“Maybe I am.”
“Your attitude isn’t helping.”
“I’m not in this to rack up points.”
“Good thing, because you’re not.”
Silence hissed over the line for an instant. “I need a favor.”
Jake groaned. “I knew that was coming.”
“I need to know what Angela was working on.”
Jake swore, then noisily cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about what happened to her, man. She was a good agent.”
“Yeah.” Madrid closed his eyes, surprised by the powerful swipe of grief. He hadn’t loved her for a long time, but there had always been something between them that neither time nor distance could dull. “Cutter won’t talk to me.”
“Neither should I if I want to keep my job.”
“I need to know what she was into, Jake.”
“Maybe you ought to let Cutter handle this the way he thinks it should be handled.”
“I need to do this.” Madrid tried to keep the desperation out of his voice, but he didn’t quite succeed. “Damn it, don’t stonewall me.”
Jake sighed, but the sound was fraught with resignation. “I’ll do some digging, see what I can find out.”
“I need to know what Angela was doing in Lighthouse Point, California. I need to know if she’d been sending reports back.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Find out everything you can on the local PD here.”
“They dirty?”
“Too early to tell, but I don’t like how the dots are connecting.”
“I’m liking this less and less.”
“And dig up everything you can find on Jessica Atwood. She’s originally from Phoenix. Recently divorced. She and Angela went to college together.”
“Any particular reason why you’re interested in Atwood?”
“She’s in this up to her neck,” Madrid said.
“Hope this is worth it.”
“It will be.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I owe you, Vanderpol.”
“You can bail my ass out of the doghouse when Cutter relegates me to filing reports and answering the phone.”
At that, Jake disconnected, leaving Madrid alone with his thoughts and the patter of rain against the roof.
JESS WOKE with her heart pounding hard against her ribs. She wasn’t sure what had wakened her. The cottage was quiet. Dawn hadn’t yet broken; the single window was still dark. She could hear the wind whipping around the eaves, the low rumble of thunder in the distance, the ping of rain against the roof.
Movement on the other side of the room sent her bolt upright. A scream hovered in her throat for an instant before she realized it was Nicolas. The little boy was at the window, rocking back and forth.
“Mah-mah,” he said. “Mah-mah.”
Sympathy washed over her with such force that for a moment Jess had to blink back tears. He looked so small and alone. He’d lost so much.
The need to hold him, reassure him, sent her from the bed. At his side she knelt and put her arm around his little shoulders. “Hi, sweetie. Are you okay?”
“Mah-mah. Mah-mah.”
She brushed the hair away and kissed his forehead. “What are you doing up at this hour?”
Jess didn’t know much about children, even less about children with special needs. He seemed agitated, but she didn’t know why. She had no idea how to calm him. “It’s going to be okay, kiddo.”
“Mah-mah.”
She tried to gently guide him back to the bed, hoping he would sleep, but he resisted. It was as if he didn’t want to leave the window. “Mah-mah. Mah-mah.”
“It’s okay, sweetie.”
“Mah-mah!”
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
The bedroom door flew open. A yelp escaped her as she spun. Mike Madrid stood silhouetted in the doorway, a tall, menacing figure with a gun.
His eyes flicked from her to Nicolas and back to her. “Get dressed.”
The tone of his voice snapped her out of her momentary stupor. “What is it?” she asked in a low voice.
“We’ve got company.”
For an instant she was too shocked to speak. Then the fear took hold. “Who? How did they—”
“I don’t know.” Crossing to the window, he parted the curtains. “Are you strong enough to run?”
“I think so.” She glanced at Nicolas. “I’m not so sure about him. He seems…upset.”
“I’ll take him.” Madrid turned to her, pulled back the slide on the pistol. “I said get dressed. Now.” He turned back to the window.
Jess grabbed her clothes off the chair next to the bed. She stepped into her jeans, dragged the sweatshirt over her head. She looked wildly around for her shoes, found them near the door and jammed her feet into them.
“Where are we—”
The window shattered. Glass pelted Madrid and tinkled to the floor. Rain and wind whipped the curtains into a frenzy. He reeled back, then dropped to a shooter’s stance and fired off six rapid-fire shots.