Then the captain was gone. He rushed out, probably so he wouldn’t have to keep looking them in the eyes.

Kenton waited. One beat. Two. When he was sure they had privacy, he said, “Come on, Monica, give me something that I can use against this guy.”

“He could be Phoenix.” One shoulder lifted, then fell. “But I need more. I can’t say yet what I believe.”

Fuck. Not helpful. “Hell.”

“His dad died in a fire,” Jon said. “He hangs out with firefighters. He slept with Kenton’s girl—uh, sorry, Kenton. The guy has means, and he has motive. One hell of a lot of motive.”

“Going after criminals.” Sam nodded. “That’s definitely motive for a cop.”

“More than just cops.” Monica glanced over at Malone. He’d just sat down. He turned his chair toward the glass and stared.

Not that he could see anything.

“How long are we gonna be able to keep him?” Sam asked.

Kenton stared back at Malone. Had the guy been threatening Lora? Rage bubbled inside him, nearly choking him. “We’re keeping him until Captain Lawrence’s men get back, and we see what we’ve got.” He glanced at Jon. “And then, if we cut him loose, I think we need to cover our bases.” This wasn’t a job that he wanted the Charlottesville PD handling.

A nod from Jon. “Babysitting duty.”

“You are the best when it comes to trailing.”

“Guess while I’m doing that, you’ll be watching Lora’s ass, huh?”

“Damn straight.” Because that gnawing in his gut told him that she wasn’t safe. “I’m heading to the fire station now.” Garrison and the others could just deal with it.

“I might take another go at our detective.” Monica’s voice was quiet, contemplative. “Not making any promises, but I’ll see what I can get.”

Good. “Call me. If you find out anything, call.”

“You know I will.” Her gaze went back to the cop. “If I can get him to break.”

CHAPTER Seventeen

Chaos ruled at the fire station. Even as Kenton jumped from his vehicle, a fire truck swiped by him, sirens blazing.

Phoenix.

He ran for the station’s entrance and shoved open the front doors. “Lora!” He shouted her name as he raced toward the check-in desk.

“She’s gone.”

His gaze whipped to the right. Max walked out, shaking his head. “She was on the truck.”

Kenton’s heart shoved into his chest. “Was it—” No, no, Monica would have called him if they’d gotten a tip-off from Phoenix.

But Phoenix hadn’t called in Kyle’s death. There’d been no taunts about saving the victim. No challenge to the firefighters to get there first.

Could the bastard be changing his rules?

Fuck, yeah, he had changed the rules. Kyle hadn’t deserved any “punishment.” Phoenix had torched him to cover his own ass.

“It’s a house fire on Delaney Boulevard.” Max licked his lips. “We got word that there could be some kids inside. A neighbor called it in. She didn’t know if the family had gotten out. The woman just saw the flames.”

Kenton took a breath. She’s safe. Doing her job.

“The kids—they’re always hard for Lora. For all of us.” Max rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Damn but I hope they get them out.”

So did he.

“Those cops you had tailing her—they’re on the way to the scene.”

They’d damn well better stay close. “Delaney Boulevard?”

A quick nod.

And Kenton knew that he’d be chasing a fire truck.

Because it could be a trap. Just like the others.

Luke opened the door of the viewing room. He’d stayed back and let the team on task do their jobs. But it was quiet now. The captain was long gone, and Ramirez was on the phone with Hyde, briefing the boss on the body that they’d found today and on the detective they’d just grilled.

Sam watched Monica begin her interrogation in the adjacent room. “I don’t want it to be him,” Sam said.

“I know.”

“I want people to just be what they should be.” Softer. “He should be a good cop.”

Luke watched through the glass as Monica pulled out a chair and sat in front of Malone. Someone had turned the sound off in this room so he couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Luke could see the movement of Monica’s lips. “Maybe he is.”

Her eyes squeezed shut. “I just want to go back to the way things were before.”

Before a sick f**k had taken her, tortured her, and made her wish for death. “If you need more time off…”

“That’s not going to cut it. Maybe I need out.”

Now she had him tensing. “Of the SSD?”

Her dark eyes opened. “Maybe. Maybe I just can’t cut it anymore, Luke. Maybe I’m just tired of trying to figure out who the good guys are and—” She glanced at the window. “And who’s just pretending to be good.”

“Think about this, Sam. Don’t rush to a decision. You’ve just come back—”

“And I’m shaking apart!” She held her hands up, and he saw the quiver of her fingers. “I was in that damn room with Kenton, and I thought I was going to be sick. Every second, I was shaking. My stomach twisted, and my chest hurt so bad I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

He hadn’t seen the interrogation, but he’d been in the hallway and he knew, “You didn’t run out.”

“What?” Her eyes narrowed. “No, of course, I didn’t—”

“There’s no ‘of course.’ ” Couldn’t she see that? “Maybe someone else would have left. Maybe someone else wouldn’t have ever been in the room. You stayed. So what if you were scared? Or sick? You didn’t back down.”

“I wanted to.” A tear slid down her cheek only to be roughly swiped away by her trembling fingers. “Maybe next time I will.”

“And maybe you won’t.”

“Maybe.” She gave a hesitant nod. “Luke, don’t tell anyone about this, okay?” Tears were in her eyes.

Appearances.

She was trying to keep up hers. And right then, she did remind him of Monica because they were both survivors.

Sam fumbled as she turned up the volume. “W-we’d better listen…”




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