She swallowed. “I feel like there’s something else I saw, but it’s not registering. I’ll keep thinking.”

  He nodded as he chewed.

  “I kept wondering last night if the guy came to the hotel to shoot Junior or if it was a spur-of-the-moment thing,” she said. “Like maybe he went to the reunion, and Junior said something to him like he did to me. I concluded he most likely came to shoot him, or he wouldn’t have a ski mask with him, unless he had gear for skiing in his car.”

  Ian set down his taco. “Would you be willing to look at footage from the hotel video? To see if you can ID him by his clothing when he arrives?”

  “Sure.”

  “I have my laptop in the car, and we could review the files when we finish here if it’s okay with you.”

  “Reed’s likely getting mad at me for not showing up. Any minute now, he’ll send a search party. He’s asked the Veritas and Nighthawk Security team to meet with me to develop a plan to find this guy.”

  Ian leaned back. “What if we went over to Veritas and then came back to review the files over leftovers?”

  “Smooth way to insert yourself into our meeting.”

  “I didn’t think you’d notice.” The right side of his full mouth quirked up.

  You keep smiling like that at me, and I won’t notice anything else ever again.

  Still, she couldn’t think of a reason to keep Ian away. After all, she’d often heard it said to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Right now, she didn’t know where Ian fit in the picture, but she did know she liked having him close.

  5

  If Ian were prone to nerves, the Veritas conference room filled with the five muscled Byrd brothers and the Veritas partners would make him flex his confidence muscles. But being in law enforcement, Ian was used to testosterone-filled rooms, and he relaxed in his chair while Malone updated the team, who didn’t at all seem upset to be there on a weekend.

  As she described Junior lying on the carpet, Ian’s mind wandered to the autopsy and his pastor’s message that he’d caught after leaving the morgue. He’d spoken on Hebrews 6:10. God is not unjust; He will not forget your work and the love you have shown Him as you have helped His people and continue to help them.

  It was one of Ian’s favorite verses, one he used as his work mantra. He was helping people. Sure, he worked for murder victims, but his job was to be their advocate and to aid the grieving people they left behind. Thinking of his job as being God’s hands on earth helped Ian stay optimistic in a job that could easily make a person jaded. He’d really needed to hear the message after the autopsy.

  And in moments when he was the recipient of angry glares from people surrounding him because he’d arrested their friend, remembering why he did his job was important. Those stares were nothing compared to the ones he sometimes got from mourning families when they didn’t think he was working fast enough to find justice for their loved one.

  Sierra Rice, Reed’s wife and the Veritas Center’s trace evidence expert, eyed him as she flicked straight blond hair over her shoulder. “Is the ballroom still sealed, or can I get in there to nose around?”

  All eyes landed on Ian, and he sat forward. “Our forensic team has one last thing they want to do. When they finish, we’ll turn it over to the hotel manager. Should happen today.”

  “Can you let me know before you release it?” Sierra asked. “I’d like to work the scene, but I want to get in there before it’s contaminated.”

  He nodded. “Though you should know the manager is jonesing to get it cleaned for an event he has booked tonight.”

  “Good to know. Thanks.” She slid her business card across the table to him then looked at the others. “Which means we’ll have to make it worth his while to let me have a few hours with the space.”

  “We can handle that.” Maya Lane, the business founder, turned to Malone. “Don’t worry about costs. You’re family, and we take care of family.”

  Ian liked the strength of the woman’s convictions. He’d heard plenty of stories about how gifted these scientists were, but he hadn’t known how much the team was a tight-knit community. What he wouldn’t give to have grown up with a family like that instead of his shallow one, where it was all about the next greatest and popular thing.

  He’d once thought getting married and having his own kids would give him the family he craved, believing he could create whatever he wanted, but what made him think he knew anything about being a parent? The only example was the dysfunctional pair who’d raised him. More like nannies who raised him. He’d rarely seen a solid marriage firsthand other than a few times when he’d been invited—along with other coworkers—to barbecues that Londyn’s parents held for their business. Her mom and dad and her aunt and uncle, who’d founded Steele Guardians, at least acted like great parents on the surface.

