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  Although Troy had been focused on Evangeline when they pulled into the parking lot, and even more so once he cut the ignition and turned to face her, he didn’t recall seeing anyone milling around the lawn. He might be into her, but he certainly would have recognized a group of kids. Even if they hadn’t been making mischief, he would’ve seen them and carefully navigated so that he didn’t come too close to one or potentially run over a bike. Children were careless in summer when they had their freedom from school and he always paid extra attention when he saw one anywhere in close proximity.

  Plus, it was after 11 p.m. Would they still be out playing, summer vacation or not?

  And why so close to her home and nowhere else?

  “I suppose anything is possible, Grace. But it feels like a long shot.”

  Brett didn’t respond and Troy heard a world of information in that lack of answer.

  “Long shot? What makes you think that?”

  Once again, Brett proved himself the consummate partner, and pulled Troy to the side, out of the way of anyone who might hear them. “Come on, man, you really think this is anything?”

  “Do you think it isn’t? She’s been under attack for almost thirty-six hours.”

  “Under attack? If it’s even that, it’s an attack by things no one can see but her.”

  “Because the threat is hiding out of view.”

  Brett stared up at the darkened light again before returning his gaze fully to Troy’s. “I’m not saying it’s not strange, but I don’t think it’s a problem that necessitates half the GGPD out here. And for the second time today.”

  Troy knew that resources were stretched to the bone. The Davison case as well as all the other things Randall Bowe had deliberately blown up needed every bit of the precinct’s focus. But he simply couldn’t stand down on this one. “Something is happening to her, Brett. I know it. I feel it. This can’t be a coincidence.”

  “Look, I get it. Instincts are a huge part of this job. But are you sure your instincts are right on this one?”

  It was because of both the respect he heard in Brett’s voice and the seriousness that he saw on the man’s face the Troy was willing to end the conversation right there.

  But it was the first clue that he might be up against more than a few doubts. First Melissa’s that afternoon, and now Brett’s.

  If his closest allies had questions, it was only natural to assume that the GGPD did not believe that Evangeline Whitaker was in danger.

  Yet however he spun it, Troy couldn’t conceive of any way that she wasn’t.

  * * *

  Watching the body language of the cops from her safe perch in the car, Evangeline wanted to scream with the frustration of it all.

  They didn’t believe her.

  It hadn’t taken much in the way of intuition to read the skepticism painted across the various officers’ faces. Nor did she need clairvoyance to understand what Detective Shea was saying to Troy.

  It was one more problem laid at her feet.

  And she hadn’t even called this one in to the GGPD.

  But there are still a dozen police officers swarming your home.

  As that thought filled her mind, the urge to sink lower in the car expanded in her lungs until she nearly burst with it. Which was the exact reason she sat up straight and opened the door. She’d worked too damn long and hard to overcome the frustrations of her childhood to sit and cower. Digging her keys out of her purse as she crossed toward her door, she had them in the lock before Troy caught up to her.

  “Hey. I want you to stay in there.”

  “And I want to be in my home.”

  “But it’s not safe.”

  Evangeline blew out a hard breath and turned to face him before flinging out a hand toward the flashlight-illuminated officers. “I’ve got a dozen cops on my lawn. I think I’m fine.”

  “Let me at least do a sweep of the house first.”

  “I’m fine, Troy.”

  The words spewed out, harsh and bitter, but try as she might, she couldn’t pull them back. They were the culmination of more than a day’s worth of fear and exhaustion, layered on top of months’ worth of the same. Twisting hard on the key, she shoved on the door and pushed into the house. She had no interest in being the center of gossip in her condo complex, nor did she have any interest in seeing the mix of what was sure to be pity and censure in Brett Shea’s eyes. Hell, his dog would probably wear the same expression at this point.

  “Let me.” Troy followed her into the house, flipping on lights as he went. “I’ll do a sweep of the house.”

  “I’ve got this.”

  He stilled at that, laying a hand on her forearm. She expected him to say something but when he remained silent, she finally looked up.

  “Please let me do this.”

  The emotional fire that had carried her inside suddenly sputtered out and all she could do was nod. “Okay.”

  Although she refused to huddle on a chair underneath a blanket this time, she did remain in the living room as he did the same sweep as the night before. Onward toward the back door, flipping on lights and opening closet doors. Then back down the hall and on into her two bedrooms. He finished the search in a matter of minutes. “All clear.”

  “Good.”

  “Thank you for letting me check.”

  “No, thank you. I’m sorry I was so petulant and ill-behaved.”

  Something flashed across his features. It was quick—if she’d looked away from him for even a moment, she’d have missed it.

  But in that flash, Evangeline thought it looked a lot like anger.

  * * *

  Petulant and ill-behaved?

  Troy was still rolling those treasures around on his tongue a half hour later as he went back outside to wave Brett and Ember off and out of the condo parking lot. They were the last to leave, the other officers on scene all having dispersed already, after getting all clears from Troy or Brett.

