Bring the Heat (2 page)

Few people would consider watching a medical examiner conduct an investigation at a murder scene anything to write home about, but cops were a different breed. The need to protect and see justice served ran strong in Austin's veins, and when an expert like Laura had to be called in to help, his curiosity and need to see things through came to the fore.

Sure, a lot of his fascination was the woman herself. But not all.

“These are definitely stab wounds. Don't suppose you recovered the murder weapon?” she asked, interrupting his musings.

“I wish. Wouldn't that have been nice.”

“Yeah.” She paused, peering closer at the body. “This poor guy didn't even put up a fight. No defense wounds on his hands or arms. No scratches from fingernails on his skin, and no skin under his nails, either, that I can see.”

“That's what we observed, too.”

“Tests may show trace amounts. No obvious evidence of sexual activity, but again, we'll see.” She stood staring at the body for a moment. “He could've been roofied, or completely sedated. I'll let you know what we find.”

“Thanks.”

At that exact moment, she spotted the note. Slowly,
she skirted the bed, leaned over, and read the missive without touching it. Then she straightened and pinned Austin with a glare. “What the hell is this?”

“What it appears to be, unfortunately. An accusation, and a probable motive.”

“The killer is referring to you?”

“My team seems to think so. That's why they called me over here.” He nodded to the victim. “They think he resembles me, too.”

For once, words seemed to fail the woman as she turned to study the body again. Then she looked back at Austin. “I hope with everything in me that this has nothing to do with you.”

“Me, too. But I don't know what other captain he could be addressing.”

“You're not the only captain at the department.”

“I'm the only auburn-haired one who looks like
him
.”

Neither of them had an answer for that.

They walked outside together, and Laura directed her team to get the body loaded as soon as Forensics was finished processing the scene. Then she turned to Austin and regarded him thoughtfully.

“Are you sure you're all right?”

He tried a smile. “Why would you ask that?”

“You're too quiet, Austin, and you don't look well. You're completely healed from the attack, right?” Her gaze sharpened.

“Yes,” he answered truthfully. A few months earlier, he'd been stabbed and nearly killed while working a case with Tonio Salvatore, one of his detectives. “It took
a while, but I'm totally well. I'm just dealing with some personal stuff, and frankly it's running me down a little.”

“Your divorce?”

“You heard?” he asked in surprise.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “One of your uniformed officers mentioned it at a scene we worked a couple of weeks ago. I'm really sorry to hear about it.”

“Thanks.” He made a mental note to have a word with the shift during the next briefing about flapping their loose lips. “It's for the best, though—believe me.” He didn't know whether she'd heard about Ashley's pregnancy, and he wasn't about to bring it up.

“Well, I know it'll be rough for a while, but it'll work out. I'm here if you ever want to talk.”

Their eyes met and held. It was Laura's turn to blush, and Austin stared at her, captivated. In the past few years since they'd met, this was the first time she'd extended a personal offer of friendship. He wasn't dumb enough to think the timing was a coincidence, and suddenly the day seemed a lot brighter than before.

“Thank you.” He smiled. “I'll remember that.”

“Take care, Austin.”

“You, too.”

Watching that woman walk away was getting more and more difficult to do.

•   •   •

Gripping the steering wheel, Douglas relived every moment of the scene he'd masterminded, unconcerned
about the possibility of discovery. He was so easily overlooked. Always had been.

To everyone except his one true love.

And Austin had taken her away.

Closing his eyes against the pain, he recalled the loss. His love had wasted away without him while he tried desperately to do something for her. Anything. But he was powerless.

And lonely. Depressed and isolated. There were days he could barely get up in the morning, let alone function like a normal human being.

And it was all Captain Austin Rainey's fault. Now?
The asshole has everything within his grasp that should've belonged to me! He doesn't even know what he has, and he's ready to throw it all away.

So I'll beat him to it. Show him how it feels to be brought to his knees.

