In Her Sights (22 page)

“I’d never put a child at risk, Wexler. Never.” Jazz slammed her hands on the table. “I didn’t kill Tower. I didn’t do
any
of this.”

“Listen carefully, Jazz,” Wexler said. He leaned forward, focused and intense. “As far as Sheriff Tower is concerned, he’s figured the whole thing out. You’re guilty. You understand what I’m saying? According to Brian Tower’s IA investigation notes, you have a juvie record. We’re checking into it to see if there’s anything relevant. Any more scandalous facts and the sheriff
will
use it to bring you down.”

His words and tone sank in as she stared at his unwavering expression. He didn’t like what he had to do, but he didn’t have a choice. She’d been a fool to believe she could escape where she’d come from. Her whole life was unraveling, and she couldn’t stop it.

“Those records were expunged,” she said, her voice weak.

“Murder changes things. Call. Your. Rep.”

“Someone’s framing me to take a fall, and there’s only one person who might be able to tell us what’s going on. The redheaded woman. She’s the only connection to Tower. Have you investigated her?”

“I know how to do my job, Parker. We have the sketch from the girl’s description. Your
ex
-teammates have confirmed the woman who threatened Montgomery’s daughter was Tower’s lover, though they know her only as ‘Red.’ Thanks to their input, we’ve refined the drawing and sent it over the wires. She’s a smart cookie, though. She obscured her face from all the cameras in the sheriff’s office, which makes me wonder exactly what she’s up to. We’ll find her.”

“Maybe she’s working for the crime syndicate. Maybe
she
killed him.”

“We’ll bring her in for the Montgomery case and check her alibi for tonight. That’s all I’ll promise. In the meantime, worry about yourself. You’re at the top of the suspect list. And I don’t think that’ll change unless some damned impressive information falls in our lap.”

Stunned, Jazz sank back into her chair. He couldn’t do a thing for her. She was on her own unless she could prove she was being framed, and how would she do that from a cell? She’d be locked up within hours if the pattern of the last few days continued.

Tower had wanted to bring her down. She’d bet he hadn’t planned to do it from the grave, but he could get his wish. Whoever killed him was smart and vicious.

She might not be able to save herself or her career. Too much had happened, but Jazz didn’t care about herself. She didn’t matter. Joy was in danger, and Jazz had to protect Joy and Luke. She refused to let that little girl lose her father. She’d promised them, promised herself. She wouldn’t fail.

The noose was tightening. One more deadly blow to destroy Jazz Parker, and Jane Sanford would finally pay.

Fools. They had no clue who they were dealing with. They would.

She scanned the rundown neighborhood, waiting. The street had probably been quaint, once. Fifty years ago. Now she’d bet every other house had either a fresh supply of crack or meth. The hovel she stood in front of had fared little better. She watched from below a broken street lamp as a rusty red Pinto pulled into a dirt driveway.

The house’s gray paint was peeling. Missing boards left gaps in the sagging porch, and the screen hinges were askew. She knew he didn’t live here. This was his cousin’s safe house. She’d made it her business to know everything about this man with a few too many secrets.

She took a step forward as his muscular body unfolded from the car.
Not bad.
At least he had the physique to be of some use. “Deputy?”

The man jerked and went for his weapon.

“Calm down, sugar. I just want to talk.”

He clutched the Bowie he’d pulled from its sheath. “I saw you. You vandalized Jazz’s truck.”

“And I saw you. You took a shot at them. You’ve been a very bad boy. Oh, by the way, did I mention I like to take pictures,
Deputy?
Pictures that I put in safe places and get paid money so bosses and newspapers don’t see them?”

He clenched the knife tighter. “I could turn you in.”

“And wouldn’t your colleagues love to know about your double life? It didn’t take me long to learn who your father is. It wouldn’t take them long to realize you never left the family business.”

“What do you want?”

“A little cooperation. I need a partner. To bring Jazz Parker down. You seem to want the same. If she’s dead, your little side business at the sheriff’s office gets blamed on her. You get off free and clear, right? That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

He couldn’t hide the surprise, and she just laughed. “You guys aren’t as smart as you think you are. Tower talks a bit too much in the sack, but I would’ve figured it out anyway. Why didn’t you just kill her? You had the shot that day at her apartment.”

“I wasn’t after her.”

Lisa chuckled. “Men. You can’t think on your feet. You were there to warn off Montgomery, and you didn’t see the opportunity to just take out the perfect patsy for the investigation. Fool.”

“You seem pretty sure of yourself. So why do you need me?”

“Even I can’t be in two places at once. So,
Deputy
, you help me finish
your
job
my
way, and I’ll give you the location of those pictures I took at her apartment. No one ever needs to know your dirty little secret. You kill me or you don’t help me, they end up at the FBI and the newspaper.”

He re-sheathed the knife and sent her a calculating look. “My assignment hasn’t gone as planned,” he said. “I’m interested.”

She pulled out a small GPS tracking device from her bag. “Do I need to tell you how to use this? I need some people followed…for starters.”

Alone in the stark interrogation room, Jazz rubbed her eyes with her hands. She was free to go? She’d been here for hours. Wexler had pushed at her until it became obvious there would be no resolution—yet. He hadn’t served an arrest warrant, but it was only a matter of time. He’d warned her not to leave town and then walked out of the room.