  The team investigator, Blake Jenkins, strode to the whiteboard and grabbed a marker. “So all we have is a shooter wearing pricey black attire and boots.” He jotted the information on the board before spinning to look at Ian. “What can you tell us about the gun?”

  “Springfield Armory XDS.”

  “Kind of a small carry for such a big guy,” Grady Houston, the team weapon’s expert said.

  “Not the sort of weapon I’d choose if I planned to take someone out,” Ian said. “But it’s heavier than many small guns, and most shooters almost always shoot heavier guns better and more comfortably.”

  Grady gave Ian a look of respect. “You know your weapons. Or at least this one.”

  “I’m a fan and like to carry the best weapon for the job.” Ian didn’t add that he was more than a fan of weapons, that he qualified in his department with weapons and scopes most detectives wouldn’t likely use, including a night-vision scope. Not the sort of thing needed often in a city setting, but one day he knew it could come in handy. Besides, it was crazy cool.

  He continued to look at Grady. “I have to admit I had to do a bit of research on this one.” Ian gave a tight smile. “It fits well in pants pockets and wouldn’t be noticeable at the reunion if he’d been a guest. That, along with the weight, is why I think the guy chose it.”

  “Makes sense to me.” Grady leaned back.

  “He only had two bullets in the magazine,” Ian added.

  “That explains how he knew Malone wouldn’t shoot him, and he wasn’t expecting return fire,” Grady said. “Or he had another piece with him.”

  Reed aimed a narrowed gaze at his sister. “I wonder if handing that gun to you and walking away was his plan all along or if he just took advantage of the situation.”

  Malone’s shoulder stiffened. “But how could he know I’d be with Junior?”

  “How many people who lost their parents would ignore the bait Junior put out there for you?” Reed pinned Malone with the intense stare all law enforcement officers perfected. Ian was proud of her for not wilting under it. “Not likely any.”

  “And do you think the bait was true?” Ian asked. “Do you think your parents’ accident wasn’t an accident?”

  Malone shifted her focus to Ian. “I doubt it.”

  “I agree,” Reed said. “The collision was investigated by the county sheriff’s office, and they concluded our dad had been driving too fast for the conditions and ran off the road into a ravine.”

  “True or not, I’m sure going to look at Junior’s claim.” Malone’s tone held the iron will he’d heard she’d become known for in her job as a prosecutor.

  “Starting where?” Aiden Byrd asked, not at all put off by her intensity.

  “I’m not sure.” Malone frowned.

  “I can try to hunt down the accident report,” Ian said. “But it’ll likely be a paper record, and we’ll need to get an agency to go into their archives to dig it out. Could take time.”

  “Too bad we don’t have their vehicle to look at. But it’s been twenty-seven years. I’m guessing the car was scrapped.”

  “Maybe not.” Reed leaned forward. “It was a vintage ’64 Mustang convertible, just like yours. Someone might’ve bought it.”

  “Parts for vintage cars are always in demand,” Blake said. “We can easily research the VIN number and see if it’s still on the road. Though you should know, VIN numbers weren’t standardized until the eighties. Means we might encounter an issue.”

  “Even if it is in service,” Grady said, “whatever caused the crash would’ve been fixed.”

  He had a good point, but… “If we find the guy who bought it, he might be able to tell us what he found wrong with it when he took possession of it.”

  “What we need is the VIN or plate number,” Blake said.

  Malone perked up. “The executor for our parents’ estate was a friend of our dad’s. He was very thorough, and he kept records and belongings that he thought we might want. I recently moved it all from storage to my garage, and I know there are photo albums in the boxes. Our dad loved to take pictures of his car. I’m sure we could find the plate number there.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if the paperwork doesn’t have the VIN number in it too,” Reed added.

