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Quest For Justice
Kathleen Tailer


RISKY ALLIANCEWhen her private investigator father is murdered, Bailey Cox stares down danger to find those responsible…and comes face to face with the cop who arrested her six years ago. But to uncover the secret that got her father killed, her former enemy must become her current ally. Franklin Kennedy’s not convinced he can trust the former thief, but he needs her computer hacking skills to crack this case. What the hard-nosed detective doesn't need is a soft spot for Bailey. But when their investigation leads them to international hired guns, Franklin realizes his mistake: he's put Bailey in their crosshairs…and time's running out to save her.







RISKY ALLIANCE

When her private investigator father is murdered, Bailey Cox stares down danger to find those responsible...and comes face-to-face with the cop who arrested her six years ago. But to uncover the secret that got her father killed, her former enemy must become her current ally. Franklin Kennedy’s not convinced he can trust the ex-thief, but he needs her computer-hacking skills to crack this case. What the hard-nosed detective doesn’t need is a soft spot for Bailey. But when their investigation leads them to international hired guns, Franklin realizes his mistake: he’s put Bailey in their crosshairs...and time’s running out to save her.


The first bullet ripped into the seat by her shoulder.

Bailey hunched over as the second cracked the windshield. Frank didn’t wait for the third. He gunned the engine, pulling an evasive maneuver down a side street, and heard their tail screech in protest.

“Stay down!” Suddenly the black sedan swung behind them at the same time Frank noticed a semi ahead. He drove around the truck, using it as a shield and giving them the seconds they needed to get away.

After a couple of miles, he pulled over and helped her up. “Are you okay?” When she nodded, he said, “I’m taking you home now.”

“No!” she said, sitting up suddenly. “I’ve come this far. I can’t give up.”

“Bailey, someone knows we’re investigating this case and is trying to stop us. It probably goes way beyond that one man that was shooting at our car.”

“Don’t you realize one of those men already succeeded in killing my father?”

“And now they’re trying to kill us.”


Dear Reader (#u63a0b0ec-751f-56b5-b57d-c2504b7bfdc9),

Although this book is a work of fiction, many of my ideas came from researching the pain and suffering that occurred in Albania in 1999. War is horrific, and oftentimes has unintended consequences.

The characters in this book are flawed, just like the rest of us, but, with God’s help, they manage to grow during their trials. My hope is that this book will encourage you to see the beauty around you and remember that God is always with you; He will never leave you or forsake you, no matter what the circumstances.

Thank you for sharing your time with me!

Kathleen Tailer


KATHLEEN TAILER is a senior attorney II who works for the Supreme Court of Florida in the office of the state courts administrator. She graduated from Florida State University College of Law after earning her BA from the University of New Mexico. She and her husband have eight children, five of whom they adopted from the state of Florida. She enjoys photography and playing drums on the worship team at Calvary Chapel, Thomasville, Georgia.


Quest for Justice

Kathleen Tailer






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

—Isaiah 40:31


For my wonderful husband, Jim, and my amazing children: Bethany, Keandra, Jessica, Nathan, Anna, Megan, Joshua and James. It has been my honor to watch you grow into such fine, courageous adults. I’m delighted to see how God is using you each and every day to make the world a better place. God has truly blessed me!


Contents

Cover (#ua8a61352-bb13-5e8b-9531-215b5ca5803e)

Back Cover Text (#ud208d11c-f178-5725-ad3b-23caf7042300)

Introduction (#u9bd7c51c-3434-5e2a-843e-19ea48ab71db)

Dear Reader (#uc1de9bfd-7f2c-54a7-8be2-8649274dba34)

About the Author (#u5ce9404d-9f6f-5198-8696-34a660b43f7b)

Title Page (#udfee440b-c01b-5603-b89d-609aa2b34f92)

Bible Verse (#u6e5eaba5-eed6-54aa-bbd8-12967c8c4e2c)

Dedication (#u7000fd98-0cc0-58b6-b7ee-e83389ee4833)

ONE (#uf8757fe5-14cd-5a48-9dd0-aaadefe4f204)

TWO (#uee6b5169-7146-57f1-b88c-cab339dccc4c)

THREE (#u450e8d2d-09d4-5377-b72c-87ffe0876dad)

FOUR (#u6dc3b948-2b22-5500-a4ef-e383f133dcd3)

FIVE (#u4fd2773e-e388-5b2c-9aea-2e66fd905244)

SIX (#u310c88d8-667f-5060-ba1c-a2a4d9762bfa)

SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)

TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


ONE (#u63a0b0ec-751f-56b5-b57d-c2504b7bfdc9)

Bailey Cox eased carefully up to the corner of the building, her 9 mm Glock locked and loaded, but pointed at the darkened sky above her. Her finger tensed near the trigger as she moved slowly along the wall, sticking to the shadows. Her heart slammed wildly against her chest. She heard movement up ahead and voices, but they were muffled and she couldn’t recognize them, or hear what they were saying. All she could tell was that they were angry. She moved closer, still not sure what to make of the situation. Her father, a private investigator, had texted her half an hour ago, asking her to rush over to his office because he’d had a break in the case he was working on and he needed her help.

Even though it was after 2:00 a.m., she hadn’t hesitated and had headed out the door as soon as she had received her father’s message. Bailey was used to staying up late and actually did her best thinking in the wee hours of the morning. She hadn’t expected trouble but was now glad that she always traveled with her pistol.

When she’d arrived at her father’s office, she’d found the door cracked open and the small office abandoned. The light had still been on, and her father’s coffee was still steaming on his desk, so he had to be nearby. It wasn’t like him to call her and then not be there when she arrived. A tingle of fear shot down her spine. She’d heard noises in the alley behind her father’s office building and had followed them, having no other clues to lead her.

The voices got louder. She eased around another corner and could barely make out two men arguing near a dark sedan parked by the Dumpster. The trunk door was open, and the men were gesturing toward its contents with angry waves. To her disappointment, neither man was her father. Still, she was glued to the argument as it played out in front of her. One of the men, dressed in a dark sweatshirt, moved closer to the car and kicked angrily at the bumper. They weren’t arguing in a language she understood, which ruled out English, Spanish and French. If anything, she guessed it sounded Slavic, but she was no expert. A soft light emanated from a nearby street lamp, but it wasn’t giving off enough light to help her identify either of the two men. Both had pale skin. The one in the sweatshirt had dark bushy hair. The other was in jeans and a black T-shirt and had dirty blond hair. Both were muscular and well built. The blond’s face was red and seemed to darken with each passing minute as his anger consumed him. She edged closer.

“Freeze, or the next step you take will be your last.” The words were whispered but as hard as steel. Bailey felt the cold metal barrel of the pistol against her neck and did as ordered. She hadn’t heard anyone behind her and was instantly angry at herself for letting someone sneak up on her like that. She had been so focused on the men’s argument that she had totally failed to watch her six. She tried to turn to see who was holding a gun on her, but as she did so, the gun pushed harder against her skin. She prayed the aggressor wasn’t a friend of the two Slavic men.

“I said freeze. That doesn’t mean move. Got it?” The deep voice was masculine and as cold as ice, but it also sounded familiar. Did she know this man? Her mind reeled. Even though he had spoken softly, a seed of dread was planted in her chest and she suddenly felt short of breath.

It couldn’t be. Not here. Not now.

She almost wanted her assailant to speak again so she could prove herself mistaken. It couldn’t be him. There was only one man on the planet who hated her and always thought the worst of her—Franklin Kennedy. She hadn’t seen or heard from Kennedy in years, but she was certain Kennedy was still a cop. He was the kind of man who was born to work in law enforcement and would toe the line until he either got killed in the line of duty or retired to work in some security firm. He was a cop, through and through. He was also a straight arrow that never bent, regardless of the circumstances. But why would Kennedy be here at her father’s office at two in the morning?

“Hands up. Slowly.”

