Emergency Response (5 page)

Darcie set down her teacup and stood. “I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm tired of talking about this. It's my night to cook dinner, and it's time for me to get started.”

“Oh, honey.” Morgan jumped up. “You don't need to cook. We can do it.”

Darcie gave a firm shake of her head, then winced. Noah suspected it was from the bruises he'd seen before she hid them under her sweater. “Making dinner will keep my mind busy.”

With her shoulders back, she turned and marched to the kitchen, looking like the resolute, amazing woman Noah knew her to be. After losing her daughter and then her marriage, she'd clawed her way back to normalcy in her life, but Noah knew it had been a long, hard struggle. He also knew if such a tragedy didn't keep her down, nothing would.

The problem was, in an effort to keep up a strong act or to fight through her fears, she could very well ignore the danger she was in and do something foolish. It was just one of many things that would keep Noah on alert until he apprehended her attacker.

FOUR

A
lone at last in the kitchen, Darcie planted her hands on the granite countertop, her back to the family room. The cool, smooth surface took the sting out of her hands. She needed time to process this day. Time away from everyone else. She couldn't rush up to her condo for fear of waking Isabel, so she'd gone with the first thought that had come into her head—the kitchen.

Unfortunately, it was open to the family room, leaving her in full view. Still, cooking for this many people was a big job and no one on the squad would offer to help when it wasn't their night, so she should have the kitchen all to herself. It was sweet of Morgan to offer to take over, but when Darcie pushed the point, Morgan certainly hadn't insisted.

Fighting down a panic attack, one like the many she'd experienced after Haley died and Tom bailed on her, Darcie set to work on her family's simple shrimp-boil recipe. She dug out a large stockpot and started water flowing. She unearthed several pounds of fresh shrimp, plump sausage and ears of corn from the refrigerator, then found a bag of baby red potatoes in the bin. As she retrieved the spice boiling bags from the pantry, Noah stepped into the room.

He smiled, but she could see he was testing her mood. “What are you making?”

“Shrimp boil—shrimp, corn on the cob, sausage and red potatoes all cooked with seafood spices,” she answered, trying to sound calm and collected so he would think she'd recovered from the attack and go home.

“You probably ate a lot of seafood growing up in Florida.”

“Yes,” she said.

“Do you go back there often?”

“Not really.” The fact that her family had disowned her when she married Tom, who was nothing more than an unemployed biker when they met, had nothing to do with the investigation, so she didn't bring it up.

“Want some help?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

She sighed and met his gaze. “Look, Noah, I don't want you to think I'm not grateful for your help today, but if this is your way of getting me to talk about the incident and how I'm feeling, I'm done with that and ready to move on.”

“I'm that obvious, am I?” He grinned and his dimple, the one that seemed to beg her to poke a finger into it, appeared.

Instead, she turned off the water and started the gas burner beneath the pot.

“I'd hoped to talk to you about reviewing your callout list,” he continued. “I'm sure it's in my email by now and we can sit down to review it together.”

She turned to him. “Tonight?”

“Yes, if you're up to it.”

She had the stamina and the desire to do it tonight, but having Noah in her home made her think about him as a man and not a police detective. She didn't need that distraction right now when her focus should be on helping him find her attacker. “I'm glad to work on the investigation with you at the precinct. We could do it in the morning right after I finish with the sketch artist.”

He watched her for a moment, a cloud darkening his eyes, then he shrugged and seemed to relax.

“So what you're saying is I'm not invited to dinner,” he joked, but she could hear the hurt behind his words.

She looked up at him. “Do you think it's a good idea for you to stay?”

“You mean because you're cooking?” That grin again and the dimple. She could barely resist the dimple.

She sighed.

“Okay, sorry,” he said sincerely. “I'm afraid you're going to have to get used to spending time with me as I'm not leaving you alone until your attacker is caught.”

She crossed her arms. “I won't be alone. I have the team.”

“A team who could be called out at any time of the day or night.”

“I'd go with them on the callout, then.”

“You'd have to stay here to care for Isabel. You really don't want me to leave the two of you alone, do you?”

