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“Cartel soldiers are arrested all the time. My deputies and I have put the cuffs on more than our fair share, but the response is always the same. No one talks. Because if you give up the cartel, you won’t even make it to your cell.” Baker was trying to make sense of the thoughts in his head as fast as he could, but there were still too many moving pieces. The man they’d encountered in the desert had described the pain of watching someone he loved tortured and killed in front of him. Had said Baker had been spared. “No. I’m starting to think this is about something else altogether.”
“Like what?” she asked.
“Whoever set that device in the station placed it in the evidence room. I think we were right in figuring it was purposefully detonated to destroy evidence in Marc De Leon’s murder case.” Baker paced across the room, to the window and back. “But how could the bomber have known we’d go to De Leon’s compound? How was he waiting for us unless he knew we’d be there?”
“Easy to draw that conclusion once we realized the first bomb had been a means to destroy evidence in the murder investigation.” Jocelyn leaned back against the desk built into the main wall of her room. No family photos staring back from shelves. No personal touches added over the course of her tenure with Socorro. This wasn’t a home for her and Maverick. It was just a temporary way station until something else came along. “Could be the bomber has studied your protocols, knew you’d want to take up a case this big yourself rather than assigning it to one of your deputies. Especially if he knows what happened in your past. He went out there to set things up and then waited for us.”
Damn, he’d missed this. Someone to bounce ideas off of, to solve puzzles with and test his limits. The feeling of partnership. Like he’d had with Linley. Building and working for something greater than the both of them. Sure, his deputies had his back in any given situation. They were there to do their job, and they did it well, but that didn’t make them friends. More like acquaintances who sometimes took turns to bring in doughnuts.
But Jocelyn... She was different. She was more than an acquaintance. More than a friend. She was everything he’d needed over these past couple days—and everything he wanted for his life. Who else was capable of looking him right in the eye and telling him he’d been chasing a ghost? Who else surprised him on more occasion than he could count? She was the kind of woman who genuinely put others’ needs before her own, just to give them a sense of peace, and hell, if that wasn’t one of the most beautiful things he’d ever witnessed. Not to mention the explosive pleasure she’d ignited in him last night. Jocelyn Carville had ambushed him when he’d least expected it, and he never wanted to give her up.
Baker slowed his pacing. “Or the bomber wasn’t there for me at all.”
“What do you mean? He strapped a device into your Kevlar and handcuffed you to your steering wheel. The only reason you’re still standing here is because you figured out how to disrupt the pager’s receiver used to trigger the bomb.” Confusion was etched above her eyebrows, and with good reason. “He was going to kill you, Baker. He tried to kill both of us, or have you forgotten there was a bullet in my shoulder less than twenty-four hours ago?”
“Because I was in his way.” It was the only thing that made sense. “That’s why he shot you. We were nothing but obstacles to what he really wanted.”
“The Ghost.” Her bottom lip pulled away from the top. “Marc De Leon.”
“Everything that’s happened since that first explosion at the station has been centered around him.” A flash of nervous excitement spiraled through him until Baker couldn’t stop the words from forming. This was it. This was how they found the son of a bitch. “Sangre por Sangre soldiers are protected on the inside. Alpine Valley PD had evidence Marc De Leon murdered that woman during the raid, but what if a handful of years in prison wasn’t enough for our bomber? What if he wanted the Ghost to suffer a hell of a lot more, without protection and with no chance of some defense attorney giving him an easy way out?”
Because Baker had wanted the exact same thing. For the man who’d murdered his sister and burned his world to the ground to suffer. That drive for revenge had been in his head from the moment he woke every morning and was the very last thought on his mind as he ended the day. Everything he’d done had been to make the bastard feel what Baker had felt upon finding Linley in that barn.
Jocelyn shoved away from the desk with her uninjured hand. “He wanted to add you as a notch in the Ghost’s belt to double down on the charges. But why destroy evidence in the murder investigation? Why take away a sure conviction and a chance for Jane Doe to get the justice she deserves?”
The truth hit harder than he was ready for.
“Because the death of a second chief of police by the cartel would bring in the big guns.” His blood ran cold at the mere suggestion. “One woman killed by one of their soldiers doesn’t get much attention except from the people in Alpine Valley. By now, everyone has forgotten about her and moved on with their lives, but if two officers are murdered at the hands of the cartel?”
Jocelyn’s expression fell, and damn it, he couldn’t deny how much he hated seeing her without a smile. Forced or otherwise. “The feds would have no other choice than to call in every agency on their payroll, including Socorro.”
“We’ve been thinking this is has been a targeted effort. One man trying to kill another, but we were wrong.” Baker scrubbed a hand down his face. “The bomber wants to start a war.”
Chapter Twelve
She couldn’t be a smart cookie with a crumbly attitude.
Jocelyn hauled herself from the passenger seat of the loaner SUV she’d borrowed from Jones. With her vehicle in a million pieces and her shoulder in a sling, she’d have to rely on the rest of team to get her around for a while. Not a comfortable feeling, but she had too many other things on her mind.
Finding a bomber before he launched a war with the Sangre por Sangre cartel, for one.
She let Maverick out of the back seat as she surveyed the scene.
The landslide had been worse than she’d thought. Rain pelted against her face and soaked into the ground. It made balance harder for the volunteer cleanup crew trying not to slide down the new hill and threatened to land her on her ass. Mud, rock, cement chunks and wood framing had flooded through an entire street of homes. Far too many homes had been lost, and now there was nothing left but their roofs peeking out from areas Fire and Rescue had dug out.
This was a disaster in every sense of the word.
It would take months to excavate, and what happened to those families in the meantime? Jones had reported they’d been evacuated before the slide, but where were they supposed to go now?
“You okay?” Baker rounded the hood of the SUV, setting his hand beneath her slung elbow as support.
“My arm is just a bit sore.” An understatement of the highest degree. The wound in her shoulder wasn’t just sore. It was on fire. The last of the pain medication she’d received in the medical suite had burned off—most likely with help of last night’s heart-racing activities—leaving her in a world of pain she hadn’t known physically existed. “I’ll be fine.”
“You sure? Because you look like you’re about to fall over.” No hint of humor in his voice, which meant she looked as good as she felt. “Why don’t you wait in the car? I can check in with the bomb squad alone.”
“I said I’ll be fine.” Frustration had seeped past her control, and an instant shot of shame and embarrassment knifed through her as Baker removed his hand from her elbow. Jocelyn forced that practiced smile back in place. Everything was fine as long as she was smiling. She could do this. Because waiting in the car while the rest of her team and Baker worked this case wasn’t an option.
She navigated up a sharp incline to where the rest of the volunteers and the bomb squad had set up a command center under a canvas pavilion. “Let’s just see what they’ve found.”
