“Eyes up,” Adelemurmured, quietly.
Her back pressedinto the popcorn siding of the low-rent motel. She felt a trickle of dustagainst the nape of her neck, but kept her motions steady as she eased forward,sliding along the wall. A woman stared out from a window across the courtyard,owlishly surveying the FBI agents’ approach.
Adele glanced atthe distant woman and gave a slight shake of her head. The motel tenant duckedout of view behind the window streaked with greasy fingerprints and breathstains.
Agent Masse bumpedinto Adele, jarring her attention back to room A7. She flashed a scowl at hernew partner. “Careful,” she muttered in a ghost of a whisper.
Masse raised aplacating hand, again releasing his grip from his service weapon. Inwardly,Adele suppressed a groan of frustration. As cantankerous as he was, one thingcould be said for John Renee; he despised amateur hour. Now, back in SanFrancisco, Adele found she missed the tall, scar-faced French agent.
Purelyprofessionally, of course. Of course. John was an excellent shot,reliable when faced with danger, and—most importantly—he wouldn’t keep bumpinginto her outside a killer’s motel room.
“Would you stopthat, please?” she whispered at last after the third accidental knee into herthigh as they both eased up the walkway.
“Sorry,” AgentMasse said, a bit too loudly.
Adele stiffened.From within A7, she thought she heard movement. She stared at the door, herpulse in her ears. Then all fell silent.
Adele waited,wetting the edge of her lips, her ears perked, her eyes fixed on the silverdoor handle beneath the card-reader slot.
Jason Hernandez.Suspected of two counts of barbarous murder. Adele had spent the previous weekgoing over the toxicology reports. Jason had pumped his victims full ofmethamphetamine before bludgeoning them to death in the living room of theirown home.
Allegedly, she thought toherself. Images flashed through her mind. She pictured crimson stains on anornately patterned Turkish carpet. She recalled the horrified expressions of thecleaning staff who’d found Jason’s work. And of course, the crimes had occurredin the Hills. Rich and famous couple murdered? Step aside, homicide, hello,FBI.
Adele noddedtoward the door, keeping her weapon raised. Her new partner hesitated.
She tried not toroll her eyes, but in a fierce whisper said, “Key card. Hurry!”
Agent Massestiffened like a deer caught in headlights. The young agent stared at the sideof Adele’s face before her words finally seemed to register. Now movingtoo quickly, as if to make up for lost time, he hurried past her, rubbingagainst the rusted white railing facing the pool. His hand darted to his rightlapel pocket, where he fiddled with a button.
Adele stared indisbelief.
Masse’s cheeksreddened, and he mouthed Sorry while finagling the button a bit more. Hecouldn’t seem to undo it. With a wince, Masse holstered his weapon and, nowwith both hands, he reached up and unbuttoned the pocket. Finally, his gunstill holstered, he pulled out the key card the motel clerk had provided. Witha still quivering hand, the young agent inserted the card in the door. A smallgreen light flashed over the L-shaped handle.
Masse steppedback, his young face surveying Adele.
She noddedpointedly at his hip.
Again, blankface.
“Your weapon,”Adele said, through clenched teeth.
Masse’s eyeswidened and he quickly unholstered his weapon a second time and leveled it onthe door. The windows to A7 were closed, and the curtains blotted out thelight.
“He’s armed anddangerous,” Adele said, beneath her breath. Normally, the second part of thatsentence seemed redundant, but with Masse, she couldn’t be sure. “If you see aweapon, don’t give him the opportunity. Understand?”
Agent Massestared at her, shivering where he stood, but nodded. Adele swallowed, stavingoff any of her own nerves. She adjusted her grip, feeling the cold heft of herweapon against her cupped hands. She endeavored not to betray her owndiscomfort—firearms and all they encapsulated had always been her leastfavorite part of the job.
Masse took aposition on the opposite side of the door. With a significant look in herdirection, he reached out with his right hand, his left still holding hisweapon, gripped the door handle, and then—
The door bangedopen. A wild shout emitted from within and someone slammed into the faux woodfrom the other side, sending Masse reeling.
Her partnerfired once, twice—without aiming. Agent Masse was sent stumbling to the groundby the continued momentum of the door. The bullets struck the ceiling. A blurof motion burst from within the motel room, streaking onto the walkway. Theblur held something metal glinting in one hand.
A weapon?
No. Too small.The figure didn’t turn left or right, and instead, with a shout, dove over therailing, lunging toward the pool below. The sound of Adele’s curse chorused withthe loud splash!
Adele trainedher weapon and took three quick side-steps of controlled motion toward therailing. Her eyes flitted to the blue pool, then darted to the circling hedges.She leveled her weapon on the retreating form below…
…and recognizedhim immediately from his sheared head down to the twisting tattoos of twosnakes looping over his ears and curling at the base of his neck. The tonguesof the snakes intertwined, tied in a knot between his shoulder blades. JasonHernandez wasn’t wearing a shirt. He had a bit of a paunch, and his baggy pantswere soaked against him now, but this didn’t stop the man from pulling himselfwith grunts out of the pool, then stumbling away from the edge, dripping wetand gasping as he tried to hop the hedge. He ended up tripping and crackingbranches, landing in the brush, before—spitting and cursing in Spanish—heregained his feet and hurried toward the gap between the two wings of themotel, heading for the busy street.
Adele’s fingertightened on the trigger, her teeth clenched.
“Stop!” sheshouted.
He didn’t.Again, she spotted something metal clutched tight in his right hand. A knife?
A clear shot.She had him in her sights. But no—he was unarmed. Most killers didn’t need weaponsthough. Alleged killer, she reminded herself. Adele lowered her weaponand raced past where her partner was still trying to recover from a motel roomdoor to the face. His nose poured blood and he had a dazed look where he satmassaging his chin.
Adele hurtledpast, yelling, “He’s getting away!” She sped to the end of the walkway withoutlooking back. No footsteps echoed in pursuit, suggesting her new partner wasout
