Yes, the NYPD had made impressive strides over the last several decades to ensure New York was one of the safest large cities in the world, but it still held millions of people within its border. Not all of them were content to skip to work and turn in early for a good night’s sleep.

  An image of the dead drug smugglers rose in his mind, something that had happened regularly for the past thirty-six hours.

  “That’s good, Officer Doyle. It’ll add to the profile of the killer and it’s one more piece of the puzzle.”

  “I’d also agree with the officer’s assessment,” Lorelei added. “The angle of the gunshot is consistent with someone of lower stature. Especially since we found no gun residue on either victim, it wasn’t a situation where one vic turned on the other, then was turned on by a third. Assessment indicates it was the same gun, same general angle.”

  “And what about Officer Doyle’s other hypothesis?”

  “Other?” Lorelei turned to look at Kerrigan. “We hadn’t gotten that far.”

  Arlo nodded, encouraging Kerrigan to continue. “Please, Officer. Give Dr. Mayes your full assessment.”

  Kerrigan reached for a napkin, then set down her half-eaten cruller on top of it on one of Lorelei’s pristine counters. She grabbed a second napkin and wiped her hands as she spoke, all purpose and efficiency.

  “I believe the victim with the neck tattoo was shot second. His wound was consistent with the other one, but the hole is irregular, as if the victim became aware of the perpetrator and moved to fight him off.”

  Lorelei’s attention never wavered as she moved toward a small laptop. She set down her own doughnut—right on top of the surface—but did wipe her hands before tapping on the keys. After reviewing a few files, she stepped back.

  “That’s a strong deduction, Officer. I’d agree with that assessment as well. We’d noted the difference in wounds in the file but hadn’t added that level of insight. It’s a good one. And I’d say it means you’re looking for one cold-blooded son of a bitch. Shots to the back of the head at point-blank range show determination and a certain sort of willingness to quickly end a life.”

  Arlo had already moved into the case with the same assumption—he’d even briefed his captain the day before with a similar description—but the affirmation still sent a shudder down his spine.

  What were they dealing with?

  He never assumed a criminal wasn’t capable of humanity’s worst sins, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a hierarchy to what they dealt with. While there was considerable premeditation in the crimes he and his fellow officers worked, there were a lot of crimes of opportunity as well.

  But this one?

  This one had greed, avarice and a determined willingness to do evil at all costs.

  Shaking off the second shudder, he gestured toward the files still up on the laptop screen. “You get an ID?”

  “We got a hit on one of them. Jordan Bilks, age thirty-four,” Lorelei recited, using the computer’s track pad to scroll through the report. “Spent time upstate and got out on good behavior about fourteen months ago.”

  “I guess good was the operative word there.” Arlo said. “Which one was he?”

  “The first fired on, if we work under Officer Doyle’s theory.”

  “For now, we do.” Arlo didn’t miss the slight creasing of Kerrigan’s lips that she fought back into a straight line.

  “We’ll keep working on the second.”

  “Even with the neck tattoo, there’s no hit in the database?” he asked.

  “No, which was a surprise. I expected we’d get something off that tat,” Lorelei said, working through a few more screens. “But nothing’s popping on the ink.”

  One more mystery for them to puzzle through, Arlo acknowledged. While the bodies had decomposed considerably prior to coming to the surface, there was a harshness to both men that suggested career criminals to him. It was a snap judgment, but one he trusted all the same.

  Yet, no hit on the second vic.

  “You have a sense of age on the second one?”

  “Estimates put him between thirty and thirty-two. His overall health and muscle tone are consistent with that age range, but he was a smoker and that had begun to take a toll. I’d put his initial tobacco use as early as eleven or twelve.”

  Lorelei never ceased to amaze him, the smallest details part of her evaluation and assessment.

  “Looks like Officer Doyle and I have our work cut out for us.”

  “My team does, too.” Lorelei turned her attention away from the computer and picked up her doughnut once more. “I want to run some of the details on their clothes and that tattoo has some specific markings to it. The skull in the lower left corner of it has some meaning.”

  “Gang?” Kerrigan asked.

  “Possibly, or some sort of badge of honor. I want to see if we can match any aspects of it to other known criminals.”

  “It’s appreciated.” Arlo tapped the lid on the box he’d brought in. “Please give the team my best and tell them to enjoy.”

  “Will do.” Lorelei nodded.

  Arlo glanced at Kerrigan once more. “Officer Doyle, let’s go update the captain on what we’ve got.”

  “Of course.”

  She followed him quickly, waiting until they were nearly to the elevators before turning toward him. “I am sorry if it looks like I jumped the gun. I just wanted to see what they had.”

  He stopped short of the elevator bank, turning to face her and the anxious expression that put small crinkles around those dark eyes.

  Pretty eyes, he realized as he stood there. It was an observation that shouldn’t happen with a fellow cop he’d taken on to offer a bit of in-the-field training. But he couldn’t deny the thought, either.

  Vowing to think about it later, he keyed back into her underlying concern. “Are you under the impression I’m upset?”

  “This is your case. And I’m thrilled to be a part of it.”

