Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Seattle

L etting go a frustrated sigh, Xavier shoved his fingers through his hair. He shot a look at Hawke, who looked as though he could eat nails. Even though this was largely part of the job, neither he nor Hawke enjoyed interrogation. It was often uninformative and useless. People’s memories of events could be so different, little could be learned.

This time, though, they did have a few useful nuggets of information. They knew that the shooter had been a kitchen assistant who’d worked there for almost two months. Going by the name Brian Mitchell, the man was described as a tall, muscular guy. The descriptions after that were varied. Some said he had dark blond hair, piercing green eyes, and a scar on the left side of his face that extended from his brow down to his neck. Others said his hair was more brown than blond, the scar was small and only on his cheek, and was on the right side, not the left. A couple said he walked with a limp. One woman said he had an accent, but she wasn’t sure if it was Southern or British.

They all agreed that Mitchell had been soft-spoken, prompt, and reliable. He had also been a loner, rarely talking to his coworkers beyond what was necessary. No one had anything negative to say about him.

The fact that the guy, in plain sight, could change up his appearance in that many ways without anyone really noticing told them what they already knew. He was a professional.

His plan had been a good one. Get hired on a couple of months before his target was scheduled to appear. Establish himself as a loyal, competent employee, and then wait for his mark to show up.

How the assassin knew Bass would be coming to the restaurant on that particular night wasn’t hard to figure out. WP had an agenda and connections everywhere. Steering Bass toward the restaurant on a particular day would have been easy. And the poor, clueless devil had taken the bait.

This was their typical method of ridding themselves of the people they either no longer wanted to use or who’d angered them in some way. Who knew which one Bass had been? One would think that, at some point, people would pick up on the fact that there was often an expiration date on their usefulness.

“Who’s next?” Hawke asked.

Xavier glanced down at the list and couldn’t help but grin. “Red Green.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Colorful, eh?”

Hawke’s lip moved slightly upward. “Something like that. Let’s bring him in.”

Going to the door, Xavier called out, “Mr. Green?”

The name of the man who walked through the door was made even more ironic by his almost colorless personality. Youngish, with a shiny bald head, pale blue eyes, and a pasty complexion, he answered in monosyllabic murmurs. Giving more than a one-word answer or a shrug was apparently too much for him.

After interviewing twenty-three members of the kitchen staff, neither Xavier nor Hawke expected any new information about the shooter. This guy could barely get out more than a complete sentence. Xavier decided to send him on his way.

“All right, Mr. Green, thank you for?—”

“You do know that they caught the guy who did this, don’t you?”

How about that? Mr. Red Green actually could verbalize an entire sentence.

“We’re aware, but follow-up is important for a case like this.”

The man shrugged his thin shoulders, making Xavier think he was back to one-word answers and shrugs. But then, in a surprise twist, he uttered another coherent statement. “Yeah…whatever. At least that chick I talked to the other day was good to look at.”

“Tell us more about this ‘chick,’” Hawke said. “Who was she working for?”

“Don’t know. She just basically asked the same questions you guys did.”

“What did she look like?” Xavier asked.

“Good-looking. Short and kind of skinny. Had short, black hair, dark brown eyes. Classy but kinda hot, too.”

Xavier shot a look at Hawke, who was apparently thinking the same thing. Why the hell would Jazz be investigating the shooting on her own? She was supposed to be taking time for herself, not working the op.

Xavier abruptly went to his feet, causing Green to show the first real sign of emotion, which was terror. Xavier knew that his size and scruffy look often intimidated people, and he didn’t mind using them to his advantage.

“Thanks for your time, Mr. Green.”

Looking more than a little relieved to be released, the man showed a surprising amount of energy as he scooted out of the office. The door had barely clicked shut when Hawke said, “Why would Jazz be running her own investigation? I thought she wanted some time off.”

“I have no idea,” Xavier said. His self-imposed time limit to contact her wasn’t up yet, but that didn’t matter now. “But I’m going to find out.” Grabbing his phone, he punched in Jazz’s number. He wasn’t surprised that it went straight to voice mail.

Not bothering to leave a message, he ended the call and immediately called Serena.

“Hey,” Serena said. “You guys get something?”

“Maybe. Not sure. Can you do me a favor and find out where Jazz is?”

The chip embedded inside each team member ensured that their location could be identified in seconds.

“Sure. Hold just a sec. Okay…hmm.” The silence after that was deafening.

Xavier could sense immediately something was very wrong. “Serena?”

“Let me call you back.” In a very un-Serena-like way, she ended the call.

“What’s going on?” Hawke asked.

Xavier shook his head as an ominous feeling hit him. “No idea, but it’s something. Let’s get out of here and find Jazz.”

Hawke gave him a curious look. “Have you talked to her since our last meeting?”

“No. I was giving her some space.” Which he was now thoroughly regretting.

Xavier followed Hawke out the door, his mind whirling. When she’d said she wanted time off, he had known in his gut that rest and relaxation weren’t part of her agenda. He had assumed she’d head back to her apartment in Bozeman. But instead, she was working this case by herself. That made no sense whatsoever.

The sun was a round ball of fire in the sky, and Xavier squinted as he put on his sunglasses. They’d parked at the end of the alley, behind the restaurant. The place had already reopened, and according to several of the employees, they were busier than ever. Seemed Bass’s murder had caused a sensation, and everyone wanted to get a glimpse of where the murder had taken place. No doubt about it, people were odd.

He took a step and spotted a penny on the pavement in front of him. A wave of emotions swept through him at the sight. Whenever he saw a penny, his mind always went to his mother.

Sofia Quinn had never left a penny unclaimed. When he was a kid, he’d thought it was because they were so poor and needed every penny to survive. He’d asked her about it one day, and she had quickly disavowed him of that belief. She had told him that every time you see a penny, it meant that God was looking out for you, that He was reminding you to trust Him. She’d shown him the inscription: In God We Trust .

Xavier’s faith had taken some hard hits over the years. After seeing war in all its bloody horror—the injustice and sheer depravity of what humans could do to one another—he’d been left with the shakiest of beliefs.

Losing his mother suddenly while he was on his second deployment had brought him to his knees, literally. The only person who’d loved him unconditionally had died alone, without the son who adored her at her side. She hadn’t told him she was sick. The last time he’d seen her, he’d noticed she’d lost weight and had mentioned it to her. She had shushed him and told him she’d finally found a diet that worked. He had let her change the subject and cursed himself later when he’d realized that the diet she’d praised hadn’t existed. It had been the cancer inside her, destroying her.

She had sacrificed so much for him. Working two jobs, as a waitress and a maid, to keep them going. She had also put up with all his stupid-assed teenage crap. Getting in with the wrong crowd in his early teens, he could have easily stayed on the dark side. But when he’d seen the tears rolling down her face because of his stupidity, he had finally cleaned up his act. He’d never felt more like shit than at that moment, and he’d vowed to never cause her another moment of sorrow. Even now, years after her death, he still strove every day to make her proud.

And not once had he passed by a penny and not picked it up. The reminder that he was always being watched over eased him. That thought in his mind, he bent down for the coin.

A loud ping sounded. The brick wall a few feet away exploded.

“Get down!” Xavier shouted. Hitting the ground, he rolled beneath the vehicle in front of him. Another ping sounded. Twisting his head, he searched for Hawke and felt his heart stutter. Hawke lay only half a yard away, blood pouring from a neck wound and already forming a dark pool around his head. Their eyes met.

Xavier heard his friend whisper, “Livvy.”

He then watched his eyes dull as they closed.

Scrambling toward him, Xavier shouted, “No!” just as another shot was fired.