Tough Justice: Watched (Part 2 of 8)

Tyler Anne Snell

TOUGH JUSTICE: Justice is worth every sacrifice.

Episode Two: Watched

Special Agent Lara Grant wanted a new start on a special task force dealing with untouchable cases. But their first case? Involves her. She’s now front and center confronting the sins of her past—and all roads point to Moretti. Her partner, Nick, wants to help, but each move they make, the killer is three steps ahead. What does it take to stop a monster? Lara is about to find out...

Justice is worth every sacrifice.

A brand-new 8-part reading experience starting January 12, 2016!

FBI agent Lara Grant has finally put her life as an undercover operative behind her and started a new assignment in New York City. But her past and present collide and become ever more twisted as a spate of murders sends a message that is cruelly, chillingly personal...

Tough Justice: Exposed (Part 1 of 8) by New York Times bestselling author Carla Cassidy

Tough Justice: Watched (Part 2 of 8) by Tyler Anne Snell

Tough Justice: Burned (Part 3 of 8) by Carol Ericson

Tough Justice: Trapped (Part 4 of 8) by Gail Barrett

Tough Justice: Twisted (Part 5 of 8) by Gail Barrett

Tough Justice: Ambushed (Part 6 of 8) by Carol Ericson

Tough Justice: Betrayed (Part 7 of 8) by Tyler Anne Snell

Tough Justice: Hunted (Part 8 of 8) by New York Times bestselling author Carla Cassidy

TYLER ANNE SNELL writes and reads a little bit of everything but has a soft spot for thrillers, mysteries and sexual tension. When she isn’t writing or reading, she’s rewatching her favorite TV series or playing video games. The first book she finished in one sitting was a Mills & Boon Intrigue. It taught her to appreciate the power of a good book.

Tyler lives in Florida with her same-named husband and their mini lions.

Visit her: www.tylerannesnell.com.

For my husband, Tyler. You may have the same name as me, but your patience, love and enthusiasm far outshines mine. Your nonstop encouragement means the world to me. Just like you!

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Back Cover Text

About Tough Justice

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Lara’s back slammed against the wall.

Instead of tasting pain or fear, all she could taste was pleasure.

She moved against the man with a vigor she reserved for no one else. He was made up of flames and water. Pouring over every inch of her skin yet leaving nothing but heat in his wake.

His kiss was passion.

His touch was sensational.

He was all-consuming.

Lara crashed her mouth into his, begging for more as he spread her legs wide. She moaned against his lips, hungry for what would happen next.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, voice filled with grit. She was about to say the same of him when he thrust deep inside of her. All words left her mind.

All Lara Grant felt was absolute pleasure.

She matched his rhythm in the dark room with ease. Two dance partners familiar with all of the steps. They moved in tandem, never breaking from each other’s lips, while bringing both closer to climax. Hands in her hair, nails on his back, bare chests against each other, his hard length sliding in and out of her pleasure.

Andrew!

Lara’s eyes flew open, and she all but jumped out of her bed.

She was no longer in that room.

She was no longer with that man.

“No,” she yelled into her empty bedroom. Her chest heaved up and down. Sweat adhered her tank top to her skin. Ripples of pleasure still pulsed between her legs. “Oh God.”

Pure revulsion coursed through her, slowly replacing any gratification that the dream had made her feel. She closed her eyes tight, willing her body to focus on anything else.

But there he was, naked and waiting.

“No,” she repeated into the quiet. Her fists balled in the sheets, and she closed her eyes tight. She was at the brink of tears, while a storm of emotions raged within her racing heart.

But Lara Grant didn’t cry.

Not easily, at least.

“Pull it together.”

She took a deep breath, and the man behind her eyelids was replaced by the image of a box with pink wrapping paper and a silver bow. Its contents made her body move before she realized what she was doing. She opened her eyes and blinked several times, looking for her phone. Dialing an alarmingly familiar number, she ran her hand through her hair.

“It’s Grant,” she greeted when the man answered, not wasting any time. “They’re safe?”

The U.S. Marshal didn’t sigh in frustration or get angry at her insistence—he wasn’t that kind of man—but she did catch the weight of exhaustion that dragged down his response. It reminded her that she hadn’t been the only one who’d had a long night.

“Like I told you the last two times, yes, they’ve been moved,” Peter Linden answered. “And, no, once again, they weren’t followed.”

Lara exhaled, shaking slightly with relief.

