With the silent, self-directed promise to get the declaration out, Lucien was sure it was going to be hard to stop himself from trying to hurry through the conversation with his boss, no matter what the other man had to tell him. As soon as he’d offered his greeting, though, the awkward throat clear on the other end told him it wasn’t going to be so simple, because it wasn’t his boss at all.
“Uh. Detective Match?” said a vaguely familiar voice.
It only took him a second to place it. Sally’s alleged boyfriend.
“Mr. Gallant? Is that you?” Lucien said.
“Yeah. It’s me.”
“Everything all right? Did you make it to the station all right?”
“I did. Gave a statement, and they told me to stay close in case they had any more questions, or in case I thought of anything. I’m at Sally’s place now. They said it was all clear, but they put a car outside, just in case.”
Henry sounded worried, and Lucien offered an automatic reassurance. “That sounds about right, Mr. Gallant. They clear the scene and do their thing quicker than most people think. That being said...is there something I can do for you?”
“I did just remember something, and it might be nothing, but... I guess it could be important, too. I tried to call the number they gave me, but I got voice mail. I didn’t wanna wait, just in case.”
“Understandable.”
Raven gave Lucien a nudge, then pointed emphatically at the phone. He nodded his understanding and tapped the screen, then set the phone back on the table and sat on the couch. Raven joined him.
“Okay, Mr. Gallant,” he said. “I’ve got you on speaker again. Go ahead and hit me with the details.”
“A couple of weeks ago, Sally did one of those mail-order DNA tests.”
Lucien tensed and exchanged a look with Raven. He was already sure of what Sally’s boyfriend was about tell him.
“And?” he prodded. “What were the results?”
There was a pause. “I dunno.”
“You don’t know what?”
“The results. That’s why I thought it might matter.”
Lucien gritted his teeth and tried not to let his frustration seep into his reply. “I’m not following, Mr. Gallant. If you aren’t aware of the results, how could they be significant?”
“Oh.” A sigh carried through. “Sorry, Detective. I think I’m overtired, and quite frankly, I’m worried as all hell about Sally. Starting to feel like I can’t keep things straight.” He sighed again. “Anyway, the guy at the station was asking me if Sally has any brothers or sisters, and I said no. Because she doesn’t. She told me her mom couldn’t have any more children.”
“Okay.”
“Then she got that DNA test done, and I was on the phone with her when she got the results via email. She was excited at first, but then she got a little weird. I asked her what was wrong, and she changed the subject. So I just thought...” There was a shrug in the trail-off of his words. “It could matter, right? I’ve seen TV shows where stuff like that happens.”
Now it wasn’t irritation that tried to filter through. It was excitement.
“It absolutely could matter,” Lucien told Henry.
“Yeah?”
“Definitely.”
Henry’s relief was palpable, even though the phone. “That’s good. Great. Is there anything else I can do?”
“Maybe just check one quick thing for me,” Lucien replied.
“Yeah. Name it.”
“I’m assuming forensics would’ve grabbed it, but before I start making calls...is Sally’s computer there?”
Henry’s immediate reply surprised him. “Your forensics guys don’t have it. They can’t have it. Someone stole it this morning. She sent me a text and said she thought she’d left it in her car overnight, and when she went out to check, it was gone.”
Lucien’s finger strummed against his knee. “Did you tell the folks at the station?”
“Twice.”
“Okay. I really appreciate all of this. I promise to do what I can.”
“Thank you.” There was a pause, and then Henry said, “Detective Match?”
“Yes?”
“I really want her to be okay. I need her to be okay, if I’m being honest,” the other man admitted. “I’m scared. And I’m not even sure she knows how much she matters to me.”
Lucien forced himself not to steal a look at Raven. He knew precisely how Henry Gallant felt, and he had a feeling that if he glanced her way, it would be written all over his face.
“Talk to you soon, Mr. Gallant,” he said, then clicked off the phone, his mind and his heart engaging in a quick battle.
He wanted to tell her right then and there. He didn’t want another moment to slip by without her knowing precisely what was in his heart. Contradictorily, though, he didn’t want the first time he said it to be overshadowed by the circumstances. Or for her to think—even for a single second—that he was only declaring it because of the life-and-death pressure. In the end, he was saved from having to make a hard-and-fast decision by the fact that Raven pointed to his phone.
