Several uniformed staff members stood by a computerized time clock, and a few others were gathering their belongings from bright aqua lockers.

  Ian faced Vandyke. “Do all employees sign in and out here?”

  Vandyke nodded, and Ian looked around for cameras but didn’t see anything. “I’ll need a list of employees on duty tonight and their sign in and out times.”

  Vandyke’s eyes widened. “You can’t think one of my people killed him?”

  “We need to be thorough.”

  “Fine. This way to the ballroom.” Vandyke started across the room. He continued on, and they passed a large commercial kitchen with big stainless steel appliances and prep tables.

  “Door at the end of the hall leads to Ballroom D,” Vandyke said.

  Ian studied the area. “Means if my guy exited this way, he would have had to pass by the kitchen and any employees in the staff area. Maybe someone saw him.”

  “I asked around before, and no one saw a guy wearing a mask.”

  Ian assumed the suspect put on the mask right before entering the room and took if off the moment he stepped into the hallway, so what Vandyke asked or didn’t ask was irrelevant. Ian and the officers that he assigned would be doing the questioning. “I’d like to talk to the kitchen staff to see if they noticed anyone out here.”

  “Sure.” Vandyke took Ian into the bustling kitchen, where the staff were plating up cheesecake slices and drizzling fresh strawberry sauce over the top. The reunion had ended abruptly, and since the only other group booking a ballroom that night was a gathering of Realtors in Ballroom A, he had to assume the dessert was meant for them.

  “Let’s talk to Chef.” Vandyke strode toward a rotund man dressed in a white chef’s coat and hat. His face was flushed, his coat stained with red sauce, and he snapped out orders at top speed.

  “Chef,” Vandyke said. “A word.”

  Vandyke led Chef to a quiet corner and introduced Ian.

  “I hoped one of your staff might have seen the man we are seeking,” Ian said.

  “Hold on.” Chef spun and crossed the room where he let out a high whistle. Suddenly, silence filled the room save the hum from the running refrigerators. “Did anyone see a guy come out of Ballroom D about an hour ago?”

  Chef received shaking heads in response. “Okay, back to work. I want desserts on the table in five.”

  Chef turned to them again.

  “Is this everyone?” Ian asked.

  “My staff, yes, but not the wait staff who are in and out of here too.”

  Ian fished a business card from his pocket and handed it to Chef. “If you remember seeing anything, call me. My team will be back to interview everyone individually.”

  Chef looked like he wanted to groan but nodded instead. “I’ll make sure they’re available.”

  “Thank you for your cooperation.” Ian avoided giving Vandyke a look saying this was the attitude to have when a detective was investigating a murder.

  Chef didn’t wait even a second to cross the room to oversee his workers.

  “He runs a tight ship,” Vandyke said and started for the exit.

  Ian followed him back in the lobby and to his office, where the security file was waiting for them. He gave Vandyke a business card too. “Workers are bound to start talking. If you hear anything, no matter if you think it’s important or not, have them call me.”

  “Will do.” Vandyke creased his eyes. “How long will your team be in the ballroom?”

  “Forensics will finish tonight, but I’ll want the room cordoned off for a bit longer.”

  “I have an engagement party booked for the room tomorrow night.”

  “We should be done by then.”

  “Not to sound unfeeling, but I’ll need time to get the blood cleaned out of the carpet.”

  “You might want to plan to replace it.”

  He opened his mouth to argue but gave a sharp nod instead.

  “Call me if you hear anything.” Ian left the irritating man behind and strode toward Ballroom B, where the reunion had been in full swing not more than two hours before. His classmates having fun and catching up while he looked on. Now, the only people left were the committee members packing up their items in shocked silence.

  He approached Janice King, chair of the committee, who’d sat by him in algebra.

  “Did you catch him?” she asked, a hand clutched to the chest of her revealing black dress. “The guy Malone saw, I mean.”

  Not a surprise that she’d heard what happened. Not with how gossip traveled at a crime scene, and one connected to a class reunion would add fuel to the fire. “I was hoping you could give me the sign-in book for tonight, along with a list of the RSVPs.”

  “Sure, sure.” She thankfully ignored the fact that he’d sidestepped her question and hurried to the welcome table, where she gathered the information Ian needed and handed it to him. “You need anything else, let me know. I’m more than happy to help in any way I can. Junior wasn’t…well, let’s just say he wasn’t the friendliest of guys, but he didn’t deserve to be murdered. And Malone sure shouldn’t be set up for it. She’s like this saint, helping battered women and kids and runaway teens. I know she didn’t get along with Junior, but she would never kill him.”

  “Can you think of anyone in our class who might have wanted to kill Junior?”

  “Want to?” She tapped a red fingernail, which matched her lipstick, on the table. “Sure. Plenty. But do it? Hmm. No. I don’t think so.”

  Ian handed her a business card. “If you think of anyone who might or anything that could help, give me a call.”

  “Is that all?” She smoothed back brassy blond shoulder-length hair that had replaced the mousy brown he remembered from high school. “I mean, is that all of your questions. I thought like on TV you’d have much more to ask me.”

