Chapter 11

For what seemed like the zillionth time, Eve had her head tucked between her knees as gunfire echoed around her. Grayson was firing back at the vehicle behind them while Roscoe was calling for backup. She braced herself for the worst, especially the way Roscoe was taking sharp turns at a high rate of speed. The jerky movements kept throwing her off balance, but she did her best to stay seated with her head out of the line of fire.

Obviously, the man shooting at them wasn't Jason Lamont or Allan Ballard; there wouldn't have been time for either of them to jump into a car and follow them. Then who? She couldn't imagine Bambi doing such a thing.

One of the professors who wasn't at home? Was it possible Grayson was right about Geoff or Nick being involved?

"Good job, Roscoe, you lost them," Grayson said. "Thanks."

"Did you happen to get a look at the shooter?" Roscoe asked. "A description would be helpful."

"No. There was no front plate on the SUV, and the sun glare off the windshield made it impossible to get a good look at the driver. Eve? Are you okay?"

She lifted her head to look at Grayson. "I'm fine, but how did the gunman find us? I don't understand why this keeps happening."

"I don't know." Grayson's dark eyes were intense. "You have blood on your cheek. A piece of glass must have cut you."

She lifted her fingers and felt the damp blood. "It doesn't hurt."

Grayson shook his head. "I'm sorry. I don't know how we were found, but I have a theory. One you won't like hearing."

"Roger called the professors to warn them we were coming to talk to them," she guessed. "And that means either Geoff, Nick, or Larry could be responsible."

"Yes." He held her gaze before turning away. "I need to talk with Rhy and Joe about issuing a BOLO for the three of them."

"A BOLO? How can you arrest them when you can't prove they've done anything wrong?"

"BOLO stands for be on the lookout as a person of interest," Grayson clarified. "And we can bring them down to the precinct for questioning. That's different from arresting them."

She swallowed hard and turned to gaze out her broken window. Maybe it would be for the best if the police brought her colleagues to the station. She couldn't take much more of this. Her research was suffering, and at the rate things were going, it would take months just to get caught up.

"What's going on?" a deep male voice asked through the car speaker. She glanced up to see Rhy's name on the screen.

"Roscoe's SUV has suffered gunshot damage, but everyone is fine," Grayson said.

"Where are you?" Rhy demanded.

Grayson explained about their plan to speak to Eve's associate professors. "Three of them weren't home, then a shooter shows up just after we leave the home of the last guy on the list, which is a hard coincidence to swallow. I'd like BOLOs issued for Nick Strong, Geoff Abbott, and Larry Kimmel as persons of interest in the bombing of the research institute and attempted murder of Eve Shaw."

"Got it," Rhy said. "Any other description of the SUV the shooter was driving?"

"Dark gunmetal gray, no front license plate, and looked to be a new model, but that's all I can give you. Oh, and there is likely a bullet hole in the windshield too."

There was a brief, heavy silence as Rhy digested that. "Okay, I can put the word out to glass repair companies to alert us if they are called to fix a bullet hole in a windshield, but that will take time. It's possible the repairs could be done prior to us reaching out."

"Have Gabe double-check that none of the professors owns a gunmetal-gray SUV," Grayson continued. "I'm sure they're smart enough not to use their own vehicle, but there's always a chance they borrowed something from a family member or close friend."

"Good idea. I'll get Cassidy and Flynn involved as well. You know, I think it's time for you to take Eve to the safe house in Ravenswood."

Eve frowned, wondering what he meant. Did the police really have a safe house where they kept citizens who happened to be in harm's way? That seemed impractical on so many levels. She couldn't be the first woman to be in a situation like this.

"Yeah, you're probably right," Grayson agreed. "But I think we need a clean vehicle first since it's possible the perp in the gunmetal-gray SUV got our license plate number."

"Go to the car rental in Brookland," Rhy said. "I know the manager and can arrange for a replacement."

"Two vehicles, boss," Roscoe piped up. "Once Grayson and Eve are safe in Ravenswood, you'll need me in the field. These visits to the professors have heated things up. We may need to stake out their homes."

"Good point," Rhy agreed. "Grayson, let me know when you get to the safe house."

"Will do."

She watched as Roscoe ended the call. "Is the safe house a place I can work on my research?"

"I can't let you log into work," Grayson said with a frown. "But going through your notes should be fine."

"Okay." His response wasn't a surprise, but she'd thought it wouldn't hurt to ask. "I wonder if we should talk to Bambi too."

"Yeah. I doubt she's the one shooting at you, but she may have some insight into this," Grayson said.

"Don't let Raelyn, Jina, or Cassidy hear you talk like that," Roscoe chided. "Our three teammates are very good with firearms, especially Jina."

"That's true," Grayson agreed. "Yet there's a big difference between a pharmaceutical sales rep and cops."