“Are you sure you don’t want to know the location of the safe house? I gave you the phone number. I can give you the location, too.”

A stab of anguish broke through Lara’s temporary relief. She knew the answer she needed to give, but it was as far away as what she wanted to say as something could be.

The couple of times she’d visited the little yellow house, she’d used every safety precaution she’d been taught throughout her career or even picked up undercover. Rented cars, aliases, always checking her rearview for anything out of the ordinary. Not once did she suspect that someone had been watching her and the family.

Not even for a moment.

Lara’s fists balled again. She should have known better. People like Moretti had ways of finding out what they wanted to know, with or without bars in front of them. For the family’s safety, she shouldn’t know where they lived. She shouldn’t be able to find them.

“I’m sure.”

For now, anyway.

Lara didn’t try for small talk, and Peter didn’t expect her to either. They ended the call, and once again Lara was alone. The alarm on her phone was due to go off within the hour, but she knew she wouldn’t be getting any more sleep. She wouldn’t chance another encounter with the man she couldn’t forget.

Lara tried to push the entire thing out of her mind by taking a long shower and starting the day. The water—unlike the man—was cold. It shocked her system into a state of focus and determination. She had a job to do. She couldn’t afford any distractions.

Not when she was dealing with Moretti.

She dressed in a white blouse that tucked into a pair of tight, dark jeans and put on her holster beneath a jacket. Her ID wallet went into an inside jacket pocket, and her badge clipped to her belt, out of view—like her gun—unless she wanted it seen. Her thoughts slid to her partner as she looked herself over in the mirror. She didn’t need his approval of how she looked—she didn’t need anyone’s—but she found a small part of her would have liked the acknowledgement. It was an unnerving thought she didn’t look deeper into as she put on a pair of black ankle boots. They gave her an inch of height without sacrificing the comfort she’d need for tracking down leads all day.

Today was going to be the day they found a lead worth following. They had to put an end to this case and fast. The little yellow house stuck in her mind’s eye as she locked up her apartment and made her way downstairs.

They just had to finish it.

Jerry, the doorman, was already off of work, probably exhausted at having been extensively questioned about the package the night before. He’d given them nothing that could be used to find out the who, why or when. Because that would have been too easy. Now he was replaced by Ron, who worked the day shift. Ron knew all tenants by name, even hers, despite only being there for a short amount of time.

“Have a good day, Ms. Grant,” he said as she walked past. She smiled and paused.

“Thank you, Ron.” She pulled out a piece of paper and wrote down her cell number. “Can you do me a huge favor and call me if anything or anyone comes in or asks for me?” He nodded and took the number. “It’s very, very important that you not open whatever package it may be and, if it’s someone asking for me, that you don’t tell them you’re calling me. Jerry already has the same instructions. Got it?”

Ron gave her a small salute in absolute sincerity. “You got it.”

She thanked him again and made her way to the subway. Her eyes searched the crowd of people dotting the sidewalks and the tops of the buildings. If she’d been followed to the family in the little yellow house, what made her think she wasn’t being followed now?

* * *

Nick and Cass were in the conference room when Lara got to 26 Federal Plaza. A box of bagels was sitting on the table. It made her stomach growl in greeting.

“You’re here early,” Nick said. His current conversation with Cass had his brows still drawn together in concentration. Lara suspected that he wasn’t even focused on what he’d just said as way of good morning. It made her instantly intrigued.

“Trouble sleeping,” she dismissed. “What’s up?”

“I found a new Dunst-related lead,” Cass answered. Nick handed Lara a sticky note with an address. “One of the crime scene techs found two separate receipts at Dunst’s apartment with the same address on it. I checked it out, and it’s a Laundromat that he apparently used to frequent.”

Lara raised her eyebrow.

“Okay...” She didn’t see the connection to a lead.

“That’s what I just said,” Nick added.

Cass let out a sigh. She pinched the bridge of her nose before answering.

“Geez, guys, have more faith in me, okay?” she deadpanned. “That Laundromat is twenty minutes—on a good day—away from his apartment. To go there he’d have to hop two different buses, passing three other Laundromats. Including one a block away from his apartment.”

Lara and Nick’s eyes widened in unison.

“So why would our guy go that far out of his way?”

Cass snapped her fingers. “Looks like that’s what the two of you need to find out.” She started to leave. “And while you do that, I’ll continue searching through Dunst’s electronic life. Be careful.”