  Troy had requested they take in the firecracker casings, and the officer who’d discovered them had quickly complied, securing them in evidence bags. Brett might have his doubts but Troy wanted those casings in to CSI and he knew his cousin Jillian would make them a priority. She might only be in her first year on CSI but she was good and she was motivated to succeed. A fact that had only grown exponentially when Randall Bowe tried to pin his criminal evidence techniques on her.

  It had been a bad time, Troy thought, as he headed back toward his partner. Jillian had struggled for quite a while as Bowe’s transgressions came to light. Each and every time, their CSI head tried to pin the faults on his junior investigator, even though Jillian’s work was impeccable.

  Her work ethic even more so.

  Yet Bowe had still managed to make her doubt herself.

  Which brought him back to his own problem. He’d only worked with Brett for a few months, but he trusted the man implicitly. Melissa had partnered them up on the Davison case and they’d shown great promise as a working pair. Yet here he was, arguing with Brett’s instincts and forcing his own.

  “I’m sorry about before.”

  Brett glanced briefly away toward Evangeline’s front door. “Look, I get it. She’s in some sort of trouble. Too much is going on to think this incident is totally innocent. I’m just not so sure it’s as sinister as you believe it is, either.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Sleep on it and we’ll put fresh eyes to it in the morning?”

  Troy took the proffered hand that came with the offer and shook it, satisfied he and his working partner were absolutely finding common ground. “I’ll be in before eight. Coffee’s on me.”

  Brett called for Ember and the two loped off to his car. The urgency with which they’d arrived had faded and Troy didn’t miss the weight that rode Brett’s shoulders as he watched him cross the parki
ng lot beneath the working lights.

  Wasn’t he feeling the same?

  That endless weight that had settled over the entire GGPD when Len Davison and Randall Bowe’s crimes were discovered?

  One that seemed to have Evangeline in its grips, as well.

  I’m sorry I was so petulant and ill-behaved.

  There it was again. That odd apology that suggested Evangeline believed she’d acted like a child. She was a woman in danger and that was all she could come up with? Some apology for it all?

  I know anger and rage and then silence. But not easy laughter at the table and welcoming visitors into your home with open arms.

  Things had happened so fast in the car that Troy hadn’t had a lot of time to process her last comment. But now that he did, he considered what she’d said. And all that lay beneath those words that spoke of fear and tension and a volatility that shaped the way she thought of families.

  How she believed they acted.

  He’d been a cop for a long time and he wasn’t a stranger to the more terrible things people did to one another. That was as true of how family members treated one another as it was in the crimes he saw committed month in and month out, year after year.

  What he hadn’t expected was that Evangeline might have lived with that in her own life.

  The strong, competent attorney he’d observed for years was a grown woman apparently still processing the sins of her upbringing.

  He took a deep breath on that knowledge, not quite ready to head back into her house yet. He was determined to stay another night, not comfortable with leaving her alone. A feeling that had only grown stronger with the reality that the large light closest her home was out. She had a front door light but its radius offered limited protection, and as far as he was concerned, it wasn’t enough.

  So he’d stay. He’d argue the point if he needed to or sleep out front in his car, but he’d stay. But before he did either, he needed the soothing quality of the evening air and a few minutes with his racing, roiling thoughts.

  With nothing more than observation in mind, Troy walked the perimeter of the parking lot. He took stock of the way cars were stationed in front of the building—which he assumed was meant for the residents. And then there were additional spots that spread out as a paved parking lot, providing additional spaces for guests.

  He counted the number of overhead lights, similar to the one in front of Evangeline’s door. And as he looked up at each one, the bulbs were bright and shining.

  Coincidence?

  “What are you looking at?”

  Troy turned to see a woman, likely no more than twenty-two or twenty-three, staring up in the same direction.

  “Nothing. Just curious that the light’s out.”

  “I heard all that noise earlier.” She shrugged. “My boyfriend told me to ignore it. ‘Ella,’ he said, ‘why are you always so nosy about what the neighbors are doing?’”

  Troy wasn’t so certain it was nosy, but he took full advantage of the young woman’s curiosity. “It’s good to keep an eye on your surroundings.”

  “That’s what I said!” she said and brightened at Troy’s ready agreement. “I want to know what’s happening where I live.”

  “And what did you find?” Troy asked.

  “Nothing.” Ella kicked the grass at her feet. “Probably just a bunch of kids playing around with fireworks.”

  Her boyfriend hollered down from a window above and she glanced up before backing away. “I’ve been out here a while. I’ll see you later.”

  Troy took a solid look at the boyfriend. Although Ella seemed awfully quick to do his bidding, Troy didn’t see much in the man’s gaze other than annoyance his girlfriend was traipsing around the parking lot at midnight.

