countered.
Hell, yeah . ‘Yes. I have to go.’
‘Don’t you dare hang up on me,’ she snapped. ‘What the hell is this?’
‘I’ll tell you when I can,’ he said. ‘I’m not where I can right now. I’ll call you soon.’ He hung up in time to hear Bashears tell Morton that they had to leave.
Morton gave them all a severe look. ‘You know there are no coincidences. Miss Holden knows something. I just hope it doesn’t get her killed next time.’
‘Thank you for your concern,’ Paige said politely.
Bashears gave her his card. ‘If you have any questions or remember anything that might be useful.’ And with that, Bashears and Morton were gone.
‘What was your phone call?’ Maynard asked. He’d been watching, his eyes sharp.
Grayson debated, then shrugged. ‘Denny Sandoval is dead.’
Paige sucked in a stunned breath. ‘Oh my God. How?’
‘Suicide. He hung himself.’
She turned her body so that she was looking at Maynard. ‘He’s the bar owner.’
Maynard appeared to be considering. ‘Interesting.’
No , Grayson thought. Not interesting. Bad, very bad .
Could it be true? Could Muñoz have been innocent? If he was, that weapon had to have been planted. Who could have done it? The cops, as Paige thought?
Ramon Muñoz might have been innocent. What have I done?
Nothing. You didn’t convict him , he told himself. A jury of his peers did . Based on the evidence available. Which might be false. Oh God. What have I done?
Don’t assume. See the new evidence. Then figure out what to do .
‘Ramon’s alibi-buster is dead,’ Grayson said quietly. ‘Ramon’s wife is dead, Paige gets attacked, all in the same day. We really need to talk.’
Tuesday, April 5, 2.25 P.M .
Stevie hung up and walked back to JD, who stood next to the CSU van they’d requested as soon as they’d walked onto the scene.
‘We were right, weren’t we?’ JD murmured.
‘I think so,’ Stevie said. The brass was racing to calm the public, but something hadn’t felt right. Years of experience in Homicide had Stevie trusting her gut.
‘It’s too perfect,’ JD went on.
He was right. The bar had been trashed, bottles strewn, the register emptied while the victim’s body swung from the rafters in an upstairs apartment. But the most expensive liquor had been smashed and wasted, not stolen.
‘The liquor alone was worth thousands of bucks,’ Stevie agreed. ‘Any self-respecting punk would have taken it, not trashed it.’
‘Still, it’s not a random sniper,’ JD said. ‘We can all breathe a little easier over that.’
‘Everybody but Elena Muñoz and Denny Sandoval.’
Chapter Five
Tuesday, April 5, 2.25 P.M .
‘Y ou have got to be kidding me,’ Grayson said, staring at the VW Beetle while Clay unlocked the doors. ‘We’ll be in traction if all three of us squeeze into that thing.’
‘It’s my assistant’s car,’ Clay said. ‘Mine was compromised.’
‘Tracking devices,’ Paige said. The overabundance of testosterone raging between the two men was getting on her nerves. ‘We think reporters hid them under our cars.’
‘So that’s what you were looking for,’ Grayson said. ‘When you were up under your truck in the parking garage. Tracking devices.’
‘Yeah. I’d just found one when the guy attacked.’
Clay’s mouth tightened as he studied the bandage on her throat. ‘You were lucky.’
‘I know,’ Paige said.
‘Not entirely luck,’ Grayson said. ‘You fought back. Pretty amazingly, too.’
‘I’ll say.’ A voice from behind had the three of them whipping around to stare. Then glare. It was Phin Radcliffe and he had a microphone in his hand. There was a cameraman with him and the little light on the camera was blinking red.
So was Paige’s anger. ‘You put me on TV, without my permission.’
‘I didn’t need permission. The sidewalk and street are public property. As was the parking garage where you narrowly escaped death today at the hand of
Hell, yeah . ‘Yes. I have to go.’
‘Don’t you dare hang up on me,’ she snapped. ‘What the hell is this?’
‘I’ll tell you when I can,’ he said. ‘I’m not where I can right now. I’ll call you soon.’ He hung up in time to hear Bashears tell Morton that they had to leave.
Morton gave them all a severe look. ‘You know there are no coincidences. Miss Holden knows something. I just hope it doesn’t get her killed next time.’
‘Thank you for your concern,’ Paige said politely.
Bashears gave her his card. ‘If you have any questions or remember anything that might be useful.’ And with that, Bashears and Morton were gone.
‘What was your phone call?’ Maynard asked. He’d been watching, his eyes sharp.
Grayson debated, then shrugged. ‘Denny Sandoval is dead.’
Paige sucked in a stunned breath. ‘Oh my God. How?’
‘Suicide. He hung himself.’
She turned her body so that she was looking at Maynard. ‘He’s the bar owner.’
Maynard appeared to be considering. ‘Interesting.’
No , Grayson thought. Not interesting. Bad, very bad .
Could it be true? Could Muñoz have been innocent? If he was, that weapon had to have been planted. Who could have done it? The cops, as Paige thought?
Ramon Muñoz might have been innocent. What have I done?
Nothing. You didn’t convict him , he told himself. A jury of his peers did . Based on the evidence available. Which might be false. Oh God. What have I done?
Don’t assume. See the new evidence. Then figure out what to do .
‘Ramon’s alibi-buster is dead,’ Grayson said quietly. ‘Ramon’s wife is dead, Paige gets attacked, all in the same day. We really need to talk.’
Tuesday, April 5, 2.25 P.M .
Stevie hung up and walked back to JD, who stood next to the CSU van they’d requested as soon as they’d walked onto the scene.
‘We were right, weren’t we?’ JD murmured.
‘I think so,’ Stevie said. The brass was racing to calm the public, but something hadn’t felt right. Years of experience in Homicide had Stevie trusting her gut.
‘It’s too perfect,’ JD went on.
He was right. The bar had been trashed, bottles strewn, the register emptied while the victim’s body swung from the rafters in an upstairs apartment. But the most expensive liquor had been smashed and wasted, not stolen.
‘The liquor alone was worth thousands of bucks,’ Stevie agreed. ‘Any self-respecting punk would have taken it, not trashed it.’
‘Still, it’s not a random sniper,’ JD said. ‘We can all breathe a little easier over that.’
‘Everybody but Elena Muñoz and Denny Sandoval.’
Chapter Five
Tuesday, April 5, 2.25 P.M .
‘Y ou have got to be kidding me,’ Grayson said, staring at the VW Beetle while Clay unlocked the doors. ‘We’ll be in traction if all three of us squeeze into that thing.’
‘It’s my assistant’s car,’ Clay said. ‘Mine was compromised.’
‘Tracking devices,’ Paige said. The overabundance of testosterone raging between the two men was getting on her nerves. ‘We think reporters hid them under our cars.’
‘So that’s what you were looking for,’ Grayson said. ‘When you were up under your truck in the parking garage. Tracking devices.’
‘Yeah. I’d just found one when the guy attacked.’
Clay’s mouth tightened as he studied the bandage on her throat. ‘You were lucky.’
‘I know,’ Paige said.
‘Not entirely luck,’ Grayson said. ‘You fought back. Pretty amazingly, too.’
‘I’ll say.’ A voice from behind had the three of them whipping around to stare. Then glare. It was Phin Radcliffe and he had a microphone in his hand. There was a cameraman with him and the little light on the camera was blinking red.
So was Paige’s anger. ‘You put me on TV, without my permission.’
‘I didn’t need permission. The sidewalk and street are public property. As was the parking garage where you narrowly escaped death today at the hand of
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