Then he'll finally understand what he's done to me.

Austin hovered outside Byrne's office door for a few seconds before knocking. He couldn't help but smile a bit as he recalled his meeting with his boss and good friend the day after the Blankenship murder almost a week before.

Muffled snickers punctuated the sudden stillness at his back. Assholes. He threw an evil glare over his shoulder, squelching the laughter if not the childlike glee on some of his detectives' faces.

Except for Danny, he noted with gratitude. Seated at his desk, his friend looked up from the Blankenship file, expression sober, and mouthed, Good luck.

“Come in,” Byrne's deep voice intoned, colder than the North Atlantic. “And close the door.”

He did, pushing it shut behind him. Dammit, Glenn couldn't be that angry with him. As a captain, Austin did his best to keep his nose clean.

In the early days, Austin had been wary of Glenn, who was then a hard-as-nails captain. The kind that made the men sit up straighter and sweat a little when he walked into the room. It wasn't long, however, before Austin realized the older man possessed a brilliant mind and a warmer heart than he let on.

What the hell have I done to piss him off?

The man in question didn't bother to rise from his chair, but merely nodded. His dark eyes snapped with irritation and his mouth was pressed tight. “What the fuck was yesterday?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” he confessed, gazing steadily at the chief. “I was called to the Blankenship murder scene because my detectives believe the killer might be focused on me somehow.”

The chief's stony expression softened some. “I know that. I'm talking about the public image we have to maintain.”

“What do you—”

“‘Gun Control Means Using Both Hands'?”

“Oh. The T-shirt,” Austin muttered, sitting back in his chair. “I was off duty, Glenn. They sounded so adamant I get there, I didn't think to change my shirt first. How did you find out about it?”

“On the six o'clock news,” the chief said icily. “When I saw you walk across the lawn of the crime scene wearing it.”

Shit. He blew out a breath. “Damn. I'm sorry I messed up, okay? I never even saw the reporters.”

“Messing up is wearing one blue sock and one black sock. Judging from the number of messages on my voice mail—one from the mayor himself—your stupidity qualifies as a clusterfuck.”

Austin winced. “It's done. I don't know what I can do about it.”

Glenn ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper brown hair. “Me, either. The problem is, with the climate in the media so anticop right now, none of us can afford to step one toe out of line, even with something as innocent as what's supposed to
be cop humor on a T-shirt. You understand what I'm saying?”

“Yes, sir. Every single thing we do gets blown totally out of proportion.”

“And then some! Hopefully this will all blow over by tomorrow and they'll be focused on county taxes or some shit.”

He'd started to ask whether the comments on the news were that bad, but decided he really didn't want to know.

They'd all been called on the carpet by Glenn at some point. The media and the public wanted answers about the murder—answers Austin and his men didn't have. Yet.

Bracing himself, Austin brought himself back to the present, knocked and walked inside, shutting the door behind him. Glenn waved him in and sat back in his chair, looking no less harassed than he had in the past few days.

“Tell me something good,” the chief said wearily. “Anything.”

Austin thought about that. “Not a single one of our men has been caught on a cell phone video doing anything remotely inappropriate. This week, anyway.”

“Aren't you hilarious?” Byrne huffed, glaring at him. “I'm talking about the Blankenship investigation.”

“I know.” He shook his head. “Not much to go on yet. The full report from Eden isn't back, and they're swamped.”

“Damn.”

“But I've started a list of my former cases where the perp I've put away might still hold a grudge. It's slow going.”

“All right. Keep me informed.”

“You know it.”

“How are things with you? Personally?” The question was genuine, Glenn's expression concerned.

“Not too bad, I guess. The baby's due in four weeks, and I'll admit I'm scared as hell.”

His friend smiled. “And excited.”

“That too.”

Just then a loud knock sounded on the chief's door, startling Austin. As he turned in his chair, he wondered who would have the nerve—everyone knew better than to interrupt the chief in a meeting.

