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21

WEST

The instant Joanna cried out, I forgot that I wasn’t supposed to be inside Portia’s apartment. I shoved the door open, spotted her by the window, and raced to her side, grabbing her arm just as she lurched forward.

“Whoa!” I exclaimed. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you find something?” Sewell asked, hurrying over from the bedroom.

“It’s Hanson,” she gasped. “He’s injured. On the fire escape. We have to help him.”

“Let me see.” I nudged her aside and looked out. From here, it was impossible to tell whether Hanson was conscious. “We need to proceed with caution. It’s possible he’s involved. He could be armed.”

Joanna hissed, and when I turned toward her, disbelief was etched into every line of her expression. “He’s injured.”

I glanced at Sewell, who was watching curiously, and lowered my voice. “We don’t know why he’s here. Perhaps he was injured while attempting to abduct Portia.”

She gritted her teeth together but gave a jerky nod. “You’re right. ”

Sewell was speaking to someone behind us, but I tuned him out and focused on Joanna, who was preparing to—cautiously—run to Hanson’s rescue. My wife was an incredible woman. If we got through this, I really hoped she’d take me back.

“You’ve got this,” I murmured. “You go first but keep your weapon on hand. I’ll be right behind you.”

Sewell cleared his throat. “An ambulance is on its way, and I’ve requested backup as well. They should be here any minute. Perhaps West could wait outside and show them up?”

I bit down on the inside of my cheek. The last thing I wanted to do right now was leave Joanna, although I understood why he’d make the suggestion. It was logical for the person who supposedly wasn’t a law enforcement professional to run the errands.

“I’m staying with Jo,” I said firmly.

Sewell made a sound of frustration. “You shouldn’t even be here. Letting you remain with her in a dangerous situation is completely against protocol. I should escort you out and—”

“You try that,” I interrupted. “And see how it goes.”

Sewell glared, but considering his small frame—and my advanced combat training—he didn’t scare me.

“Lee, I’m going to have to report this,” he said.

“Do what you see fit.” Joanna slung her leg over the window and clambered out. She withdrew her gun from its holster, switched on her flashlight, and held the gun in firing position as she started down the stairs.

I climbed out after her and retrieved my own concealed weapon. Sewell swore behind me, muttering about liabilities and amateurs. I followed a few paces behind Joanna, making sure to keep a clear path between myself and Hanson, in case he was only faking us out and attacked when she reached him.

He didn’t move, even as she knelt beside him. I glanced up at the window above. Sewell’s silhouette had vanished, so perhaps he’d gone out to meet the paramedics himself.

“He has a bullet wound through his left side,” Joanna said, taking off her jacket. She folded it and pressed it to the wound, which was slowly leaking blood.

I skimmed my hands up Hanson’s sides, feeling for any weapons. I removed his gun, which lay discarded on the metal beside his body, and then pocketed his Taser.

“Denny.” Joanna lowered her ear to his mouth when he didn’t respond. “He’s breathing.”

I squatted beside her and grabbed Hanson’s jaw. “Get your shit together, you grumpy old bastard. We need your help.”

His lips moved, but he didn’t make a sound.

“Come on,” I urged. “Wake up. Tell us what the hell you’re doing here, because I’ve got to say, it looks bad.”

His eyelashes fluttered but didn’t open. Still, it was evidence he was conscious, even if he was barely hanging on.

“How…” He broke off, groaning. “D’you find me?”

“A woman was reported missing by a coworker,” Joanna told him, maintaining pressure on the wound. “We came to her apartment, and I heard a noise outside, so I looked down and saw you.”

“I… ugh…” His face twisted with pain. “Who’s with you?”

“My husband,” she said. “Detective Sewell. Others are coming.”

He coughed, and blood flecked his chin. “Don’t trust him.”

“Who? West?”

I gritted my teeth. If Hanson thought I was behind this, there was a good chance we’d get nothing useful from him.

“No,” he rasped. “Sewell. Don’t—” He broke off coughing, but this time, the hacking grew worse, and bloody red trails spiderwebbed down his chin.

“The paramedics are here,” Sewell called from above. “They’re coming up.”

Hanson’s eyes widened, the whites stark against the darkness of the night. “Don’t.” Cough. “Leave.” Cough. “Me.” Cough. “Alone… with him.”

“We won’t,” I assured him. “We’ll keep him busy here.”