No. Yes.
“I have a gun.”

He eyed her. “That you're not willing to use.”

Her shoulders went up defensively. “I might have shot him.”

“Maybe,” he said, keeping his probing gaze fixed on her. “When's the last time you went to the range to practice your marksmanship?”

A few months, but she wouldn't tell him that. She shrugged.

He planted his hands on the counter. “Then after we get through the callout list tomorrow, we'll be heading to the range.”

“You don't need—”

“I know I don't need to take you to the range.” He crossed his arms and put on his serious detective expression, which made him look hard and unyielding. Annoyingly, she found it equally as attractive as the cute dimple. “Anyone on the team can take you, or you could go on your own. But since I'm the one who has the problem with not letting you out of my sight until this guy is caught, you'll humor me and let me see how well you can handle a gun.” He held her gaze, issuing her a challenge.

She thought to argue, but she knew he'd stand right there and keep at her until she agreed with him. She liked his tenacity. His strength and determination. Just not when he directed it at her.

“Now, I'm inviting myself to dinner.” He waved a hand over the counter. “What do you need help with?” He jutted out his chin as if challenging her to tell him he wasn't wanted.

She was done fighting him for the night. After the attack, she had no energy left to do battle over something like this. “Do you know how to shuck corn on the cob?”

At the instant brightening of his mood, she regretted her decision to let him stay.

“No, but I'm sure you can teach me.”

She slid the bag of corn across the island. “It's not hard. Cut off both ends and start peeling off the outer husk, then the silk strings. If the silk is stubborn try running it under water.”

She turned her back on him before he asked for additional directions. She went to the sink and started peeling the shrimp. She felt him watching her every move and resisted sighing for about the zillionth time today.

She'd always thought if they argued the spark between them would ignite into something fierce. It had and they were about to spend time together. Maybe a lot of it. Could they do so without the tension mounting every second? If not, she'd be in world of hurt by the time they captured the shooter.

* * *

Noah got up from the dining table and carried his plate to the kitchen. From everyone's reactions, he was sure that dinner had been amazing, but the tender shrimp had felt like sawdust in his mouth, and he'd had to choke it down. His fault. Totally. He'd gotten his feelings hurt. There, he admitted it. How girlie was that? He was supposed to be this tough cop and he'd let Darcie hurt his feelings when she'd made it clear that she wanted him to leave.

So what had he done about it? Invited himself to dinner. Dumb. Really dumb. He could have just sat outside and kept an eye on the house. He didn't need the added pain of being in Darcie's company when he wasn't wanted.

He shook his head, hoping to erase the memory of the tense meal, where her team members kept casting him and Darcie long looks. They knew there were sparks between the two of them. They were law enforcement officers with finely honed observation skills, so how could they not see it? Even Logan, who was new to the group, got it. Krista and Morgan were the only ones who seemed to be in the dark.

He set his plate on the counter next to the pile of dishes everyone ditched before moving to the family room. Darcie insisted on cleaning up, too, saying it was her responsibility and she wasn't going to shirk it.

Noah heard the television news playing in the family room. He should go see what the reporters were saying about the shooting. Instead, he watched Darcie load the dishwasher. Despite the fiasco at dinner and his brain warning him to back off, he couldn't seem to keep his eyes off her.

Look at him. Standing there like a fool after a dinner that nearly made him hurl. If a chance to have dinner here came up in the future, he'd say no, even
if
it was his last meal on earth and eating here was his only choice. He'd take hunger, thank you very much.

His phone rang and he looked at the screen. His lieutenant.

“Lockhart,” he answered and leaned against the island.

“Thought you'd like to know we completed our canvass and forensics finished their sweep.” Emerson's tone was flat, as if he didn't care about the outcome.

“And?” Noah asked, hoping they'd located a lead on their shooter.

“The canvass didn't turn anything up. Several people were either not home or not willing to open their door to us. You know how it goes. They may have seen something, may even know the guy, but they're not going to help.”

Noah wished he didn't know how that went. They'd solve more cases if people spoke up. “It's not surprising for that neighborhood.”

“Exactly. I'll have officers follow up and let you know if they convince anyone to break their silence.”