“What?” Glenn barked.

The door opened and Shane stuck his head in. His gaze found Austin sitting there, then skittered away without acknowledging him.

“Chief, I need to speak with you.” Shane's voice was strained.

“Now?” Glenn swept a hand toward Austin. “You can see I'm busy at the moment.”

“This is important, sir. I wouldn't interrupt otherwise.” Something in his tone must've alerted the chief, because Glenn nodded.

“Fine. Come in, Detective.”

“No, sir. I mean, I think it's best if you come out here.”

The chief's brows rose to his hairline. But he did as he was asked, pushing his fit frame from his seat and leaving the office with Shane.

That's not strange or anything,
Austin said to himself.
Shrugging, he pulled his iPhone from his pants pocket and checked his text messages. Two from Ashley, combative as usual, one from his mother asking when she and his dad could come for a visit.

After he responded to those, he surfed on his Facebook app for a few minutes. In fact, when several minutes went by and the chief hadn't reappeared, Austin frowned. What was keeping his boss? They all had shit to do, and Austin was no exception.

Patience finally expired, he got up and left the office. As luck would have it, the chief was on his way back, Shane and Taylor walking with him.

“Are we done with our talk?” Austin asked his boss. “Because I've got things to—”

“Son, I need for you to go back into my office with us.” Glenn stopped in front of him and gestured in that direction.

Son
. It was the way he'd said it.
That tone
. Austin knew that voice, had used it and heard it used many times in his career. But he didn't have to judge by that alone. Their faces were grim, etched with sympathy, their eyes telling him without words how very much they didn't want to say whatever must be said.

“What's going on?” he asked quietly.

“In the office,” Shane insisted.

Panic seized his heart, started to claw its way up his throat. “Tell me now. What's happened? Taylor?”

The blond detective wouldn't look at him, just shook his head. “Cap, please—”

“Has there been an accident? Is it my parents?” He stared at them, unable to figure out whether it
was
one
of his parents, how they would've learned something before him.

“No, it's not your folks,” Glenn said, taking his arm. “Come inside.”

Austin jerked his arm from the chief's grasp, voice rising. “Tell me! Is it Ashley? Oh God.” His frantic gaze darted between them. “Something's happened to Ash—and my baby. Christ, what's going on?”

By then he realized all activity around them had gone silent. Without waiting for an answer, he yanked his phone from his pocket again and tried to punch in his estranged wife's number. His shaking hands wouldn't cooperate, and when Shane's hand covered the phone, Austin froze.

“Austin.”

That one word told him all he needed to know. “Where is she? At the house?”

“You are not to go out there. Do you hear me?” Glenn ordered.

“No.” He couldn't think it. Refused to believe. Frantic, he dug his truck keys out of his pocket and turned, running for the front of the building. Despite the chief shouting for someone to stop him, nobody did. Most of them simply gaped in confusion, unsure what to do.

By the time anyone mobilized behind him and there were sounds of pursuit, he was almost to his truck. In short order he was tearing out of the parking lot, narrowly missing a squad car and someone's personal SUV.

He didn't care. The only thing that mattered was getting to his house as quickly as possible. The house
he still owned but no longer lived in because he was letting Ashley have it in the divorce. The house where she'd raise their son, and Austin would be a fixture in his life.

Please, let them be safe. Let my boy be unharmed. I've waited for him for so long.

“He'll be fine,” he told himself. “They both will.”

All the way out of town to his place, he told himself that. Even when a marked squad tried to intercept and pull him over, he told himself that didn't mean the worst had happened.

But when he skidded to a stop in his own front yard, saw the yellow crime scene tape stretched across the front porch, his world came crashing down. Leaving the keys in the ignition, the truck running, he jumped out. Detectives Tonio Salvatore and Chris Ford, Shane's cousin, were on him before he reached the porch, and Tonio wrapped him in a hold from behind, around his chest, with arms like steel bands. But that didn't stop him from fighting to get free.

