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Evan followed Noelle into the auto body shop.

He had expected a run-down building with bad lighting and a faded sign. A place that people would avoid at night. Instead, it was fresh and clean on the outside. Its red-white-and-blue sign looked brand new, and the parking lot had crisp yellow lines. It wasn’t Evan’s mental stereotype of a place that gave second chances to felons.

“Hi, guys! What can I do for you today?” The young woman behind the counter was as perky as a coffee shop barista. She seemed overly caffeinated too. The name tag on her royal-blue polo shirt read J UNIPER .

“We’d like to talk to Charlie Graham,” said Noelle, matching the woman’s tone and adding her own wide smile. “It’ll just take a minute.”

“He’s working right now. How about you come back when his shift is over at six?” Juniper continued with her upbeat tone, but the light in her eyes dimmed as she looked from Noelle to Evan and back.

“How about we talk to him right now?” Noelle showed her badge and smiled.

“Ohhh.” Juniper’s face fell. “Let me get the owner.”

“We’re not interested in talking to the owner. Yet.” Noelle pointed at the door that led to the shop floor. “We’ll follow you.”

Detective Marshall was hard to turn down. She would make requests with a smile and simultaneously project a don’t-fuck-with-me attitude that caught people off guard and surprised them into submission. She was imposing and stunning at the same time, standing a little taller than Evan in her always-present heels.

Juniper became the next surprised victim and led them through the door.

They followed her past a dozen auto bays. Every bay was full, and the detectives caught several odd glances from workers as they passed by, but it appeared business was thriving. Juniper stopped at the second-to-last bay, where two men worked on a black BMW X5. They both straightened as they noticed they had an audience, and the shorter man took off his protective eyewear, his gaze locked on Evan.

Evan lifted a hand. “Hey, Charlie. How’s it going? Staying out of trouble?”

Noelle flashed Evan a death glare. “Mr. Graham,” she said in a friendly tone. “Could we talk to you for a few minutes outside?”

Charlie Graham blinked at Noelle, clearly trying to figure out who she was. She showed her ID. “Outside,” she repeated, this time with a not-fucking-around tone.

Graham set his eyewear on the hood of the X5 and took a couple of steps in their direction. “Juniper,” he said without looking at the woman, “would you ask Mr. Lawson to meet us outside?” He stopped five feet away from Evan.

Not a tall man, Graham had bulked up during his prison time. Evan estimated he’d put on thirty pounds, most of it muscle. His hairline had receded, and his nose was thicker. Probably had been broken. Maybe a few times. Evan figured his hair-trigger anger hadn’t served him well in prison. Even now the muscle in his jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth, and his pulse was visible at his neck. He was struggling to keep his temper, and his gaze told Evan he was pissed as hell.

“After you,” Evan said, pointing at an exit.

As Graham strode toward the exit, Noelle jabbed Evan in the ribs. “Be nice,” she hissed.

Evan shrugged. They might be following Rod’s killer. He didn’t give a shit about playing nice.

Once outside, Graham spun around and folded his arms across his chest. “What do you want?” The question was directed at Noelle.

“I hadn’t heard you were out, Graham,” Evan said before Noelle could speak. “How’d an asshole like you get that lucky?” He had every intention of pushing Graham’s buttons. The more off-balance the man was, the more honest the reaction they’d see in him.

“We’d like to know your whereabouts for the last few days,” said Noelle. “Times, locations, and witnesses.”

Surprise crossed Graham’s face. Whatever he’d expected them to say, that wasn’t it. “Why?”

“Because I’d like to know.” Noelle pulled out a notebook and pen and looked at him expectantly. “You can start with what time you got to work today.”

“What am I being accused of?” The scowl was back. “I’m not obligated to answer your questions.”

“That is correct,” said Noelle. “But—”

“What’s going on?” A small bald man in a polo that matched Juniper’s joined them and took a position next to Graham. “I’m the shop owner. Why are you interrupting my crew?”

Mr. Lawson.

Noelle turned on the charm and introduced herself and Evan. “We have some questions about Mr. Graham’s whereabouts the last few days.”

“Well, I can tell you he’s been here from nine to six every day since Thursday. I’ve got time clockings if you need them.” Lawson glanced at Graham and back to Noelle. “I’m fully aware of his record, and he’s been a damn good worker since he started.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Evan. “Maybe he’s been reformed.”

The pulse at Graham’s neck sped up, and he became motionless, every muscle turning to stone.

He looks ready to explode.

“How about last night, Graham? Were you at home?” asked Noelle.

“Yes,” he said with a stiff jaw. “I’m living in a group halfway house for six months as part of my parole. All my comings and goings are recorded.” He took a deep breath. “Just in case cops appear with trumped-up charges trying to pin shit on me that I didn’t do .”

“What’s this about?” asked the owner. “Does he need a lawyer?”

Evan was impressed that the man was ready to go to bat for Graham.

