Clay held out his hand. “If you’ll give me your key, Brendan and I’ll clear the place.”

  Another waste of time, she was sure, but she reached into her purse and handed her ring to him. Ian pulled up on the street. Clay and Brendan hopped out and took the steps to the front door two at a time. They looked so similar that it wasn’t hard to tell they were brothers. Except Erik. He looked like his sister, Sierra.

  Ian set his laptop on the roof of his vehicle and leaned against the side of the car to make a phone call, giving her time to study him without him noticing her. She’d wondered if he might be intimidated by the Byrd brothers and Reed, but Ian had held his own in the meeting without a hint of nervousness.

  The Nighthawk guys were all former law enforcement officers. Maybe there was some unwritten brotherhood that they felt with Ian. She might’ve been thrown for a loop if she hadn’t known everyone in the room, but honestly, there was only one person throwing her for a loop. The guy who had his ankles casually crossed, his hand clamped on the back of his neck, and his attention pointed at the ground.

  He suddenly stood straight, his hand going for the gun holstered at his hip. The garage door started to rise, and he focused on it. He might’ve appeared casual on his call, but he was hyper-aware of what was going on around him.

  “Looks like we’re cleared to move.” Aiden looked over the seat at her. “We’ll head straight into the garage and close the door behind us. No stopping for anything.”

  They’d shared the arrival procedure at least three times now, but she guessed their protectees often failed to follow directions.

  Brendan remained at the garage, and Clay came out to open her door. Aiden met Clay, and they each stepped into place at her sides. They moved at a quick clip, and she kept up with them on the way to the garage. She heard Ian moving behind them. Computer under his arm, he had to duck to get inside the dimly lit garage before the door closed on him. He didn’t look too happy about that.

  “Okay, we’ll take up our positions outside,” Aiden said. “You need us for anything, you have our number. If the threat level changes, we’ll let you know.”

  “She’ll be fine with me,” Ian said, pulling his shoulders back, the first sign that the Byrds bothered him.

  “You going to start in the garage with the boxes?” Aiden asked.

  Ian shook his head. “We have video from the hotel to review. I’m hoping we’ll see our shooter and can run him through facial recognition to get an ID.”

  “Then let’s get to it.” Malone jogged up the three stairs to the house, and the others followed.

  Aiden took up the rear and locked the door.

  “Your keys.” Clay handed the ring to her.

  “Thanks.” She took the keys, and the brothers stepped out the front door.

  “Lock up,” Aiden warned as he pulled it closed.

  She let out a long breath and turned the deadbolt with a solid click. “They’re a little bit intense.”

  “Little bit.” Ian rolled his eyes. “But in their line of work, they have to be.”

  She remained standing by the door. “I just wish they didn’t think I needed their services. It seems like such a waste of their time and resources.”

  “Then why did you agree?”

  “For Reed’s sake.”

  “The two of you seem close.”

  “Very,” she said. “We weren’t before our parents died, but things changed when we were the only family we had left.”

  He met her gaze. “I’m always shocked by how life can change in the blink of an eye. Just like the rug is pulled out from under you, and you’re helpless to stop it.”

  They were getting off track, but she couldn’t help her curiosity. “Sounds like you speak from experience.”

  “Not from my own experience. More from seeing it happen on the job.”

  Nicely deflected. “Are you close to your family?”

  He lifted his computer. “We should get started on the video.”

  He didn’t want to talk about himself. Message received. She led the way to the kitchen.

  He set his computer on the island. “I feel bad that my parents are alive, and I don’t see them when you would likely give anything to have yours back.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I would.” She took a seat at the counter.

  He settled on the stool next to her, and she caught a whiff of his scent. The leather in his jacket mixed with some spicy cologne or shampoo. It was a manly smell that she liked, and she had to fight a strong urge to inch closer while he slid the laptop between them.

  “FYI, I got a call from the computer lab when I got here,” he said, his focus on his computer as he opened it. “They started on Junior’s laptop, but it’s encrypted, so it will take longer. If they can even crack it.”

  “Only one reason to encrypt a computer. You have highly confidential information you don’t want others to see.”

  “And in my experience, it’s often illegal information.” He opened a file on his computer, his long fingers flying over the keyboard. “I had a tech review the files overnight, and he isolated the video to all males arriving and exiting the building. Take a good look at each guy and let me know if any of them fit the shooter’s description.” He started a video playing.

  She studied each man as they moved, and mentally dressed them in the shooter’s clothing, but none of them moved right. The video came to an end.

  She leaned away from him. “The shooter had kind of a swagger. None of these guys did. I suppose it was too good to be true to think the shooter waltzed in the front door big and bold for us to see.”

  “We have video on the other entrances and the front desk too. And he could’ve come early and hid out, so if he’s not in any of these clips, I’ll have Tech go through the earlier ones.”

  He started the new file playing, and the screen filled with the side entrance by the ballroom, the entrance she’d used when she’d arrived. Oh, how naïve it had been to worry about seeing old classmates. If she’d only known. Never in a million years would she have thought the night would come to an abrupt end due to a murder, one she was being framed for.

