Nightfall (7 page)

Behind her a car door
slammed. Tires squealed over the asphalt. She glanced back as the
gray car shot down the alley, moving away from her. Taillights
glowed. Another screech of tires as the car whipped around the
corner.

Maddie stopped and slumped
against the side of the building. Her breath came in ragged gasps.
Her lungs burned, and it felt as though her heart was being
squeezed like a lemon. Something warm trickled down her face. She
touched a hand to her cheek and her fingers came away
red.

Tears stung her eyes as she
looked down at herself. Her purse was gone. Her camera was gone.
Her phone was gone.
She
wasn’t gone, at least. She was here—in one shaking, terrified,
Jell-O-y piece. But her knees felt so weak she didn’t know if they
would hold her up. She closed her eyes and tried to
think.

She couldn’t stay in the
alley. But she couldn’t go back in that garage—maybe never again.
She looked out at the street, at the steady flow of cars and
people. Her gaze landed on the neon sign in the window of the
sandwich shop. It glowed red in the gray of dusk, beckoning her to
safety with its simple message: OPEN.

Maddie pushed away from the
wall. On quivering legs, she stumbled toward the sign.

***

The two men were cops, she
could tell at a glance. Maddie watched them from her place beside
the patrol car, where she’d been sequestered for the past half hour
answering questions from a rookie detective who’d probably been in
diapers when she got her first speeding ticket. Maddie knew almost
everyone in the San Marcos police department, but didn’t it figure
the first responder to her 911 call would be someone she’d never
laid eyes on before—someone who didn’t have the slightest interest
in doing her a favor by moving things along. Added to the scraped
chin, the swelling jaw, the lost purse, and the stolen Nikon, it
was just another addition to the crapfest that had become her
day.

And if her instincts proved
right, the party wasn’t over yet.

Maggie watched as the two
mystery men walked up to the patrol cars parked in front of the
sandwich shop. Definitely cops. But they were more than that,
clearly. She pegged them for feds based on their dark suits, and
that guess was confirmed when one of them flashed a badge and
exchange words with the patrol officers milling on the sidewalk.
Jeff Grimlich—a cop she
did
know—had just emerged from the shop with a
steaming cup of coffee. He said something brief and gave a nod in
Maddie’s direction, sending them her way.

Maddie checked her watch.
Whatever these two wanted, it wouldn’t likely be quick. She looked
them over. The one leading the charge appeared to be mid-thirties,
like she was. His shaved head coupled with his solid, stocky build
would have made him look like a bouncer—had it not been for his
suit and the determined scowl that said
cop.

Maddie shifted her gaze to
his friend. Taller, probably six-one. Broad-shouldered, muscular,
lean at the waist. He had sandy-brown hair that was cropped short
on the sides and longer on top. The word
military
popped into her head. It
wasn’t just the haircut and the build, but the supremely confident
way he carried himself. He was watching her, too, but in contrast
to his partner’s expression, this guy looked utterly
relaxed.

“
Are you
sure
you don’t want to get this looked
at?”

She turned her attention to
the EMT handing her an icepack. Maddie pressed the pack to the side
of her face, where a bruise was forming.

“
I’m good.”

“
Because it’s entirely
possible you could have a concussion.”

“
Thanks, but I’m fine.” And
a trip to the emergency room was the last thing she needed tonight.
She had an aversion to hospitals.

“
Well.” The woman shrugged
and flipped shut the lid to her first aid kit. “Suit yourself. I
can’t
make
you take
common-sense precautions.”

“
Madeline
Callahan?”

She turned, startled. She’d
known he was coming, but she hadn’t expected such a deep voice from
someone so young. He stared down at her, hands resting at his hips,
suit jacket pushed back to reveal a semi-automatic pistol and—as
she’d suspected—an FBI shield. She lifted her gaze to his smooth,
clean-shaven face. If she was right about the military thing, he
must have graduated from the Academy about a week ago.

“
I’m Special Agent Brian
Beckman with the FBI. This is Special Agent Sam Dulles.” He nodded
at the bald guy. “We’d like to ask you a few questions,
ma’am.”

Dulles leaned back against
the patrol car parked perpendicular to the one where Maddie stood.
Clearly, he intended to hang back and observe. Maybe this was a
training exercise.

“
Ma’am?”

She looked back at the young
one. Beckman. He was watching her intently with those hazel
eyes.

“
Could you take us through
what transpired here, please?”

Transpired.
Typical cop-speak. Maddie folded her arms over her
chest and leaned against the side of the car. “It was a
mugging.”

His eyebrows tipped up.
“Could you be more specific?”

“
Someone attacked me in the
parking garage. Stole my purse, along with my brand-new
camera.”

“
Your camera?”

“
I’m a photographer. I was
doing a photo shoot down at the park—a couple getting
married.”

Both men were regarding her
with frank interest now, and she had the feeling she was missing
something.

Beckman eased closer. “We’d
like you to walk us through the entire incident, ma’am. Step by
step.”

Irritated by the ma’amming,
she shot a look at Dulles. “Since when does the FBI have
jurisdiction over a mugging?”

No answer.

“
Maddie?”

She turned to see Jeff
walking toward her, hand outstretched. Her brown leather purse
dangled from his fingers.

“
Oh, my God! Where was it?”
She beamed a smile at him and snatched up the bag.

“
Scanlon found it under a
truck near your car. Phone’s in there, too. You just had a call
come in.”