“You’re buzzing again,” she told him.
He glanced down and realized she was right. A text message from Sergeant Gray had come through, but Lucien been oblivious to the vibration in his hand. With a rueful shrug, he swiped his thumb over the screen, and read through the unusually long message.
“Bad news?” she asked right away, her tone neutral, but her expression tense.
“Some bad news and some great news.”
“Please, please start with the great.”
“They found Juanita Rickson. Alive. She was at the pool-table-manufacturing place, just like we suspected.”
Relief flooded into Raven’s face. “Oh, thank God.”
“Sergeant said she’s doing okay. No life-threatening injuries, but they’ve got her sedated.”
“Has she had a chance to see Jim?”
“If not, hopefully they’ll find a way to connect them soon. Fingers crossed for side-by-side beds,” he said with a small smile.
“Best of a bad situation, I guess,” she replied. “Did Hanes leave a clue for Sally?”
“Yep. Sergeant’s going to send me a picture shortly. He said in the meantime, I’d probably want to know that it was written in ash. The burn kind, not the tree.”
“Ash,” Raven murmured, closing her eyes for a second, then opening them and frowning. “What was the bad news?”
Lucien felt his mouth set into a line. “Press.”
“Press?” she repeated. “Someone leaked the story?”
“Yeah. The Hanes bit was already out there because of the APB. But the sergeant said someone hinted that he may have started killing again, and now it’s bogging things down because a group of reporters is trying to get the scoop. Someone tailed the officers who went after Juanita. Now Gray’s been asked by the mayor to give an official statement.”
“That’s not good news for Sally.”
“Agreed.”
“I feel like we need to do something.” Her frustration was clear in her voice, and Lucien reached over to give her knee a reassuring squeeze.
“We are doing something. Jim and Juanita were found because of your ideas,” he reminded her.
Her face only sank more. “How do you keep going with it all, Lucien?”
“All what, sweetheart?”
“The work. Trying to solve cases like this. You finish one, and another comes along, and you solve it, but then there’s another. And every time there’s a risk that you won’t solve it. It’s just so overwhelming.”
“It can be overwhelming. Intimidating and depressing, too.”
She made a face. “Not really helping.”
“Look...” He moved his hand up to thread his fingers through hers. “There are cases that don’t get solved, bad guys who go free and things that never leave you. Sometimes, you get five in row, and four never get wrapped up. But you have to keep going, because that single case did. And on the next five, that other single one might not get solved if you give up. It’s the same with your job, isn’t it? You don’t walk away from your client if they don’t have a breakthrough on the first session.”
“No. Definitely not.”
“Even when it’s hard, the rewards outweigh the frustration.”
He kissed the back of her hand, then let her go as his phone signaled another incoming message. It was the promised photo from Sergeant Gray. A quick click zoomed in on the soot-colored words, which were scrawled over a slab of broken concrete.
SHORTEST TO TALLEST, SIDE BY SIDE. TAKING ONE IS THE ONLY CHOICE.
When he held it out for Raven to see, she exhaled a shaky breath and leaned against him. “I know we’re focusing on what the message is written with...but I can help but wonder what the words mean, too. Do you think Hanes would really write just random thought?”
“Not in the slightest,” Lucien admitted. “But we have to work with what we know will bring us results.”
“I guess so.” She sat back up. “So what does the ash mean? Something to do with the fire that supposedly killed Hanes’s parents?”
“It’s the best place to start. Do you know much about Sally?”
“No. Just what her parents have told me. And it’s definitely not enough to figure out what her life has to do with ash.”
“Okay. Different solution them. Talking to Juanita’s not feasible at the moment, and even if Jim’s still lucid, he probably doesn’t need the added stress, so if we can find a way around that...” He trailed off as an idea popped to mind. “I can’t believe I’m going to suggest this—I think we should take a drive over to Sally’s place and take a look around for anything that might relate to ash or fire.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It’s not an active crime scene, and Sally’s boyfriend is there. He might have info for us, too. But don’t get too excited,” he said. “I’m probably going to get my butt handed to me when the sergeant finds out. I’ll be living on the streets.”
She jumped to her feet and held out her hand, and then—with an utterly serious look on her face—replied, “Don’t worry. I make enough money to support both of us.”
Raven kept her mouth shut for most of the ride over to Sally’s place.