“We’ll try,” Nick said. He turned and pushed the bagel box over to Lara before pulling one out for himself. He wore a pair of jeans that looked as if they’d come straight out of a ’90s Levi’s ad. They were a faded navy and fit him nicely. Coupled with a gray shirt and his leather jacket, Nick Delano was the perfect cross between street and agent. “What do you think it’s all about?” he asked when they’d gotten into the car. Nick had taken to the driver’s side without question. That was fine by Lara. She’d have more freedom to eat her bagel.

“What? The Laundromat?” she asked, taking in a considerably larger bite than she’d meant to. Apparently she was hungrier than she’d thought. After receiving the box with the pictures, she hadn’t even thought about eating dinner the night before.

“Yeah. Why would a lowlife truck it that far away to do clothes? You think it’s a cover for something?”

Lara shrugged. “I can’t say until I see the place and the people who frequent it. All we can safely bet is that it isn’t human trafficking. Sean Dunst killed Tina Cole to save the little girl, remember?” Even as she said it, Lara squirmed in her seat, uncomfortable at the thought that, in his mind, Dunst had been merciful.

Nick nodded. “It could be a meeting place for whoever he was trying to work for.” That perked her up. “Which means, if this lead pans out, we could take down more than just one bad guy. Something I hear you’re good at.” He cast her a sly look. One that told her he was teasing her.

It pushed her earlier dream to the forefront of her mind. She tensed, trying to get away from the memory. Nick must have taken her silence as a sign that he’d overstepped. He changed the subject to the weather. It carried them to a handful of blocks lined with crumbling brick storefronts and the occasional run-down apartment complex. No high-rises here.

“Park there so we can scope the place before we get out,” Lara said when they were a block over from Dunst’s apparently favorite Laundromat, the Fluff-N-Fold. Nick pulled into an empty spot between a beat-up Buick and a rusted Honda. He cut the engine with a grunt.

“No wonder Dunst liked coming here.” He peered through the windshield at the Laundromat in the distance. “It’s just his style.”

They pushed out into the crisp morning air with the knowledge that all bystanders would pick up on the fact that they were law enforcement of some kind. It was simply inevitable. Even if they hadn’t been wearing jackets that were styled to hide their guns and badges, Lara knew they had the posture ingrained within them. One that she had taken pains to strip before going undercover.

It didn’t matter how good your cover story was, if your body language said a different thing.

Pedestrians walked up and down the sidewalks. Few gave them wary looks while fewer let their glance stick. Lara preferred it that way. She’d never valued lack of attention until she had been undercover.

“You ready for whatever we find?” Nick asked, moving his jacket a fraction to get better flexibility if he needed to pull his gun. His eyes caught on a few people leaving the Laundromat. They stopped at the curb while one pulled out a cigarette.

“Yeah.” She covertly unsnapped the strap from her holster. If she needed to pull her piece, it would be easy. The Laundromat might have had a slightly goofy name, but the fact remained that the Fluff-N-Fold had been interesting to Dunst.

And they had no idea why or what was behind its doors.

“Let’s go,” Nick said, picking up the pace.

They were a block away, moving closer to their target, while keeping their eyes on their surroundings for anything suspicious or out of the ordinary. That’s when Lara really took in every detail of the two men who had exited the Laundromat moments before.

“Wait.” She grabbed Nick’s arm, stopping and turning him to face her. She angled her body so his partially hid her from plain view.

“What is it?”

Lara did a quick mental slideshow of faces from her past.

Recognition flared.

“There,” Lara said, voice dipping low. She nodded to the two men standing in front of the Laundromat. One had a cigarette between his lips while the other eyed a woman talking on the phone on the other side of the street. “I know them.”

Nick coolly turned his head for a better view, knowing not to be obvious. She knew he was cataloging each man’s details.

The one with the cigarette was the younger of the two. Short dreads, a thick brow, and spotty facial hair, he wore baggy dark jeans and a graphic tee with a cartoon woman in a tank top across the front. His body wasn’t lean but skinny. The man next to him was a different story. His stomach extended outward, barely contained by his own shirt. He wore a red beanie and dark, dark sunglasses. Between the two, Lara knew he was the more aggressive one.

“They were a part of the Moretti syndicate,” she explained. “Two low-level lookouts that came and went without making any real noise. Never gave their actual names, just cycled through a list of dumbass nicknames like ‘Beat’ and ‘Snoop.’”

