Pulling the Trigger. Julie Miller
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old friend of mine, Joanna Kuch—” She caught the mistake. “Joanna Rhodes. She’ll be working with us for a few days.”
Extending her hand in a professional greeting, Joanna completed the introductions herself. She’d done her homework. “Agent Dylan Acevedo. Supervisor Ortiz told me you’d transferred here because you were friends with the deceased, Agent Grainger.”
“Julie and I went through the academy together—along with Tom Ryan and Ben Parrish. We’ve all been working the case.” Dylan—the one with the scar—shook her hand, nodding toward the badge at her waist. “You’re FBI?”
“I’m with the D.C. office. Profiling and interrogation specialist. I’m here to interview Sherman Watts.”
Dylan’s twin shook her hand next. “Good luck with that one. He’s a wily SOB. The man’s got nine lives when it comes to staying ahead of the law. I’m Miguel Acevedo.”
Joanna recognized the name. “You’re a crime-scene investigator with the forensic lab.”
“That’s right.” He unbuttoned the collar of his shirt and shucked his jacket, looking like a man who was anxious to get out of his wedding apparel and get back to work. “So you’re the big gun Martinez said the bureau was bringing in to crack this case for us.”
You don’t have to make friends, she reminded herself. You just have to get the job done. Her promotion and the ability to walk away from here emotionally unscathed depended on it. “That’s my intention. The information in the case file that KCCU prepared for me was very thorough. I’m sure it will be invaluable to the success of my interview.”
The locker-room door opened again at the end of the hall. She needn’t have worried about the laxness or scarcity of the staff. This wasn’t the reservation sheriff’s office of fifteen years ago. She was beginning to believe the paperwork she’d read. The KCCU was a diverse, dedicated staff of scientists and area law enforcement. The blond-haired man strolling toward them appeared to be no exception.
He walked straight up to Joanna and the Acevedos and diffused the tension between them by leaning down to kiss Elizabeth’s cheek. “Lizzie, you left the reception before that dance you promised me. Broke my heart.”
“Oh, Ben.” She swatted at his arm. “I’m a married woman.”
“All the good ones are taken, hmm?”
Elizabeth blushed at the flirtation from a much younger man.
He grinned as he straightened to introduce himself. “Ben Parrish, FBI.”
“Joanna Rhodes, the same.”
She noted that his handsome smile didn’t quite reach his wary eyes. “Don’t let these guys give you any grief. I was the new kid here myself a few months back. Now I’ve grown on them.”
“Like a fungus, Parrish,” Miguel teased. “I’d better change and get up to the lab. With Callie taking a couple of days off, I want to make sure we’ve got everything covered and on schedule for the weekend.” His smile seemed genuine enough as he excused himself. “If there’s anything you need from the lab, Agent Rhodes, let me know.”
“Thank you.”
As his brother pushed open the stairwell door and jogged up the stairs, Dylan Acevedo toned his indignation at an outsider’s interference down to an I’ll-wait-to-pass-judgment-once-I-see-what-kind-of-job-you-can-do status. “Watts and his buddy Perkins have already gone after my wife and Miguel’s. One or both of them are responsible for other attacks in the area. I’m guessing Sheriff Martinez already told you we make Boyd Perkins for Julie’s murder. There’s not a one of us who doesn’t want to put him away. If you can help us find the bastard…”
“I’ll get what your team needs out of Watts, Agent Acevedo,” Joanna reassured him. “And you’re welcome to make the arrest.”
“What do you get out of this?” Miguel asked.
“Miguel!” Elizabeth chided.
Telling him this was about a promotion wouldn’t build any trust. Telling him her personal reasons for accepting this assignment wasn’t an option, either. Joanna settled for a truth somewhere in between. “The satisfaction of a job well-done.”
“We can all use a little of that,” Ben intervened. Joanna nodded, appreciating his support more than she realized. She didn’t have to worry about thanking him, though. He turned away to mark himself In on the duty board and nodded for Miguel to follow him into an office opposite the sheriff’s. “I want you to tell me more about that medal Julie sent you before she died. There has to be a reason why you, me and Tom all got one.”
Once the door closed on their conversation, Joanna became aware of the warmth of Elizabeth Reddawn’s hand, still linked through the crook of her elbow. Had the older woman been holding on to her this entire time? Claiming her as a friend? Subtly hanging on in the face of the teasing, doubt and outright resentment from the three men?
As uncomfortable with the show of support as she was unaccustomed to it, Joanna shrugged away from Elizabeth’s touch. She busied her fingers, plucking imaginary specks from her blazer and slacks. She was perfectly capable of standing on her own two feet in this investigation without the older woman’s help. Joanna just needed a moment to shore up her defenses again, make sure her powers of observation, her strength and intellect, were firmly in place. “Could you show me where the interview rooms are? I’m afraid Sheriff Martinez has been held up on the phone.”
“Sure, hon.” Elizabeth’s frown indicated disappointment at Joanna’s abrupt insistence on working rather than resuming their trip down memory lane. But there was also something she supposed was maternal understanding when she patted Joanna’s arm. “Come on around this way. There are two rooms, with an observation window in between.” Elizabeth led her back toward the security desk and a hallway that ran parallel to this wing of offices. “Can I get you some coffee?”
“Black, thanks. That would be lovely.”
“I’ll brew a fresh pot and bring it right in.”
As Elizabeth bustled away, Joanna paused for a moment to inhale a quieting breath. But she’d switched on the light in the first room before realizing how much Elizabeth Reddawn and the secrets from the reservation they shared had gotten into her head and diverted her focus from the investigation.
“You forgot the case file, Sherlock.” Stopping short of thumping herself on the forehead, Joanna retraced her steps. She’d already mapped out her strategy for questioning Watts. Now she needed to choreograph her questions with the placement of chairs and where she would sit or stand during each phase of the interview.
Joanna unzipped her bag and pulled out the thick manila envelope with the case reports and her notes. She’d just acknowledged the security guard in the lobby when the front door opened with a rush of wind and patter of raindrops.
“Elizabeth?” The familiar male voice swept straight through her, mocking any attempt to keep her emotions in check. “You left your purse at the church. What are you carrying in this thing, bricks?”
Joanna stopped in her tracks. Stared.
The man, easily six foot four, froze in the open doorway. His dark eyes narrowed as they locked on to hers. The wind glued his brown suit jacket to his broad shoulders. The rain made his military-short hair glisten like polished onyx.
“Joanna?” The timbre of his voice darkened. The deep pitch of it filled up his chest and rumbled out in a seductive whisper.
“Ethan.” Here. In the flesh. Impossibly bigger, broader, harder than the man she remembered. The silent intensity of his dark, nearly black eyes hit her like a sucker punch to the heart.
Ethan Bia.
The man she’d given her virginity and her young girl’s heart to.
The man who’d taught her how to survive the mountains—and