  “Officer Doyle. Part of police work is having the sheer tenacity to keep at something. I’d hardly discourage anyone from wanting to solve a crime as quickly as possible.”

  “No, I didn’t mean you would. It’s just that—” She broke off, letting out a small sigh. “I just know there’s protocol and earned rank, and I don’t want to give any impression that I don’t appreciate your experience or your seniority.”

  “Tell you what.” He hit the button for the elevator. “You focus on learning what you can and if I have a problem with anything I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “We’re square.” He gestured to the elevator door as it opened. “Now let’s go talk to the captain.”

  * * *

  Kerrigan wasn’t a shy recluse, and she didn’t back down from going after what she wanted. So what was it about Arlo Prescott that had her twisted up?

  The late-afternoon recovery and the wait on the ME’s office had kept their communication to nothing beyond email for the past thirty-six hours. It had been a buffer, she realized now, giving her some space to ratchet down that initial rush of heat when she noticed how attractive he was.

  Moreover, she’d diligently avoided thinking of how he looked at all. She’d worked several dives the day before and had only checked her emails as time permitted between her duties. The opportunity to investigate the case wouldn’t interfere with her work, which was something she’d assured Wyatt of when he’d let her know he’d approved the pairing with Arlo.

  Everything was fine and she had the support of her boss to expand her skills.

  So what was it with all these weird, mixed emotions?

  Maybe because the man’s damned attractive.

  A thought that had slammed into her as he’d strolled into the ME’s space with that box of doughnuts.

  Especially since she’d immediately flashed back to the heat in his gaze when he’d watched her after she’d come out of the Zodiac boat.

  She didn’t need this. A crush on a coworker wasn’t in her best interests. One on the superior who was offering her career growth only doubled down on the bad idea.

  Which meant she had to bury it.

  Crushes were nothing more than flights of fancy, anyway.

  She’d nearly convinced herself of that fact when he followed her into the elevator, the doors closing them into the small space.

  She wasn’t a small woman—her tall frame usually put her at eye level with most men. But with Arlo, she had to look up slightly. She’d have to settle her arms on his shoulders if they kissed.

  Not helpful, she mentally admonished herself. And since the bad-idea train was dangerously close to stopping, she searched for something innocuous to focus on. “You like the doughnuts at Sunset Bakery?”

  “They’re my favorite. Nobody makes a Boston cream like they do.”

  “I haven’t been in Brooklyn very long but I’m partial to Cake Brothers.”

  He shook his head, a grave look covering his face. “The Rosetti boys have nowhere near the light touch Josie and Cora Callahan do.”

  “Come on, you heard Dr. Mayes. That was a delicious and flaky jelly bear claw.”

  He extended a hand as the elevator door opened, keeping the conversation going as they walked to the captain’s office. “You’ve got a lot to learn, Doyle.”

  “Duly noted, sir.”

  She heard the note of sass under her own words and was pleased and more than a little surprised when he turned back to her, a broad grin splitting his face.

  “But I think you’ll do.”

  Chapter 3

  Arlo was still trying to figure out those peculiar moments discussing doughnuts in the elevator fifteen minutes later as he and Kerrigan brought Captain Dwayne Reed up to speed on the case. He hadn’t found his footing yet with her, so the shots of wry humor underlined with just the right bit of cheeky wit felt like a start.

  He was the elder statesman here and he’d taken her on for training. She’d earned it, but he was the lead, all the same.

  Even so, the responsibility for her sat heavier than he’d anticipated.

  Because she was a woman?

  Or because, no matter how hard he wanted to push aside that fact or ignore it, he was aware of her. And, even more to the point, attracted to her.

  Which had made jokes over doughnuts a strange yet comforting way past all of it.

  He’d always been known for his sense of humor. It came easy and often, and he’d always believed that the ability to laugh was a necessity in life. Especially in a job where staring at murdered and burned bodies was all part of a day’s work.

  How refreshing—and unexpected—to find it in Kerrigan.

  Like I have the corner on the market? he wondered to himself, even as he glanced at his trainee, standing straight and tall, respect for their captain stamped in every inch of her body.

  It was novel, Arlo admitted to himself. And a reminder that while he respected his fellow female officers, he had never partnered with one. Where he’d exchanged jokes, often bordering on ribald, with his male colleagues, he would never dream of doing the same with a female officer. Yet, she had a solid streak of good humor all the same, one that didn’t need the gross or the sexual to make her point.

  Humor she had the maturity to keep in check. Here she was now, pivoting quickly to demonstrate proper deference to their captain, the job and all that lay before them in the case.

  Captain Reed asked several questions and each time, Arlo had nodded his head, suggesting Kerrigan provide the response.

  Dwayne focused on Kerrigan. “Your instincts are solid, Officer. And that was excellent work, evaluating the body before ascending to the surface. That couldn’t have been easy.”

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  Dwayne smiled, the deep grooves around his dark brown eyes creasing. “I’ve told Trumball over and over I don’t know how he goes down in that water, day in and day out. But I can’t deny the miracles you all work when you’re down there.”