“They weren’t rounded up with the rest, I see,” Nick commented.

She shook her head.

“No. When the bust went down at the Chicago warehouse Moretti was running, they were nowhere to be found.”

“You figure they’re still working for Moretti?”

Lara didn’t think on that too much. Once again she shook her head.

“If Moretti was a big fish, they were a small patch of dirt on the ocean floor. He barely used them when he was thriving. I doubt he’d reach out to them when he’s behind bars. But, that doesn’t mean they don’t know about our buddy Dunst.”

Nick’s lips quirked up into a sly smile. Lara couldn’t deny it was attractive.

“Then why don’t we go say hi?”

Chapter Two

“You think they’ll recognize you?” Nick asked. Though his tone was easy she could tell his demeanor had shifted as they walked toward the men. He was getting ready for whatever might happen next. Whether or not the men ran or fought, which were both likely responses. She, too, rolled her shoulders back, gearing up.

“Which me?” she joked. “Undercover me or FBI agent caught on the news me?”

Nick snorted but didn’t have time to answer. Beanie lost interest in the woman across the street and turned back to his friend. He whispered something, and soon both men were looking their way. Dreads dropped his cigarette.

“Looks like they recognize you,” Nick said.

Lara felt her leg muscles tighten. They were about to take off, and her partner knew it. Normally she would have felt excited—ready for a chase, ready for the thrill—but now...the stakes were different. They were higher. This case wasn’t like the ones from her past. Each new move left her tense, each new development left her anxious. The two men and the chase they were about engage in gave her, in no way, any thrills. Being undercover for so long had shattered her self-confidence. Now was the time to get it back.

In unison the two men turned on their heels.

“I’ll take Dreads,” Lara said. “And you—”

A heavy pop pierced the air.

The man she’d just planned to chase tipped backwards and fell hard against the sidewalk.

Nick yelled something unintelligible and threw his weight into Lara, pushing her into the wall of the storefront they’d been passing. Another pop sliced through the air.

Lara watched as Beanie was shot right between the eyes.

“Fuck,” Nick roared, using the hand that didn’t have Lara’s shoulder in it to pull out his gun. Lara shrugged out of his protective hold and pulled her gun out and up, as well. She spun on her heel as Nick shouted something to the bystanders screaming on the street.

Lara wasn’t listening. Her focus had shifted to the once-again elusive sniper, following what she guessed to be his trajectory. Had he been following her?

The buildings around and behind them were all between one to five stories, each varying. Lara mentally pulled up an aerial view of the two blocks behind her, thanks to the map of the surrounding location Cass had blasted to their phones on the ride over. Lara tried to remember which building had roof access. But, then again, the sniper could have easily done it from a window.

She inclined her head up, keeping her gun low. Nick yelled something, but she didn’t listen. Two blocks away someone was standing on a rooftop, an unmistakable gun at his side.

Whoever he was, he must have realized Lara could see him.

He waved.

And then Lara was running.

“Sniper, roof,” she yelled back to her partner as an afterthought. Her hands were firmly around the grip of her gun, her eyes on the figure in the distance. The unknown shooter hadn’t readied his gun on her but instead squatted down out of sight. Most likely breaking it down for an easier escape.

“Lara,” Nick yelled after her, but she didn’t stop. She needed to catch the son of a bitch who kept taking out their leads. Was the sniper the top of the food chain or just an enforcer for the person at the top? So many questions flooded her mind as she tore down the sidewalks, yelling at bystanders to move out of the way and get back inside.

Why people were rushing outside with their phones in hand after shots were fired was beyond her.

The sniper was out of view still as Lara made it to a five-story, decrepit apartment building. An internal war quickly waged within her. She hesitated. Which way would the sniper try to flee? Coming down the apartment’s internal stairs or elevator and leaving through the lobby would be the easiest but, then again, most obvious. What would Lara do? She ran around to the alleyway to the left of the building.

The fire escape.

Hesitation gone, she ran to the middle of the alley to the ladder. It hung halfway down, forcing her to put her gun back in her holster and jump for it.

“Come on,” she wheezed out, an inch too short to grab the bottom bar.

A clattering made her pause. She looked up through all of the metal to see her perp rushing down the escape. From her vantage point she couldn’t make out any details. Or if he had the gun with him.