“
Thank you! You have no idea
how much trouble this saves me.” Maddie already had the phone out,
and her heart lurched when she saw the text from her boss. It was
just as she’d feared. She was needed at a crime scene, ASAP. He’d
sent her a message coded 911 and a street address.

Maddie stashed the icepack
in her purse and shoved the phone in the pocket of her jeans. Now
she
really
needed
to leave.

“
Ms. Callahan?”

She glanced up. The young
agent was watching her expectantly. So was his partner.

“
Listen, you see Officer
Scanlon over there? The one with the notepad? I guarantee he’ll be
turning in a full report before he clocks out tonight. You can get
the details from him.”

“
We need them from you,”
Dulles said, speaking up for the first time. He was still leaning
against the side of the car, looking disapproving.

“
Is there a specific
reason
the FBI is involved
here? I told you, it was a mugging.”

“
Looks to me like an
assault, too,” Beckman said evenly.

“
Okay, fine. But I really
need to be somewhere, like, an hour ago, so unless you can explain
how this is relevant—”

“
We’re investigating a
federal case.”

“
A federal case involving…?”
She waited as they exchanged looks.

“
There was a theft across
the street from here about five-thirty.” Dulles nodded at the park.
“Given the timing, we think it could be connected to your
incident.”

Maddie glanced across the
street, where a bank faced out onto the park. A bank robbery
certainly would explain the feds, but why weren’t there any police
cars?

“
Take us through what
happened,” Beckman said, all trace of politeness gone.

And so Maddie
did.

***

Brian watched as Madeline
Callahan gave a concise but thorough account of the events
following her photo shoot. The woman had an eye for detail—that
much was clear. She also had an attitude. He wasn’t sure where it
came from. Most people tended to perk up and take notice when FBI
agents arrived on the scene, but this woman seemed mostly
annoyed.

Brian watched her,
intrigued. She wore faded jeans that hugged her hips, brown leather
boots, and a black T-shirt that stretched tight over her breasts.
Her arms were folded as if she were cold—and she probably was,
given that the temperature had dropped into the forties since dusk.
Her curly brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but strands had
escaped and she kept tucking them back behind her ears. A nervous
habit, maybe? But she didn’t seem nervous, and Brian had
interviewed more than enough witnesses to know. His attention
drifted to those full lips that seemed to taunt him as she talked.
He watched her mouth and knew he was going to be fantasizing about
it for a good long time.

In an effort to stay
focused, he shifted his gaze to the side of her jaw, which was
swollen and rapidly turning purple. Her assailant had gotten in a
solid punch, and Brian’s gut tightened as he imagined some fat,
hairy fist connecting with her face.

She was staring at him now
and he realized she’d finished her story.

“
So, your camera was
directed north,” Sam stated, saving him from making an ass of
himself.

“
That’s right.”

Brian cleared his throat.
“Ma’am, what are the odds you might have inadvertently photographed
someone standing in front of that bank at five-thirty?”

She paused for a moment.
“I’d say good. But I’d also say the odds of us ever knowing for
sure are nil. So, as much as I’d love to help you guys, I think
we’re all pretty much out of luck today.” She checked her watch,
and a look of anxiety flashed across her face. “And now I
really
have to
go.”

“
Do you need a ride home?”
Brian asked her.

She looked surprised by the
offer. Then wary. “Thanks, but I’ve got my car.” She cast a glance
over her shoulder at the parking garage and the anxiety seemed to
double.

“
Would you like an escort?”
he asked.

“
An escort?”

“
To your
vehicle.”

“
Oh. No. Really, I’m fine.”
She hitched her purse onto her shoulder. “So, if there’s nothing
else you need…?”

“
If there is, we’ll call
you,” Brian said.

Her gaze narrowed. “I didn’t
give you my number.”

He smiled slightly. “We can
get it.”

They watched her walk across
the street, and Brian marveled at her confidence as she returned,
alone, to the scene of her attack. After dark, no less. Granted,
there were cops milling around here, but still.

“
What do you think?” Sam
asked.

Brian glanced at his
partner. “Seems pretty street smart for a wedding
photographer.”

“
In a hurry to leave,
too.”

“
Maybe she’s got a
date.”

Sam shot him a
look.

“
What?”

“
Damn, Beckman. Don’t you
ever stop?”

“
I didn’t say
anything.”

“
You were thinking
it.”

“
You believe she saw them?”
he asked, changing the subject.

“
I think the timing’s too
perfect to be a coincidence,” Sam said grimly. “A photographer gets
mugged right after a kidnapping goes down? By a two-man team, and
they don’t even get her purse?” Sam rubbed his hand over his bald
head and blew out a sigh, reminding Brian what a truly crappy day
they’d had. And it wasn’t nearly over yet. They still had to get
back to the office in San Antonio and help the task force piece
together what happened to Jolene Murphy, the star witness in their
upcoming case.

The star witness who had
gone missing only minutes after leaving her office, which just
happened to be across the street from Maddie Callahan’s photo
shoot.

Sam was right. The timing,
the location, the ruthlessness with which they’d gone after that
camera, but overlooked other valuables—all together, it was too
much of a stretch. Maddie Callahan had been targeted.

Brian watched the garage now
as a Prius pulled out. He recognized Maddie behind the wheel. She
turned onto Main Street and sped away.

He pictured the bruise on
her face, and his gut tightened again. This case involved some
extremely dangerous people, and he didn’t like the idea of them
knowing Maddie Callahan existed, much less targeting
her.

He looked at Sam. “Maybe she
didn’t see anything,” he said hopefully.