  “Real life investigations rarely happen like you see on TV.” He held up the folder of information. “Thanks again. You’ll get it back after the investigation concludes or after the trial if the information is vital to the case.”

  He tucked the folder under his arm and headed for his truck. On the road, he ran the information he’d collected through his detective filter. He knew Malone, and if he took off his detective hat, he believed her. She wouldn’t kill anyone. Though, he suspected if she ever became homicidal, it would be with Junior.

  Ian flipped on a blinker and turned the corner, memories coming back from one Friday night in high school. He’d recently moved to town and had been invited to a party at one of the football player’s houses. He’d gone on a whim, even though he’d had no intention of trying to fit in with the crowd Chad Williams ran with. Shoot, Ian had no intention of fitting in with any of the crowds at that school. He’d planned to do his time and move on.

  At the party, he’d seen Junior hitting on many of the girls, and they laughed at him. But when he hit on Malone, she’d been kinder. She made it clear that she had no interest in him, but she’d done so in a softer way. Problem was, Junior didn’t take it too well. He got all sullen and brooding and started drinking up a storm. Ian saw the guy escort a very tipsy Malone away from the house.

  They were a few blocks from the high school, and Ian trailed Junior and Malone as they made their way to the school. Junior had taken her out back to the darkened football field and started pawing all over her. She tried to fight and begged him to leave her alone, but she soon became silent and dropped to the ground.

  Ian waited for Junior to back off, but instead, Junior had taken her limp body as his cue to fall on her and take advantage. Ian couldn’t let that happen. He jerked Junior to his feet and pummeled him, telling him that if he ever saw Junior near a girl again, he’d report him to the police.

  Once Ian dispatched Junior, he helped Malone up and took her back to the party and left her in the hands of her older brother, Reed, who escorted her home. Ian figured Reed told her that Ian had brought her home, because that Monday at school she introduced herself and offered her thanks. That was when she formed a crush on him. If he’d had any interest in dating, he might’ve pursued her.

  Even back in school, Malone had a way of looking at him that resonated with him. As if she saw right through the façade he’d created, the one that said he didn’t care. He thought he’d imagined it all those years ago, but, dang if he wasn’t surprised tonight to see that same look.

  And what did he do about it? He put her in jail, and now that he’d put her behind bars, he doubted she’d ever look at him the same way.

  3

  Ian settled in the chair in his supervisor’s small office, surprised he could find a place to sit in the room filled with stacks of case files and boxes holding more, all containing information about an ongoing murder investigation that the department had been working for six months. Lieutenant Zane Hoffman stared at Ian across the desk, searching and appraising, as Detective Londyn Steele came into the room behind Ian. After Ian texted Hoffman about the murder, he’d come in to work.

  “Have a seat, Steele,” Hoffman said.

  Dressed in a black suit and a white button-down blouse, she dropped into the chair beside him and crossed her legs. Ian had always thought she had a strong cop demeanor, including her muscular build and her tough, rugged vibe. Still, she challenged that appearance with feminine blouses and manicured fingernails, often painting them in the pale pink she sported today. A big contradiction that kept people off guard—her intention, he was sure.

  “Now that you’re both here,” Hoffman said, his gaze pinned to Ian, “I’d like you to update me and read Steele in on the reunion murder.”

  Only two reasons Ian’s boss could want this information. He planned to give the investigation to Londyn, or he planned to have her partner with Ian. Either way, Ian didn’t like it. Not when they rarely partnered on investigations. Like Malone had said, he was kind of a loner. But he would have no choice in the matter, so he provided succinct details about what transpired earlier that evening.

  “I notified Junior’s parents,” Ian said, “but neither of them had any thoughts on why someone might want to kill him. The father was stoic, the mother fell apart. Not unusual. But I got the feeling that they weren’t very involved in his life.”

  Hoffman narrowed his eyes. “I was hoping you had more evidence than you do. And a solid motive.”

  “If Malone shot him, it could have to do with what he told her about her parents,” Londyn said.

  Ian shook his head. “He never got a chance to tell her anything other than that their crash wasn’t an accident.”

  “Or so she says.” Londyn raised one eyebrow, giving him a pointed look.

  “Yeah, you’re right. She could be withholding information, but my gut says she was being forthcoming. Initially, when I asked her, she was in shock and not thinking clearly, so I doubt she was trying to blow smoke my way.” At least he prayed she wasn’t.

  “And what’s your gut tell you about the shooting?” Hoffman asked. “Did she do it?”

  “I doubt it, but only the forensic evidence will confirm that,” Ian said.

  “Exactly,” Hoffman said.

  “The supposed shooter took Junior’s phone, so I had it pinged, but no luck,” Ian said. “Shooter must’ve destroyed the phone or he took the battery out.”

  “You knew Malone in high school, right?” Hoffman steepled his fingers.

  “We weren’t friends or anything, but I knew her and her brother, Reed.” Ian left it at that for now. If more was needed later, he would share it.

  “You’re not going to like this,” Hoffman said, “but I just got off the phone with the DA. He’s choosing not to file charges at this point.”

  “He what?” Ian shot up in his chair. He might not think Malone was guilty, but there had been sufficient evidence to arrest and charge her, and the DA was ignoring the department’s recommendation.