“And the criminalists? They find any forensic evidence?”

“Yeah, but you're not going to like it.”

“Go ahead.” Noah gritted his teeth.

“They recovered a crumpled piece of paper with Darcie Stevens's name on it. It was located where the shooter vaulted over the fence. Like he was trying to ditch it in case he got caught.”

“Darcie's name's on it?” he repeated like a parrot.

She must have heard him as she pivoted to look at him.

“See for yourself,” Emerson said. “I'll text a photo of it to you right now.”

After drawing Darcie's attention, Noah decided not to ask any additional questions before getting a look at the picture. His phone dinged and he opened the file. The scrap of paper held a handwritten list with the numbers one through three and a name listed behind each number. First place belonged to Leland King, second to Ramon Flores. Bright red slashes ran through each of their names. Darcie's name took the third slot. Slash-free.

A hit list.

FIVE

N
oah was unable to formulate words to continue his conversation with his lieutenant. The more Noah looked at the picture, the more he was sure it was a hit list. And Darcie was the only one left to kill. She'd be dead already if she hadn't gotten free from her attacker.

Acid churned up Noah's throat and he swallowed hard as he lifted the phone to his mouth.

“If there was any question that the attack on Stevens was random,” Emerson continued, “there's no question anymore.”

Noah wanted to slam a fist into the wall. To do anything but stand there emotionless. But he didn't want to tell Darcie about the list until he had a moment to process the news. “Has anyone had a chance to check out the other two names?”

“It just landed on my desk, so no. I thought you'd want first crack at it.”

“You've got that right.” Noah studied the names. “Maybe we're reading too much into this and the list is just a reminder for the dude to call them.”

“Seriously, Lockhart. You take a trip on the Alice in Wonderland express or something? You know as well as I do that the gangsters who live in that neighborhood don't keep notes to remind themselves to call people. It's a hit list, and once you process this lead, you're gonna discover the men on the list are already dead.”

“I know.” Noah wished he could say something to the contrary.

Emerson was silent for a long time. “This personal thing with Stevens that we talked about earlier. Is it getting in the way of your objectivity, Lockhart? 'Cause if it is, I'll pull you from this case so fast your head will spin.”

“No, sir,” Noah replied even though he suspected it already had. “I'm good.”

“See that it stays that way and keep me in the loop on your progress.” Emerson disconnected.

Darcie came over and stood next to him. “What is it?”

He wanted to shield her from the truth, but she had a right to know. He held out his phone.

She stared at the screen, then looked up with narrowed eyes. “What is that?”

“A list found in the forensic sweep of the area where the shooter went over the fence.”

She returned to staring at the screen. “But who are these men?”

“You don't recognize the names?”

“No. So why am I on a list with them and why are they crossed—” Her head shot up. “Oh, no! It's a hit list, isn't it?”

“Likely,” he said reluctantly.

“And these guys are already dead, right?”

“I don't know, but that's what I aim to find out.” He pushed off the counter and shoved the phone into his pocket. “Jake mentioned at dinner that he isn't on call and will be here all night, so I'll head into the office and get started running their names.”

“Wait.” She grabbed his arm. “Can't you do it here? You can use our computer in the office.”

“You want me here?'

“Yes. Please.”

“When it suits you, all of a sudden you want me to stay,” he said before he could stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

A hurt look flashed over her face and she backed up. “I want to know what you find out the minute you find it out. If that means you stay here to work, then that's what I want.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but she held up a hand.

“I know that sounds cold and like I'm using you, but I'll do just about anything to find out why this man is trying to kill me.”

Noah wanted to refuse her. To march out the door and not come back, but he could never say no to those large brown eyes pleading with him, or ignore the concern for her safety that made his gut hurt. “I'll get my laptop from the car.”

He didn't wait for her response, but headed for the front door. Outside, he let the icy wind coming from the north slap him in the face and cool his emotions. Emotions that had risen to the surface again. No surprise. Darcie did that to him.

So what? He was a grown man and could certainly wrangle down some feelings to get the job done. He grabbed his computer and vowed not to let her get to him again.

