s most notorious attorney by advocating the team spirit. He’s not going to give up anything unless there’s something to be gained and if the victim’s parents tell him to keep his mouth shut, he will. Money talks and”—she flashed Dan a bogus smile—“you know the rest.”

“I will remind Chief Black that you are anxious to support his efforts in whatever capacity he needs.”

She laughed in that rich earthy quality that made him think of the other primal sounds he’d plied from her this weekend. “I won’t hold my breath,” she let him know. “I spent all morning searching for briefings because no one invited me to their party. And since SPU doesn’t have any cases, Prescott, Harper, and I ran out of things to talk about fifteen minutes into ours.”

“I’m certain none of the briefings were relocated or canceled because of you, Jess.” As frustrated as she made him, there were the moments like this when she confessed to feeling left out and misunderstood and he wanted to hug the hell out of her and promise her it wouldn’t happen again. How she went from livid to vulnerable in three beats he would never know. “Maybe when you completed the SPU briefing you should have gone to that appointment with Dr. Oden. I got my appointment out of the way first thing this morning.”

“I told you it slipped my mind. Then I got the call about Chandler and I had more important things to think about. Like how a woman with perfect balance falls over a railing in her own home. And why the shoes she was wearing ended up set aside just so before the fall.”

Same old Jess. As much as he wanted to be at his wit’s end with her methods, he never ceased to be amazed by her view of the cases, the victims, and life in general. Unorthodox didn’t begin to describe her blunt, overbearing tactics. She bemoaned her lack of friends and the idea that the others guarded their territory with rabid ferocity around her, when the truth was that those who knew her respected her immensely. Those who didn’t were terrified of landing on her radar.

“I can call you tomorrow morning and remind you about the appointment.”

She retrieved her cell phone so she could wave it at him. “I set a reminder. I’ll be there.”

“And”—he leaned forward and picked up the folder on his desk—“I have a case for SPU.”

She sank into the chair in front of his desk, equal measures of surprise and suspicion vying for top billing as her petulance faded. “What kind of case? Why didn’t you tell me that already instead of badgering me about Black and respect?” As she dug for her reading glasses, her attention settled on the red folder in his hand.

Badgering? He wasn’t even going there. “DeShawn Simmons. Nineteen. African American. Volunteer of the year with Hands on Birmingham. He’s supposed to start Jeff State next month. The first ever in his family to achieve that goal. The bad news is he left home for work on Friday afternoon and no one has seen him since.”

Jess accepted the folder and opened it to view the contents. “No one reported him missing until today?”

“When he wasn’t home by Saturday morning his grandmother filed a report but, considering his age and the lack of any suggestion of vulnerability or foul play, was told there was nothing the police could do at that point.”

“No criminal record?”

“None.” Dan wished he could turn back time forty-eight hours and get a do-over on this one. It shouldn’t have happened. Closer consideration had been warranted.

“Graduated valedictorian from Parker High School. He had to be doing something right, until recently anyway.” Jess closed the folder. “Were his cell phone records ordered? His friends and coworkers interviewed? Anything?”

“The case just made its way here. Some preliminary groundwork was started this morning but nothing to speak of. You have all we know so far right there.”

Her eyebrows lifted in blatant incredulity. “Which isn’t much.” She tapped the folder. “The address is in the Druid Hills area. Are the crime statistics still having a negative impact on the neighborhood?”

The area had long suffered economic and social issues, drawing the urban criminal element like flies to a rotting carcass. No matter that the city, with Mayor Pratt serving as a primary catalyst, had put forth considerable effort to draw opportunities into the neighborhood, it wasn’t happening. Little had changed that painfully repetitive cycle of despair in recent decades.

“There’s been some revitalization, but lately the gang activity has been on the increase. Our Gang Task Force is headed up by Captain Ted Allen. Black has already run the kid’s name by Allen and he’s not on any of their watch lists. Considering this case represents the kind that all too often falls between the cracks of the system, Chief Black and I believe this might be a good jumping off point for SPU.”