  “It’s an honor, sir. I love my work.”

  Dwayne’s eyebrows shot up. “And you still want to be partnered with this one?”

  It was the first time Kerrigan gave Arlo more than glancing attention, her focus now fully on him as she responded to their captain. “I’m wholly committed to my work for the harbor team. But I’m also a cop and I’d like to continue the progression of that aspect of my career as well. Working with Detective Prescott is a huge benefit to learning that part of the job.”

  “So noted.”

  “Wyatt cleared it as well,” Arlo added for no other reason than to assure Kerrigan. He well knew their captain missed nothing when it came to his team at the 86th.

  “Trumball already let me know.” And then without a pause, Dwayne was on to the next topic. “You have any sense yet what group this might be associated with?”

  “No.” Arlo shook his head. “I’ve run all the usual suspects and no one’s popping as having a boat with those specs. Or the sheer stupidity to try manning it in waters churned up by an October hurricane.”

  Which, in and of itself, was strange. Boats cost money and effort and had pesky little things like serial numbers on them. Simply torching one—with cargo and men—meant there was someone operating in the harbor with a lot of cash to burn. Literally.

  “Talk to Vice and see if anything’s hit for them. Any new turf wars they’re aware of or anything suspicious,” Dwayne said.

  “Of course. Initial efforts are already underway to run down the boat’s owner. The team at Impound has instructions to send over any noticeable markings or serial numbers as soon as they find them.”

  Dwayne nodded but had already returned his attention to Kerrigan. “You’ve only been at the 86th for a few weeks. How are you finding it?”

  “I’m very happy with the move. Detective Trumball leads a good team.”

  Which explained her earlier comment over doughnuts that she hadn’t been in Brooklyn long, Arlo noted.

  Interesting.

  Ambitious, hardworking cop.

  Most people found comfort in their home precinct, yet she’d put in for a transfer. It wasn’t completely out of the ordinary, but it was another notch in the ambition column. Especially if she felt she wasn’t getting enough opportunities a few years into the job.

  He vowed to ask her later before Dwayne’s words registered. “Thank you for the dedication to seeing this through, Officer. Detective?” Dwayne’s dark gaze was laser-focused on him. “I’d like a few more words, please.”

  “Of course.”

  Kerrigan stepped out and Dwayne waited a beat before speaking. “You think it’s wise to bring in someone who is, essentially, a rookie?”

  Arlo respected Dwayne in every way, aware their captain carried the burden of leadership in a way that only ever reflected positively on his team. He fought the hard fights and protected his people from the more political aspects of the work.

  Which made his question something of a surprise.

  There was no one at the 86th—and Arlo would even go so far as to say the entire NYPD—who wanted to see their team progress and succeed more than Dwayne.

  “You have a problem with my partnering with Officer Doyle?”

  “No problem. But she’s new and all the evidence suggests some dark stuff is going on. Shot and burned bodies?” Dwayne’s mouth firmed into a hard line. “That’s personal and final.”

  “Especially to henchmen who were seemingly loyal.”

  “Exactly,” Reed agreed. “To go out in a storm like that? The payoff might be good but there’s an undertone of loyalty, too. And to be done like that? Cold-blooded shots to the back of the head, execution-style? This one doesn’t sit well, Arlo.”

  It didn’t sit well at all, especially with Dwayne’s perceptive additions.

  “All I’m asking is if you’re sure you want to bring her into this. Her first big case.”

  Arlo considered the calm, collected woman who’d stood on the boat two days ago, helping him roll dead men in the rain. “She pulled up the bodies. Had the wherewithal to assess the gunshots and formulate theories, all while swimming in the morass of a storm and the leftover mess that was a doused and torched boat. She’s earned it, sir.”

  “No doubt about that. But I want you to proceed carefully. Whatever we’re dealing with, it’s not going to be an easy case.”

  “No, it won’t be.”

  “Officer Doyle’s got incredible promise. I never want to see any of my brethren harmed in the line of duty. But the bright, eager ones? The ones with a future?”

  “Yes?”

  “I always worry it’s that brightness that puts them at most risk.”

  The joke was nearly out of his mouth, a glib response that he was one of the brightest and he’d survived, when he caught Dwayne’s serious gaze.

  He was one of the brightest. And he’d proven himself to the 86th, over and over.

  None of it could stop the nightmares that still came like clockwork over his first big case. He’d been bright and eager once, too.

  And it had nearly killed him.

  * * *

  Kerrigan took the captain’s dismissal in stride, but she couldn’t deny the raging case of curiosity at whatever he and Arlo were talking about in his office.

  The captain seemed pleased with her contributions but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. The harbor team was small in size, and he might not want her stretching her time like this, no matter how complimentary he was with her work so far.

  Which was just like her, she admonished herself, and forced calming thoughts through her mind.

  Other people knew how to do their jobs, too. And no matter how determined she was to prove herself, the captain could talk to any member of his team however he wanted. The man’s rank gave him that privilege, but so did reputation. If he hadn’t wanted her working this one, she’d have heard about it by now, not a few days into the case.