  The interlude hadn’t taken long, but as Troy reconsidered the lamps, he went back to his original frustration.

  There was no way the lights going out over Evangeline’s door was a coincidence.

  Everything in him fought back at that idea. If she hadn’t had the panic over the bloody shirt earlier, he might have said it was possible. But now? Two incidents within a few feet of her home?

  No way.

  As he continued working his way around, he ended up at the end of her particular building. It was one of four that made up the overall condominium complex. The front door of the first unit was painted just like hers, a color scheme that was repeated all the way down the building. There were two other overhead lights, spaced at equal intervals from the one that was now dark.

  If he hadn’t been looking, he’d likely have missed it. But now, as he stared up at the second light, the one closer to Evangeline’s, he saw it. A thin thread that connected that lamp to the one in front of her building. Curious, he turned to gauge the same distance between the middle lamp and the one at the opposite end of the building, but nothing was visible.

  That strange thread was much too high to reach, the oval of the lamp at least as high as the second story of condos, but it was visible all the same. Hastening back, he ran to his car to get his flashlight.

  Cursing the oversight, he snagged the flashlight out of his glove box. There had been a dozen cops here, and every one of them had missed it. It irritated him, even as he acknowledged they were all on edge and stretched far too thin. Especially when it had become evident the cause of the lamp going out had been a firecracker.

  Crossing back to the lamps, he positioned the beam directly on the thread. As he’d originally suspected, a thin wire was strung between the two lights, ending at the now-empty socket. He pulled out his phone and snapped off a few photos. Was it a fuse of some sort?

  It was more plausible than whatever else they’d come up with. But it also meant that whoever set it off had still been relatively close to the car as he and Evangeline talked. Had Troy been that oblivious to his surroundings when he was with her?

  Troy moved back to the light still lit and snapped a few more photos for good measure before shoving his phone in his pocket.

  He’d send Jillian a text tonight and have her meet him here first thing in the morning. They’d need a ladder anyway, so he’d have her bring the big investigation truck the CSI team brought out to sites.

  That lamp going out practically over his and Evangeline’s heads wasn’t a coincidence. And they were going to get the evidence to prove it.

  * * *

  He waited until the cop was gone, irritated that some dumbass punk kid had steered him wrong about the fireworks. He’d asked, hadn’t he? How to set a fuse that would light the poppers from a distance?

  And he’d been given minute details on how to make the thin braided fuse do the work.

  Only it hadn’t incinerated like he’d believed it would. And now there was a link from where he lit it and where it detonated.

  That damned, persistent cop had seen it.

  All his plans would go to hell if he left any evidence behind. The goal was to make the lawyer look like she was making things up so no one believed her. But if the cops started finding evidence, his entire plan would fall apart.

  There was no way he was letting that happen.

  He’d lain low down by the end of the condo building, waiting for the melee to die down. He couldn’t risk going to his car with all the cops around, especially for the second time that day. And he wasn’t walking back to downtown, either.

  He’d intended to get in his car and leave once the cops were gone. It had only been the last-minute urge to count to a thousand and let the scene lie a bit longer that gave him what he needed. If he’d left a few minutes before or after he’d have missed the cop’s late-night investigation altogether.

  But now that he’d seen it, he had to do something.

  The setup earlier that day had been easy. He’d played local handyman and had even changed the light bulbs for good measure. No one had even noticed hi
m up there on a ladder or before he’d left that doctored shirt on her doorstep.

  Did anyone ever notice anything?

  Wasn’t that why he was in this damn mess? Tampered evidence no one bothered to notice. A problem the damn DA’s office couldn’t even see? How was that justice?

  It wasn’t.

  The rising anger that always burned in his stomach like battery acid welled up again and he savored it. Used it.

  That damn lawyer was why he was in this position. His business was nearly bankrupt and he owed more people than a bookie after a game upset. And to hell with it all, he wasn’t going down without a fight.

  The cop took a few more pictures with his camera before heading back inside the lawyer’s fancy digs. He’d give it another minute or two and then he was pulling down what was left of the fuse. The damn cop might have pictures but he wasn’t going to have any evidence.

  And like the lawyer’s shoddy prosecution had shown him, evidence was the only thing that mattered.

  CHAPTER 11

  Evangeline listened to Troy’s recounting of what he’d observed outside and shuddered at the idea of more deliberate action against her. “You think someone did that on purpose?”

  “Yes.”

  “Against me?”

  “As one more way to make you frightened, at minimum. It’s also the personal nature of doing it at your home. I don’t like it and that’s why I’m staying again tonight.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Consider yourself in possession of a roommate for the foreseeable future. I won’t make a mess and you’ll barely know I’m here.”

  She wanted to argue with him. Realistically, she knew how to take care of herself. She had been active in strength training and various forms of self-defense her entire life.

  But she’d be lying if she didn’t admit that having a cop with a gun in her home went a long way toward making her feel safer.