The voice was gritty, but still spoken so softly that she couldn’t verify that it was Kennedy. The gun twisted slightly against her skin and she tensed, then she slowly raised her hands. The man reached forward and took her Glock and stowed it, then roughly shoved her up against the brick wall and frisked her, removing the small knife she had hidden in her waistband and the second pistol she’d secured in her ankle holster. He moved in closer so only she could hear his voice. She could even feel his exhalations warm against her neck and smell the mint from his breath. “Got any more hardware I should know about?”

“No,” she answered softly, unable to keep the frustration out of her voice. “Look, I’m not trying to make trouble. My father called and when I got here, he wasn’t in his office...” She tried to turn around to explain herself face-to-face, but he stopped her before she could turn, grabbed her wrists with one hand and cuffed her with the other.

“We got a report that there was a disturbance in this alley. The caller heard a gunshot, and you’ve got a gun. You have the right to remain silent. I suggest you exercise that right until we get this sorted out.” He tightened the manacles until they bit into her skin. It was Kennedy. She was sure of it now. She didn’t know how or why, but Franklin Kennedy now had her cuffed for the second time in her life. The first had been a living nightmare. She hoped this time wouldn’t be a repeat. She pulled against the cuffs as frustration filled her.

“Easy.” His voice was still low, and when he paused, she imagined he was listening to other policemen through an earpiece. When he spoke again, he wasn’t talking to her and her suspicions were confirmed.

“Roger that. I’ve got one suspect in cuffs. You’re a go. Repeat, you’re a go.”

Suddenly she heard screeching tires and blue police lights lit up the side of the building. The yelling around the corner escalated, but now it wasn’t the foreign language she heard, but cops yelling at the two suspects to halt and put their hands up. The men didn’t obey though, and she heard running and more shouting, but thankfully it sounded like they were moving away from her instead of getting closer. A few seconds later, gunfire erupted. Kennedy instantly pushed her to the ground, shielding her with his body, his own gun drawn, ready to shoot if they were threatened. For the first time, she got a glimpse of his face.

Clean-cut. Bold, direct features. It was Franklin Kennedy, alright. A spike of adrenaline soared through her veins.

“Stay low. Got it?” he growled.

He didn’t wait for an answer and kept his eyes peeled on the area around them.

Bailey’s fear erupted. What was going on? First her father had sent her that bizarre text, and the next thing she knew she was handcuffed by her nemesis just a block or so away from a gun battle. Was her father caught in the middle? Was he even involved at all? Questions filled her mind, as well as a sense of dread. None of this could be good. Being handcuffed and forced to give up her weapons hadn’t helped matters. How was she going to help her father if she was under arrest?

The bullets stopped flying and she felt Kennedy relax against her. He stood and pulled her to her feet. It was only then that he took a good look at his prisoner’s face. His eyes widened and then narrowed.

“Bailey Cox?”

“In the flesh,” she said with a touch of sass and then instantly regretted her tone. The last thing she needed to do was antagonize Kennedy while she was handcuffed and once again at his mercy.

He shifted, started to say something, apparently thought better of it and shook his head. Finally, he muttered, “I never thought I’d see you again.”

“Same here,” Bailey agreed.

“How long has it been? Five years?”

“Six.” She said under her breath, “Six very long years.”

He ignored her comment and a wave of anger seemed to sweep over him. “What are you doing armed to the teeth out here in the middle of the night?”

“My father is a private investigator and his office is in this building. He sent me a text and asked me to come over, so here I am. And I don’t go anywhere unarmed.”

Kennedy raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t worry. I have a permit for the guns. It’s in my wallet.”

He raised his eyebrow and she continued. “I petitioned the court and got my rights reinstated. I’m allowed to carry a weapon.” She swallowed. She would rather do anything else than ask for his help, but, at this point, she didn’t have a choice.

“Look, I’m worried about my dad. His office was empty when I arrived, and I don’t know what happened to him. I heard noise in the alley and came to investigate. That’s it. I don’t know anything about a gunshot, but I have to find my father and figure this out. Can you uncuff me?”

“No way.” He grabbed her arm near the elbow and started leading her away from the building. “The firefight is over, but you’re sitting on the sidelines until I get some answers. I don’t want you in the middle of this.”

She tried, but she couldn’t keep the anxiety out of her voice. “You can’t hold me. I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“We’ll see about that.” His tone was icy. He led her toward the road where a nondescript sedan was parked against the curb.

A wave of desperation swept over her. “You can’t do this. My father might be in danger. I have to find him...” She started to struggle but he held her firmly.

“What you have to do is settle down and let us get this scene secured.” He pulled her roughly to the side of the car, apparently unaffected by her pleas or protests. One of her kicks caught him in the shin and he grimaced, but the next thing she knew, he had put his hand on her head, forced her into the back seat, closed the door and locked it. “Stay put and relax. I’ll keep an eye out for your father while I’m working the scene.”

His promise meant little to her. She wanted to be the one out there looking for him. She had a strong sense that something was terribly wrong and her father was either hurt or in grave danger, but with her hands cuffed and the door locked, there wasn’t much she could do. Kennedy walked slowly away and then motioned to a uniformed officer who had just arrived on the scene and directed him to the car. “Stay with her. Watch her carefully. Don’t let her escape or hurt herself. She’s a person of interest. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” The officer nodded and took up his post outside her door.

“Kennedy!” she yelled futilely. “Come back here! I need to know what’s going on!”

* * *

Franklin Kennedy ignored Bailey’s pleas and headed over to the crime scene. He had heard most of what had happened on his earpiece, but he needed to check things out for himself. His fists clenched and unclenched as he approached. Bailey Cox! She was the last person he’d ever expected to see, although the fact that he’d found her in the middle of a crime scene was very telling. Six years ago, Bailey Cox had been his first arrest after he’d made detective with the Jacksonville sheriff’s office.

She’d only been twenty years old then, but her youth and inexperience hadn’t stopped her from stealing over a million dollars from a large real estate firm’s escrow account. Bailey Cox was an incredible hacker and had somehow managed to move the money right under the noses of the firm’s security team. The money had never been recovered. She’d been busted on some other smaller charges and had served some time, but Bailey’s case was the one that bothered him the most since he’d joined the force. She had basically gotten away with her crimes, and, in his book, that was just plain wrong. And where was the stolen money?

A knot formed in the pit of his stomach. He’d had a soft spot for Bailey Cox before she’d stolen that money. He’d run into her several times when he’d been a beat cop, newly on the job, and she was a brash teenager. In fact, he’d even felt sorry for her back then. She’d had a tough start and gotten in with a bad crowd on more than one occasion. Her mother was a meth user who valued drugs above her daughter’s welfare, and her father had abandoned them both years before. She’d basically been left to her own devices, and although she was smart, she’d still made a series of horrible choices.

She’d always had a smile on her face, however, and been full of fire. She was one of those who was given lemons and somehow always figured out how to make lemonade. He admired that.

Once she’d moved up to committing felonies, however, his soft spot had hardened. Now when he thought of Bailey Cox, he felt nothing but anger and frustration. Sure, she’d had a rough life, but nothing justified her crimes. Still, when she looked at him with those dark blue eyes of hers, it still affected him, even though he fought the feelings.

He pushed the thoughts of Bailey aside and approached the scene where gunfire had erupted. A dark-haired man wearing a sweatshirt was lying faceup in a pool of blood. He certainly wouldn’t be answering any questions, but hopefully they could get other clues from the scene. Already two uniformed officers were putting up police tape while another was bagging and tagging the offender’s gun. He had obviously been firing on the officers when he’d been shot.

“Hey, Frankie.” Another detective from his unit, Ben Graham, was leaning near the body and nodded at him.

Frank returned the nod. “What have you got?”

“Here’s the first one. The other is around the corner. Both were firing on us, and both are now dead, shot by our team. We didn’t have much choice.” Ben stood and motioned down the alley. “Take a walk over to the vehicle by the Dumpster and look in the trunk.”

Frank rose an eyebrow and walked over to where the car still sat with the trunk door open. There wasn’t much light from the street lamp, so he pulled out his flashlight and shone it in the trunk of the car.