  Hoffman held up his hand. “He’s not ruling it out in the future, but he doesn’t think we have enough to hold Rice on.”

  Hoffman leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. “Honestly, I think she has friends in high places who advocated for her release. She’s well-respected in the community. A former federal prosecutor too. Means the investigation will get a lot of press and attention from up top, and we need to make sure we don’t drop the ball. Which is why I’m assigning the pair of you to the case. It’s still your investigation, Blair, but Steele will assist.” He snapped his chair forward and ran his gaze between them. “Any questions?”

  Ian shook his head and glanced at Londyn. She followed suit, her shoulder-length auburn hair swinging over her shoulders.

  “One thing you should know, though,” Ian said. “Her brother doesn’t know about the DA’s decision, and he’s called in Sal Sutherland to represent her. The DA might not charge her, but she’ll remain a suspect and Sutherland will likely tell her not to say a word.”

  Hoffman groaned. “Usually I’d say if a client hires the most expensive defense attorney in the business, you gotta wonder if they’re guilty. Not this case, though. I remember reading he was her mentor when she went into private practice. The hire’s likely more about that.”

  “And we also need to remember that her brother’s an FBI agent,” Londyn said. “My parents are good friends with the Byrd family. The Veritas Center’s forensic expert, Sierra Byrd, is married to Reed. If Malone wants to investigate this on her own, she’ll have unlimited forensic and investigative help.”

  “We can’t stop her,” Hoffman said.

  “Too bad they can’t work with us,” Ian said. “They have top-notch experts at the center.”

  “We don’t have the budget for outside help.” Hoffman clapped his hands and stood. “You’ll want to get over to Junior’s place to check things out. We don’t need a warrant, but I’ll still request one. No way we want bereaved parents or attorneys contesting our search. Should have the warrant to you by the time you arrive. I’ll text you when I do.”

  Law enforcement had every right to access Junior’s items. Fourth Amendment rights gave people privacy protections while alive that didn’t extend past their death, but the public, who was all about people’s rights these days, would look more favorably on the search if the warrant was obtained. And if Ian could prevent grieving parents any additional turmoil, he was all for it.

  “And by the time you finish with the condo,” Hoffman continued. “Rice will have had a few hours in lockup, and interviewing her before we kick her loose might give us one detail that can lead to this mystery man. If he exists.”

  “Understood.” Ian got up and let Londyn file out before him. He didn’t need to tell her that he wasn’t excited to have a fellow detective on the investigation. She would know. They were all used to working alone. Having to read someone in on every development would be a hassle. But even more disconcerting was delegating work that he would want to do himself to be sure it was done right.

  “Hey, I get it,” she said, stopping at the edge of their bullpen of detectives, where only a few guys were working that late on a Friday night. “I know you’re not happy having me tag along for this. I wouldn’t want an assistant either, and I don’t much like being one. But I’ll take directives from you as long as you give an honest listen to my opinions and suggestions.”

  “That I can do.”

  “On the bright side, I have all the time in the world for the job right now, and you can work me to death.”

  “Life change?”

  “Breakup.” Her matter-of-fact tone said the breakup didn’t bother her in the least, but the anguish in her eyes held a different message.

  He didn’t know her well enough to ask for details. “I need you to get the warrant going to retrieve Junior’s phone records. If his phone was taken at the crime scene, there could be something incriminating on it the shooter wanted to either retrieve or hide from us.”

  “You believe Malone’s story, then.”

  “Not sure. Regardless, we need his phone records no matter who has it.”

  “I’ll get on it,” she said.

  He glanced at his watch. “Give me five minutes to change my shirt and freshen up, and we’ll go check out Junior’s condo.”

  “I’ll get that warrant started while I wait.” Londyn spun and went to her desk on the far side of the room filled with chest-high cubicles.

  He headed for his own space near the window. He could see the moon hanging full and illuminating the city bustling with nightlife. He grabbed a clean shirt from his bottom drawer and headed for the restroom, where he washed up and changed into more professional attire.

  He gave himself a long look in the mirror, wondering what Malone thought when she’d laid eyes on him. Interest had shone in her eyes, but she’d controlled it the moment he’d looked at her, and he didn’t know if she’d gotten better at hiding it or if she just plain wasn’t into him anymore. She’d never married. That he knew. But he didn’t know if she was in a serious relationship.

  He hadn’t been kidding when he’d told her he wanted to see if she was as stunning as he’d expected. Although, truth be told, he’d barely missed running into her several times over the years when she’d been in the office to meet with detectives. She’d prosecuted all kinds of bad people, but he didn’t think she’d ever represented anyone for murder, so they’d never butted heads. But now? How she looked or what she thought of him was the last of his worries. He didn’t plan on letting his attraction screw up his investigation.

  He grabbed his dirty shirt and took it to his desk before meeting Londyn at the door.

  “I’ll drive.” He led the way to their secured parking garage down the street, where he’d left his PPB vehicle at end of duty. The temperatures had dropped to the upper forties, and a distinctive fall chill left the air crisp.

  Londyn pulled her suit jacket closed. “Wonder if we’ll get snow this year.”