recognized the voice of Lieutenant Arturo Santiago.
"I'm on I-10, heading back downtown. Why?"
"I wanted you to hear this from me, before the media gets ahold of it."
His words gripped her heart. A grave tone to his voice. It drew her back to the day she first heard about a bloody motel room. This couldn't be good.
"Sounds ominous. What's up?"
"There's been another abduction, in Austin near the U.T. campus. A couple of days ago."
Another young life ruined, a family torn apart. The news wrenched her gut. Danielle's sweet face flashed in front of her eyes. Becca clenched her jaw and gripped the steering wheel, hard. She tried to regain her composure, stay focused.
"Same MO?" She hated the edge to her voice. The need. "Is there a connection, Art?"
"No, the MO is different. Broad daylight this time, no nightclub involved. And the girl was a college kid, some foreign exchange student from Japan. The FBI clued Murphy in on this one. We wouldn't have seen it as connected except for one thing."
"Yeah, what's that?"
The man hadn't heard her. He kept on talking.
"We're not gonna leak this detail to the press, Becca. This one we keep."
"Art, spit it out. I gotta know."
"Your sister's senior class ring was found in a van they dumped, wedged in a crack."
The news stole her breath, bringing a sudden rush of tears to her eyes. The innocence of a graduation that would never be collided with the horror of Danielle's violent death in a blood-splattered motel room. A cruel jolt. It took every ounce of concentration to keep her car between the painted lines. No way she'd be frozen out on this one. Not now.
"By itself, this doesn't mean much. It's only her ring, judging by the initials on the inside of the band. We have no context, no time frame. The ring ties this vehicle to the FBI's case, that's all."
"But it's something, Art," she pleaded, softening her tone. "Something of Dani's."
"Look, I know what you're thinking, but I gotta tell ya," Santiago added, "I got a new guy from the FBI down here today. He's buttoning things up tight. You're not gonna . . ."
Becca didn't let him finish.
"I want in, Art. One way or another, I want in." She insisted, not waiting for Lieutenant Santiago's response.
Becca ended the call and tossed the cell onto the seat next to her. She hit the gas pedal. No way Santiago would bar her from the investigation now.
CHAPTER5
"Detective Montgomery is going to be a problem, one I will place in your hands."
Hunter Cavanaugh collapsed into his black leather desk chair, the start of a headache pulsing at his temples. The study smelled of brandy and cigar smoke, with the underlying musty odor of old books. The combined pungency gnarled his stomach, intensified by the reversal of fortune to his morning. Cavanaugh sat behind his desk and stared straight through Brogan, his mind on other things.
"And let's keep this our little secret. Diego is not to find out. The last thing I need is for Rivera to hear about my little . . . hobby."
"But this body in the theater, they won't find a connection."
"Does that really matter?" He didn't feel like explaining himself to Brogan. "Being under a cop's scrutiny is never a good thing."
The pretty detective piqued his interest when he thought she was investigating the fire at the Imperial Theatre. Diego had given him a heads-up on the blaze being arson. Professional courtesy, the man had said. And when Detective Montgomery walked into the room, he felt like a kid waking up Christmas morning—a new toy caught his eye. Yet in no time, she doused him with a harsh reality. And she didn't look like the kind of woman who knew how to play outside the rules.
"I'm afraid the detective has no idea how to have fun."
"We could teach her." Brogan's face squeezed into a grin like a compressed accordion.
"Yes, I suppose we can." Cavanaugh crooked a corner of his mouth, a fleeting gesture. "But this couldn't come at a worse time."
"What do you need me to do . . .
"I'm on I-10, heading back downtown. Why?"
"I wanted you to hear this from me, before the media gets ahold of it."
His words gripped her heart. A grave tone to his voice. It drew her back to the day she first heard about a bloody motel room. This couldn't be good.
"Sounds ominous. What's up?"
"There's been another abduction, in Austin near the U.T. campus. A couple of days ago."
Another young life ruined, a family torn apart. The news wrenched her gut. Danielle's sweet face flashed in front of her eyes. Becca clenched her jaw and gripped the steering wheel, hard. She tried to regain her composure, stay focused.
"Same MO?" She hated the edge to her voice. The need. "Is there a connection, Art?"
"No, the MO is different. Broad daylight this time, no nightclub involved. And the girl was a college kid, some foreign exchange student from Japan. The FBI clued Murphy in on this one. We wouldn't have seen it as connected except for one thing."
"Yeah, what's that?"
The man hadn't heard her. He kept on talking.
"We're not gonna leak this detail to the press, Becca. This one we keep."
"Art, spit it out. I gotta know."
"Your sister's senior class ring was found in a van they dumped, wedged in a crack."
The news stole her breath, bringing a sudden rush of tears to her eyes. The innocence of a graduation that would never be collided with the horror of Danielle's violent death in a blood-splattered motel room. A cruel jolt. It took every ounce of concentration to keep her car between the painted lines. No way she'd be frozen out on this one. Not now.
"By itself, this doesn't mean much. It's only her ring, judging by the initials on the inside of the band. We have no context, no time frame. The ring ties this vehicle to the FBI's case, that's all."
"But it's something, Art," she pleaded, softening her tone. "Something of Dani's."
"Look, I know what you're thinking, but I gotta tell ya," Santiago added, "I got a new guy from the FBI down here today. He's buttoning things up tight. You're not gonna . . ."
Becca didn't let him finish.
"I want in, Art. One way or another, I want in." She insisted, not waiting for Lieutenant Santiago's response.
Becca ended the call and tossed the cell onto the seat next to her. She hit the gas pedal. No way Santiago would bar her from the investigation now.
CHAPTER5
"Detective Montgomery is going to be a problem, one I will place in your hands."
Hunter Cavanaugh collapsed into his black leather desk chair, the start of a headache pulsing at his temples. The study smelled of brandy and cigar smoke, with the underlying musty odor of old books. The combined pungency gnarled his stomach, intensified by the reversal of fortune to his morning. Cavanaugh sat behind his desk and stared straight through Brogan, his mind on other things.
"And let's keep this our little secret. Diego is not to find out. The last thing I need is for Rivera to hear about my little . . . hobby."
"But this body in the theater, they won't find a connection."
"Does that really matter?" He didn't feel like explaining himself to Brogan. "Being under a cop's scrutiny is never a good thing."
The pretty detective piqued his interest when he thought she was investigating the fire at the Imperial Theatre. Diego had given him a heads-up on the blaze being arson. Professional courtesy, the man had said. And when Detective Montgomery walked into the room, he felt like a kid waking up Christmas morning—a new toy caught his eye. Yet in no time, she doused him with a harsh reality. And she didn't look like the kind of woman who knew how to play outside the rules.
"I'm afraid the detective has no idea how to have fun."
"We could teach her." Brogan's face squeezed into a grin like a compressed accordion.
"Yes, I suppose we can." Cavanaugh crooked a corner of his mouth, a fleeting gesture. "But this couldn't come at a worse time."
"What do you need me to do . . .
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