“Doesn’t hurt that I’m familiar with the neighborhood.”

“Christ, I hadn’t thought of that.” Damn it. How could he forget something like that? “Is that a problem, Jess?” Her parents had been killed in an automobile accident when she was ten. An aunt she and her sister had scarcely known had taken them in. One year and four drug and prostitution busts later, Jess and her sister had been removed from the aunt’s home in Druid Hills and placed in foster care.

“It’s not a problem.” Jess gave a shake of her head. “I have no idea if my aunt’s still alive, much less where she lives.”

No matter, he felt like an ass for not remembering. “If you’re certain you’re okay with this, we need you on it. This is going to be a hot-button issue.”

“I guess that explains the spiffy red folder.”

“Starting now we’re giving this case priority.” He’d scarcely gotten back to his office from the Chandler home when the mayor had called. His office had been fielding questions and complaints all morning. Mayor Pratt wanted this taken care of ASAP.

Dan had a long list of differences with the mayor, but on this one he was right.

Jess’s dark brown eyes narrowed again. “It’s a missing persons case. He’s not underage and there appears to be no indication of foul play or vulnerability, according to what you have here. What’s the hot-button issue beyond determining whether he left of his own free will?”

“This may turn into a race issue.”

“This is Birmingham, Alabama. That’s not a hot-button issue; it’s a way of life. And it’ll stay that way until we stop seeing color and social class and start seeing people. Why is this young man’s disappearance any different from that of the other four or five thousand folks who went missing across this country in the last forty-eight hours?”

The media would be blowing this out of proportion the next few days. There was no point in pretending it was going away without a public outcry. BPD had dropped the ball on this one in their eyes. Jess knew it as surely as he did, but she intended to make him say it.

“You’re well aware that two weeks ago we pulled out all the stops for five missing girls, all age nineteen, all Caucasian. This family wants equal attention. No one can blame them. Their grandson is missing and they’re terrified. When they didn’t get the initial response hoped for, they sought out other avenues.”

“The press has already called you or the mayor,” she surmised.

“Friends of the family are holding a rally at nine tonight. The press is going to be all over it.” Dan turned his hands up. “The officer who took the report followed the rules. BPD has made no true missteps legally speaking, but we can’t afford the bad press those kinds of accusations bring. Frankly, as long as we have the manpower, the extra effort should be made in every missing persons case. At the very least I want to see the cases treated individually. I’d like that change to happen now.”

“We both know that’s hardly feasible with budgets shrinking every year.”

“Maybe with SPU we can do more,” he pressed. This was a prime example of how badly they needed Jess’s extraordinary ability for seeing what no one else did. “That was the catalyst for forming a new unit. No family should have to wonder where their child, two or twenty, is when he or she doesn’t show up as expected. Particularly a young man like Simmons who has no history of trouble and who is on his way to a bright future.”

“You’re right.” She looked at the folder she held, then glanced back at him. “SPU can make a difference with cases like this. We’ll get right on it.”

“Take Harper with you to visit the family. The sooner the better.” There was another aspect to this case that he’d have to explain eventually but not today. He needed her on this and he needed her completely focused.

“If he’s available we can go now.”

“Make him available, Jess. I don’t want you making house calls in that neighborhood alone. Keep in mind that time is of the essence. We need to find this young man and prove to our citizens that things aren’t the same as they were in the sixties.”

“You sure about that? As the saying goes, you can put lipstick on a pig but… it’s still a pig. Would we still be having this conversation if racial and social lines had really changed? The case involving Andrea and the other girls got immediate attention because they’re white and nearly all are from a family high enough up the social ladder to generate real noise and to call in favors.” She tapped his desk with the red folder for emphasis. “Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.”

The lady had always been disarmingly blunt. “You made your point. SPU was created to close that gap. To ensure no one gets overlooked. We’re making the effort, Jess. Starting right now.”