There was quite a bit of blood pooled around the body, especially around the man’s gunshot wound in the forehead. He turned to the cop who was standing by the car. “You got a name for our victim?”

“Yeah. His wallet had a photo ID. You’re looking at Matt Cox.”

Frank leaned closer to get a better look, not wanting to believe what he was seeing. Bailey’s father’s dead eyes stared back at him.


TWO (#u63a0b0ec-751f-56b5-b57d-c2504b7bfdc9)

Franklin Kennedy stepped up to the table where Bailey Cox was manacled in the interrogation room and took a seat across from her. She’d been there for over three hours while they had verified her story, and so far everything she’d said had checked out. They’d found the text on her cell phone, and she did indeed have a concealed weapons permit, despite her criminal history.

She’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time just because she was worried about her father—and now he had to tell her she’d never see the man again.

Frank hated giving death notices. He dropped the file on the table and leaned back. She was antsy and her hands moved constantly, giving away just how uncomfortable she was in the police station. He said nothing for several minutes, and his quiet seemed to unnerve her.

Finally, she gave a frustrated groan. “Well? Are you ready to release me? I’ve been here for hours.”

“Not quite yet, Ms. Cox.”

“You’ve known me half of my life. You might as well call me Bailey.” She leaned back. “Surely you’ve had time to check my cell phone and verify my story.”

Frank nodded. “We have. We found the text.”

Bailey’s eyes widened. “So? What else are you waiting for? I’ve got to go find my father. You can’t just hold me here forever. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Frank shrugged and eyed her closely. She hadn’t changed much in the last six years. Her face was more mature and she’d grown into her figure, but her eyes held the quick intelligence they always had, and her high cheekbones and full lips still made her one of the most attractive women he’d ever seen. In his book, it was a pity that such beauty was wasted on a criminal.

She spoke again and her voice was caustic. “You’ve heard of false imprisonment, right? I mean, they do teach you something at the police academy.”

He ignored her comment. She’d always had a feisty mouth. Her refusal to be cowed was actually something he admired about her. Even when the chips were down, she was a firecracker, vivacious and spirited.

Finally, he opened the folder and sifted through the papers it contained that detailed her life for the last six years. After prison, she’d worked in Mobile, Alabama, taking night classes in computer science until she got her degree. She lived a simple lifestyle. No extravagant purchases. What had happened to the money she stole? Was she afraid that if she spent it, he would be able to trace it back to her? His mind was full of questions, but he held his tongue. Now wasn’t the right time, especially because he saw the vulnerability shining in her eyes beneath that tough veneer.

Deep down, he knew he was focusing on the money because he didn’t want to think about the conversation they needed to have. Somehow, he had to figure out how to tell her about her father’s death. He raked his fingers through his shortly cropped hair, unable to avoid the task any longer. “We found your father.”

She sat up quickly. “Where? Is he okay?”

He leaned forward, unlocked the handcuffs and then pocketed them. She rubbed her wrists and stood. “So?” Her face was expectant and so full of life and vibrancy that he hated to say the next words.

“I’m sorry to tell you that your father has been killed, Bailey.”

Bailey slowly sat back down. Her eyes widened and he saw a flicker of pain before her face became a mask. “How? Where?”

“We found him with a fatal gunshot wound. He was in the back of that sedan that was parked behind his office building. The two men who probably committed the crime are also dead after they fired upon police officers. We’re running forensic tests right now to verify that one of their guns was the weapon used to shoot him.”

“Why was he killed?”

“We don’t know yet. We’re investigating that now.”

“No! You’re lying!” She lunged at him across the table and he grabbed her hands, stopping the onslaught.

“He can’t be dead!” She was really upset now. Maybe he should have waited to release her from the handcuffs, but he couldn’t imagine telling her that kind of news with her hands manacled. Still, she was clearly out of control. For the second time today, he found himself bearing the brunt of her temper. She struggled against him, but he was much stronger and easily overpowered her. He pulled her to the side of the table and into a tight hold with her back against his chest and her arms secured so she could do no further damage. Sobs racked her body. She finally gave up her struggles and just sagged against him, the tears pouring down her face.

Her pain touched him. Sure, she was a criminal and justice had never been served in her case, but she was clearly suffering. He wouldn’t wish this type of agony on his worst enemy. He held her tightly, letting his strength buoy her up. He would hold her for as long as she needed. It was the least he could do, despite her past and his feelings about it.

* * *

Bailey just couldn’t hold it in. He couldn’t be dead. Her grief was overwhelming. Although her father had abandoned her as a child, Bailey had finally been able to forgive him and move forward with their relationship within the past year. It had been a slow and bumpy process, but getting to know her father had been a big part of her life over the last few months. She had even started working with him on his cases, and they were becoming a formidable team. How could all of that be over?

Once her tears ebbed, she felt numb and listless but savored the feel of warmth and security that Franklin Kennedy offered in his embrace. He might be her enemy, but at least now she knew he was human. He was aware of her criminal history and everything she had done, yet he still didn’t push her away in her hour of need. She was grateful and also a bit surprised.

Finally, she caught her breath and stepped back from his touch. He offered her a handkerchief and she took it and wiped her eyes. Who carried handkerchiefs anymore? It was an inane thought, but it distracted her for a moment, and she wanted desperately to think about anything but her father’s final fate. She took another step back, embarrassed by her behavior. “I’m sorry. I guess I feel overwhelmed by all of this, but I didn’t mean to take it out on you. Please forgive me.” She softened her voice as she brushed some stray hairs away from her face. “So where is his body?”

“At the morgue. I need to take you over there to identify him when you’re ready.”

“Is that why you kept me here so long?”

Kennedy nodded. “It’s one of the reasons. I didn’t want you to see him in the trunk of that car. That shouldn’t be your last memory of him. By the time we get downtown, they’ll have him cleaned up a bit.” He paused. “I’m sorry, Bailey. I really am.”

She nodded and was silent for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. Okay. Kennedy had scored two points today in the humane category. They could never be friends, but at least some of her anger toward him had dwindled. Maybe he didn’t hate her after all. Six years ago, Kennedy had pursued her relentlessly and had finally caught her red-handed with the stolen medical equipment that her mother needed to survive. She’d been convicted and sentenced, but, even so, she doubted he counted it as a victory.

They both knew the prosecutor had failed to gather enough evidence to convict her of her more serious crime—stealing a little over a million dollars to pay for her mother’s medical bills. However, her mother had died shortly after the theft, and Bailey had actually spent very little of it. It was currently hidden away in an offshore account, well concealed from local law enforcement and the forensic accountants they’d hired.

She pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the here and now. A new thought hit her. “So who were the two men behind my father’s building?”

Kennedy shrugged. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re kidding, right? I think I have a right to know who killed my father.”

He pursed his lips, apparently unwilling to answer her.

She pressed on. “Were they American?”

He still didn’t answer.

“Oh, come on, Kennedy. You won’t be giving away government secrets by letting me know what my father stumbled into.”

“That’s Detective Kennedy, Bailey, and I meant it when I said I’m not at liberty to say. There’s an ongoing investigation in place. That’s really all you need to know.”

She fumed inwardly but could tell that he wasn’t going to budge. At least not today. She let the issue drop for now but resolved to revisit it once things settled down. She was going to find out why her father had been killed. That was the bottom line.

It was time to go. She needed to get the viewing over with and then hide away in her apartment so she could just be alone in her pain. “Let’s do this,” she said quietly, trying to mask her grief. They left the interrogation room and she gathered her phone and keys from the desk sergeant as they left the station. She didn’t protest when Kennedy held on to her guns and knife, knowing her objection would be futile. She wasn’t actually surprised at his precaution since he had seen her temper flare so much today. Probably the last thing he wanted was for her to lose it again and have her gun in her hand at the same time.

He always seemed to catch her at her worst. Even though she’d made admirable attempts to turn her life around, Kennedy would always see her as a criminal.