A surge of energy went through her. She took a few steps back and ran and jumped for the ladder. Her palms connected with the metal. Lara let her adrenaline course through her as her training from the academy kicked in. Using her upper arm strength, she grabbed the next rung with her hand and started to pull herself up. Her arms shook, burning as she moved to the third and then fourth step. She’d always been diligent with her training, even more so in lockdown, but still she struggled.

The clattering above her stopped just as she made it to the first landing. She looked up to see the sniper paused at the fourth one before turning around to run back up.

She’d been made.

“FBI, stop or I’ll shoot,” Lara yelled. She pulled out her gun as she ran the length of the landing and swung around to the stairs leading to the next one. Glancing up, she knew her command had been ignored. It was also a lie. She didn’t have a clear view of the perp and especially not a clear shot.

Her boots were loud against the metal, no longer trying to be stealthy. As she rounded the second floor landing, an elderly man popped his head out of his window with wide eyes.

“I’m calling the cops,” he yelled after her, disgruntled.

“Good,” she yelled back, breathing heavy.

The sound of her perp’s footfalls ceased while she was running up the next set of stairs. He was back on the roof and, if he wanted, could easily take her out as soon as she made it up there, too.

But as Lara climbed higher, she realized she didn’t believe he’d kill her. At least, not yet. When Dunst was killed, he could have done the same to her easily. Dreads and Beanie hadn’t been too far from her and her partner and in clear view of the apartment building she was currently scaling. The sniper could have put a bullet in them both, before they would have even known what was going on.

Why spare her life in those two instances only to take her out now?

Still, when she made it to the top of the fire escape, Lara slowed and steadied her gun. She might have believed her life wasn’t in danger, but that didn’t mean she was going to be stupid. With every intention of shooting the perp down if needed, Lara popped up to survey the rooftop.

The door to the building was centered to the left while a half wall enclosed a relatively empty space, save a few beer bottles and trash. Lara didn’t care about the litter. She scanned the roof for her sniper.

But he was gone.

Cautious yet quick, Lara ran to the door leading into the building and searched around it to make sure her perp wasn’t hiding. When she found nothing, she went back to the door, ready to continue the foot race through the apartment complex.

Lara cursed loudly.

The door was unlocked but not budging.

“Dammit,” she bit out. Moving a few steps back, she took a deep breath and ran at the door, throwing her shoulder into it at the last second. Pain burst in her arm, but the impact did nothing to the door. Whatever was on the other side was heavy and stationary. She’d have to hit it a lot harder to get it to move. With another deep breath she walked back even farther and turned, ready to make another go, when she heard a commotion on the other side of the door.

On a reflex she barely noticed anymore, she raised her gun and planted her feet apart, ready. She didn’t want to kill the sniper, but she could put him out of commission so he couldn’t escape.

The sound of scraping preceded the doorknob turning. Lara’s body was almost vibrating, every part of her keyed up in anticipation.

Finally the door swung wide.

“Lara?” Nick held the door open, his own gun in hand. He pointed it away from her at the same time she moved her aim away from him. It was a good thing neither partner had itchy trigger fingers.

“I chased him up the fire escape,” she rushed. “He escaped through there.”

“He didn’t take the stairs, and the elevator is out of service,” he called back to her as she followed him into the stairwell.

“He’s either hiding or trying to move around us,” she surmised. He nodded.

“Let’s go to the lobby and cut off his escape routes until backup gets here.”

Lara wanted to complain—she wanted to scour every inch of the building for the sniper right then—but knew Nick was right. The building was too big. If they went floor by floor looking for their perp, then chances were if he was on another floor he could just as easily leave without notice.

So she followed Nick down the stairwell, tight-lipped and equipped with razor-sharp focus.

Not once did someone enter the stairwell with them, and not once did they hear any other shots or yells.

When they got to the small lobby they found a woman and her teenaged son checking their mail at the boxes. They were understandably startled by the two plain-clothed FBI agents and their guns but managed to answer Nick’s questions.

“No, I haven’t see anyone come through here,” the mom said. “It’s just been us.”

“There’s a back door down there,” the teen answered next and pointed beyond the door to the staircase. “And then the front door.”

Nick told the mother and son to go inside their first-floor apartment and not come out until the cops came. They did as they were told.

“I’ll watch back, you get front,” Lara ordered, already moving away from him. The slow crawl of defeat was making its way through her adrenaline-addled body. Their window to catch the elusive sniper was rapidly closing.

“Roger,” Nick answered. “Be careful.”

“No promises.”