Back in the house, she escorted him to an office behind the family room and opened a desk drawer to retrieve a paper with the Wi-Fi log-in details.

She handed the paper to him and went to the door. “Make yourself at home. After I finish in the kitchen, I'll be in the family room if you need anything. Will you please come tell me when you've discovered something?”

He set his laptop on the tidy desk. “This could take some time, you know. Are you sure you want me to hang around that long?”

“I said whatever it takes and I mean it. I'll be in the family room when you're ready to talk to me.” She started to leave, then looked back. “One good thing about the list. At least it rules out my ex, right?”

“Would seem to, unless he's suddenly gotten into the business of hiring a hit man to kill people,” Noah joked.

She smiled weakly. “For what it's worth, he and I ended things badly, but he's not a bad man. He's certainly not a killer and I really think looking into him would have been a waste of time.” She took off before Noah could tell her he still had to investigate Tom. Any good detective would start with the people closest to the victim. But tonight, he'd focus on Ramon Flores and Leland King.

He dropped into a leather desk chair and connected to the database to begin searching for the men. His local search didn't take long and he came up empty. Wouldn't stop him. He widened the area. Took him about an hour, but he'd discovered three Leland Kings in three different cities in Oregon, but still no Ramon Flores.

He leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. He had to come up with a game plan to find these guys and do so quickly.

Skyler came to the door and leaned against the jamb. Her expression was clear and guileless, so he didn't think Darcie was trying to avoid him by sending her teammate to check in.

“How's the investigation going?” she asked.

He stretched his arms overhead, working out the kinks in his back from hunching over the computer. “Wish I could report having found something, but nothing much so far.”

A spark that Noah recognized from his years as a detective lit Skyler's eyes. County couldn't afford a fulltime FRS, meaning each team member performed other duties for the county when they weren't on a callout. Skyler's secondary assignment was as a Special Investigations Unit detective.

“Mind sharing what you've got?” she asked, that gleam growing.

“I'd be glad to have another opinion.” He motioned to a chair on the other side of the desk. “I suppose Darcie told you about the note we found on the scene.”

“No, she didn't mention it.” Skyler dropped into the chair. “I love Darcie to death, but she's not one to share. Prying into and fixing other people's lives, on the other hand, are things that she's a master at.”

“Then maybe I should wait until she tells you.”

“It would be better for Darcie if I don't have to question her about this.” Skyler settled back in the chair, proving she wasn't going anywhere.

She was right. He could spare Darcie from having to talk about the hit list. He gave Skyler a quick recap and asked her to keep it between them. “I've been running both names through the databases. I've located three men named Leland King in Oregon, none in the Portland area. And nothing on Flores.”

“If this is a gang thing, Flores could be an illegal.”

“Meaning I won't find anything in here.” He jabbed a thumb at his computer. “I was already planning to call the metro-gang task force in the morning. I'll just add this to the conversation.”

“I'm off tomorrow. I could run down the three Kings.”

“Run down the kings? Good one.” He chuckled.

She arched a questioning brow.

“Don't you see it?” he asked, still smiling. “The three kings with their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. You running them down.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Okay,” he said, letting the humor go. “I'd be glad for your help.”

She stood. “I'll get back to you the minute I find anything.”

“One more thing,” Noah said. “I know over dinner we nearly exhausted every possibility of who might want to kill Darcie, but you're the person closest to her. Do you think the ex-husband could be involved in this?”

Skyler shrugged. “I know as much about Tom as you do. But with the hit list, Tom seems like a long shot to me.” She paused and tapped a finger on her chin. “Still, you can't rule anything out at this point.”

“No, I can't.” And Darcie needed to know that.

Noah came to his feet, dreading the look on Darcie's face when he told her about his lack of success in here, and that striking out meant they'd still be reviewing the callout list together in the morning. That he'd follow up on Tom, too.

She wasn't going to like his news, but she'd said she'd do whatever it took to figure out why the shooter had come after her.

A strong statement. Too strong?

Maybe. He hoped by the time they sorted out this investigation and learned the shooter's identity, she wouldn't regret her words.

