Sweet Dreams Boxed Set (8 page)

Steve said, “Alex seemed pretty adamant.”

“She gets an idea and runs with it, sometimes blindly. After I interviewed Hart, I went back to the lobby and inspected the landing on the second floor. The flowers were only partially blocking the shooter. He could have been waiting for Hart to step forward, but when Alex acted quickly, he fired hoping to hit Hart . Or he was startled.”

“A good sniper isn’t going to be startled.”

“No,” Jim concurred, “but a good sniper isn’t going to let some flowers interfere with his target. The first bullet went between Hart and Huang—they were standing only a foot apart, and from the trajectory, the analysis is inconclusive. Most likely, Hart was the target but when Alex jumped in the way it shifted everyone slightly and the shooter was already prepared to fire. And Alex was shot with the second round, as she was pushing Hart down, which suggests that the bullet was meant for him.”

“Sounds  plausible,” Steve said. “And he could have been a street thug. The Russian gangs are violent, but they’re not necessarily training their gunmen.”

“Exactly. So you agree?”

“That Hart was the target? Yeah. Though I think we should talk to Huang again, after his nerves are settled.”

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow—I have to see Hart again anyway.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Actually, I was hoping you could follow-up with Alex.”

“Why?”

Why indeed. He shouldn’t have to explain it to Steve. “It was—awkward today.”

“Right. Sorry, buddy.”

He shrugged. It was part of the job, a part he didn’t particularly like, but there you were. “I think she’ll be more comfortable talking to you. Have her review her statement, make any changes, sign it—ask if she remembers anything else. You know the drill.”

“Sure.” Steve took the file off Jim’s desk, flipped through it. “Is she okay?”

“I called the hospital. They said she was released late this afternoon. Wouldn’t tell me anything else.”

“Then she’s fine.”

“Steve—why do you think Alex was really at the hotel?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know—job interview? Really?”

Steve shrugged. “I talked to the manager myself. She had an interview this morning.”

“She’s not hotel security.”

“You know how this place is,” Steve said quietly. “I get that she had to do what she did, but there should have been a better way.”

“She wasn’t talking to me back then.” And that’s what really bothered Jim. Before Alex had taken down that idiot Tommy Cordell, she’d closed him out. He’d pushed hard—accused her of things he knew weren’t true—to get her to be honest with him. And she clammed up. It upset and angered him. Still did.

“Alex was a good cop. You’d think that with her dad she’d get a job in any jurisdiction.”

“Then you don’t know Alex,” Jim said. “She’d never take help from her father, especially for a job. Look, I’ll call you after I talk to Hart tomorrow then we’ll compare notes. Get out of here, one of us needs his beauty sleep.”

“That would be you, buddy,” Steve said, but he gathered up the files and left.

Jim went back to his report. He took his time, in no rush to get home. And even at night, there was a steady bustle in central command.

Fifteen minutes after Steve left, dispatch called him at his desk.

“I’m off-duty,” he answered. “Just working late. I think Ham’s on call.”

“Detective, I was asked to contact you. Two officers have a DB in Discovery Park who matches the description of your shooter from this afternoon. White, male, five foot eleven, approximately one sixty. Single gunshot wound to the head. They’ve secured the scene, coroner en route. Please advise.”

This just got a whole lot more interesting. Maybe he really would clear two cases by tomorrow. He sure as hell hoped so, because dragging this investigation out was in no one’s best interest.

“Tell them I’m on my way.”

***

Matt was sitting in his dining room with a glass of wine reading over memos, reports, briefings, and plea agreements. The Sacramento County District Attorney’s office did far more than simply prosecute criminals. They worked hand-in-hand with the police in each of the six cities within the county, plus the Sheriff’s Department. Over 400 professionals worked within his organization, and he had a Chief Deputy District Attorney as well as an Assistant District Attorney to run the two primary divisions. Each of them had six people report to them who ran their own units, including an accredited crime lab that served all law enforcement in the county. Sacramento County had nearly one and a half million people and Matt worked six days a week, ten-to-twelve hours a day. It could be grueling, but he loved his job. Everything he’d done, from military service to law school to staff prosecutor to even running for State Senate had led him to this position.