* * *

Two hours later and the feelings of defeat became concrete.

When backup arrived in the form of NYPD officers and the rest of their team, the entire complex had been searched, as well as the surrounding buildings. No gunman was found, and no witnesses could claim to seeing anything out of the ordinary.

Whoever their sniper was, he was good. And not just at killing.

“I don’t get it,” Nick growled when they were all back at the office. “Why take out two low-level thugs when you could just kill us?” Lara pressed the bag of ice against her shoulder. She may not have been successful at breaking down the door, but that didn’t mean she’d avoided the pain from attempting it. “Who would care about these guys? These—” Nick gave Lara a look “—not even big enough to be little fish lackeys?”

Xander ran a hand through his blond hair and popped a piece of gum in his mouth. He’d been the first of their team to arrive on scene, retracing the path Lara had taken before combing through the rooftop for any evidence that might link them to the sniper’s identity. Mei and Ty were still there attempting the same.

So far no one had found any. Not even the Laundromat held anything damning or out of the ordinary. The team was hitting wall after wall. A place the sniper seemed comfortable perching atop.

Lara fisted her hands at the thought of the unknown person destroying any chance they had at finding the truth.

It was as if they were chasing a ghost.

“Well, apparently someone does care,” Xander said. “About what? We’ll find out. Until then we need to keep in mind that, for whatever reason, they’re certainly not afraid to let the world know.” He turned his blue eyes toward her. “And they’re using you to lead them to anyone who wasn’t busted.”

“I agree.” Victoria entered the meeting room with her phone in one hand and a tablet in the other. Lara took in her boss’s appearance with appreciation. Most people would have been ruffled—physically—from everything that had happened, but Victoria Russo exuded nothing but calm. Her black-and-burgundy pantsuit fit like a glove. It was pressed perfectly, matching a pair of black high heels that gave the already tall woman even more height. The outfit walked a fine line between femininity and power. She went to the head of the table but didn’t sit down. “Which means we’re being watched. Or, more aptly, you are being watched.” She gave Lara a look akin to a mother being protective over her child. “So, Xander and Nick, I’m sending the two of you back to the apartments to help sweep farther than what the NYPD did. Ask everyone if they saw anything. I have a hard time believing our perp vanished into thin air without leaving so much as a trace of evidence behind.” The agents nodded, and Lara started to stand with them. “And, Lara, you’re going to check out a lead where our potential witness can’t be killed.”

The way everyone was dropping around her, Lara couldn’t believe such a guarantee could be made.

“How can you be sure?” she drawled.

Victoria’s lips thinned. “Because this one’s already dead.”

Chapter Three

Lara stepped around a throng of tourists only to be forced to sidestep a construction cone. She looked at its orange plastic, faded and overused. It was quite the contrast from the sleek red glow of the Macy’s sign above it.

The sound of one popular song or another played through the doors and followed her along the white tile until she was at the mouth of the women’s clothing department. She felt the tenderness in her shoulder and the soreness in her legs from her earlier activity, but she knew she needed to push it from her mind.

Victoria had been alerted to a female victim, found in a Macy’s dressing room with a stamp across her cheek. Other than that she hadn’t known anything else. The MM stamp was a blaring red flag. It was the insignia of the Moretti syndicate. However, the connection between the victim, Lara and their current case was unclear.

Another question she hoped they’d be able to answer.

A group of NYPD officers were mulling around the dressing room opening. One spotted Lara and made his was over.

“Nice to see you again,” the officer deadpanned. Lara didn’t know his name, but she remembered his face from her first meeting with Dunst at the hotel. He held up the crime tape tied between clothing racks across the aisle and let her in without any trace of humor. Lara couldn’t blame him. She wasn’t anywhere near cheery either.

Her stomach knotted as she focused on the forensics guy ahead of her with his kit. He was being motioned to the dressing room, past a mannequin sporting a floor-length floral dress and a matching pair of black pumps. The officer next to her followed her gaze and let out a long exhale. “Ready to see her?”

Lara nodded. She needed to see the stamp in person—to confirm its validity. It was one thing to see it in a picture or on security camera footage. It was an entirely different feeling to see it in person.

On cue a phantom pain twinged in her upper arm. She rolled her shoulder back and nodded again, more to herself.

“Yes, I need to see it.”

The Macy’s dressing room had been vacated save one officer and the man tasked with logging all of the forensic evidence. All personnel were stationed outside of the dressing room lounge, being questioned for what they had or hadn’t seen. The door to the room closest to them was opened.