  Not if she could help it.

  She counted the men this time as they passed before her eyes. By the end of the recording, they’d looked at twenty-seven guys, none remotely right for the man who’d terrified her.

  “Next,” she said, not taking her focus from the screen.

  “This is the last door that was open that night. The others were accessible only with a keycard. He could have booked a room to change clothes and leave much later.”

  “I didn’t think of that,” Malone said.

  “I’m working on that premise with Londyn,” he said. “She’s working on comparing the registered guests to the reunion list and arranging interviews with all the males. She’s asking them to voluntarily allow her to take their photos. Anyone who says no will automatically be placed on a prime suspect list. We hope you’ll look at the photos when they’re available.”

  “Of course.”

  He started the video, and she watched to the end. “Sorry. No.”

  They reviewed the front desk files too, but none of the men were right.

  Ian got out his phone. “Let me text our tech staff to keep compiling the earlier videos.”

  She watched him tap the keys, his concentration pinned fully on the phone. They were done in the house and would head out to her garage and open up boxes. Somehow, she felt as if they would be opening Pandora’s box and more trouble would come tumbling out. If not trouble, old memories to stir her emotions and deepen her pain.

  Joy too, though, from flipping through old photo albums of her parents. She’d taken one special family photo into foster care with her and had clutched that frame to her heart whenever her parents came to mind. She burned the photo into her mind in case she lost it. And as she got older, memories of how her parents looked had faded, and the photo gave her a way to remember what they looked like.

  Just thinking about it brought tears that clouded her vision. She hid her eyes from Ian and rubbed them away.

  Ian stood. “Ready to go to the garage?”

  She slid off the stool and led the way. She could do this. She hadn’t felt up to it before. Why, she didn’t know, but she’d put it off for years. Now she had a purpose, and whatever she found, even if it hurt her heart, could bring her and Ian closer to discovering the truth about her parents’ deaths.

  She pulled her shoulders back and went straight to the first stack of boxes.

  Ian pulled a Leatherman from his pocket and sliced open the top one. She glanced in to see games and toys. She lifted out the game called Peanut Panic. The board held a motorized cart that went around tracks and scooped up peanuts.

  Her heart melted. “This was one of my favorite games.”

  Ian took out the box. “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “The executor couldn’t store everything I wanted to keep, but I couldn’t part with this game.” She frowned. “I wanted to take it with me to foster care, but they told us that possessions often got lost or stolen. I didn’t want to lose it. As it turns out, I’m glad I left it behind. Very little of what I took with me remains.” Except that picture. That she made sure of.

  “Were your things lost or stolen?” he asked.

  “Both. When we were moving from one home to the next, we were allowed to store our items with social services. One time they lost most of it. Some of the things were stolen in our second house.”

  He locked gazes with her. “You had a bad experience in care?”

  “Just part of the time,” she replied, trying to remember only the good. “Our third home was great, and we stayed with those parents until we went off to college on full scholarships.”

  He set the game aside and took out other items that belonged to Reed. “You said your dad was an attorney. Is that why you became one?”

  She shook her head. “I wanted to help put people behind bars who hurt kids. And people like Junior. Even though I’ve gotten over what he did to me, it left me feeling vulnerable. And I didn’t have anyone to turn to. That’s why I became a prosecutor.”

  “But you left the DA’s office.”

  “You know how often offenders get away with their crimes. That wore on me. Big time. So I thought I would approach it from the other side and help the victims.”

  “Is that better for you?”

  She sighed. “So much better. I finally feel like I’m making a difference.”

  He closed the box and shifted it to the floor. “I feel the same way in my job, but unfortunately, I only help people after they’re gone.”

  She rested her hand on his arm. “These victims and their families need someone to stand up for them too.”

  “I know. It’s just…it gets… Sometimes, it’s hard to take. Other times, like with Junior, I know I’m doing the right thing, but part of me thinks he must’ve brought this on himself.” Ian ripped the tape off the next box with force. “Still, even people like Junior often have a history growing up that explains their actions. They’re still responsible for their actions, but they didn’t have the right guidance growing up.”

  “You think that’s Junior’s reason for being the way he was?”

  Ian cocked his head. “Only time will tell, but honestly, once I saw his true colors the day he tried to assault you, I didn’t bother trying to figure him out. Just did my best to intervene if I ever saw him try to hurt anyone else. Of course, I kept an eye out for you too.”

  And there it was. The reason she shouldn’t be alone with Ian. They had a history. A thing. A connection. One that went back to days of loving from afar, but she’d always felt it was deeper, and yet, not fully formed. She wanted to finish forming it. Because being with him felt easy. Right. And he seemed to feel the same thing.

  6

  Despite the reason, Ian liked the time he was spending with Malone. He felt like he was having a conversation that was long overdue. One where they got to know each other better. He’d always thought he would like what he learned about her, and he was right. He only hoped she was thinking the same thing about him. Not that it mattered. They were not only being drawn together, but they were both pushing away too. Still avoiding.