Her blurt-out—which more or less equaled an offer to live together—was bad enough, considering that they hadn’t even started to discuss the consequences of sleeping together.
Are there consequences? She clamped her teeth together and refused to give in to the need to ask, replying to the question silently on her own. Of course there are consequences. But another silent moment prompted a follow-up question. But what are they? And why didn’t we talk about it?
She could hazard a guess as to her own reasons. Lying next to him had just felt too normal to prompt a “what now” conversation. It didn’t feel like a momentous change. Never mind that in her head, it should’ve altered everything. It had, the hundred times she’d imagined it. But in reality, it was like her whole life sighed contentedly. Finally. And that was that.
But now, she wondered if it was too much of an assumption to think it was the same for him. And she couldn’t say anything. She was afraid if she did, she’d give away the three-word sentence that kept playing through her mind.
Her mouth went a little dry at the thought.
She loved him. It wasn’t ever a question. She’d loved him for the two months they’d lived together. She’d loved him for the three years they’d spent apart. But feeling it and saying it were two different things.
She stole the smallest glance of Lucien’s profile. As always, he was heartbreakingly handsome. His exterior matched his interior, too. Just the right mix of hard and soft, strong and kind. Yes, she loved him. So much that it was almost painful. But even if sleeping together hadn’t changed anything, admitting it aloud would undoubtedly set a new course. One where—in spite of his assurance that he liked being her bodyguard—he might be forced to make a choice.
I love you.
In a way, it was an ultimatum. Because there was no going back. Either someone said it back, or they didn’t. If they did, it meant something big. A commitment. And if they didn’t say it back...
Raven swallowed. Her heart couldn’t take the thought, so she focused her gaze out the window and tried to concentrate on something other than her feelings for Lucien.
At least keeping silent has the added bonus of not drawing attention to the fact that I really shouldn’t be here at all, she reasoned.
It was true. She couldn’t quite shake the worry Lucien was going to change his mind about their course of action. He’d already violated more than a few rules, and she was afraid that he was going to come to his senses at any moment. That he’d remember that aside from her personal investment in the Hanes case, she had no reason to be involved. He could call her a “consultant” all he wanted, but when it came down to it, she was just a civilian.
A civilian who’s in love with the cop who’s working her case.
“Shut up.” She accidentally muttered it aloud, then blushed as Lucien immediately turned her way.
“What was that?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she lied quickly. “I think we’re almost there.” She pointed to the four-way stop just ahead. “If that’s Diver Avenue, then we need to go left.”
Sure enough, as they reached the red sign, she could see that she was right. Lucien flicked on the turn signal, eased into the intersection then tapped the gas as they rounded the corner. But he slowed again almost right away.
“That’s strange,” he murmured.
Raven’s heart tapped a nervous beat. “What?”
“Henry said there was a patrol car stationed outside. I don’t see one.”
Raven scanned the street. There were a number of cars parked up and down the side, and a few in driveways, too. But none of them was topped with blue and red, and none looked like an unmarked vehicle, either. The nervous tap in her chest became a thrum.
“That’s the house there,” she said, pointing again. “Juanita told me about the fountain in the front.”
It was distinct. All metal, shaped like a bird in flight, a perpetual cascade of water spewing up around it.
“And definitely no cop car sitting in front of it,” Lucien replied.
He slowed even more, then came to an idling stop a few houses back from their target. His fingers strummed the steering wheel for a few seconds before he pulled ahead and cut the engine.
“This is the part where you try to make me stay in the car, isn’t it?” Raven asked.
He shook his head, just once. “No.”
For a moment, she was hopeful. “Oh. Good.”
But as soon as she’d spoken, she caught the grim look on his face.
“There’s no ‘trying’ in this case. You’re staying in the car.”
“What happened to me being the boss?”
He shook his head. “There’re far too many unknowns here.”
“Are the unknowns lessened when I’m stuck in the car?” she countered.
He didn’t budge. “The SUV is equipped with bullet-resistant glass. I’m equipped with bullet-resistant training. You, on the other hand, are going to be equipped with a phone set to dial for help.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Shouldn’t that part come first?”
“What?”
“Calling for help. For backup. You promised not to ignore my good ideas, remember?”