They arrived at the morgue and were greeted by a worker who took them to a small room with a window covered by thick, dark curtains. Kennedy met her eye. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I can be,” Bailey answered. “Go ahead.”

Kennedy pushed the button on the intercom near the window. “We’re ready.”

The curtain opened and showed a medical room behind the glass. She gasped as the attendant pulled back the sheet. The body was definitely her father, but she hadn’t been prepared for the damage the bullet had caused. It was a horrible image that she was afraid was going to stay with her for several years to come. She nodded and the attendant quickly put the sheet back over the body. She gripped the handkerchief, praying she wouldn’t start bawling right here at the morgue.

“I’ll take you home,” Kennedy said softly.

She glanced up at him and their eyes connected. There was compassion there, yet still the determination and grit that she had always seen in him since he had first snapped the cuffs around her wrists six years ago. But, in this case, his determination was a good thing. If he was assigned to solve her father’s murder, then he wouldn’t give up until he had the culprit behind bars.

“Are you going to be working this case?”

“I am,” he confirmed.

A wave of satisfaction swept over her. “So am I,” she said vehemently. “One of those two goons in the alley probably pulled the trigger, but there has to be more to this. I’m going to find out who and why and make them pay.”

He put his hands up. “No, you’re not. You’re going to go home and stay out of the way while I do my job. I don’t need or want your help.”

“That’s not the way it works, Detective,” she said grimly. “He was my father. I’m going to get to the bottom of this, no matter what it takes.”


THREE (#u63a0b0ec-751f-56b5-b57d-c2504b7bfdc9)

Bailey opened the office door, then bent under the crime scene tape and closed the door quickly behind her. She ignored the light switch and instead flipped on her small flashlight, seeking out her father’s desk. After her long night at the police station and the morgue, she’d tried to sleep at her apartment but hadn’t been able to keep her mind off her father’s murder. Once night had fallen again, she’d decided to start her investigation, which meant going back to her father’s office and looking for clues.

She continued her perusal of the desktop and noted that her father’s laptop was missing, but she didn’t know if the police had taken it as part of their investigation or if someone else had acted. It didn’t actually matter either way. Her father was a Luddite, tried and true, and kept meticulous paper files for every case. She looked around her father’s desktop for any notes or hints regarding the case he’d been working on when he’d texted her, but she found nothing. Either the notes had also been taken or he hadn’t written anything down.

Maybe she was missing something obvious—she couldn’t know for sure. She wasn’t the experienced investigator her father was. But Bailey’s computer skills were unparalleled, and she had been able to help her father close several cases during her short tenure by finding old emails and other items that the perpetrator had thought he’d deleted, or by tracking down trails on the internet that led to the party’s guilt. The internet was a gold mine of information if a person knew where to look. Nothing was ever really erased. Thankfully, she was a really good miner.

Thankfully. She thought about that word for a moment. Despite everything that was happening in her life, she always tried to recognize and appreciate the good things going on around her. Even with her father’s death shadowing her, she was still thankful that she was alive and both willing and able to pursue the case so the murderer would be brought to justice. She also had her health, a small savings account and she shouldn’t have any trouble finding another job once this investigation was over. That was a lot to be thankful for.

She made her way over to the filing cabinet, unlocked it and pulled out the first few files that were classified as Pending. The first file was a simple divorce and didn’t seem to have any unique issues, but the second caught her interest and she poured over the pages, lost in concentration.

She didn’t hear the man enter behind her, and when she finally did sense his presence, it was too late. The blow to her head caught her near her right ear, and she instantly saw black and passed out as her body slumped to the floor.

* * *

Franklin Kennedy eased his car around the corner, and then he slowed and stopped completely. What was going on in Cox’s office? He’d been driving by and had seen a light flicker in the window. He waited. There it was again. The yellow police tape was still blocking the door and the overhead lights were off, but he could see a flashlight moving behind the window. He parked and pulled out his own flashlight, as well as his service revolver. There shouldn’t be anyone in that office—especially with the crime tape still blocking the doorway. He approached the front door but noticed that the light inside had disappeared. He tried the door, but it was locked. He shone the light in the window but couldn’t see any movement or other signs of life. What had happened to the light he’d seen? He edged around the building, keeping his gun and flashlight pointed ahead of him, not sure what to expect.

Suddenly he heard footsteps, but they were running away from him. He felt his adrenaline spike and he moved faster toward the back of the building. He arrived around the corner just in time to hear tires squeal away. The flashlight illuminated a dark sedan, but it was too dark to make out the plate or even the make and model of the car. He moved cautiously to the back door of the building and tried the knob. The door opened in his hand.

He was fairly certain that he had scared off whoever had been in the office suite, but he needed to investigate nonetheless. The forensic team had already come and gone, but had law enforcement missed something? What was so important that someone felt the need to break in? The crime tapes usually stayed up until after all of the interviews were completed, just in case they had to return and look for more evidence as a result of new information gained through the interview process. So far his interviews had yielded zilch, which almost guaranteed he would be returning at some point, just in case he could discover a new clue. He turned on the light switch by the back door and stowed his flashlight.

The groan surprised him, and he instantly raised his gun. “Sheriff’s department. Show yourself. Now.”

No one answered and he advanced slowly, not sure what to expect. He stepped around an overturned table and a mess on the floor and then he spotted Bailey Cox, lying prone on the floor. He glanced around to make sure there wasn’t someone hiding in the shadows. Seeing no one, he holstered his gun and rushed to her side.

“Bailey? Are you okay?”

Bailey slowly opened her eyes and winced. Her hand went instantly to her wound. Franklin caught her hand and gently moved it away so he could get a better look at her injury.

“Kennedy?”

“Yeah, it’s me. What are you doing in here? It was blocked off for a reason.” It was too soon for her to be in here. Any evidence they seized now would be tainted. He pushed the regulations out of his head and focused on Bailey. She obviously hadn’t been the only one here. Someone else thought there was something to find in this office as well and was trying to make sure Bailey and the police remained clueless. What had they missed?

Bailey squinted against the light and moaned again. There was a large bump forming over her right ear and a trickle of blood matted her hair. That seemed to be her only injury. He stood and looked around for a freezer containing some ice, but the office didn’t have one, so he headed to the bathroom and then returned with a cool, wet hand towel. As he returned, Bailey was trying to sit up, but he gently pushed her back down.

“Here, take this. It might help,” he said softly as he put the towel in her hand.

She pushed the towel away, suddenly agitated. “The files...where are they?”

“You’re bleeding.” He took the towel back and started carefully cleaning her wound. He was surprised that she allowed his ministrations, but her docility was probably due to the pain. A wound like that had to hurt. “Is that better?”

“Yes. Thank you.” She took a deep breath. “You wouldn’t happen to have any aspirin, would you?”

“Not on me. Sorry. Did your dad keep any here in the office?”

“I don’t remember seeing any,” she said softly.

“Did you see who hit you?”

“No, I was reading a file...” She suddenly tried to sit up again and her eyes darted quickly around her. This time, he helped her up to a sitting position. She kept the towel pressed against her wound as she looked around. Her shoulders slumped. “The files are gone.”

“What files?”

“My dad kept hard copies of his files that mirrored the files on his computer, but the written versions went into a lot more detail. I was reading through the files for his open investigations when someone came in here and hit me. I only got a chance to look at a couple of them. Whoever hit me must have taken the files when they left. I had a whole stack of them sitting right here.” She motioned toward an empty spot on the floor.

“Well, it’s a good thing I interrupted him when I did. If I hadn’t, he might have killed you.”

Bailey shrugged. “Even so, I’m not going to stop investigating. I told you I’m going to find out who ordered my father’s murder. That’s exactly what I intend to do, with or without those files.”

“And I told you to stay away from this case. You’re too close.” He leaned back. “We took his computer as part of our investigation and have a team of experts going over it as we speak.”

“That’s not going to do you much good. He barely used the thing.”

Kennedy shrugged. “Even so...”