  She lifted a box flap, revealing photo albums. “Not sure your theory holds weight all the time.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your parents liked to have wild parties. Did you have the right guidance?”

  “Not exactly,” he said.

  “And look how you turned out.”

  Right. He thought her earlier silence had meant she wanted to drop the conversation, but she wanted to continue, and he’d go with it.

  “Thanks to my youth pastor.” Memories of the leader Ian still kept in touch with made him smile. “I didn’t even believe in God. Andrew didn’t care. I was twelve, and he was doing a service project at school. Somehow, he roped me into helping. I discovered how good it felt to help others, to not take and take and take like my parents taught me to do. So I kept going back. Learning more and more. Filling up a hole in myself that I think my parents were—are—futilely searching to fill. God became a big part of my life back then. Still is.”

  She looked up. “I don’t remember you going to church when we were in high school.”

  “I did. Just not around here.” He paused to decide if he wanted to share the reason. After all, he’d never told anyone, but a burning desire to tell her took over his wish for privacy. “I had this thing about not letting anyone see the real me at school. Not sure why. Maybe it was because we moved a lot when I was a kid. Guess it was easier to let people believe I was like my parents than to get close to someone only to have my family move again. So I attended church in McMinnville.”

  She shook her head, a tight smile on her face.

  “What?” he asked, even more curious now about what she was thinking.

  “The games we play growing up. It’s crazy.”

  “And what games did you play?”

  She picked at the corner of the box flap, and he thought for a moment she might not share.

  “I worked hard to be invisible,” she finally said. “To follow the rules and not get in trouble. I’d witnessed bad foster homes, and I knew Reed and I were very blessed to be in the last home. I couldn’t give my foster parents a reason to not want me. Or a reason to separate me and Reed.”

  He looked at her long and hard and saw beneath the hard shell she wore to the little girl who was still afraid to be rejected and removed from her brother. It took everything Ian had in him not to circle the box and take her into his arms. To promise to be by her side and protect her for the rest of her life.

  The thought scared him to his depths. He’d never, not once, had that desire. Sure, he served and protected on the job, but the deep emotion flooding his brain and heart was different. It was almost visceral. And he was the wrong guy to be having such feelings. If he’d learned anything about himself over the years, he’d learned that he wasn’t cut out to have a deep I do forever kind of relationship.

  He nodded at the box. “I’ll carry this into the house. That way we can sit down and go through the pictures once we’re done reviewing all the other boxes.”

  “Great.” But the pain of his abrupt change of subject cloaked her tone with a heaviness that hurt his heart even more.

  She’d shared her greatest fear, and he pretty much ignored it, preparing to run out of the room. He wanted to ask for a do-over, but no good would come of that. None. He snatched up the heavy box and climbed the stairs. He put the albums in the living room and headed for the kitchen to get a couple bottles of water.

  Back in the garage, he handed one to her. “Thought you might be thirsty.”

  “Ever the gentleman.”

  “Hey, now.” He worked hard to conjure up a smile and take on a light tone. “Don’t go ruining the tough-guy rep I worked hard to develop.”

  She laughed, but it was halfhearted.

  He set down his bottle and turned to another box, telling her he was done talking in a not-so-subtle way. He only had to step away for a minute to put aside the discussion he’d always wanted to have with her and focus on the work.

  He dug into the box, finding a large jewelry box, a few scarves, women’s sweaters, and a handful of books. He heard her searching another box, and he picked through the jewelry box, then flipped through the books to be sure they didn’t contain anything unusual. All he located was a torn bookmark with Malone’s school picture on it. He could easily imagine her as a child, sitting on her mother’s lap and listening to a story. Wasn’t hard to then picture Malone as a mother, lavishing on her child all the love she’d missed out on from her birth parents. But he didn’t even know if she wanted children. Or wanted to get married. No way he would ask and take them back to the personal realm.

  Her phone rang, and she looked at it. “It’s Sierra.” Malone tapped her speaker button. “I’m with Ian, so I put you on speaker.”

  “It’s about the ballroom,” Sierra said. “I found the GSR that you mentioned. The only other evidence I located were boot prints. They contained bark mulch and dust that carried in on the treads of your shooter’s shoe. Or, at least, I’m assuming it’s your shooter. Find his boots and we can compare with the prints I lifted.”

  “Great work,” Malone said.

  Ian had to agree. The criminalists didn’t have boot prints on the evidence list.

  “Mulches are unique,” Sierra added. “We can compare to any mulch if we locate his home.”

  “Couldn’t he have just cut across a mulched area at the hotel?” Ian asked.

  “He could have,” Sierra said, and Ian heard a baby crying in the background. “But I’ve already done a comparison to the hotel’s mulch, and it’s not a match. Let me know if you locate a suspect’s boots, and I’ll do the comparison.”

  “Thanks, Sierra,” Malone said.

  “As you can hear, someone’s hungry.” Sierra chuckled. “I gotta go. Call me if you need my help with anything else.”