She stood. “Then maybe you need to have an all-hands staff meeting and let the folks over in the other precincts know that things have changed. When a nineteen-year-old with absolutely no criminal record and everything going for him goes missing, we don’t need to give the bad guys a forty-eight-hour head start.”

He pushed to his feet. No one else on this planet could rile his indignation quicker and still be right on the matter. “Already on the schedule. Monday morning, nine sharp. You’re the guest speaker.” She would be, at any rate, as soon as he scheduled the meeting. By tomorrow noon it would be on the agenda of every division chief in the department. Contrary to the statement he’d just made, maybe he hadn’t thought of it first, but he would make it happen.

“They may not like what I have to say,” Jess warned.

“Why change strategies now?”

“I’m right about the Chandler case,” she stated again, for the record apparently. “If Black isn’t careful his killer will get away. It happens all the time. Remember the Susan Powell case? Mother goes missing. Husband is sent home and a mountain of evidence and motive are overlooked. And look what it cost? Her children are dead, too, because her crazy husband got away the first go-around. Funny how easy it is to overlook the obvious sometimes.”

“Jess,” he offered patiently, “trust me when I say that we were investigating cases like this and doing a pretty damned good job before you showed up. If your instincts are on target, Black will reach those same conclusions and he will get the job done. You’re just angry because it’s not your case. That’s not a good foundation for the relationships you’re building here. If you want the others to accept you and invite you to play, you have to accept them and show some trust and respect for their abilities as well.”

That was more than he’d intended to say but she’d pushed all the right buttons. Jess was very good at pushing his buttons. In and out of bed.

“You’re right, of course,” she announced as she reached for that huge black leather bag she carried. “I’ll work on that. As soon as I find this missing young man.”

She gave him her back and marched toward the door. For about two seconds he got a little caught up in watching the sway of her hips. Kicking his mind out of the sack, he called after her, “Don’t go without Harper.”

“Yes, sir.” She slammed the door behind her.

He focused on lowering his frustration level and tried to relax in hopes that enough deep breaths would reverse the hard-on sparring with her had aroused. Even when she was cutting him off above the knees he wanted to spread hers and burrow between them.

The intercom buzzed, followed by his secretary’s voice. “Chief, Mrs. Burnett is on line two for you.”

No need for deep breaths after all. A call from his mother did the trick instantly. He grabbed the receiver and pressed the necessary button. “Hey, Mom. Everything okay?”

“Is there any news on Darcy?”

She’d called twice already. “Not yet. Chief Black may have news for the family by tomorrow.”

“I just can’t believe she’s gone. You have to get to the bottom of this, Son. We’re all depending on you.”

“We’ll know more when we have the preliminary autopsy results,” he told her. The Chandlers were friends of his mother’s and whenever a case involved part of her social network she made sure he didn’t forget.

“What about Jess? Is she working on the case, too?”

Since he was seventeen there had been one absolute certainty in his life. His mother did not like Jess. That she asked about her in connection with the case was surprising to say the least. “Jess is working on a missing persons case. Deputy Chief Black and Crimes Against Persons is handling the Chandler case.”

His mother hummed a note of surprise, or maybe it was disappointment. “In any event, you’ll keep me informed, I’m sure. Darcy’s family is just devastated. Daniel, they need answers to this tragedy.”

With a few more assurances she finally let him go. For the second time today he hoped he’d made the right decision. The rules or Jess’s instincts?

Black had nearly thirty years in the department. He and his detectives knew how to investigate a case. Still, Jess had drilled her point about the shoes deep into Dan’s skull. He’d invited her to watch the interview with the husband since, as she’d pointed out at least a dozen times, she was the first on the scene and had interviewed the dancers and their mothers. Chandler’s family and friends were being interviewed even now. Maybe he should have suggested that she and Black work as a team on this one.

