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CHAPTER SIX

VIOLET DOVE INTO the backseat of the idling SUV as a barrage of gunshots shattered the peaceful morning. Hunched low, she glanced over her shoulder. Noah was still outside the SUV, trying to find the shooter. “Noah!”

A second later, he scrambled into the vehicle and closed the door. “Get us out of here, Grant.”

His friend put the vehicle in gear and pealed out of the parking lot. “Scoot down in your seat, Rayne,” he snapped. “I don’t want the shooter getting a bead on you.”

She slid as low as her seatbelt would allow. “Noah, Violet, are you hurt?”

“Not me,” Noah said. “Violet?”

“I’m fine.” She growled. “I didn’t think I’d been in town long enough to tick anyone off besides Fitz and the detectives. Surely they wouldn’t be shooting at us.”

“I hope not.” Grant scanned mirrors and took a circuitous route away from the hospital. “The last thing I want to do is clean house in another cop shop. Already been there, done that, and burned the t-shirt.”

Violet laughed, surprised she could in this high-stress situation. “Anybody get a look at the shooter?”

“Just saw the light flash off the shooter’s scope,” Rayne said.

“Where was he?” Noah demanded.

“The roof of an apartment building.”

Violet frowned. “Unless things have changed drastically since I left town, there are no security measures in and around that building. Accessing the roof would have been easy.”

“Sight line would have been perfect for the shooting,” he muttered.

“What do you want me to do, Noah?” Grant asked.

“Circle back to within two blocks of the apartment building. I want a look at the roof.”

“The cops will be on scene soon.”

“Got to do it now. If we wait, we’ll lose any chance of examining the scene before Morrison’s finest figure out where the shooter set up his nest.”

“Copy that.” Grant turned at the next corner and worked his way back to the area they’d left. Sirens sounded as officers raced to the scene of the shooting.

“Let’s hope we don’t attract attention,” Rayne said. “The last thing we need is to be hauled back into an interrogation room.”

Violet leaned forward and laid her hand on Grant’s shoulder. “Turn left at the next intersection. We can park in a quiet neighborhood two blocks from the apartment building. It’s a busy area, so I doubt anyone will notice our vehicle.”

“We won’t be there long enough to rouse suspicion,” Noah said.

She hoped not. Violet could just imagine the trouble she and the others would have with Fitz and his cronies if they caught the Fortress operatives on the roof.

Two minutes later, Grant eased the SUV to a stop at the curb and turned off the engine. “Let’s get this done so we can get out of here.”

They exited the vehicle, and Noah held out his hand to Violet. “If someone asks, my girlfriend is showing us around the town where she grew up.”

Grant wrapped his hand around Rayne’s. “Camouflage. You don’t mind, do you, Rayne?”

“No, of course not,” she murmured. Her cheeks flushed a bright pink, though.

Violet faced forward before she smiled, wondering if a romance was brewing between Rayne and Grant. While they were training at PSI, the bodyguard and training school for Fortress Security, those two always seemed to be together, and the habit had remained when the teams were assigned to the same missions out in the field.

Whether the pattern continued when they were in the Nashville area was the question. If Violet had to guess, she’d say Rayne and Grant were working toward an official relationship. In her opinion, they were a perfect match.

She glanced at Noah, who continued to scan the area as they walked toward the back of the apartment building. Violet had a hard time believing they were officially together as a couple. In this horrible time of her life, she had a light in the darkness, someone to lean on and to encourage her to keep going when she wanted to lie down, yank a blanket over her head, and hide from the world.

Hiding wasn’t an option. Somewhere in this idyllic town, a murderer lurked in the darkness, waiting to strike again. Although she had no proof, Violet believed this killer had tried his hand at murder before he killed Cami.

“You okay?” Noah murmured.

“As much as I can be under the circumstances.”

“Want to talk?”

“Yes, but not here. When we’re at the hotel and have no distractions.”

“It’s a date.” He squeezed her shoulders briefly. “What should I know about this apartment building?”

“It has six floors, and most of the time, the elevators don’t work. People in that building mind their own business, so even if the police figure out the shooter was on the roof and question them about it, they won’t admit to knowing anything.

“The building is tired and run down, but not so much of a hazard that the building inspectors will shut it down. The hot water heaters are barely adequate on a good day. More often than not, the air conditioning doesn’t work during the summer and the heating system is sketchy during the winter. If I were you, I wouldn’t drink the water without running it through a purification system.”

Noah’s eyebrows rose higher the longer she spoke. “How do you know so much about that place?”

