“I don’t know. Andrews began reviewing his records this afternoon. He was in deep financial trouble, and he has a wife and two kids. I wish I knew the Shark’s end game.”
“How could Vincent know I would be the one to track him in the woods?” Riley asked.
“My guess was that it was a calculated risk.”
The Shark’s web never seemed to end. “I started reading the files you gave me, and I’ll finish them this evening.”
“Do you ever rest or drop your guard?”
“Rest?” Riley asked. “Now and then. Dropping the guard? Almost never.”
They walked in silence for several minutes, and when they got close to the woods, she let Cooper off his leash so he could run.
“Would you like coffee?” Riley asked.
“That would be great.”
When the dog returned, they moved inside and she unholstered her gun, placing it in a closet lockbox, then unstrapped her belt and hung it on a peg.
As they passed into the kitchen, she flipped on the lights. The kitchen table was scattered with the files she’d been reading last night.
As he leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed, watching her, she set a coffeepot to brew. “Did you have any trouble on the road today?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Good.”
She pulled the file of the first victim again and reread it. “Angie was seventeen years old, and she had been on her own since age fifteen. She worked in some of the casinos backstage as a grip for their stage shows, likely with a fake ID,” Riley said.
“If she worked in the casinos, it makes sense she’d have caught the Shark’s attention.”
She tapped her finger on the papers. “That’s not what bothered me. It was the fact that she worked with the stage crew.”
“Why would that bother you?”
“Remember the T-shirt she was wearing? It’s for a band called BANG.”
His eyes narrowed a fraction. “Andrews researched the band. They were handled by Byline Entertainment,” Bowman said. “He said they broke up five years ago.”
“Byline,” she said. “That’s the company leasing Hudson’s field.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Could it be that simple?”
He stepped closer and glanced down at the picture of the first victim. “Shield had an informant while he was working the cases in New Orleans. She was a casino dealer and a part-time singer. She was the one who first told Shield about the Shark and his possible connection to the dead girls. She was strangled to death shortly after she talked to Shield.”
“This guy has eyes and ears everywhere.”
Bowman pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number. “Andrews, this is Bowman. Check on a company called Byline Entertainment and cross-check their concert schedules with local murders that match the Shark’s MO. Great. Thanks.” He ended the call, carefully tucking his phone back into his pocket.
Riley moved to the cabinets and removed two mugs. She could feel his gaze on her, and simply the idea of him looking at her made her heart beat faster.
“He’s not going to touch you,” Bowman said. There was such confidence in his voice.
She faced him. “You sound sure of yourself. He’s eluded you and Shield for twelve years. Why would now be any different?”
“He’s moving very quickly. He’s killed two girls, Lewis, and I’d bet my life he is behind Lenny’s suicide. When a killer accelerates like this, the tendency is to get sloppy. I will catch him.”
She poured two cups of coffee and pulled a carton of half-and-half from the refrigerator. “Duke says I can make coffee taste like ice cream.”
“Black is fine.”
“Have you eaten? I’ve a frozen pizza. You’re always feeding me. Least I can do is toss a pizza in the oven for you.”
He stood close, his energy radiating with such power her skin tingled. “Thanks. But I already ate.”
“Probably best for us both. Hanna loves my frozen pizzas—but her standards aren’t super high.” She handed him his coffee and filled Cooper’s water and food bowls. As the dog crunched on his dinner, she faced Bowman.
He stood at the kitchen threshold, leaning against the doorjamb with a casualness that belied the intensity of his gaze. “You said Hanna is at a triathlon meet?”
“Yeah. She’s on a local team. The coach is great. She’s taken the kids to some high-level meets.”
“What’s Hanna’s best event?”
“Swimming. Considering she only learned how to swim three years ago, she’s amazing.”
“Is she getting any kind of scholarship money?”
“That’s the hope.”
A half smile tugged his lips. “Have her look at Virginia Military Institute.”
“Your school, right?” When he nodded, she shook her head. “Wouldn’t work. She hates authority more than I do.”
“Where’d you go to college?”
“I did community college nights and weekends, worked it around a handful of jobs, and then commuted to George Mason in Fairfax for the final two years. After that I went to the academy.”
She sipped her coffee. “So, how long were you married?”
He met her gaze as if she’d touched a nerve.
“You fiddle with your ring finger as if you expect there to be a ring.”
He looked at his hand, shaking his head. “Karen and I were married for seven years. She died of pancreatic cancer five years ago. About six months before you and I met at Quantico.”
They’d been together at Quantico, but they’d never really had a conversation about anything other than work, and when alone, they got naked so fast words only got in the way. “I’m sorry,” she said.
He raised his coffee to his lips. “So am I.”
She quickly chased away an awkward silence, saying, “You were one of the best instructors at Quantico and you do a good job of keeping up with me.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“It is.”
Riley braced her hands behind her on the counter. Less than six feet separated them, but there was a pull. She wanted to touch him. Kiss him. Last time she’d gotten in too deep with him. This time could be different. This time she could enjoy him and find a way to walk back to her life with her heart intact. She was older. Wiser.
She moved to a chair and sat, taking time to unlace her boots. “You finally get those boxes unpacked in your office?”
“Not yet.”
She pulled off the first boot and went to work on the second. “You haven’t committed to the job yet, have you?”
He shook his head. “No, I’m in it for the long haul, but it’ll take some time getting used to not living like a nomad.”
She bet the corner office had a paycheck to match. “It looks like a sweet gig.”
“It’ll be different. I’m looking forward to settling down.”
She yanked off the second boot. “You’ll adapt. I have faith.”
“Thanks.”