"For all we know, Bambi's dad was a cop and taught her everything he knows." Roscoe flashed a grin. "Most of the gals in Texas shoot as well or better than the men."

"That's only because Texas is the wild, Wild West," Grayson shot back.

Roscoe barked out a laugh. "Yep, you'all are right about that."

Eve tried not to be annoyed by their banter, understanding they were trying to ease the tension. They were accustomed to being in danger, but she wasn't. Yet she also didn't want to complain in case they decided to leave her behind.

She still felt that she would have gotten further with her colleagues if she'd been able to speak with them directly. Even if hearing the truth about how much they resented her hurt.

"You okay, Eve?" She glanced up to see Roscoe looking at her with concern in the rearview mirror.

"Fine." She forced a smile. "I'm getting used to the sound of gunfire."

Grayson twisted in his seat to look at her. "I'm sorry. I know I promised to protect you, and things haven't gone as planned. Trust me, you'll be safe at the house in Ravenswood. The home has been constructed with bullet-resistant glass."

"Oh, great." Was this what her life had come to? Being taken and held in a safe house with bulletproof glass?

She struggled not to break down crying. Grayson had asked her to trust him, and she did. But she had trusted her boss and her colleagues, too, only to find out she barely knew them. Hadn't known about Jason's wife and baby, hadn't known how much they'd resented her. How Nick had threatened to file a lawsuit.

How well did she really know Grayson? Sharing an advanced chemistry class in high school ten years ago didn't mean anything.

She had never felt so acutely alone as she did right now.

* * *

Grayson could tellEve was hanging on by a thread, and it was all his fault. He shouldn't have taken her along to talk to her boss and her colleagues. It didn't matter if he wanted to work the case, he knew the smart thing would be to get Eve into the Ravenswood safe house and keep her there until they had the bomber/shooter in custody.

Roscoe pulled into the rental car company that was located within a mile of the Finnegan homestead. And a short distance to Andrew Thomas's condo.

He needed to reach out to the Brookland PD detective about his interview with Bambi Altman. It was possible Detective Meyer would talk to him since he knew Rhy and the rest of the Finnegan family.

If not, he'd try reaching out to Bambi himself. He didn't want to interfere with the Brookland investigation, but if Meyer had already spoken to her, there was no reason he couldn't talk to her too.

The two rental SUVs were waiting for them, so all Grayson and Roscoe had to do was to sign the paperwork, grab the key fobs, and go.

"I'll follow you to Ravenswood," Roscoe offered. "Make sure you get there safely."

He hesitated. "You can go ahead. I'm going to stop at the Brookland PD first. See if Detective Meyer will give me an update on Andrew's murder."

Roscoe frowned, glancing at Eve. "I can do that for you."

"I'm sure we'll be safe enough at the Brookland PD." The minute the protest left his mouth, he winced. What was he doing? Hadn't he just told himself to let the team handle the interviews. "Never mind," he hastily amended, "I'll call him."

Roscoe sighed. "We'll go to Brookland PD together. You know as well as I do Meyer will just dodge your calls."

He grinned in relief. "Thanks, Roscoe. It's a short detour, then we'll head to Ravenswood."

Eve didn't say anything, seeming to stare off into space. He kept a wary eye on her as he drove to the police department. She was probably still reeling from learning the truth about her coworkers resenting her, followed closely by yet another attack of gunfire.

He was doing a lousy job of protecting her. Was this how Steele, Brock, and Raelyn had felt over the past few months? They'd been in similar situations, which had thankfully turned out okay.

So why did he feel like a big fat failure?

Roscoe stayed right behind him during the short drive. Grayson pulled into the parking lot and waited for Roscoe to park beside him before getting out of the vehicle.

Eve pushed out of the driver's side, coming to stand beside him. "This won't take long," he told her.

"It's fine." Her tone was listless.

He wanted to pull her into his arms, but Roscoe had joined them, so they headed inside. The blast of air-conditioning felt good, but he noticed Eve shivered.

Slipping his arm around her waist, he urged her forward. "I'm MPD Officer Grayson Clark. I'd like to speak to Detective Meyer."

The front desk officer frowned. "He's busy."

"I know. I'm the one who called in the homicide. I only need a few minutes, and we're happy to wait."

"I'll let him know, but he may not have time to meet." The desk clerk picked up the phone and spoke in a low tone.

Grayson turned away, giving Roscoe a shrug. "Let's hang out for a few minutes."

"Okay." Roscoe nodded.

The minutes ticked by slowly. When ten minutes had passed, he wondered if they were wasting their time. Maybe Meyer had no intention of coming out to talk to him.

A door opened, and a stunning blonde stepped out, followed by Detective Meyer. The familiar face clicked in his brain.

Well, well, if it isn't the infamous Bambi Altman.