A pair of paramedics hustled up the fire escape. I was skeptical as to how they intended to get Hanson down in one piece, but then the light in the apartment beside us came on and the window opened. A uniformed police officer passed a stretcher through, and the paramedics each took an end.

“I’m setting up a table on this side so you can slide him through,” the officer said, disappearing from the window. A moment later, he was back, carrying a rectangular dining table, a sleepy middle-aged man helping him. They positioned the table on the other side of the window.

I stepped aside so the paramedics could take my place. West and I backed onto the stairs to give them room to maneuver Hanson onto the stretcher.

“Do you need help lifting him?” I asked.

“No, we’re good,” the younger paramedic said, grabbing her end of the stretcher while her partner took the other. Together, they hefted him up and slid the stretcher through the window, only stopping when Hanson was lying on the table on the other side.

The officer and the middle-aged man dragged the table back, giving the paramedics room to enter through the window. Seconds later, they were gone, leaving West and I alone on the fire escape.

I took the stairs two at a time, hurrying to make sure that Sewell was still in Portia’s apartment. Hanson’s warning rang in my ears. At this stage, we didn’t know whether we could trust him, but I was still going to proceed with caution where Sewell was concerned.

Fortunately, he was hovering in the apartment while a crime scene technician unloaded their gear bag on the kitchen counter. Another crime scene tech emerged from the bedroom.

“Is there much to see on the fire escape?” he asked.

“Not really,” Joanna replied. “A lot of blood—presumably from Hanson. Possibly a bullet. We don’t know whether the shot was a through-and-through or if it’s lodged inside him.”

“Right.” He headed for the window. “I’ll start there. If we can find the bullet, we can run ballistics to see if it matches anything we have on file.”

“Excellent.” Joanna turned to Sewell. “Did you order the officers to interview the neighbors?”

He nodded.

“Let them know we already spoke to the one on the left and the one across the hall.” She didn’t mention the building manager or the video footage, and I couldn’t help but wonder if that was an intentional decision. Perhaps she didn’t want to put the building manager in danger.

She left the apartment, and I heard voices outside. Sewell and I stood awkwardly in silence while we waited. When she came back, she met my eyes and gave a slight nod. I wished I knew what it meant.

“So, how come Homicide are on this case?” Sewell asked. “There’s no body. ”

I stilled, wondering whether to take charge, but Joanna didn’t seem bothered by the question.

“The call came directly to me through a personal connection,” she said.

His eyebrows knitted together. “A friend of yours?”

“Something like that.”

“And you brought your husband?”

I sighed. “If me being here is a problem, I’ll go and wait in the car.”

I needed to make a phone call anyway.

Sewell hesitated, then nodded. “That might be best. No hard feelings.”

“Sure, buddy.” No point in antagonizing him. Not when we might need him later.

I pulled Joanna into an embrace.

“Don’t turn your back on him,” I murmured against her ear.

“I’m not alone,” she whispered back. “I’ll be fine.”

I released her, my fingers automatically clenching around the air. I wanted to grab her and insist she come with me, but I had to trust that she knew how to take care of herself. She was a kickass detective. She could handle any trouble that came her way.

I left the apartment and took the elevator down. As soon as it opened, I noticed an officer guarding the building manager’s door. Good. Perhaps that’s what Joanna had been arranging when she’d left the room. That recording had to be protected. Who knew what else we might find if someone combed through the footage?

As I left the building, I scanned the surrounding area, checking to make sure no one was lying in wait. I hurried to the car, unlocked the door and got in, immediately locking it behind myself.

I called Zeke, aware that Joanna had already woken him up.

“What is it with you two?” he grumbled upon answering. “Can’t let a guy sleep.”

“I’ve got another favor to ask.” God only knew what he was going to ask in return at the end of all this.

“Go on.”

“Joanna’s partner, Detective Hanson, has been shot. He warned us not to trust another detective in the Homicide unit. Detective Charlie Sewell. I’d really appreciate it if you could go searching for the skeletons in Sewell’s closet. He’s with Joanna right now, so the sooner I know whether she’s in danger, the better.”

Zeke sighed. “I’ll get on it. But don’t leave her alone with him, just in case. If he did something to Hanson and is worried he might talk, he could do something reckless.”