“Cami and I lived there during our last year of high school. It was the most miserable year of our lives.”

“Huh. I know you joined the Army right out of school. How did Camilla escape that building?”

“The Army offered me a large signing bonus. I sent the whole thing to Cami so she could move to better lodgings.”

“Generous of you.”

She shrugged. “What did I need with the money? The Army covered all my expenses. I was more concerned about her living situation than my own.” She’d seen how some men in that apartment building eyed Cami when they thought Violet wasn’t watching. They’d been wrong.

Even as a teenager, she was hyperaware of her surroundings. Although she’d only been five minutes older than her sister, Violet had felt years older. When their parents died in the car crash, she had immediately taken on the role of protector and provider despite being eight years old. Aunt Rosalie had done nothing to change Violet’s mind about the necessity of being responsible for the two of them.

Violet saw the opening in the hedges she was looking for. The hedge concealed the back entrance of the apartment building. Unless maintenance practices had changed drastically, the door didn’t lock properly. Even if it did, all four of the Fortress operatives could pick locks in seconds. “We’ll go through here.”

Noah and the others followed her through the almost invisible opening. They emerged at the back door of the building.

Violet tugged her sleeve down over her hand and twisted the doorknob. After offering a slight resistance, the knob turned, and she pushed open the door.

“This way,” she murmured. Violet led her teammates through a laundry room, which was mostly a graveyard of defective washers and dryers. From the looks of things, nothing had changed. All the machines were covered in dirt and dust, and many were rusted out hunks of junk.

At the entrance to the room, she opened the door enough to peer out into the dimly lit hallway. No movement. Excellent.

Violet eased into the hall and walked soundlessly toward the door hidden in a dark nook at the other end of the long corridor. When she reached the door, Violet twisted the knob gently. Locked. She glanced over her shoulder at Noah and shook her head.

Grant pulled a penlight from his pocket and shined the beam on the knob as Noah crouched in front of the door with his lock picks. Seconds later, the lock shifted and Noah easily turned the knob with his sleeve-covered hand.

“Show off,” Rayne muttered.

“Piece of cake.” Noah grinned. “It’s all in the wrist.”

Amused, Violet shook her head and started up the stairs. They still creaked in the same places from her time as a resident. The roof had been a refuge for her and Cami when the neighbors grew too rowdy for them to study.

Six floors later, she tugged on a pair of rubber gloves and twisted a knob to the door opening to the roof. Violet scanned the area. Empty.

“Go low,” Noah murmured. “Don’t want to draw attention.”

Right. She crouched and moved away from the door so her teammates could join her.

Noah looked at Grant and signaled him.

After a slight nod, he moved in a low crouch to the other side of the roof.

“Fan out,” Noah murmured. “Hopefully, the shooter didn’t police his brass. I’d love to get a shell casing with a fingerprint on the surface.”

How likely was that? Violet had a feeling they wouldn’t find much. She went to the left side where she and her sister had frequently waited for the neighbors to go to sleep and found signs of other people using the roof for an escape. Ironic. She’d changed so much since she left Morrison, yet this town seemed to be caught in stasis.

She quickly searched her area and came up with zip unless you counted cigarette butts, crushed beer cans, and three empty condom wrappers. Violet looked over at Rayne.

Her friend shook her head. Nothing on her side, either.

Sirens sounded as more officers raced to the hospital to help with the search for the gunman and shooting victims. Hopefully, no one had been hit by stray bullets. The SUV had bullet holes along the left side of the vehicle. If they were lucky, the Morrison police wouldn’t notice the damage.

Violet sighed. The boss wouldn’t be happy about the damage and neither would the insurance company.

Noah crouched low and bent to pick up something from the shadow of a roof vent. He looked satisfied and uttered a soft whistle to catch Grant’s attention. “Got anything?”

“Scuff marks. You?”

“Shell casing. Shooter was sloppy.”

“We can’t remove the only evidence.”

“No worries. He missed two shell casings.”

“Then let’s get out of here. The cops are setting up a perimeter. Won’t take long for them to head in this direction.”

“Copy that.” Noah dropped the shell casing into a small bag, slipped it into his pocket, and signaled Violet to lead the way back downstairs.

Thank goodness. She felt exposed out here. The last thing they needed was to be caught at the scene of the crime.

Violet eased open the door, checked the stairwell, and started descending the stairs. Her teammates followed in her wake.

As they neared the first floor, the sound of shouted commands drifted into the stuffy enclosed space.