“Aren’t you the one investigating? Shouldn’t you be the one going over it?” Her voice was skeptical, and her tone bothered him, although he wasn’t sure why. Why should he care what she thought of him? He pushed the thought away and focused on the conversation. Maybe he could learn something valuable from Bailey. Sometimes witnesses and family members knew things that they didn’t even realize would help solve the case. He wanted her to relax her guard around him. She just might let something important slip.

“Yes, I went through his computer earlier today, but I didn’t see anything that would raise a red flag. I’m not a hacker, though. I needed a bit of help, and police work is a team effort.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And what have you and your squad discovered?”

Protocol meant he shouldn’t answer her—but if he wanted her to open up to him, he’d have to give a little. “Nothing yet. Everything so far seems rather routine. Nothing worth killing over, at any rate. He hadn’t even updated any of his computer files for over two weeks. Whatever he discovered the night he was killed isn’t noted on the hard drive. We’ll keep going over it, though, as the case progresses. Once we have a few leads, we might see something that ties everything together.”

“That’s why you need me. I might see something that you and your team don’t. I can save you valuable time.”

Frank shook his head. There was no way he was working with a convicted felon on a murder investigation, especially when the victim was the felon’s father. It was a recipe for disaster. Still, he hadn’t interviewed her yet regarding the murder, so now was as good a time as any. He’d planned on looking her up tomorrow anyway. “Look, you were working with your dad, right? How well did you know the cases he was working on?”

She paused for a moment, displeased that he had changed the subject, before apparently deciding to let him get away with it. “We’ve only been working together for the last six months or so. I don’t know all of his cases. I only worked with him on those that required computer expertise. That’s why I came here today—to learn more about the other ones that I wasn’t working on, but now that the files are missing, I’ll need to see his computer to get the names and details of the other clients.”

Frank ignored her subtle push to access her father’s computer and sat on the corner of her father’s desk. “So, how many cases were you working?”

“Bits and pieces of four of them.”

“Do you see any connections between those cases and his death?”

“No. Like you said before, nothing worth killing over. Three of the cases are common divorces with the parties trying to hide assets, but none of them are worth more than about 150K. The other is a young lady that was adopted as an infant who is looking for her birth parents. I’ve already made a lot of progress on that case—I’ve found the birth mother and have leads on the biological father. Everyone involved seems pretty ordinary, so I doubt that has anything to do with my father’s death, either.”

“Did your dad have a backup hard drive?”

Bailey shook her head. “No. I was trying to get him to back up his laptop, but he kept telling me that’s what the paper files were for.” She pulled herself to her feet, swayed a bit and grabbed the wall for support.

Frank stood and quickly led her to her father’s office chair and had her sit again. Rather than appreciating his help, however, she pulled her arm roughly away from him.

“I’m okay.”

He put up his hands in mock surrender. “Maybe you should take it easy for a while. I can call an ambulance if you need one.”

“Don’t you dare,” she said in a low voice. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Sure you are.” He returned to sitting on the side of the desk. He wasn’t going to argue with her, but he was going to make sure she was okay and could safely get home before he left her this evening.

“So when can I get my father’s computer back?”

“It’s going to be a while.”

“Look, let’s just cut through the dancing. Since the files were stolen, I need that computer to find out what case is related to his murder. Even if it hasn’t been updated, I might be able to make a connection.”

“That’s not going to happen.” He could see the anger erupting within her, but to her credit, she didn’t lash out this time. He tried to mollify her. “Look. We’re both making a very big assumption here—that his death is related to one of his cases.”

“He led a pretty simple life. I can’t imagine he was into anything dangerous outside of his work.” She paused.

He drew his lips into a thin line.

Bailey visibly fumed but still managed to hold her temper. He ran his hand through his hair and decided to change the subject again. “Let’s take a step back. Did your dad have any enemies?”

Bailey exhaled. “Not that I know of, but to be fair, I’ve only been working with him for the last six months or so, and he didn’t share everything with me. Before we started working together, I didn’t even know him that well, but I still can’t imagine that he was into anything dangerous.”

Franklin thought about that for a minute. From what he remembered, Bailey’s parents had divorced when she was a baby, and while her mother had used drugs and neglected her, leaving her on her own to raise herself, the story went that her father had basically abandoned her. “I thought you didn’t get along with your father.”

“I didn’t even know him, but after I got out of prison, I looked him up and found out the truth. My parents got married right after my father joined the military. He was sent overseas, and my mom got lonely and started self-medicating with drugs and alcohol. She never even told him she was pregnant before they divorced. My father left the military and took a post in Germany where he worked for years. He never remarried.” She took a breath. “He didn’t even know I existed until I walked through his door.”

Frank absorbed this information. He could tell it had taken a lot out of her to share such a painful story. He had also felt the sting of abandonment during his life and was glad that she had at least been able to reconcile with her father before his death. He paused for a few moments, lost in thought, then moved on. “What about his past cases? Any unhappy customers?”

Bailey shook her head. “Again, not that I know of.” She met his eye when she spoke, but then he noticed her studying the items on her father’s desk. The cup of coffee her father had been drinking before his death was still sitting on the coaster, now with a slight film on the top. There was some mail in a pile, including a few bills. They’d already checked out his accounts and discovered that Cox was up-to-date with his payments and his business was financially sound. His death wasn’t tied to money troubles.

Franklin grimaced, remembering his disappointment at finding that Cox didn’t have any unusually large amounts of cash in any of his accounts. He’d secretly hoped that Bailey had given him some of the money she’d stolen, which would give him an excuse to hunt for the stolen cash once again. Unfortunately, all he’d found were the normal debts and purchases of a man making the salary he’d claimed on his tax returns.

He watched Bailey carefully. Yes, she had already done her time, but it burned him that she had gotten off for stealing the money and only gotten a light two-year sentence for the other thefts. No one should benefit from breaking the law. But she’d had her day in court and she had won. They couldn’t even prove she had the cash, and jeopardy had attached. She couldn’t be tried twice for the same crime, even if they discovered new evidence. Deep down, he knew she had taken the money and he couldn’t let her get away with it.

Before this case was over, he wanted more than just to find Cox’s killer. He wanted Bailey Cox to lead him to the stolen money so he could close that case once and for all.


FOUR (#u63a0b0ec-751f-56b5-b57d-c2504b7bfdc9)

Bailey crossed her legs right over left and a few seconds later moved them back to left over right. Her left hand nervously drummed a tune. Her dress slacks and shirt were the only formal clothes she owned, and she wore them so infrequently that they made her incredibly uncomfortable. She was a jeans-and-T-shirt kind of girl. But she would dress the part if needed to find out who murdered her father. She anxiously glanced around the room. How much longer would she have to wait? That was another thing she wasn’t good at—waiting.

Thankfulness, she told herself. She needed to remember and focus on the good, not the bad. She was thankful that she had the appropriate clothing for this meeting and thankful that she had gotten a meeting with the VP of Gates Industries in the first place. There were always blessings all around her. All she had to do was take the time to look and notice them.

She looked around the posh waiting room and noticed a dark-haired man in black clothes sitting across from her, thumbing through a magazine. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about him made her uncomfortable. He glanced at her and she gave him a smile, but he frowned and returned to his magazine, and the dislike she’d seen in his eyes made her skin start to crawl. She stood and paced a bit, avoiding the man and trying to release some of her nervous energy.

The police department still hadn’t returned her father’s computer, and since the paper files were missing, she was now following the only lead she had. Her father’s coffee cup on his desk had been a fancy new mug emblazoned with the Gates Industries design. She had never seen that cup before, so she was hoping her father had gotten it when he’d taken on Gates as a new client. The lead was really weak, but it was all she had.

Bailey knew a bit about Gates—they were a large pharmaceutical company in both the American and the international markets. What her father could have been doing for them was anybody’s guess, but she was hoping that there was a connection, however thin, that would give her some insight into that terrible night of her father’s death. Gates’s vice president had agreed to see her, but his last meeting was running late. She gave up the pacing and sat back down again and checked her watch.