  Ian looked at Malone. “We can search the boxes when we leave here.”

  “I’d love the help.” She smiled, but it was forced.

  Why? Was it the topic of their parents’ death? The thought of spending more time with him? The thought of going through those records?

  Reed cleared his throat. “If I didn’t have an investigation that was threatening to break wide open, I’d be there to help. As it is, I need you to keep me updated on every detail.”

  Malone smiled at her brother, a smile filled with love. “I’ll keep you in the loop.”

  Blake peered at Ian. “Once you have that VIN number, I know you can search NCIC for the information and don’t need our help. I’d still like the information once you locate it.”

  The National Crime Information Center was a database only for law enforcement use, and Blake wouldn’t have access to it. He did have access to consumer sites, but they didn’t provide as much information as Ian could obtain.

  “Give me your email address, and I’ll send it to you,” Ian said.

  Blake flicked a business card down the table and changed his focus to Reed. “Let’s suppose that Junior was right and your parents’ death wasn’t an accident. Any idea who might’ve wanted to kill them?”

  Reed shoved his chair back and came to his feet. “We were just kids. We had no idea our parents might be targeted.” He ran a hand over his head. “Our dad was a corporate attorney. Our mom was a kindergarten teacher. Just your basic, happy family. Until the accident. So, no, I have no idea.”

  Blake swung his gaze to Malone.

  She twisted her hands on the table. “I have no idea either.”

  “It looks like we need to do a deep dive into their lives to see what we can find.” Nick Thorn, the team’s cyber expert, looked eager to get started. “I’ll get moving on that right away.”

  Malone nodded.

  “I can work with him,” Erik Byrd, the only Byrd brother who didn’t have dark hair, peered at Malone. “I handle computer work for our agency.”

  She gave him a tight smile. “Thank you. Both of you. I’m a little uncomfortable digging into our parents’ past, but I know they were good people. We won’t find anything bad.”

  Ian wanted to have the same belief that she had, but she was just a child when her parents died and could be way off-key here.

  “We could also review Junior’s computer to see if he left any details on the accident.” Nick faced Ian. “You’ll have to release it to us, though.”

  Ian knew they’d do a great job, but he couldn’t accommodate them. “That will have to stay in-house with the regional computer lab.”

  Erik nodded. “They’re top-notch. They’ll do a good job.” Erik was a former PPB officer, so he would know about the lab that most agencies used in the area and their skills. “If there’s something incriminating on the hard drive, they’ll find it.”

  Grady leaned forward. “I don’t suppose I could get a look at the murder weapon.”

  Ian shook his head. “That would break the evidence chain. I probably shouldn’t even be here. Conflict of interest and all.”

  Reed planted his hands on his hips and eyed Ian. “Then why are you?”

  Reed was still mad that Ian had arrested Malone. Ian got that. If Ian were Malone’s brother, he’d be upset too, but he wouldn’t question help when it was offered. At least he didn’t think he would.

  “I asked Malone to partner with me on the investigation.” Ian held up his hands before Reed could speak. “And before you say anything, I know it’s unorthodox for law enforcement to partner with a civilian, especially one who’s been arrested for the crime you’re investigating. But in this instance, I think Malone is central to the investigation, and the partnership will produce faster results, which will help find out if this murder is related to your parents so you can both move on from the incident.”

  “Or did you just want access to the Veritas partners’ expertise?” Reed kept his gaze pinned to Ian and waved his hands to encompass the room.

  Ian wanted to tell Reed about Junior assaulting Malone, allowing her brother to see her connection to Junior and to Ian, but on the drive over, Malone had asked him to keep the assault to himself. She believed Reed would feel guilty for not protecting her, and she didn’t want him to have any angst over something he couldn’t change. “I won’t lie and say it’s not appealing to work with all of you, but I honestly think Malone is the key to closing this investigation, and if we’re working together, we’ll resolve it faster.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Reed,” Malone said, a pinched expression on her face. “I agreed to work with Ian. End of story. So let’s move on. In addition to looking into our parents’ backgrounds, we should be researching Junior.”

