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“Really? Would you care to elaborate further?” she asked in a tone so chilling that goose bumps immediately covered André’s forearms. “Exactly what do you mean by that? What are women good for?”
From where he was standing, André saw the perp’s eyes widen. A fool was born every minute.
“I didn’t think so,” Lani had growled. She moved closer, not saying anything, just looming larger than life as she regarded him with utter disdain. After a long moment, she shook her head and stepped back as if she’d smelled something rotten. “To think, I came back from my day off for this asshole.”
“Who is the asshole anyway?” Dante asked André, having missed the part where they’d checked his ID.
“Glenn Woods. His driver’s license—expired—says his home address is Miami, so he’s a long way from home,” André mused. “We’ll learn more when we get him to the station. I’m sure he has priors.”
“Glenn Woods,” Dante’s said slowly. “I don’t recognize that name.”
“If he’s not grabbing a ride with us, we’re taking off,” called out the young first responder as he started to push the ambulance doors shut.
“Not going.”
Glenn Woods was not a talker. Damn unfortunate, but it was what it was.
After reminding Woods of his rights—André figured he’d heard them many times before—the man demanded his phone call and clammed up. He was now cooling his heels in one of the station’s three tiny holding cells. Generally, they were occupied by citizens who needed a nap to sleep off too much fun or some time to cool their temper down. In his short tenure, André had used it exactly twice. Woods was only his third guest.
Lani had used Carol’s computer to search the record management system when they returned to the station. Glenn Woods had priors, plenty of them, but he wasn’t flagged as a known associate of anyone André had dealt with. That meant absolutely nothing though. A lot of these guys were smart. After all, André and Jensen had been after Aldo Campos for months before they’d finally run him to ground. And even that had taken the help of his pissed-off ex-girlfriend.
Daniella was settled in André’s office with the dog and Morrison, who she’d known from the night her mom died, according to Dante. She seemed to feel safe with him. They were alternating between watching Taylor Swift videos and listening to The Stray Kids. André appreciated the man’s sacrifice.
Their situation wasn’t ideal by any means, and they still needed to figure out where Dante and Daniella would be staying for the foreseeable future. Returning to the rental was not an option. Unfortunately, neither was André’s house. They didn’t know where the other perp had gone. He could be anywhere, and he could have fled town. André was not betting on that last one.
“What a useless human being, and I’m being generous here,” Lani complained, leaning back in Carol’s chair. “Morrison saw him shoot Brown point-blank.”
“Maybe his lawyer will advise him to talk.” André wasn’t hopeful.
“Maybe pigs will fly,” muttered Dante.
Thank fuckDante had been wearing the ballistic vest when Woods had pulled the trigger. Just thinking about it made him twitchy. André shifted his stance, leaning one shoulder up against the wall of the lobby while restlessly tapping his foot. He was brimming with nervous energy.
Dante occupied one of the chairs André had dragged out of his office and was holding an ice pack against his chest every five minutes. They’d both changed into dry clothes. André kept a spare uniform at the station which he was now wearing, as well as a pair of track pants and an old training sweatshirt. Dante was wearing those.
André liked Dante wearing his clothes, even if they were a bit tight. Maybe he liked it because they were tight.
“So,” Lani began, sitting forward and regarding them both with an intense gaze, “are you two planning on telling me what the hell is going on? And I don’t mean the declaration Brown made yesterday.”
André glanced across the room at Dante. This was his story to tell. But the more Lani knew about the situation, the better help she could be.
“Why are people trying to kill you and Chief Dear?” she asked Dante directly.
The chair creaked as Dante shifted his weight and looked up at the ceiling. Deciding what he could reveal, André supposed.
“My niece witnessed her mother’s murder,” Dante began. “Simone was a prosecutor with a serious caseload. The working theory is that, aside from her being able to ID the killers, they possibly think Dani knows something more—that Simone incidentally shared information. Simone’s murder was likely an attempt to stop the prosecution on one of her cases, but the state isn’t going to let it go. This just adds fuel to the fire for the State Attorney General’s Office.”
“Huh.” Lani sat back again, a thoughtful expression on her face. “But that doesn’t explain why somebody is taking shots at Chief Dear. Is what happened tonight related to this morning and yesterday? If not, it’s an awful lot of coincidence. I’m not a fan.”
“Agreed.”
“So.” Lani glanced over at André. “Who would shoot at you? What do you have to do with any of it?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure.”
“There’s a list of people mad enough they want to kill you?” She shot him a skeptical look. “Maybe you should have given that to me on your first day.”
“Ha ha,” grumbled André. “No list I know of. We’ve got a possible serial killer—I doubt he’s after me. There’s whoever is after Dante. Maybe Lizzy Harlow’s murderer? I also don’t think whoever that is would be gunning for me. And don’t forget Blair Cruz is still missing, so that may be someone else too.” He straightened up, one foot against the wall. “If it’s tied to the Lizzy Harlow case, it’s already cold. State labs are short-staffed, and I’ve tried to light a fire, but her case just isn’t a priority.” He waved a hand. “But you know all that.”