JOANNA

I knocked on the door of the apartment beneath Portia’s and waited. After a few seconds, the man I’d seen through the window earlier opened the door and groaned.

“What now?” he asked. “I’m still trying to clean blood drops off the floor from that guy the paramedics dragged through here.”

“I have a few questions,” I told him. “Considering a man was shot outside your apartment, surely you can understand that.”

“Wait. What?” He blanched. “I didn’t realize he’d been shot. I just saw all the blood and thought he must have fallen and cut himself on something.”

Clearly, no one had enlightened him.

“Can I come in?” I asked.

“You may as well.” He stood aside to let me in, then closed the door behind me. He gestured at a worn gray sofa. “Have a seat.”

I sat and he flopped onto an armchair, hanging his head and massaging his temples.

“Perhaps it’s best if I give you a quick explanation.” This guy obviously wasn’t in the mood to waste time, and neither was I. “The woman who lives above you was reported missing. When we arrived, her apartment had been broken into and we found a man with a gunshot wound on the fire escape outside your apartment.”

The man frowned. “Was he involved in her disappearance?”

“We’re not sure yet.” I wasn’t about to speculate in front of him. “Did you hear anything unusual before the paramedics arrived?”

He raised his weary eyes. “There were some noises above earlier. Kind of a quiet thumping. I didn’t think much of it. I assumed they were having sex or reorganizing the place. It didn’t last long, so I let it go.”

That must have been when the perp was ransacking Portia’s apartment. But had it been Hanson, or someone else?

“Nothing else disturbed you? Or do you recall seeing anyone you didn’t recognize in the building?”

He started to shake his head but then stiffened. “Wait. I did hear what I’d thought was a car backfiring. It woke me, but I fell back asleep pretty quickly.”

My breath caught. Gunshots could be mistaken for a car backfiring. “Do you have any idea what time that was?”

“I’m not sure.” He scrunched his face up, thinking hard. “Maybe an hour before the paramedics showed up at my door.”

Shit. We’d been at the apartment a good while before the paramedics had arrived, so if he was right, then Hanson must have been shot shortly before we got there.

“Am I safe?” he asked, catching his lower lip between his teeth. “Should I leave?”

“If you lock your door and shut the window, I don’t see any reason for you to be concerned. We’ll have a police presence in the building to keep an eye on things, so you should be able to get another few hours of sleep in safety.”

Assuming he could calm his mind for long enough to fall asleep. There was every chance that would be asking too much of him, given what had happened.

He deflated. “Okay, thanks. Is there anything else you want to know?”

I rose to my feet. “Not right now, but someone will be by to take your statement when it’s light out.”

He followed me to the door and waited while I left. I paused in the corridor and the lock clicked into place. I walked over to the next door, debating whether to knock. They might have heard something useful, but it felt like a waste of time canvassing the building when I should be out searching for Portia—and hunting down the bastard that shot my partner.

My phone rang, saving me from deciding. I accepted the call and raised the phone to my ear.

“Jo?” It was West.

“I’m here,” I told him.

“Zeke got back to me with something interesting. Are you alone?”

I looked both ways down the corridor, a bad feeling creeping up my spine. “Yes. Why?”

“According to Zeke’s intel, Sewell isn’t on duty.”

I frowned. “Okay, so maybe he got called in on his time off.”

“If he did, Dominguez wasn’t the one to make the call. She’s been trying to organize a pair of detectives from the Missing Persons unit to take over the case.”

My stomach hardened. “But we haven’t seen anyone from Missing Persons.”

“Because she hasn’t managed to assign a team yet,” he replied, as if he’d expected that response. “She’s having difficulty getting anyone to answer the phone. There’s something else.”

I rested my back against the wall and lowered my spare hand to my holster. The hairs on my arms were standing up. Something felt very wrong. “What?”

“Detective Sewell’s older brother, Dirk, is a former Marine Corps sniper.”

I sucked in a breath. “Shit. He’s been discharged?”

“Dishonorably, after a female colleague accused him of sexual assault.”

My mind raced. I ran through the facts. Sewell was here under false pretenses. His brother was a military-trained sniper. West’s father and Detective Neal had both been killed by a skilled sniper.

“Is he in Chicago?” I asked, even though I suspected I knew the answer.

“His last known address is an apartment near Sherman Park, which he shares with his brother.”