"Thank you, Detective," she said in a syrupy voice. "I appreciate everything you're doing to find Andy's killer."

"Take care," Meyer said in a noncommittal tone that led Grayson to believe the seasoned detective wasn't necessarily buying the grieving girlfriend act. "I'll let you know if I have more questions."

"Of course." Bambi gazed up at him. "Anything you need. I want Andy's murderer caught and punished for what he did."

Meyer's caught Grayson's gaze and gave a slight nod, indicating he'd be over to talk to him soon. Bambi left the police station without giving him, Roscoe, or Eve a second look. And honestly, he found that odd. Most people were curious enough to glance at strangers. It was almost as if Bambi wanted nothing more than to get as far away from the cops as soon as she could.

No one said a word until the door closed behind Bambi and she walked out of sight. Then Meyer gave him a resigned nod. "I can pretty much tell you she gave us nothing. Her alibi checked out. No one would want to hurt Andy, he wasn't cheating, she wasn't cheating, and everything between them was hunky dory."

Grayson nodded thoughtfully. "What's your gut telling you?"

Meyer spread his hands. "I think their relationship was more than just personal, even though she denied that. I have no proof, though; we're still going through Thomas's phone records. And that will take time since he received dozens of calls from other nurses and providers."

"Yeah, that figures." Grayson wasn't sure why he'd thought the detective would be further along with the investigation. They'd only stumbled across Andrew Thomas's body, what, five hours ago?

"I can confirm they had a personal and professional relationship," Eve said. "I saw them together at work and at Andrew's condo. And I also have to tell you he always preferred being called Andrew, not Andy."

Meyer nodded. "I hear you. I tried to pin Bambi down on the last time she saw him, but she claims it's been a few days and was not able to be more specific."

Grayson and Roscoe exchanged a glance. "Okay, anything else that you can tell us? We're still trying to understand if Andrew's murder is connected to the violent attacks against Dr. Shaw."

"Nothing yet, autopsy won't be until tomorrow, and the drug screen takes time." Meyer scowled. "If you do find a connection between the two cases, I hope you'll let me know."

"Of course. Thanks for the update." He was glad Meyer had been decent enough to fill them in, so he added, "We have issued a BOLO for three of Dr. Shaw's colleagues. It's possible one of them may be responsible for the attacks against her, although I have no idea why any of them would want Andrew Thomas dead."

"That's interesting," Meyer said. "I'll make sure our guys keep their eyes open for them too."

He nodded and turned to Eve. "Ready to go?"

"Yes." Her faint smile didn't reach her stormy gray eyes. Once they were outside, she said, "I'm glad Meyer wasn't fooled by Bambi's act."

"Most cops are smart enough to look through that type of thing," he assured her. "Beauty is only skin deep, Eve. Doesn't matter how she looks on the outside if her heart is ugly."

"I don't know for sure that she's an awful person," Eve said. "Other than she wasn't above using her looks to make a sale."

He thought about that for a moment as they got settled in the rental SUV. He wondered how much sway a physician's assistant could even have when it came to prescribing medications. Granted, Andrew may have switched his patients over to whatever drug Bambi was pushing, but he was one man in a huge medical facility.

In the big scheme of things, his influence had to be a drop in the bucket. So why had someone killed him?

Much like the attacks against Eve, it didn't make any sense.

Swallowing his frustration, he backed out of the parking space and headed toward Ravenswood. The city was roughly twenty-five miles from here. He glanced at Eve. "Are you hungry? I'm not sure there's any food at the safe house."

"It does seem as if breakfast at Rosie's was a long time ago." She glanced over her shoulder to look out the back window. "Does Roscoe want to stop for food too?"

"I'll call him." He and Roscoe had taken a few minutes to pair their phones with the SUV's communication system prior to leaving the rental agency. He told the computer to call Roscoe, and ten seconds later, his buddy answered.

"What's up?"

"We're stopping for lunch if you're hungry," he said.

"Sounds good. I'll follow you."

"Thanks." He ended the call. "Anywhere in particular you'd like to eat?"

"Anyplace is fine." She still seemed out of sorts. "A salad would be nice."

He remembered a family restaurant that was about halfway to the safe house. They had just about everything under the sun on their menu. Not the delicious baked goods like Rosie's but plenty of other options.

Traffic was light on this warm summer day. It was too bad they couldn't head to a park or down to the lakefront for a picnic.

"Tell me about pharmaceutical sales reps." He glanced at her as he navigated traffic. "Do they have full run of the hospital?"

"Not at all," she said quickly. "Andrew was breaking the rules letting Bambi in. There are strict no sales rep policies because the hospital administration doesn't want patients exposed to expensive drugs when those generic or well-established medicines are often just as effective."

"So how did Andrew manage to break the rules?"

"I don't know." She frowned. "I supposed it's easy enough to blend in by wearing a lab coat and pretending to be a staff member."

