Keith Hammond lay on the sidewalk—his lifeless body riddled with bullets.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
The next morning, Hunter still couldn’t believe the turn of events. He and Layla were at his office, waiting for Mason to arrive. She’d been visibly shaken after witnessing the shooting, but he had been as well. One minute Keith Hammond had been standing in front of the coffee shop—unassuming, waiting for what he believed was just a routine meeting with an Agency colleague—and the next, he was violently gunned down in cold blood.
“Do you think the cartel killed him so he couldn’t speak to us?” Layla asked.
“That seems like a plausible explanation, but how could the cartel have found out about it?” Hunter asked.
Layla bit her bottom lip. “Maybe he was under surveillance, and they heard our phone conversation. I identified myself to him. That would’ve been enough for the cartel, even if I didn’t bring up the reason I wanted to meet with him.”
Hunter hadn’t slept much last night as he replayed the events in his head. “If he was dirty, why would the cartel have wanted to kill him? Wouldn’t they have wanted to keep him in play?”
“That’s a good point. Unless they thought he was about to turn on them, and they decided to take him out.”
Mason walked in a few minutes later. “How are you two doing?”
“All things considered, okay,” she answered. “Unfortunately, we can’t say the same for Keith Hammond.”
“FBI is taking the lead on the murder, but we’re being read in because of the suspicions raised about Hammond’s allegiance.”
“Any updates?” Hunter asked.
“Good thing you got the license plate, Hunter. We were able to run that, and it was a stolen vehicle. Given the tactics used, we are operating under the assumption that this was a cartel hit, but we can’t say at this juncture whether Keith was working for them and what the motivation was for the hit. FBI is going through all his electronics now, and if they find anything, we’ll be notified.”
“If he was the mole, that would mean the cartel has lost their inside man,” Layla said.
“That would be a good thing,” Mason responded. “But I’m not ready to call this open and shut. For one, we’re not sure he was the mole, and on top of that, we can’t guarantee that he was working alone if he was. That’s why I wanted to talk this through. Hunter, keep doing your work. If Keith wasn’t involved and just got caught in the crossfire, then we still have someone out there working against our interests. There’s too much riding on this one to be wrong.”
“No cutting corners,” Hunter said.
Layla cleared her throat. “If Keith wasn’t dirty, given his extensive time in the region, he still had to be a known player to the cartel. When I reached out to him, maybe they got spooked.”
Hunter hated to think about that, because he knew Layla would obsess over her role in his murder even though it clearly wasn’t her fault.
Mason frowned. “That’s one of the many questions the FBI will be looking to answer. We can’t do anything about their investigation. The process has to unfold, but we can make sure that we’re doing everything we can to identify the true traitor.”
“Understood,” Hunter said. “There is still a list of people I’m working through on the DEA side.”
Mason nodded. “Keep up that work, and I’ll let you know if I hear anything from the FBI. And be extra vigilant. Layla, you still have Agency security at your condo, right?”
She nodded. “Believe me, they aren’t going anywhere. They’re watching me like a hawk.”
“Good. I’ll be in touch.” Mason exited the room as abruptly as he’d appeared.
“I guess we have our marching orders,” Layla said.
Izzy was trying her best to hold it together. It helped that Piper had a death grip on her arm as they walked toward the main precinct for Arlington PD late Thursday morning. She’d known she would have to deal with the assault forever, but now that the sergeant had been killed, it put a whole new spin on things. She was just trying to take it one step at a time, but her footing was uneasy.
At least she’d never have to face that brute again. He was dead. He couldn’t hurt her, but his memory still threatened her entire well-being.
“Keep doing the deep breaths,” Piper reminded her.
They walked through the front doors that she’d been through many a time. But as her foot crossed the threshold, she flashed back to the last time she’d been here. The sergeant winking at her. Touching her shoulder. She had recoiled in disgust . . . and wished him dead.
“Izzy, did you hear me?” Piper asked.
She hadn’t heard a thing. “No. I’m sorry.”
“I asked if you wanted to go to the restroom before we head into the meeting.”
“No. Let’s just get it over with.”
They were greeted by two detectives in the main lobby. “I’m Detective Stewart,” the tall, older woman said. “And this is Detective Bryant.” A shorter, younger man with a shaved head offered his hand.
It didn’t surprise Izzy that they had a female detective involved in the questioning. That had to be by design. To Izzy, though, it didn’t matter whether the detective was male or female—the pain was still the same for her to have to relive. She understood more than ever why victims of sexual assault didn’t come forward. Being questioned and prodded about the most personal and intimate details of your life came at a huge price. But given that this was a murder investigation, she didn’t really have any say in the matter.
“Thank you for coming in,” Detective Stewart said.
Before Izzy could answer, Piper jumped in. “My client is here purely as a courtesy. I hope you’ll keep that in mind.”
“Of course,” Detective Stewart said.
They didn’t take Izzy to an interrogation room but instead led them into one