“Holy shit.” This couldn’t be a coincidence. The Sewells had to be involved. Another possibility struck me. “Sewell might have been the one going through Portia’s apartment. That could be how he arrived on the scene without being called. If he was inside and we scared him off, he could have returned pretending to be on official police business.”

West hummed thoughtfully. “That would also give him a valid excuse if any of his fingerprints or DNA were to turn up at the scene.”

I straightened. “I need to get eyes on him. ”

At the moment, Sewell was the most senior officer present at the crime scene. That didn’t sit right with me if he was also a suspect. I still had a difficult time getting my head around the idea he could be involved. He was just so innocuous.

“Wait for me,” West said. “You need backup in case he realizes we’re onto him. Stay on the line and meet me in the fourth floor stairwell.”

A slam came through the line and then muffled noises as West crossed the parking lot.

“Perhaps he’s being blackmailed,” I said as I made my way back to the stairs and started to climb. “If his brother is in trouble, he might just be trying to help him.”

“Hmm.” A door shut and his footsteps sounded against a hard surface. “We can untangle his motives once we’ve confirmed his involvement and have him in custody. Until then, they don’t matter. We have to consider him a potential threat. I’m not risking your safety just because you want to think the best of him.”

“Fair enough.” I reached the fourth floor, and listened through the phone as West drew closer.

When he was in sight, he ended the call. “Are you ready for this?”

I grabbed the handle of my gun, feeling its weight against my palm. “As much as I’ll ever be.”

We needed answers. Portia’s life was on the line. West jerked his head toward the stairwell door, gesturing for me to go first. I cracked it open and peered out. The only person visible in the corridor was the uniformed officer, so I shoved the door farther open and stepped through. West followed close behind.

I strode to the apartment and the officer moved aside with a respectful nod. I pushed the door gently, and it opened with no resistance. A crime scene technician was crouched in the living room, in front of the sofa. The window was ajar, so presumably the other technician was still outside.

There was no sign of Sewell.

“Where’s Detective Sewell?” I asked, my gun at my side, my nerves primed, ready to fight at any moment.

The tech looked up. “He was called away.”

Considering he wasn’t on duty, that seemed unlikely. Unless it was a personal matter.

“Where to?”

She shrugged. “He didn’t say.”

Fuck. “Did he mention who called?”

“No.” She didn’t seem concerned by this, but then, why would she be? As far as she knew, Sewell was a respected detective and a legitimate part of this investigation.

“He’s definitely not here?” West asked, scanning the area warily.

The technician huffed. “You guys have got to work on your communication. No. He’s not here. He left maybe five minutes after Detective Lee went to speak to the guy who lives downstairs.”

“Thanks.” I forced myself not to let my frustration show. “Did he say anything before he went?”

She cocked her head, quiet for a few seconds. “No. I don’t think so. Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, turning to West. “We need to know where he is. I should call Dominguez and update her too.”

“I agree with you about finding his location.” He spoke quietly, his gaze darting to the technician, who seemed to have returned to work but could very well be listening in. “We should hold off on informing the police though. We still don’t know who’s involved.”

I gritted my teeth. “Dominguez is a good cop. I’d stake my career on it.” She’d had to fight a biased system to get to where she was. There was no way she’d roll over and play dead for a mob boss wannabe.

West’s expression became imploring. “All I ask is that you wait for a couple of hours. See if we can track him down first.”

“Fine.” I didn’t like this.

“Thank you.” He kissed my cheek. “I’m going to call my handler. Why don’t you ask Zeke to help with Sewell? That’s right up his alley.”

I nodded. “I’ll do that now.”

“Good. Let’s check in with each other in five minutes.”

I left the apartment and strode to the far end of the corridor, where I could be sure that no one would be able to overhear my phone call. I hit the redial symbol and waited.

“You two want to swing with us, don’t you?” Zeke asked, cheerier than earlier. “That’s what all of this is about. You just want to get closer to me and Fi.”

“Zeke…” I laced my tone with warning.

He sighed. “You’re no fun. How can I help?”

“Sewell did a runner while West and I were distracted. If I give you his phone number, can you trace him?”

“I’ll sure as hell try.” Rhythmic tapping signaled that he was on his computer.

I read him the number. “Should I call back?”

“Just let me try something first.” More tapping. Some muttering. Then a laugh. “The stupid asshole didn’t even bother to turn off his phone. I’m sending you his coordinates now.”