  “Erik and I can do an online search,” Nick offered.

  “I notified Junior’s parents of his death,” Ian said, “but they were in too much shock to question. I’ll go back to see if they have any idea on who might want him dead.”

  Blake jotted the information on the board. “I’ll be glad to look into any friends.”

  “I also learned at the autopsy that Junior had stage-three pancreatic cancer,” Ian said. “I have no idea if this is a factor or not, but if he really knew that the Rices’ accident wasn’t one, he might’ve wanted to update Malone before it was too late. Detective Steele, Londyn, is looking for Junior’s doctor, and we’ll see if Junior knew he had cancer.”

  Reed dropped back into a chair, and Sierra took his hand. “I don’t get how this guy knew anything about them. He was a kid when they were killed. Makes no sense.”

  “Our deep dive might provide that answer,” Nick said.

  Ian could only hope and pray that was true.

  Blake added the word cancer to the board and tapped it with his marker. “We have a good start. I suggest we reconvene tomorrow morning to review the results.”

  “In the interim”—Reed met and held Malone’s gaze—“You’ll stay with us. You’ll be safe here. When you leave the building, Nighthawk will provide a security detail.”

  “Now, come on.” She snapped her chair forward. “There’s no indication that I’m in danger. If the killer wanted to take me out, he could have done so when he killed Junior.”

  “I’ll be with her most of the time,” Ian said. “I could bunk on her couch.”

  Malone recoiled, and Ian’s heart took a direct hit.

  “No offense.” Aiden Byrd eyed Ian, but his gaze lacked criticism. “Your specialty is finding and bringing in the bad guys. We’re experts at protection, and we’ll do more than bunk on her couch. We’ll do threat assessments for every trip and provide transport in an armored vehicle.”

  Malone blinked a few times. “I don’t think—”

  “Humor me on this one. Please.” Reed ran a jerky hand through his hair and took a deep breath as he stared at his sister.

  “Fine.” She lifted her chin. “But I’m still in charge of where I go and who I see.”

  Aiden gave an easy nod. “We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Unless it’s too dangerous,” Drake Byrd said. “Then we’ll talk, and by talk, I mean veto it.”

  Drake laughed and so did the others, even Malone, though Ian knew that when it came down to deciding where she might go, she would still be in charge, no matter what the Byrd brothers decided. And that thought put fear in Ian’s already bruised heart.

  Malone rode in the back of a Nighthawk Security vehicle as Aiden drove toward her house. Brendan rode shotgun, and Clay sat in the back seat with her. Ian followed in his own vehicle. Overkill for sure.

  She thought the past thirty minutes in the Nighthawk office had been a waste of time as the brothers had done a threat assessment about taking her home, where she would review records and videos with Ian. She doubted anyone was lying in wait to kill her. She’d meant it when she’d told Reed that the shooter could easily have taken her out at the ballroom. But at the pain in her brother’s eyes, she’d known she had to agree to whatever he wanted.

  She hadn’t seen that level of anguish from Reed since their parents died, and she’d flashed back to the days when they’d been too frightened to do anything but huddle together. If only they had a living relative. Just one. They could’ve gone to live with them and not faced the uncertainty of foster care. But both their parents had been only children in long lines of onlys and were born to older parents who’d died.

  She’d never noticed the lack of cousins or aunts and uncles until she and Reed had nowhere to go. She’d never forget the look on the social worker’s face when she realized the pair of them had no one to take them in. A mixture of pity and sadness.

  Malone shook off the memories and breathed deeply until Aiden pulled into her driveway and parked next to her Mustang. She thought briefly of Ian’s comments about safety. When this was all over, she might need to consider his warning.