Only Luke’s statements had saved her from jail. Wexler and his cohorts couldn’t explain the attacks against her and the threat on Joy. He was her alibi to all three events, though they were skeptical of his story. The missed shot was her fault—a mistake by a woman on the edge. They still wouldn’t accept sabotage.

She laid her head against the table, trying to figure out where her world had gone wrong. Only days ago she’d been up for a promotion and now she was fighting a murder rap.

A brisk knock sounded at the door and Sarge strode in, his face stern, his eyes pained. She’d never seen him so uncomfortable, so ill at ease in his skin.

“I’m sorry, Jazz. I need your gun and your badge. You’re suspended pending a full investigation and disposition of this…ah…situation.”

“I didn’t kill him, Sarge.”

“Until that’s proven, I don’t have a choice…and neither do you.”

The words slammed her harder than the recoil of a .458 Winchester. She gritted her teeth until her jaw hurt, rose, and retrieved her coat from the back of an empty chair. Forcing her hands steady, she unzipped her pocket, reached in, and pulled out the badge. She’d worked her tail off for that star. It defined her identity as Jazz Parker. Without it, she’d become invisible again. Just a kid from the wrong side of the tracks. The daughter of a murdered whore.

The bronze star glinted in her hand. “Receiving this was the proudest day of my life until I got my SWAT pin.” She handed her badge to Sarge. “I swear I haven’t dishonored it.

“Your gun too.”

This time Jazz couldn’t stop the slight trembling.

“Wexler took it.”

“I’ll get it from him.” Regret clouded Sarge’s face. “I guess that’s it then.”

A numb fog floated around her. The room, Sarge, it all seemed like a very bad dream, one from which she couldn’t wake.

Sarge started toward the door then turned. “Maybe things will work out.”

Jazz nodded, ignoring the pain as he left. His voice told her he didn’t hold much hope. Right about now, neither did she. Stiff, aching, and heartsick, Jazz struggled to maintain her composure when a rookie, who had obviously drawn the short straw, escorted her through the bullpen like a newly released felon. Probing glances tracked her progress and angry whispers followed her out of the door of the station, into the darkness beyond.

Cop Killer.

Dear God, some of them obviously believed that of her. A lump formed in her throat. No one offered her support. She was on her own. As always. Determination tightened her jaw. She
would
track down the real murderer.

Jazz paused on the sidewalk in front of the stone building and peered into the moonlit night. It would be dawn soon. A new day for the real killer, and Jazz didn’t know where to start looking.

“Jasmine?”

At the sound of Luke’s voice her heart skipped a beat. He opened the door of his SUV, its interior light shining like a beacon, but she couldn’t move toward him.

“Go away, Luke. Keep your family safe. You heard the threat when that maniac called about Joy. I’m poison to you.”

The slam of the SUV’s heavy door echoed like a gunshot. Within a few strides he was there, looming over her. “Get in the car, Jasmine. We don’t need to put on a show for the boys in blue who are doing their utmost to string you up for a murder you didn’t commit. If I hadn’t been able to prove I was packing up Joy at the time of the murder, we’d be in the same position. Wexler still wonders if we’re co-conspirators. Like it or not, we’re in this together.”

Shaking with anger, hurt, and despair, she held her ground for a minute, then cursed and strode to the vehicle. A moment later, they were both enclosed in the SUV, the air crackling like heat lightning between them.

“Did you just plan on walking out on me?” Luke said. “Again?”

“I’m tracking down a killer. Alone.”

“Not while I’m still breathing.”

She turned in the seat to meet his fury, wanting so badly to fall into his arms and let him hold her. She couldn’t let herself. With all the strength she could muster she steadied her voice. “The sheriff is using Wexler and the IA investigation to pin his son’s murder on me. I don’t know how the redhead is involved, but I do know I have to find her. First to protect Joy and second because that woman’s my only hope to clear my name. This may have started out as your investigation, Luke, but it’s mine now.”

She laid her hand against his cheek. “I need to stay away from the people I care about before I get them killed. Go to your daughter.
I’ll
find out who’s doing this and bring them down.”

“And how are you going to do that? You have nothing to work with. You’re wearing the same clothes you’ve been wearing for twenty-four hours. You have nowhere to go. No home. No money. No resources. Nothing.”

“I didn’t have much more than this when I landed in Denver with Clarkson, and I made it.”

“With help from friends. Just like I’m offering now. You can’t run me off, Jasmine. You need me and my contacts now more than ever, and you’re going to have to accept it.”

Cracks splintered through the ice she’d molded around her heart. “Luke, you have to stay safe. I can’t take it if anything else happens to you because of me.”

“And I’m supposed to just stand by and not care what happens to you?

“Yes,” she snapped. “Just let me do my—”

“Job? Is that what you were going to say? Wexler told me you’ve been suspended. You had to turn in your gun and badge.”

She pulled away. “He had no right to tell you.”

“What? You wouldn’t have said anything? Or would you have lied? Let me think you were still on the force? That you had backup and a gun to protect yourself?” At her silence he slammed his fist against the steering wheel. “Christ, Jasmine. Are you
ever
going to trust me to help you?”

She turned to the door and yanked it open. “I don’t need you, Luke.”

“No, you don’t need me. You’ve made that clear. You’re friggin’ Wonder Woman. But the world doesn’t revolve around you.
I
need to get this woman. For Joy. So face it, ‘Jazz’, I’m investigating, whether you’re with me or not. I’d just feel a lot better if we were watching each other’s back. Joy doesn’t need to be a three-year-old orphan.”