Fortunately, he had a professional and extremely competent staff to help the institution run smoothly. The only thing he truly missed was prosecuting cases himself. He had too many other responsibilities that preparing for and prosecuting a trial wasn’t on his to-do list.

His cell phone rang and he noticed that it was nearly midnight. He grabbed the line.

“Elliott.”

“It’s Dean. Sorry it’s so late.”

“I’m still up. You got my email?”

“I don’t think I understand. Did Alex say that Hart
wasn’t
the target of the shooter?”

“Correct. She believes that his assistant, Eric Huang, was the target.”

“What do the police say?”

“I haven’t seen the final report, but so far they can find no reason that Huang would be a target. Alex walked the detective through the scene and noted that the shooters vantage point was blocked if Hart was the target, but his assistant Huang would have been in the line of fire.”

“I’ll run the guy, but truthfully, when a politician is shot at, he’s usually the target.”

“I trust her instincts.”

Dean didn’t say anything for a moment. “I’ll see what I can find out. What did Alex say about helping us?”

“She’s sleeping on it.”

“That sounds like a no.”

“She’ll do it.” Matt didn’t feel good about it, but he suspected he knew Alex better than she thought he did. She might not like the idea, but she would help because she was in a unique position to help. “But it’s a long shot.”

“Matt—you’re not going to like this, so I’m going to be blunt. If we can’t find a solid connection between Hart and Rykov before the primary election, we’re shelving the investigation. I’ve spent far too much time working this case when we have so little evidence.”

Matt’s jaw tightened. He understood why Dean had to manage his limited resources, but he didn’t like it. “I have one thing that may change your mind,” Matt said.

“It’s not my mind you have to change. It’s my boss. Our budget is as tight as yours.”

“I asked to be copied into forensics reports for this investigation, and a couple hours ago the ballistics report came back. The gun used today matches a gun used to kill a Russian prostitute three years ago in the Arden area.”

“Can you get me a copy of that report?”

“I’ll email it now. John Black was the lead detective.”

“Black—good. I know him. Worked with him on a couple of investigations.”

Matt had known that, but didn’t say anything. He was counting on Black being able to keep the investigation moving forward with or without the FBI. “That ballistics report connects Hart to the Russian community.”

“It’s tenuous, but it’s definitely better than nothing. I’ll talk to Black tomorrow, check into this Eric Huang fellow, and call you.”

“Thanks, Dean. I mean it.”

“Matt—it’s hard to let things go when you know that some bastard is getting away with a major crime and you can’t prove it. But you need to prepare yourself that there might not be enough evidence against Hart.”

“There is enough on Travis Hart,” Matt said, “the question is, are we good enough to find it.”

***

Alex was exhausted and sore, but she couldn’t sleep. The digital clock she’d had since junior high glowed 12:17. After midnight and she still hadn’t been able to sleep. The familiar sounds of the old house should have soothed her, but nothing helped. She stared at the ceiling of her childhood room and relived the past. Could she have done anything else? For months she’d wondered where she’d made her misstep, where she’d screwed up, how she’d gotten to this point in her life, but she didn’t see how she could have done anything different. Certainly, she had other options—but every option had its own pitfalls. Blaming Matt Elliott for what happened to her was easy, but it wasn’t his fault. She knew that, intellectually, but she felt like she was stuck, between then and now, not knowing which way to go. Every night she went to bed, hoping the answers would be in her head when she woke up, but every morning she woke up with the same questions.

If she can’t be a cop, what can she do?

Being ambushed, in a way, by the hotel interview panel reminded her that her past was public information and would haunt her if she tried to do anything in the security field. It was time to move on. Maybe she should have accepted the job offer Dean Hooper had extended her. But the idea of leaving her family brought tears to her eyes. They’d always been close, but after her mom died they’d pulled together in their grief. She couldn’t imagine moving to another city let alone three thousand miles away. Her grandmother was in her eighties ... Alex would never forgive herself if she wasn’t around to help if Mimi became sick.