“Let me go!” he yelled.

“Cap, you're not going in there,” Tonio shouted back. “You can't.”

Chris stepped around in front of Austin, hands out as though trying to deter a rabid animal. “We absolutely can't let you in there. Deep down, I know you understand that.”

His heart was going to explode. “Ashley's gone?”

“Yes. I'm so sorry,” Chris said softly.

Austin stared at the detective, who blurred as his
eyes welled with tears. “The baby? Please. They saved my son, right?”

Tonio's voice was quiet in his ear. The arms didn't let go. “They couldn't. I'm sorry.”

“My son, too? My son is dead? But he was so far along,” he heard himself beg. “He was due in four weeks. I don't understand.”

“He didn't have a chance,” Chris said, placing his hands on Austin's shoulders. “He was already gone when Ashley was found.”

“Wh-what happened?”

“She was murdered. I'm so sorry.”

“How?” The word emerged as a wail from deep within his soul. “Why?”

“We're right here with you,” Tonio said instead of answering either question. “And we're going to find who did this.”

Ashley and his baby. Dead.

Austin swayed on his feet, nearly went down. Would have if not for the men holding him upright. Distantly he was aware that they were guiding him away from the house, toward Tonio's car. Chris opened the passenger-side door and got Austin seated just as more vehicles arrived. Austin didn't look to see who it was, nor did he care.

The most precious person in his life had just been taken from him before he'd even gotten a chance to know him. His baby was gone.

And Austin wanted nothing more than to be wherever his little angel was right now.

•   •   •

Laura scanned the yard as she pulled up and parked. She'd known, the second the address had come in, along with the victim's name.

Hand trembling, she shut off the ignition.
Oh, Austin
.

She spotted him as soon as she got out, sitting in the front passenger seat of someone's car. Detective Chris Ford hovered nearby as a paramedic crouched inside the open car door and checked the police captain's vitals. Chris paced a little, worry and strain clear on his face and in every line of his tense body.

Approaching, Laura caught his attention and waved him over, careful to keep herself out of Austin's line of sight. She didn't want the man thinking about what she was doing there. Not right now, if he was even capable of thinking at all.

“How is he?” The detective didn't have to ask who she meant.

“In shock. He hasn't said a word since we made him sit down. Not one sound.”

Her heart bled for the big captain. “That's not uncommon. Everyone reacts differently to this type of bad news.”

“Yeah. And this is the absolute worst I've ever seen. My God, Laura, who does this to a pregnant woman?”

“Someone evil,” she said. “And I'll do everything in my power to help you all catch him.”

Chris nodded, then glanced back toward the car. “Are you going to talk to him?”

“After. I can't focus if I'm worried about Austin, and I don't want to miss any details.”

“Just . . . do your best. This one is personal,” he said hoarsely.

“I always do, but yes. It's
very
personal.”

With that, she steeled herself and went on inside. There just wasn't any preparation for a scene like this one. Cases involving infant deaths were among the worst, but most of those were due to accidents or natural causes. Nothing like what awaited her in the entertainment room just off the den.

There was nothing accidental or natural about Ashley Rainey's death, or the death of her unborn child. The room was destroyed, the big-screen TV shattered and ripped from the wall, lamps broken, furniture shoved aside. The woman had put up a good fight, which was evidenced by the defensive wounds on her hands and arms as well.

Under her manicured fingernails, she'd torn what appeared to be a good chunk out of her assailant's flesh.
Good for you, honey,
she thought sadly.
We're going to catch the demon who did this to you and your baby.

Ashley, once a pretty blonde, had been badly beaten, especially her face. But that wasn't what had caused her death. The man's belt wrapped around her neck and applied with force until she asphyxiated had been. Tests would prove it, Laura felt certain, given the facial skin condition and coloring, and the broken blood vessels in her eyes.