Several months earlier, an agent with the FBI had contacted the D.C. Metro and asked about crimes involving federal employees. Caden had been assigned to run a search and had come up with nothing. Agent Franklin seemed almost relieved when Caden reported back to him, so he’d put the incident out of his mind. He had enough of his own unsolved cases to fill a closet.
Now someone had tried to kill the employment commissioner, a high-profile federal employee, and instinct told him the incidents could be related. Caden agonized about his promise to Lara to not include the commissioner in his notes or to question him. It made solving Kirsten’s death nearly impossible…if the crimes were actually connected. Yet the promise also relieved him of the responsibility of involving the FBI and simultaneously pissing off the sponsors and viewers of the Gauntlet-the one thing in this country that still gave people something to cheer for.
Caden took a second look at the photos of the tech and HR people who had access to federal employee files, but didn’t find anyone who matched the facial features of the man in the camera footage. He’d already searched for information about the commissioner and came up with little. Thaddeus Morton had no criminal record, no investigations, no pending lawsuits. He was involved with a charity and well-respected by his peers. Some online gossip sites speculated about his bisexuality, but Caden didn’t see that as a crime.
Why would someone want the commissioner dead?
Caden had no idea how to determine that without talking to people close to Morton. He could only give this case another day or so before he was assigned new investigations. He read through the FBI request and a small piece of information caught his eye. Both people who’d complained about someone hacking their message center had been fired. Had that been the point of the attack?
After four hours of sleep, Caden bolted from bed and hit the treadmill for forty minutes. He dressed for work and made himself an omelet for breakfast. He and Lara had never bothered to have dinner the night before and he was starving. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen Lara eat anything since he’d met her. She hadn’t touched the sandwich he’d brought her in the interrogation room, and she hadn’t eaten that night in the restaurant. She was probably on a special training diet.
He drove to work early, pleased to be ahead of the rush-hour traffic and the heat he knew was coming later that day. The sky looked ominous and he worried that a wild storm would ruin the outdoor Obstacle competition. As long as Lara stayed safe, the Gauntlet didn’t matter, he realized. Caden parked behind headquarters and bought an iced coffee from the mobile vendor before clocking in.
His sat at his desk and his message center beeped. Caden tapped open the top file, and the medical examiner’s face filled the box. “My report on Kirsten Dornberg is attached. In brief, she died of a heart attack brought on by the shock delivered through a stun gun. She had an enlarged heart, and the lab found androgenic anabolic steroids and EPO in her system. She was doping.”
“So her death may not have been intentional?”
“Someone hit her with a Taser. I’m ruling it a homicide.” The ME paused. “She had a strand of hair caught in her ring. Do have any suspect samples to compare it to?”
Caden wished he did. “Not yet, but I will. Thanks, Doc.”
He closed the message box and rubbed his face, as though that would clear his mind. If Lara were just another suspect-and not a Gauntlet competitor he was sleeping with-he would file a subpoena for her DNA immediately. A judge would likely view and grant it before the day was over. Under those circumstances, Caden would pick up the suspect and bring her in for a DNA swab. He couldn’t do that to Lara for at least three reasons. Even if the hair was hers, she had a valid reason for it to be in Kirsten’s ring. Still, he felt uneasy.
What the hell had he gotten himself into?
Chapter 29
Six weeks earlier: Sat., April 1, 8:42 p.m.
Feeling restless and irritable, Paul put Lilly on the leash and went out for a walk. He rarely left his apartment on foot after dark, but both his brain and body were too wired to sit and read. At the bottom of the stairs, he saw Mrs. Olson coming in from the garage, carrying a big recycling container. He turned and headed back upstairs to avoid her. He didn’t want to talk to anyone right now.
When the lobby was clear, he hurried outside. A little surprised by his behavior, Paul wondered if the MetaboSlim pills were affecting his mood and giving him a bit of insomnia. Still ten pounds away from his goal weight, he wasn’t giving them up yet. Maybe he could just cut back. He also hated to let go of the confidence they gave him. He liked his new assertiveness.
Paul jogged toward the nearby park, grateful the wind was neither bitter cold or suffocatingly hot, just relentless. April and its lack of extremes had become his favorite month. His thoughts, as always, came back to Camille. He loved her green eyes, slender neck, and throaty laugh. He loved being seen with her…outside the office. More than anything, he loved having sex with her and thought about it constantly. How had he gone through his whole life without that pleasure? They’d had two more dates and the sex was definitely getting better. Camille had come easily both times. He’d briefly wondered if she was faking it, then decided no. As good as the sex was, Paul wanted more than a bimonthly romp. He wanted a life together.
A little stab of guilt twisted in his gut. He hadn’t told Camille yet that he’d already uploaded her name and file into the replacement database. In the back of his mind, he feared she would stop seeing him once she knew. But if he wanted a real relationship, he had to tell her.
Paul reached the park and paused. Away from sidewalk and streetlights, the area was dark and unnerving. A sliver of moon gave off just enough light to let him see a homeless camp under a clump of trees. No one seemed to be around, or they were sleeping, and he was tempted to let Lilly off the leash for a while. He decided against it. His baby was too precious to risk.
Paul jogged around the perimeter a few times, then headed for home. As he passed a section of empty storefronts, a man stepped out from behind a parked car and blocked the sidewalk. The stranger was taller than Paul but thin, like a junkie. With his dark skin and clothes, he blended into the night, a surreal figure. Yet the silver gun in his hand seemed terrifyingly real.
“Just give me yo electronics, then go ’bout yo business.” His voice was low-pitched and casual.
Heart pounding in his ears, Paul stammered, “I don’t have anything with me. I’m just out for a walk.”
The man lurched forward and grabbed Paul by the collar. “I want yo iCom, yo Dock, whatever yo carryin’.” His breath reeked of booze and decay.
Before Paul could respond, Lilly starting barking with a high-pitched intensity. The mugger let go of Paul and gave Lilly a vicious kick. His little girl landed with a soft thud and went silent.
Rage and hatred unlike anything he’d ever felt exploded in Paul’s chest. He bellowed and swung wildly at Lilly’s attacker, landing a glancing blow to the side of the man’s head. The mugger reared back, stunned and angered. He brought up his arm and slammed Paul in the face with his gun. Paul grunted in pain, clutching his nose. The assailant punched him in the chest, knocking him to the ground.
Panic flooded his body. Paul felt certain Lilly was dead and he would soon be too. His last sexual encounter with Camille flashed in his mind and he was glad he’d had the experience. His attacker dropped down and straddled Paul, trapping him against the sidewalk. Bony fingers dug through his pockets, looking for loot. Humiliation and rage fought for control of Paul emotions. Yet he was trapped and helpless. He began to pray, something he hadn’t done in a long time.
“Fuck you!” The man spit in his face, outraged that Paul didn’t have anything of value. He pushed off and kicked Paul in the head, then ran away, cursing.
Paul let out a sob, then crawled to where Lilly lay. His baby girl was still alive, but she was broken. Paul picked her up and sprinted for home, blood running from his nose, Lilly limp in his arms. He would grab his keys and drive her to the Union Veterinary Clinic. Maybe they could save her.
Paul called in sick the next day, too grief-stricken to work. He hadn’t mentioned Lilly’s passing to Stacia. She was not the kind of boss who would understand. He opened one of his favorite comfort reads, but couldn’t focus. He watched a talk show on the NetCom and found it irritating. Paul iced his nose for another twenty-minute session and hoped like hell the damage wasn’t permanent.