But she was needed on the Simmons case. His department had made a mistake on that one and he hoped like hell it wasn’t too late to make it right.

As much as Dan respected every member of his department, he knew in his gut that if anyone could find Simmons it was Jess.

He relegated Jess and her warnings to the back of his priority list for the time being and focused on clearing his desk. The autopsy report and evidence analysis would provide better insight on the Chandler case. Most of the assessments at this point were speculation. It was difficult to comfort a family when so few facts had been established. They needed the facts, not speculation.

Who was he trying to convince? Dan shook his head and chuckled at his own self-doubts. Even twenty years later Jess still possessed the power to make him second-guess his every move and decision. She had always held that power over him. Almost always bested him.

His cell vibrated against his desk. He shuffled through the files and papers to find it. Surely Jess and Harper hadn’t run into trouble already.

Annette calling.

He exhaled a heavy breath. He hoped things were better with Andrea. She’d been a mess since the kidnapping. After today, she may have fallen apart again.

If Andrea needed him, he was there.

A rap on his door prevented him from accepting the call.

The door opened and his secretary poked her head inside. “Chief Burnett, Mayor Pratt is here to see you.”

He’d known this was coming. He just hadn’t expected a face-to-face visit. “Send him in, Sheila.”

Five seconds later the door opened again and Birmingham’s esteemed mayor strode into the room. Sheila closed the door behind him. Taller than Dan, Joseph Pratt had maintained his lean build well into his sixties. He came from old money and enjoyed the power of holding public office without care as to the modest salary.

“Dan, I’m certain your time is limited, so I’ll get right to the point.”

“I’m caught up at the moment, Joe. Have a seat.” Dan had to wonder why the mayor would bother coming over for a discussion so brief that surely it could have been handled by phone just as their discussion about the Simmons case had been earlier today.

Pratt settled into a chair, his posture as well as his expression far from relaxed. “I’m here to urge you to ensure a speedy resolution to the Chandler case.”

The woman had scarcely been dead half a dozen hours. “I’m aware that your families are close,” Dan offered. The Chandlers and Pratts shared a passion for everything from the Historic Preservation Society to the Arts Council. Both families went back several generations and continued to represent the wealthiest of Birmingham’s residents. “I’m certain you understand that we will do all we can as quickly as we can.”

The urgency on Pratt’s face signaled he was far from satisfied with that response. “Darcy and Alexander have been frequent companions of my son Jarrod and his wife, Cynthia, for a number of years now. We do not want to see this drawn out in the media. The swifter the action by this department, the less time for the media to sensationalize this tragedy. There are those who thrive on gossip and innuendoes when it comes to families like the Chandlers.”

“That is an unfortunate reality,” Dan agreed. “I can assure you that we will work as quickly as possible on this case, just as we will on the Simmons case.” He felt confident that the mayor hadn’t forgotten his earlier request already.

“Chief Black assures me he is handling the Chandler case,” Pratt noted.

Dan shouldn’t be surprised that the man had spoken to Black already. Yet somehow he was. “That is correct.”

“Good.” Pratt nodded. “Chief Harris would bring undue media attention to the case, and the family simply doesn’t need that sort of added nuisance.”

Oh, Dan got it now. This wasn’t about a speedy closure for the Chandler family. This was about keeping the connection between the Pratts and the Chandlers off the media’s radar. “Of course. With Jarrod running for the senate, we wouldn’t want him connected to any sort of scandal.” And considering Darcy Chandler’s husband’s numerous affairs, a scandal was likely.

“I knew you’d understand.” Pratt stood. “Those of us in positions of community oversight must always consider the greater good.” He straightened his elegant suit jacket. “I’ll be expecting regular updates on the progress of your investigation.”

With that final order on the table, Pratt departed as quickly as he’d arrived.

Dan had a feeling Jess was right about this one. And no one, particularly not the mayor, was going to like the way it played out.

His cell vibrated, dragging him from the troubling thoughts.

Annette calling.

Again.