“Sure is a surprise meeting you here.”

She jumped at the voice and dread filled her. Franklin Kennedy sat down in the seat beside her, and she warily glanced his way.

“What are you doing here?”

He pursed his lips and then spoke. “I think the real question is, what are you doing here?”

She bristled. “I’m here investigating my father’s death, just like I told you I would.”

Kennedy’s eyes narrowed. “And I told you to stay away from this. Do I have to arrest you to keep you out of the way?”

“Yeah, I guess you’d better because there’s no way I’m sitting at home while you track down whoever caused his death. I need answers.”

She saw his eyes grow cold at her defiance, but she meant what she’d said. She wasn’t going to sit by and let others chase down his murderer when she was perfectly capable of investigating the crime.

She watched Kennedy carefully, ready to jump and run if she needed to. His eyes showed that he was considering his options and she watched his hands as well, waiting to see if he started to reach for his handcuffs. When he shifted, she jumped to her feet, and the tension in the room seemed palpable. She swallowed hard.

“Well?” she challenged.

“You haven’t told me what you’re doing here yet.” He gave her a smile, but his demeanor was anything but friendly. Still, he stayed seated and didn’t look like he was about to arrest her for obstruction. “Care to share?”

She considered this. She knew Franklin Kennedy was a good cop. It still irked her, however, that he expected her to share when he wasn’t willing to let her help with the investigation. Hiding clues from him was foolhardy, though, especially when they were after the same thing—justice. “I saw a new mug from Gates on my father’s desk. I’m guessing they hired him, and I’m here to find out why. It’s not much of a lead, but it’s all I’ve got since the files are missing and I can’t access my father’s computer.”

Kennedy studied her for a few moments and his scrutiny made her even more nervous. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision and leaned back in the chair.

“Smart deduction. Gates is one of his newest accounts, and it was the last file that was open on his computer before his death. We think he was about to update his notes when he was interrupted, so we wanted to check it out, as well. In this case, your instincts are pretty good.”

She breathed a sigh of relief at his words. “So I can stay?”

Kennedy’s pause made her nervousness return, but he finally nodded at her. “For now.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to join you for your appointment. But let me ask the questions, okay? Do you think you can do that?”

Could she? Keeping her mouth shut was not her forte, but if the choices were staying silent during the interview or occupying a jail cell, she’d definitely choose the former. She nodded and took her seat again, just as a secretary came to announce that the VP was ready to see her. Kennedy stood, introduced himself and explained that they needed to see the VP together. After seeing his badge, the secretary accepted his request and led them both past reception into the hallway. Bailey turned and looked over her shoulder one last time at the dark-haired man. Now he was watching her, and his eyes seemed to bore right through her as she walked. She didn’t know the man, but his expression was so intense that she was glad to get away from him. If looks could kill, she’d be lying dead on the floor right now.

* * *

The secretary led them to Mr. Johnson’s office, where a tall, graying man was seated behind a desk, working on a laptop. He closed the computer as they entered and rose before motioning toward the chairs in front of his desk.

They all shook hands before Frank spoke up. “Thank you for seeing us. I’m Detective Kennedy, and this is Bailey Cox. I had an appointment with you later today, but Ms. Cox and I thought we’d save you some time and talk to you together. We have a few questions we’d like to ask you.”

“I’m happy to help in any way I can,” Johnson said smoothly. They all sat and Kennedy opened up his iPad and started taking notes. “You’ve probably heard that Matt Cox was killed a couple of nights ago. We were hoping you could tell us about the work he was doing for you.”

“Sure,” Johnson said as he leaned back in his chair. “Gates Industries is headed for change. Our current CEO and president is stepping down at the end of the year, and we’re in the process of vetting the applicants for the position. Mr. Cox was investigating the backgrounds of the five finalists. He was due to give us his full report at the end of the month.”

Frank’s fingers flew over his iPad screen, documenting Mr. Johnson’s answer. “Had he told you anything he’d discovered yet?”

Johnson nodded. “He sent us a preliminary report about two weeks ago. I scanned it but unfortunately didn’t have time to read through the whole thing. As far as I know, though, nothing odd stood out on any of the applicants. Mr. Cox had completed the basic checks and was beginning to dig deeper. You know, interviewing references, that sort of thing.” He shifted. “Do you really think that his murder is related to the work he was doing for Gates?”

Frank shrugged. “We’re exploring every avenue at this point. Do you think we could get a copy of his initial report? We found one on his computer, but we want to make sure they match up.”

“Of course,” Johnson answered. “If you give my assistant your email address, I’ll have her send it to you.”

“That would be great. Did Mr. Cox have contact with anyone else here at Gates?”

Again, Johnson shook his head. “Not that I know of. I’m the one who hired him, and I had an appointment set to meet with him once he’d finished the job. Then I was going to present his report and findings to the board.”

Frank glanced at Bailey, who looked like she was about to burst. He had to give her credit. She was doing a good job of keeping quiet and fulfilling her promise. He looked back at his notes. “Is it standard procedure to hire a private investigator to do background checks on your prospective employees?” he asked.

“I can’t speak to other companies and their procedures, but it’s standard for upper management positions here at Gates. You’d be surprised by how many people lie on their applications. I guess they figure that companies don’t check, which is exactly why we do.”

Frank wrote down a few more things and then looked up. “Sounds like a good policy. Would you mind giving me the names of the five candidates?”

“Not at all. In fact, I’d appreciate any information you gain from your investigation that might have a bearing on our hiring decision. With Mr. Cox gone, we’ll have to hire a new investigator. That will really mess up our timeline.”

“Will you have to forgo some of the background checks?”

Johnson looked uncomfortable. “The board hasn’t decided. We might just go with Cox’s preliminary findings.”

“Does Gates have any enemies? Anybody who would like to see the leadership struggle?”

“Sure,” Johnson answered. “Atlantic Medical Supply is probably our staunchest competitor. We’re both bidding on a large contract with Nextco, a company that makes three of our biggest sellers.”

“And what happens if Gates doesn’t get the contract?”

“Well, we’ll have to lay off about one hundred workers.” He held up his hands. “I’m trusting you not to share that information. It’s one of the reasons the board is in a hurry to fill the position. We need a strong leader to secure the contract.”

“Do you have a frontrunner in this search?” Frank asked.

“We’ve been leaning toward Gabriel Jeffries, an entrepreneur who has done amazing things in the market. If the decision had to be made today, he would probably be the one selected, unless we discover some horrible skeleton in his closet. He has the most experience and would take our company in the right direction.” Johnson stood and motioned toward the door. “I’ll walk you out and get my assistant to send you that list of applicants and Mr. Cox’s preliminary report.”

They all walked back out to the secretary’s desk and she quickly emailed both of the promised items to Frank’s work email address. He noticed Bailey looking around the reception area as if expecting to see someone, but the room was empty. To his surprise, she stayed quiet until they had left the Gates building and were standing on the sidewalk.

“Okay,” she said, her eyebrows raised. “I held up my end and didn’t ask a single question. Can you share the list of applicants and report with me?”

Frank shook his head. “Our deal was that I let you in on the interview instead of arresting you. I didn’t say anything about sharing the list. We still don’t even know if this case has anything to do with your father’s murder, but, either way, that’s for me to investigate. You need to go home now and let me do my job.”

Her face flushed with anger. “Hold on now. I thought we were working together on this.”

Frank laughed. “I don’t know what gave you that idea. I certainly never said that.”

His response only seemed to make her angrier. “You implied it. I have a lot to offer.”

“I’ll give you a million reasons why that will never work.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So we’re singing that old song again, are we?”

“And we’ll keep singing it until you return the money.” Frank leaned forward. She was so close that he could feel her breath on his skin. When he spoke, his voice was low but forceful, and his words were for her ears alone. “You never served a day in prison for stealing all of that money. Do you honestly think that’s right?”

Bailey narrowed her eyes. “I was acquitted, remember? The DA tried to pin it on me and failed. The medical equipment was all anyone could prove I had stolen, and I served my time for that.”