Lara braced herself for what was waiting.

The unnecessary murder of a woman and the connection that tied her to Lara. Because there was a connection. The only question that remained was how?

The man she was with gave a nod to the officer, and soon Lara was staring at a woman crumpled on the floor at the back of the little space, obviously dead and obviously marked.

“Female, early thirties, dark hair, a MM on her cheek,” the officer said as if reading off notes. Lara took in these details as she scanned the woman’s tan body. Short and skinny, she was on her side and was topless. “In the middle of trying on swimsuits when she was killed,” he added. Lara’s eyes jumped to a pink bikini top still on a hanger in the corner.

“How was she killed?” Lara asked, not wanting to step inside for fear she’d damage evidence.

“The medical examiner will call it when he gets here, but, just from the lack of evidence around here, I’m going to guess she was strangled,” the forensics guy answered. He motioned to the victim’s neck. “See the bruising?”

He was right. Around the victim’s neck was a dark mark.

“It looks too thin to be from someone’s hand,” she noted.

“I agree. I’d guess it was by wire or string or—” he pointed to the bikini top “—it could have just as easily been that.”

“Strangled with a bikini, that’d be a first,” the officer said. Once again, there was no humor in his words.

“How was she found?” Lara asked as she watched the forensics guy look closely at the three walls boxing him and the victim in. “Did anyone hear the struggle?”

The officer shook his head. “An employee came back from putting out clothes and saw the door opened, even though the number tag was still on the outside. It was around then she realized she couldn’t find her room key.”

“So our attacker lifted it, used it to open the door, slipped inside, and potentially used a string bikini to strangle our victim?” Lara asked, bewildered. “How did no one hear that?”

“My guess?” the forensics guy chimed in. “Our victim is notably petite. If she was adequately surprised, then she could have also been easily overpowered.” At that he looked around the space. “There are no marks, scratches or dents on the walls. If you’re being attacked in a confined area where someone is trying to kill you, my thoughts are that you would try to utilize what’s around you or at the very least make a much bigger mess.”

“Unless your attacker is bigger and stronger,” Lara supplied.

The man nodded. “In my opinion, our victim didn’t have a chance.”

The three of them, despite being strangers, gave the woman at their feet a small moment of silence. The helplessness she must have felt—the fear—while being killed in a public place was enough to make Lara’s heart hurt. The officer cleared his throat, and the moment passed.

“This is the women’s dressing room, though, correct?” Lara asked. “It’s my turn to take a guess and say our perp was a woman, too, so to avoid arousing suspicion versus a burly man just walking in and out with anyone raising an eyebrow.” She turned to the officer. “I’d like the security footage from the cameras around the entrance into here.”

The man didn’t seem too enthused to fulfill her request, but he didn’t fight her about it either. Which was good. She would have let him know real quick who pulled rank.

“Do we have a name for our shopper?” Lara glanced at the woman’s face. In profile she almost looked peaceful.

“Elizabeth-Something,” the officer answered, pulling out his notebook. Lara let out a breath.

Not Lara, she thought.

The cop flipped the book open and found his notes. “Grant,” he read. “Elizabeth Grant.”

And just like that the relief was gone.

Dammit.

Lara followed the officer to the security office and retrieved the tapes.

“The camera facing the entrance stopped working a few minutes before the victim was found,” he said. “I’m assuming you also want the other footage from the floor?”

Lara shook her head. “I want the footage from the entire building.”

The officer snorted. “Of course you do.”

Lara collected the recordings before returning briefly to the crime scene. Dr. Herman Boze, the medical examiner, was held up in traffic, and the forensics guy had already left. An officer remained in the doorway of the dressing room, but no one else was around.

“I’d like to take one more look, if you don’t mind,” she said. He checked her credentials again, then stepped aside. He didn’t follow her in.

Elizabeth Grant was right where she’d left her. One cheek pressed against the dressing room floor, the other facing up against the down draft of the air-conditioning. The MM breaking up the smooth of her skin.

She’d had a life before that morning.

She’d had a future.

Now all she had was a stamp on her cheek.

“I’ll make this right,” she whispered. “He won’t get away with what he’s done.”

As she made the promise, Lara couldn’t help but picture the man she’d destroyed. Or, at least, the man she thought she’d destroyed.