She closed her eyes and hoped for sleep, but only remembered what had brought her to this point.

Two weeks before she’d been shot by her partner, Alex moved out of Jim’s house. They’d been together for just shy of eighteen months, had been living together for half that time, but she knew as soon as she walked out that their relationship was over. There was no fixing this—they’d both said things that couldn’t be taken back, and the guilt that ate at Alex for keeping secrets from her lover haunted her so much she could barely eat or sleep.

She couldn’t tell Jim she was reporting information about her partner to the FBI. Before she approached Matt Elliott six months ago, she’d asked Jim for advice about what to do about Tommy’s gambling. Jim had told her to ignore it, but she admitted she’d seen him take money from a bust. She was feeling Jim out—if Jim suggested she go to their boss, or IA, she would have done it. Jim had been in the department five years longer than she; everyone liked him. They listened to him, and if he had her back on this, she might have made a different choice. 

Jim said Tommy’s skimming wasn’t a big deal, that while he’d never do it, a lot of guys did. “You’ll only be ostracized by turning in your partner, Alex,” Jim said. “You know how it is. This is one of those crap things we just have to deal with. You can always talk to me, you know. To get it off your chest. I’m here for you, Baby.”

He was right, she knew, but it didn’t make his opinion—his morals—any easier to live with and their relationship deteriorated until she couldn’t live with him any more.

It didn’t help that he accused her of cheating on him.

“You’re distant and moody. You come home late and can’t look me in the eye and tell me where you’ve been. Who is it, Alex? You and Tommy? You’ve been spending a lot of time with your partner lately. You screwing him behind my back?”

She and Jim argued a lot, but always made up ... except this time there would be no making up. This time, it had almost come to blows. She wouldn’t be returning, and she didn’t know where to go.

She’d ended up on Matt Elliott’s front porch. She’d never forget that warm, late June night.

Alex loved Matt’s house. It was in South Land Park, near the zoo. An older, pre-war craftsman that had been fully restored. Neither big nor small, it was just right.

She hadn’t realized how late it was when she rang his bell. It was clear she’d woken him up—he wore boxers and nothing else. She barely noticed that he’d come to the door with a gun in hand.

Concern lit his face. “Alex. What’s wrong?”

Matt let her in and she realized that it wasn’t just Jim’s cavalier attitude about police corruption that had been bothering her for the last six months. It was the fact that she was half in love with Matt Elliott. Here was a man who was trying to fix the problems in the system, a man who believed in the system the way it was supposed to be. For six months, she’d gone down the very dangerous path of comparing her boyfriend to another man. And her boyfriend was coming up short in far too many ways.

“Jim and I split up. And—I didn’t want to face my dad tonight. Aiden’s out of town and AJ’s at the station—”

Matt closed the door behind her. “Does he know?”

She shook her head. “He thinks I’m cheating on him.”

“I’m sorry, Alex.”

She shrugged. “It’s just the excuse. Nothing has been right between us since Jim told me to look the other way. I see him differently than I used to. He’s a good cop, really—he just doesn’t want to make waves in the department.”

“There are too many cops like that. Even good cops don’t want to rock the boat.”

Matt seemed to notice he was only in boxers. “Why don’t you sit down? I’m going to grab some clothes.”

Matt went down the hall and Alex looked around his living room. It was small and functional. She’d been here a few times; this was where she’d first met FBI Agent Dean Hooper when Matt brought them together to discuss Tommy Cordell and his potential connection to Russian organized crime. Hooper had given her a crash course on how the Russian mob worked and the major crimes they were involved in, and why it was so hard to make a case. They’d sat here, in this room, for hours.

She walked through the dining room which Matt used more as an office. Files and papers were spread on the square table. She didn’t want to pry, so went through to the kitchen. It was small, but completely updated.