“That stolen equipment was just the tip of the iceberg,” Frank said, his voice still deceptively soft. “You know it and I know it. You might have beaten the court system, but I still want the money you stole returned, and I’m not going to stop pushing until we get it all back. Every last cent. When you’re ready to turn it over, come see me. Otherwise, stay out of my way.”

She grimaced. “I need that list and my father’s report. I’ll trade you for them—do some computer work for you or...”

Frank leaned back. “We’re done here. Go home, Bailey.”

She put her hands on her hips. “I won’t,” she said stubbornly.

He moved closer again and she took a step back. “Tell me where the money is, Bailey. It’s the right thing to do.” She met his eyes but said nothing.

Frank stepped away. “Good-bye, Bailey.”


FIVE (#u63a0b0ec-751f-56b5-b57d-c2504b7bfdc9)

Frank turned on his heel and walked away, leaving her standing in front of Gates. He definitely needed to get as far away from Bailey Cox as possible before he was forced to admit that he found her attractive when she showed her strength and determination. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration, angry with himself and the jumble of emotions that were flying through him. Why couldn’t he control his feelings? She was a criminal and an unrepentant one at that. Yet, without seeming to even realize it, she was drawing him closer like a moth to a flame, and his skin was already feeling the singe.

He widened his steps and sped up, suddenly in a hurry to get to his car and be off. It was ridiculous for him to feel anything for her besides contempt when she was still hiding the money she’d stolen. Sure, the case had gone cold years ago, and since the insurance company had paid the tab, nobody was really even looking for the money—except him. He just couldn’t let it go, even though it was probably a fool’s hope that he’d ever track it down.

He pushed his feelings aside and focused on the murder investigation. There was no reason to ever see her again, and that thought gave him some degree of satisfaction. For a moment, he’d thought he’d seen something in Bailey’s eyes that made him believe she was willing to make a bargain, but he had been wrong. She wouldn’t even talk about the money, and without that dialogue, he was done. It was time for them to go their separate ways.

He reached his car but couldn’t shake a strange feeling that he was being watched. He scanned the area but didn’t see Bailey or anybody else paying any attention to him. Still, hot electricity ran down his back. He checked again and this time noticed a man in black eyeing him from across the street. Frank pocketed his keys and headed across the street to confront the man, but several cars drove by and blocked him from crossing. By the time Frank reached the doorway where the man had been standing, there was no sign of him. Why had the man been watching him?

His stomach rumbled and he decided to stick around and grab a quick bite in case the man reappeared. He glanced up and down the street and then headed toward a nearby coffee shop and turned his thoughts back to Gates.

The company didn’t look like much of a lead at this point, but he would follow through and check out the five applicants, just in case. It seemed ridiculous to kill over a career opportunity, but he’d actually seen worse as a beat cop. Maybe he was jaded, but few things surprised him anymore. In any case, the list of applicants from Gates was his best lead so far. Hopefully interviewing them would point him to the killer.

He placed his order at the counter and then called his office while he waited.

“Graham.”

“Hey, this is Frank.” He gave Ben Graham a synopsis of the discussion with Johnson, smiled at the waitress who handed him his food and headed for a table, his ear still pressed against the phone. “Anything new on the Cox case?”

Ben cleared his throat. “We’ve got a couple of new reports. Forensics matched the bullet to the gun in the blond man’s possession. So now we know who pulled the trigger, but we still don’t know his identity. According to our databases, he’s a ghost. The dark-haired man we’ve positively identified as Adrian Bekim from Balkavia. He’s an international gun for hire and did most of his work in Europe until recently, when he surfaced in Chicago. He’s suspected in the death of a businessman there.”

Frank soaked in the information. “Still nothing from CODIS on the blond?” he asked, referring to the national DNA index system.

“Not yet. Nothing from the national fingerprint and criminal history system, either.”

Frank grimaced. “I’m thinking it’s time to contact Interpol. The blond is probably a known associate of Bekim. He’s got to show up somewhere.”

“Yep, I’ll start the process.” Ben paused. “You should also know that we’ve finished examining Cox’s financials. There wasn’t anything unusual, just like we suspected. Following the money won’t lead us to the killer in this case.”

Frank took a sip of his coffee, digesting the information. For the past six months, they’d been investigating a Balkavian mercenary group operating out of Jacksonville. They had received a tip that something was going down at Cox’s office that fateful night. They still hadn’t been able to prove any kind of connection, though, between the Balkavians and Cox. In many cases, the money led to the killer, but so far it hadn’t in this case. Why had they killed him? Had he just been in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Frank leaned back, his frustration growing. “Nothing new on the computer angle?”

“Nope, nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, there wasn’t even that much on it. Looks like his daughter was right—he barely used the thing.”

Bailey had been right about something else too—they’d lost a lot of valuable information when those paper files had been stolen. It was unfortunate that the team hadn’t thought to grab them on the night of the murder, but they hadn’t realized their importance at the time. Now it was too late. “Thanks, Ben. I’m off to interview the applicants. I’ll catch up with you again once I have some insight.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Frank stirred his coffee as he flipped to the email program on his phone. That was strange. He could see the two messages that Johnson’s assistant had sent, but they both showed that they had been read. He pulled out his iPad, and then he also opened his work email account on the off chance that there was something wrong with his phone. It also showed that the two messages had been read, even though he hadn’t opened either one of them. Then, right before his eyes, the screen refreshed and both emails were marked Unread.

Frank took a sip of his coffee and a bite of his food as he raised an eyebrow, confused by what he was seeing. Why had the status of the emails changed, and who had changed it? Had someone accessed his account and made the change?

A flash of blue caught his eye and he glanced out the window of the coffee shop. Bailey Cox was just leaving a store across the street. He watched her as she walked toward the bus stop. She looked beautiful, even with that look of grim determination on her face. He glanced up at the sign over the door she had exited. It was an internet café. A sinking feeling hit him hard in the pit of his stomach. He picked up his phone again and called his department’s IT specialist.

“IT, Sergeant Daniels.”

“This is Detective Franklin Kennedy, badge number 4577. I think my email has just been hacked. Can you run a check for me?” He fed the sergeant the details and then waited a moment for the confirmation. It wasn’t long in coming. The knot in his stomach twisted and he grimaced. It looked like he hadn’t seen the last of Bailey Cox after all. She had just broken the law. Again.

* * *

“It will be just another minute,” the secretary said with an apologetic smile. The hospital administration’s waiting room wasn’t as fancy as the room at Gates, but it was decorated tastefully. Bailey tried to relax, even though it was nearly impossible. She hated hospitals. Her mother had gotten lost in the system, given insufficient treatment because she couldn’t afford health insurance. By the time Bailey had stolen the money to make sure her mother got the help she needed, it was too late. It was hard not to hold the entire medical industry responsible for her mother’s fate.

To distract herself from the thought of her mother, she focused on the list she’d stolen from Kennedy’s email—the names of the applicants that had brought her here.

She didn’t know how long it would take Franklin Kennedy to realize she had broken into his email account, if he did at all. Still, she had started her quest to interview the applicants in the middle of the list rather than at the top in hopes of throwing him off if he decided to come after her. If the police wouldn’t let her help, then she would solve this murder on her own. She nervously leafed through the stack of magazines and glanced around the room again, making sure Kennedy was nowhere to be seen.

She was also keeping her eyes open for the man in black. Something was off about him, and she had noticed him a second time after she’d left Gates. She wasn’t sure, but it looked like he had been watching her as she’d left the internet café. Creepy. That was the word for him. At least now he had disappeared and she felt a measure of relief.

A few more minutes passed, and finally the secretary rose and came to her side. “Okay, Dr. Petrela is almost here. Let me take you back to his office.” The secretary led her to a nice office filled with medical books and journals and Bailey took a seat. “I’m sorry for the wait,” the nurse said in parting.