“I—” He cut himself off, grumbled something she couldn’t hear, then yanked his phone from his pocket and clicked a speed-dial number while narrowing his eyes in Raven’s general direction.
On the other end, a woman’s voice became audible. “This is Dispatch.”
“Geraldine,” Lucien greeted, his tone at odds with his scowl. “It’s always a pleasure when I get you on the line.”
“Likewise, Detective,” came the reply. “Making headway in the Hanes case?”
“Actually, yes. Which is why I need your help.”
“Whatever I can do.”
“First off, can you tell me if a couple of uniforms were stationed at an address on Diver Avenue?”
“Sure can.”
Raven uncrossed her arms and leaned closer to Lucien as he reeled off the house number. She was eager to hear the response, and didn’t want to miss it. But she was also unsure if she wanted an affirmative or a negative. Had the police been there and left? Or had they never come at all? The former made her worried. The latter filled her with deep unease.
“Detective?” said Geraldine after another few seconds.
“Yep. I’m still here,” Lucien replied.
“Is this the same address that Sergeant Gray attended earlier?”
“That’s the one,” Lucien confirmed. “Should be a car here now, too.”
“I’m sorry,” said the other woman, “but I don’t see anything listed for that address at this point in the day. At last check, forensics finished up and sealed the house.”
Lucien dropped a low curse, then met Raven’s eyes, and when he spoke into the phone again, he sounded like he didn’t want to be asking the question that came out of his mouth. “Geraldine...did you give my number to Sally Rickson’s boyfriend?”
“Sally Rickson? She’s the homeowner?”
“Correct.”
A sick feeling was building in Raven’s gut.
“I’m sorry,” Geraldine repeated. “I didn’t give your number to anyone today, Detective. Is something wrong?”
“I need you to send a unit to the Diver Avenue address.” He paused. “Make it two units, actually.”
The dispatcher’s voice immediately took on a more professional tone. “Yes, sir. I’ll advise that you’re requesting backup immediately.”
“Thank you.” He clicked off the phone, then tossed it hard into the console.
He brought his eyes to hers, and the twisting in Raven’s stomach became a tornado. She suddenly didn’t want him to speak. She didn’t want to hear the words that were undoubtedly coming. But she couldn’t think of a way to stop him, and her breath cut away as he made the announcement she was anticipating.
“It was Hanes,” he stated, somehow managing to sound both toneless and coldly furious at the same time. “He set us up.”
Raven tried to form a reply, but the words wouldn’t come.
Hanes.
It couldn’t have been him on the phone, could it? Surely, one of them would’ve recognized his voice. The nuance of his speech. The perpetually smug undertone. Something. Anything. But would they have, over the crackling line? The man would definitely have known just what to say to get them to come. To conform to his plans.
A wave of dizziness tried to take her, and she clutched at Lucien’s arm, using his solidity to anchor herself.
“He must’ve hired someone,” he muttered, voicing her own thoughts aloud. “We would’ve known it was him.”
She attempted again to answer, but this time, she was interrupted by a scream, emanating from somewhere near Sally Rickson’s house. The sound froze Raven, and she felt Lucien stiffen beside her, too. She followed his gaze to the inch-wide crack of the passenger-side window, and she knew what he had to be thinking. The scream had been shrill enough to carry in, and that was saying something. It’d also been full of terror. Possibly pain. And Raven was 99.9 percent certain that it belonged to a woman.
Sally.
“Lucien,” she whispered, breaking momentary stillness. “We need to go in there.”
“Not we,” he corrected quietly.
She pulled away and shook her head. “I can’t stay here.”
“You can. And you will.”
“Lucien.”
“No. I’m sorry, Raven. Either I go now, or we both sit here and wait for backup.”
“That’s...” She trailed off and swallowed, trying to keep her face from betraying the inner battle she was fighting.
You promised him that you wouldn’t stop him from doing his job. You told yourself you wouldn’t let it happen. And yet here you are, at the first sign of trouble...
She exhaled. “How long?”
“Give me ten minutes,” he said without asking what she meant. “It shouldn’t take me more than that to figure out what’s going on, and backup should be here by then anyway.”
“Please be careful.”
“I will.” He leaned over to give her a quick, firm kiss, then closed the window completely and added, “Bulletproof glass, sweetheart.”
Then he was gone, and Raven was pretty damn sure he’d left with her heart in his pocket.