* * *

The morning air was crisp and cold, so Darcie slipped her jacket over an old turtleneck she'd paired with jeans, then stepped to the door of her condo. She grabbed the knob, groaned, then turned back. She caught Pilar watching her intently from the sofa. She'd been discharged first thing that morning, and Archer, who was off for a few days, had been kind enough to pick her up. Or maybe
kind
wasn't the right word. Archer was a kind guy, but he was more motivated by the idea of not letting Darcie leave the safety of the firehouse to get Pilar when he could do so for her.

“Did you forget something?” Pilar asked.

Darcie glanced at Isabel to see if she was listening, but her nose was in a book and she didn't even look up. Darcie shrugged out of her coat. “I decided to change clothes.”

Pilar wrinkled her nose. “This is a good thing, I think. You look like you have run out of clean laundry and are on your way to wash your good clothing. Not at all like you are going to meet Detective Noah at his work.”

Darcie felt warmth rush up her face. “Why didn't you say something at breakfast?”

“I thought you were going to change, but then you put on your jacket before I could mention it.”

“Oh,” Darcie said, feeling like a girl receiving advice from her mother. Not that Darcie had any experience with the sweet motherly tone coming from Pilar. Darcie's mother had never dispensed gentle advice. She'd just snapped out her commands and expected unconditional compliance.

“I'll just change.” Darcie went to her room and selected a sweater and khaki pants that she'd tried on then promptly shed an hour ago. One of three different outfits lying on her bed that she'd considered after she'd told herself not to primp for her meeting with Noah. She'd finally gotten disgusted with herself for thinking so much about her clothing and decided to wear something that would make her look horrible. If Pilar's comment meant anything, Darcie had succeeded.

She took a quick look in the mirror. The neck of the sweater left the bruises that had darkened overnight visible. At the front door, she grabbed a scarf and gently knotted it over the purple and greenish blotches.

Pilar looked up. “Are you ever going to tell me about those bruises?”

Darcie pointed at Isabel. “Maybe when we're alone.”

Pilar nodded, but Darcie knew the woman could see right through her. If Darcie had a living grandmother, she would want her to be as wonderful and plainspoken as Pilar. At least, most of the time.

Darcie slipped into her coat. “I don't know how long I'll be. There's plenty of food in the kitchen, and remember it's fine for Isabel to play in the game room. Archer will be here all day watching out for the two of you.”

“He is a bit reserved, but I can tell he is a good man, is he not?”

Darcie liked Archer, but she found him the hardest teammate to get to know. She'd been on the team since its inception six years ago and Archer had been with them for three years. Still, Darcie didn't feel she knew him well. One reason was because of the trust fund from his family that ensured he'd never have to work another day in his life. Not that he lived off it or acted all snooty, but he was always wary of people, especially women, liking him for his money.

“Did I say something wrong?” Pilar asked.

Darcie realized she was frowning and forced out a smile. “It's not you and you're right. Archer is definitely one of the good guys.”

Pilar struggled to her feet. She had arthritis in her knees, and she took her time crossing the room. She only came up to Darcie's chest and had to bend back to make eye contact.

“You are one of the good ones, too, Darcie. You are sent from God.” She threw her pudgy arms around Darcie and hugged her hard. She smelled like the egg
chilaquiles
and strong coffee she'd prepared for breakfast. She stepped back. “And I know when the time is right, you will tell me about the bruises. I will not mention it again.” She mimicked running a zipper over her lips.

Despite Pilar's insistence on prying when Darcie didn't want to share, she smiled fondly down on Pilar and squeezed her hand before leaving the condo. At the landing, she found Jake leaning against the wall, his phone in hand. Though Noah had wanted to pick her up, she'd asked Jake to give her a ride to Portland's central precinct to keep from spending any extra time alone with Noah.

Jake looked up. “Wondered if you were coming.”

“Sorry, I was talking to Pilar.” The truth, technically. No reason to mention how many times she'd changed clothes, like a teenage girl getting ready for a date.

They headed down the stairs at the same time as Archer stepped into the entryway. He glanced at his watch. “You should get going or you'll be late.”