“It isn’t a problem.” She’d been waiting for over an hour and a half to see the hospital CEO, but it had been surprising that she’d even gotten her foot in the door. The man was extremely busy, but when she’d explained who she was and why she wanted to meet, the CEO had promised her ten minutes between meetings.

He entered the room a few moments later, and Bailey noted that his internet picture hadn’t done justice to the man’s square jaw or bright, intelligent eyes. It also hadn’t shown the man’s size, which was quite substantial. He was a formidable presence, though not a frightening one. His handshake was firm and his smile friendly.

“First, let me say how sorry I was to hear about your father,” Dr. Petrela intoned, true sympathy in his eyes.

“Thank you,” Bailey answered. “How well did you know him?”

“We’d met for dinner twice. I’ve applied for the CEO position at Gates, as you know, and Mr. Cox had several questions. You see, I got my advanced degree in Europe, and some of the school records were hard to verify. I’m sure he didn’t have any trouble after our interviews, however. I imagine you’re continuing the investigation?”

“Yes,” she agreed, without correcting his misunderstanding. She was investigating. She just wasn’t doing it for Gates. “Could you tell me where you went to school, please?”

“Of course. My history isn’t a secret. I got my undergraduate and master’s degrees at the University of Applied Sciences in Budapest, and then I received my doctorate in Balkavia at the Mirianka University.”

Bailey made a note in her phone of his responses. She would check them out later. “And have you lived in the United States for very long?” She could still hear the tiniest hint of an accent when he spoke, but he’d obviously gone to great lengths to eliminate it.

“Going on twenty years now, though I was born here in the US. My family moved overseas when my father was in the military, and once he retired, he decided to stay.”

“But not you?” She smiled and he returned the smile.

“No, not me.” He shifted some papers on his desk. “My wife is also American, and she wanted to return home so she could be closer to her parents. We’ve lived here in Jacksonville ever since.”

“Why would you like to work at Gates?”

He found a folder with a green tab and handed it to her. “Gates is a mover and shaker in the pharmaceutical industry, and I think their development team is on the cusp of some exciting new medicines. I want to be a part of that. Working at the hospital here has been fulfilling, but I’m mostly administration, and it’s time for a change. My application and résumé are in that folder.”

Bailey nodded and then motioned to the mini helmet that was on his desk.

“Are you a football fan?”

The CEO laughed and glanced at the helmet. “If I were, I wouldn’t admit it,” he said in a jovial tone. “The local team hasn’t had a winning season since 2007.” He motioned with his hands as he spoke. “That helmet was a gift from my daughter. She’s a true believer and still harbors hope that they’ll make it to the playoffs. I don’t suffer from delusions the way she does.”

Bailey grinned and glanced at the folder he’d given her. She scanned the contents and asked a few more questions, and then she rose to leave. He had seemed very open, and, so far, she hadn’t noticed any red flags. He also seemed at ease during their conversation. On the surface, nothing seemed problematic. She had to get to her computer if she wanted to know more, and that’s exactly where she was headed. She offered her hand, knowing that her ten minutes were up. “Thank you so much for your time, Dr. Petrela.”

“My pleasure. I hope you are able to get justice for your father.”

“So do I.”

They shook hands and she stowed the folder and her few belongings in her tote. Then she headed out into the hallway. She was past ready to be free of the hospital. The smells and sights of people suffering continued to flood her with memories of her mother’s final days. Despite the addictions, Bailey had still loved her mother. Theirs had been a rocky relationship, but Bailey’s last criminal acts had all been about her mother’s care. As she’d watched her mother’s body wither away from lung cancer, Bailey had gotten more and more desperate to get her mother the help she needed.

It had all been a wasted effort, however. Right after she had committed her crimes, started paying the bills and brought the equipment home, she’d found her mother collapsed on the bathroom floor—the result of both her coughing and a heroin overdose. Bailey’s efforts had been too little too late, and when the officers had come to investigate the scene, they’d found the stolen equipment before she’d even thought to hide it. Her lack of foresight had cost her mightily. Her mother had died shortly after Bailey’s arrest. Bailey hadn’t even had a chance to say good-bye.

Bailey rubbed her eyes, trying to erase the memories. She had been such a mess back then. It hadn’t even occurred to her that she had done something wrong with her thefts. Her only thought had been to save her mother.

She liked to think that she’d learned her lesson in jail. Even better, she’d become a Christian during her college days and had slowly gotten on the right track. But changes didn’t just happen overnight. She still made blunders here and there, and she was already coming to regret her latest mistake. Hacking Kennedy’s email had been a stupid, impetuous display of bad judgment. She just hoped she could avoid him for the foreseeable future until she could track down her father’s killer. Maybe he wouldn’t care if she could get results from her own investigation.

She pulled out the list from her tote bag and put a check mark by Dr. Petrela’s name. It was time to move on to the next applicant. She still had a few daylight hours left and could probably interview one more applicant on the list today if she hurried. Gabriel Jeffries, an entrepreneur who worked from his beach house, was next. He had already agreed to see her if she could be at his place by 4:00 p.m. She had just enough time to make it.

“You know, most people start at the top of the list, not the middle.”

Her breath caught in her throat as she recognized the voice. She spun around as dread swept over her. Franklin Kennedy stood only a few feet away, nonchalantly leaning against the wall. He smiled at her, but it was an ominous smile, and she knew she was in trouble.

“What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” he said quietly. “I’m having some trouble with my email and thought maybe you would be able to help.”

“Doesn’t sound like a very serious problem. I’m sure your IT folks can fix it for you.”

Kennedy shook his head. “Actually, it’s a much bigger problem than most people realize. It’s a felony to hack a governmental email account. Were you aware of that?”

Bailey didn’t think. She took one step backward and then another. Then she turned and ran.


SIX (#u63a0b0ec-751f-56b5-b57d-c2504b7bfdc9)

The hallway was crowded, and several people shouted as she made her escape. A nurse pushing a cart with a computer was up ahead and Bailey quickly made it around her and shoved at the cart, not stopping to see if it actually blocked the hallway or not. She skidded to a halt and pushed an empty gurney behind her in another effort to slow Kennedy down and then turned down a new hallway.

She dared not look, but she could feel that he wasn’t very far behind. The fear was palpable and her heart was throbbing in her chest. Had the cluttered hallway and the people slowed him down enough? Would she actually have a chance to escape? The side doors of the hospital were in sight and hope surged.

“Sheriff’s department!” Kennedy shouted after her. “Don’t let her get away!”

A hand snarled out and gripped her arm, but she yanked it away and took a few more steps before another man grabbed her shoulder.

Again, she pulled free, but the delay had cost her. Kennedy was only a few feet away as she hit the door and spun out onto the parking deck. She darted out into the humid air and aimed for the staircase that led down to the bottom level.

The tackle caught her by surprise. One moment she was running; the next, his arms locked around her shoulders, knocking her to the ground. The air left her body with a whoosh and she clamored for breath as she felt him fall on top of her. Even so, she wasn’t quite ready to surrender. He was so big that it was hard to fight against him, but she still tried to pull away, even though, deep down, she knew it was a wasted effort. He quickly straddled her from behind, grabbed her right hand and pulled it roughly behind her. She felt the click of the handcuffs and knew there was no escaping. She heard the final click of the metal and her body sagged. How was she going to solve her father’s murder now?

Kennedy pulled her to her feet and then immediately reached down and took her pistol from her ankle holster and stashed it in his waistband. She only had the one weapon with her today. He led her back toward the hospital doors until he reached her tote bag, lying on the ground where she had carelessly discarded it. His grip on her arm was tight—almost painful—and she could see the anger and disappointment warring for supremacy on his face. He reached down and grabbed the bag, and then he did a quick search of the contents. He pulled out the printed copy of his email from Gates, shook his head and then turned her to face him. She had a hard time looking him in the eye but finally raised her head. He held the proof right in his hands. There was no use denying her actions. It was all she could do to hold her ground under his intense scrutiny. He was so close she could see the dark flecks in his eyes. “You just won’t take no for an answer, will you?”




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