It still wasn't enough to justify murder. "Did Andrew mention that Bambi was meeting with other providers? Doctors or physician assistants?"

She arched a brow. "You mean other male doctors or PAs? I doubt women would buy into her act."

She had a point. "Okay, other male providers, then."

"No, he didn't say." Eve looked away. "It's not like we had an extensive conversation about his cheating."

"No, I guess not." The more he thought about it, the less likely it seemed that Andrew's murder was connected to the attacks against Eve. Other than the suspicious timing, it was hard to imagine how they were tied together. For all they knew, Bambi had another jealous boyfriend out there somewhere who decided to eliminate the competition.

They drove in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. He pulled into the restaurant, relieved that the hour was late enough that they had missed the noon lunch rush.

Again, he waited for Roscoe to pull up alongside them. With Eve between them, they headed inside.

"Booth?" the hostess asked.

Grayson glanced at Eve who nodded. "Thanks, that works."

Once they were seated, Eve next to him and Roscoe across the table from them, a harried server brought waters and menus.

"I'm starving." Roscoe scanned the menu. "Ooh, barbecued ribs!"

They often joked that when Roscoe retired from the police department, he would open his own barbecue restaurant. He always ordered barbecued ribs or chicken, then complained that nothing was as good as a Texas barbecue.

When their server returned, Eve ordered her salad, while he chose the steak sandwich. He and Eve stuck with water, and Roscoe ordered a coke.

"Do we need to pick up groceries before heading to the safe house?" Eve asked. "I'm not a great cook, but I can make something simple like spaghetti."

"We'll have groceries delivered," he assured her. "And I love spaghetti."

"Not as good as ribs," Roscoe declared.

Eve wrinkled her nose. "I'm not a fan of ribs."

Roscoe comically placed a hand over his heart. "Stabbed by the pretty doc," he complained.

Eve reluctantly smiled, and he was glad she seemed to be getting over their recent setback. She was beautiful, not in a flashy way like Bambi—who he wouldn't trust as far as he could throw her—but in a wholesome girl-next-door kind of way.

He pulled himself from those inappropriate thoughts. He needed to remember how badly things ended with Monica. "I'll need something to work on while we're holed up in the safe house. If Gabe hasn't gotten around to checking our three perps to see if they own gunmetal-gray SUVs, maybe I can dig into that. I wish we had enough to get a warrant for rental car agencies to give us information."

"We don't, not without narrowing the search parameters," Roscoe pointed out. "Maybe if you saw a rental car decal or sticker, that would be enough."

"I didn't." Sometimes he got tired of the bureaucratic red tape, yet without the proper search warrants, their evidence could easily get tossed when it came to going to trial. "Hopefully, the BOLOs will yield results and those interviews will produce enough evidence for a judge to consider granting a warrant."

"Anything is possible," Roscoe agreed.

Their food arrived. Eve bowed her head to pray. Beneath the table, Grayson reached for her hand.

"Dear Lord Jesus, we thank You for this food and for keeping us all safe in Your care. Amen."

"Amen," he murmured.

"Amen," Roscoe echoed. Then he grinned. "Dig in!"

Shaking his head at Roscoe's antics, he took a bite of his sandwich. It was good. He and Roscoe made quick work of their meals while Eve picked at her salad.

A phone rang, making him and Roscoe check their pockets. To their surprise, Eve pulled out the small disposable phone.

"Who could be calling me?" she asked. Before he could advise her not to answer, she lifted it to her ear. "Hello?"

Had to be a wrong number or spam, he thought.

"Oh, hello, Dave."

Dave who?

"Oh, um, I hadn't thought about when it would be a good time to reschedule my presentation," she said, giving him a clue. The name clicked; he remembered her talking to a Dr. Dave Firestein shortly after her office exploded.

He leaned forward to ask in a hushed tone, "How did he get your number?"

She waved him off. "Sure, a week from today should be plenty of time. Okay, thanks." When he scowled, she belatedly asked, "How did you get this number?" After listening for a moment, she said, "Okay, thanks. Talk soon." She ended the call.

"Let me guess, your boss gave him your new cell number," Grayson said. He should have considered that earlier.

"Yes. It's not a big deal; you didn't tell Roger not to share it."

"No, I didn't." But maybe he should have. He took another bite of his steak sandwich and wondered why this Dave Firestein was so anxious to set up another live presentation. Then he reached for Eve's hand. "Where does Firestein work? Madison?"

"Yes, why?" Eve nibbled on a piece of grilled chicken.

He met Roscoe's gaze and was reassured that his buddy was thinking along the same lines as he was.

Madison was only an hour from Milwaukee. Close enough that Dave Firestein could have been the one to set the bombs, then head off to sit somewhere safe with a laptop with the presentation up on the screen, waiting for the blast.