She froze. Violet knew that voice anywhere. Fitz Hanson. Not good. She glanced over her shoulder at Noah. His expression was grim.

Signaling the others to go back to the second floor, she hurried up the stairs to the door. She peered into the dim hallway. Empty.

Breathing easier, Violet motioned for Noah and the others to follow her. According to Cami, Harriet White still lived on this floor. Mrs. White was the reason she and her sister had survived as well as they had during their senior year of high school. The kind woman had taken pity on two scared teenagers who knew nothing about cooking or balancing their meals properly and taught them how to take care of themselves. They owed her a debt of gratitude for her kindness.

Cami had been visiting the older woman every week, bringing her food and running errands for her. Mrs. White wasn’t able to get out as easily, and the sisters had split the cost of her groceries. Violet would have to arrange for meals to be delivered. The errands, though, were another matter. She’d have to think of an alternative.

Violet led Noah and their friends along the corridor until she reached apartment 225. She knocked on the door.

“Coming, coming. Give me a minute,” someone inside the apartment said.

She smiled. Mrs. White sounded exactly the same as she had years ago when the older woman had seen her off on the bus to boot camp.

The chain rattled, a dead bolt shifted, and a lock on the knob turned. A moment later, the door swung open and there stood Amanda White. Nothing about the dear woman had changed except for more gray hair and a few more lines on her beloved face.

Mrs. White gasped. “Violet.” She hugged her, the hold tight. “Oh, Violet. It’s been so long, honey. I didn’t think I would ever see you again.”

She released Violet and cupped her face between trembling hands. “You’ve grown into a beautiful woman.” Tears filled her eyes. “I’m so sorry you returned to town for such an awful reason.”

“May we come in, Mrs. White?”

“Oh, of course, dear. Where are my manners?” The older woman stepped back and motioned Violet and the others into her tidy apartment. “Please, do come in.”

She gestured to the sofa and love seat. “Make yourselves comfortable. Who are your friends, Violet?”

“This is Rayne. Beside Rayne is her boyfriend, Grant.” Violet hoped they didn’t mind her adding to their cover story.

“Nice to meet both of you. Now, who is this handsome young man sitting beside you?”

She touched Noah’s knee. “This is Noah Mann, the man I’m dating.”

“It’s great to meet a friend of Violet’s,” Noah said. “She’s been showing us around the town where she grew up.”

“It’s a pleasure, young man. Did you know Camilla, Noah?”

“No, ma’am.”

“I see.” Mrs. White turned to Violet. “I’m mighty glad to see you, dear, but you can’t fool me. You came to me for another reason than checking up on an old friend. How can I help you?”

“You’re too smart for your own good, Mrs. White. What can you tell me about Cami’s boyfriend, Bradley Melton?”

“Oh, he was crazy about Camilla. The boy has a good job. He’s a lawyer, you know. He treated your sister like she was the queen of England.”

If Bradley was such a great guy, why hadn’t Cami told her about him? Violet had talked about Noah almost nonstop since the day they met and had been the recipient of gentle teasing by her sweet sister. “Had they been having any problems?”

Mrs. White shook her head. “I’m sorry, dear, but I only heard good things about Bradley.”

“Did anything seem to bother Cami in the last few days?”

She frowned. “Well, now that you mention it, Camilla seemed upset the last time she was here.”

“Did she tell you what upset her?” Noah asked.

Mrs. White sighed. “I’m afraid not. She said she didn’t want to worry me and that I should forget she’d mentioned a problem to me if anyone came around asking questions.”

That sounded like Cami thought a private detective or a cop might look into whatever was bugging her and she wanted to protect Mrs. White from scrutiny. “Is the problem related to her job?”

“That was my impression. When I asked her what was wrong, she said things at work had been difficult. After that, she refused to say anything else.”

Violet frowned. What did that mean? Was someone in Cami’s office hassling her? Or was a parent or guardian responsible for upsetting her sister?

“The thing is,” Mrs. White continued, “I don’t think Camilla was telling me the truth.”

“Why not?” Noah prompted.

“Just a feeling that she was trying to protect me. I know her job as a social worker is difficult. However, this seemed to be more than work trouble.” She shook her head. “I can’t explain why, but I’m sure she wasn’t telling the truth.”

That left Violet with no clue what troubled her sister before she died. The problem could have originated at work or in Cami’s personal life.

She squared her shoulders. Fine. Violet and her teammates had two leads. Cami’s workplace and her boyfriend, Bradley Melton. No matter how long it took, she’d find out who murdered Cami and take them down.