Lara rolled her shoulders and left Elizabeth Grant behind.

* * *

The way back to the office was spent in a fit of building rage. Lara’s knuckles were white. Her grip on the steering wheel was the only thing keeping her from screaming. Elizabeth Grant was dead because of her. There were no two ways about it. She had been used as a message, a way to shake Lara.

And it had worked.

She took the stairs to the twenty-third floor slowly to work out her strained emotions. Not losing her drive but evening out her aggression. She needed to be sharper. No more doubts. More focused. Moretti was a sore spot for her. One that was more than being prodded. If she let him get under her skin, then she ran the chance of losing sight of the endgame.

Stopping him. Once and for all.

Lara exited the stairwell and walked right up to her cubicle with more of a calm exterior than she perhaps actually possessed. Nick’s monitor was on, but he was nowhere in the room. She’d sent him a text just after she’d left Macy’s, letting him know she was headed back to the office, but he hadn’t responded. The rest of the team was also absent from the main room. She hoped that meant they had found a lead—something—that they were currently following. Lara didn’t waste time wondering. She had her own lead to chase.

Cass was standing behind her chair, facing away from the door, when Lara knocked. Even before she turned around, it wasn’t hard to see she was stressed. Her shoulders were stiff. She turned quick. An expression akin to alarm crossed her face. It transformed into a sweeping stare of comprehension, before stopping on the cases in her hand.

“I heard about the woman,” she greeted, walking forward with her hand outstretched. Her purple glasses were pushed to the top of her head, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. Lara handed the CCTV footage over. “Was it true? The stamp, I mean.”

Lara didn’t want to, but she nodded. “Yes.”

Cass sat back in her chair and swiveled around. “Where?” Her voice was clipped.

“Her cheek.”

Cass nodded. Her head tilted slightly. Lara bet she was looking at the picture of Allie on her desk. They didn’t speak for a moment. Lara didn’t want to intrude on her thoughts, but, then she knew she had to do just that.

“She was found in the dressing room. No cameras at the entrance. The top DVD is from the camera closest, but the security guard said it went inactive for a few minutes,” she explained.

“During the attack,” Cass supplied.

“More than likely, yes. Officers already went through it. Said they didn’t find anything, but there has to be something.”

Cass slipped her glasses down to her nose. “And I’ll find it.”

Voices sounded in the hallway.

“They’re back,” Lara said, hearing Nick. “I’m going to see if they found anything.”

Cass waved over her shoulder. “Go. I’ll find you when I find something. But, Lara...” She turned in her chair. Her expression was blank. Lara saw something she’d missed when she’d first come in. Cass looked exhausted.

“Yes?”

“What was the victim’s name?”

It was Lara’s turn to stiffen. “Elizabeth Grant,” she bit out.

Cass’s expression hardened. “I’ll look for a connection between our victims,” she said, already turning back to the wall of monitors.

“Thank you, Cass.”

Lara followed the voice to the break room. Nick had his phone to his ear, leaning against the counter. He acknowledged her with a small nod.

“Call me if you find anything,” he said. “No matter the time. Understand?” Whoever was on the other end of the line must have. Nick ended the call moments later. “NYPD,” he said, motioning to his phone.

“I’m assuming that means no luck on your end.”

Nick shook his head. Lara wasn’t surprised. “No one saw anything,” he said. “Our sniper vanished in the wind.”

Lara ran a hand over her face and winced at the movement. Her shoulder was still tender.

“I’m surprised you didn’t catch him,” Nick said, his eyes at her shoulder. “The way you tore after him.” He went over to the refrigerator and opened the freezer side. Moving a few things around, he pulled an ice pack out. “Can we talk about how you might think to use some caution every now and again, though? Running toward a sniper tends to fall into the dangerous category. Not to mention, careless. You could have been killed.”

He threw her the pack. She caught it with her left hand before placing it against her right shoulder. She couldn’t deny it felt good.

“I think dangerous is a part of our job description,” she said, drily. “Including but not limited to running headlong into the unknown.”

“Except this wasn’t the unknown,” he pointed out. “It was right up to the sniper who’d just picked off two potential leads only a few feet away.”

“So I should have let him get away without a fight?” Lara asked. She dropped her voice, ice finding its way into the resolve behind each syllable. “I couldn’t and wouldn’t let that happen. Whoever this sniper is, he needs to be stopped. He knows something, and he knows who else knows something, too. Little fish to catch a big fish.”

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