Maybe I should tell him about the son he abandoned.

And about the ex-girlfriend with cigarette burn scars on her shoulders.

Anger prickled along Evan’s skin. “Sophia went missing overnight,” he said, holding Graham’s gaze. “Someone broke in. There are signs of a struggle and a lot of blood on the floor.”

Graham’s mouth opened slightly, and his eyes widened. Then a red flush swamped his face. “ I had nothing to do with that! I haven’t seen her in years!”

Evan and Noelle said nothing for a long moment, waiting to see if Graham would fill the awkward silence.

He did.

“I’m long past whatever went on between me and Sophia years ago. It’s over. Never even think about the woman.” Sweat beaded at his temples.

Do you think about your son?

“Hey, I’m sorry something happened to her,” Graham continued in a calmer voice, as tendons bulged in his neck. “She was a decent kid. But I know nothing about it. You can talk to the manager where I live. He’ll tell you I was home.”

“What about her father?” asked Noelle.

Confusion crossed Graham’s face as he straightened. “What about her father? I don’t keep track of assholes.”

Is he lying?

Evan had met incredible liars in his job. People who believed they could get away with anything as long as they kept repeating the same false story over and over in an effort to change what really happened. And others who Evan thought had been telling the truth but turned out to be lying nonstop. The world was full of them. Graham might have taken a how-to-lie-to-a-cop’s-face course in prison.

“We just told you Sophia is missing,” said Noelle. “Is there anything you’d like to ask us?”

Her voice may have sounded normal to Graham, but Evan picked up on the controlled fury.

She’s also pissed that he didn’t ask about Zack.

Graham’s face went blank. “I don’t know ... Obviously you don’t know where she is since you’re harassing me. What is there for me to ask?”

Evan swore he could feel the waves of disgust rolling off Noelle. “Let it go,” he said in a low aside to the detective. “He’s not worth our time. He’s not going to ever change.”

Bafflement shone in Graham’s eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You didn’t ask about your son !” Noelle snapped, leaning in a few inches.

Graham took a fast step back. Lawson’s brows shot up, and he looked at Graham. “You never mentioned kids.”

“I don’t have kids! Well, not officially.”

“Zack carries your DNA,” said Evan. “But he’s definitely not your son. He’s a great kid. Smart, caring, gives a shit about people. He’s Sophia through and through.” He looked at Lawson. “I don’t think he’s ever seen the boy in person. He abandoned Sophia and was in prison by the time Zack was born.” He turned to Graham. “I always thought Sophia was lucky you left. You gave her nothing except pain, humiliation, and scars.”

“Evan,” Noelle said in a low voice.

Graham took two aggressive strides toward Evan, his eyes bulging. Evan lurched out of the way.

Shock filled Graham’s face and his shoulder jerked. He lost his balance and fell to one knee, his mouth wide open in shock.

The crack of the gunshot filled the air.

Graham’s shot!

Evan dived to knock Lawson to the ground, and Noelle dropped. She reached out and yanked Graham to his stomach and then drew her weapon. Lawson curled into a ball with his hands protecting his head. Lying next to the man, Evan drew his gun, scanning the area for a shooter, seeing no one. They were ten yards from the shop and had no cover.

“You Goddamned motherfucker!” roared Graham. “You fucking shot me!” A painful moan came out of him.

“Who shot you?” shouted Evan, looking in every direction. “Where is he?”

“You! You fucking police shot me!”

Evan glanced at Graham. He gripped his upper arm, blood welling between his fingers as he writhed on the ground.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” yelled Graham.

“ We didn’t shoot you, you idiot!” Noelle shouted back.

A breath of air tickled Evan’s hair above his ear, and a gunshot cracked again.

That shot almost got me.

He’s in the trees.

Fifty yards away, a line of trees ran along the property to the west. No buildings were behind them, only fields. Evan fired several times, aiming a little high into the trees to make the shooter take cover.

“Noelle, can you get them to the door?” he asked. The shop was their best cover.

“Yes.”

“Go. I’ll cover.” He fired again at the trees as Noelle hauled Graham to his feet. Lawson pulled on Graham’s other arm, and they darted to the shop door, staying as low as possible.

A moment later, Noelle fired at the trees from the doorway. “Go!”

Evan lunged to his feet and ran.

It was chaos inside the shop.

Half the workers were running toward the office, yelling their heads off, and the other half—including Juniper—had taken cover behind cars and now had weapons trained on Evan’s group.

Everybody carries.

“Where’s the shooter?”

“Graham! You shot?”

“Who’s shooting?”

The yells echoed off the metal walls.

“Put away your weapons,” hollered Noelle. “And get the fuck down!” She pointed at Juniper. “You got a first aid kit here?”

The woman nodded, her pistol still in hand but no longer aimed at their group.

“Get it!” Noelle pointed at another employee. “Call 911! Shots fired. Tell them two county detectives are on the scene.” She moved into position to cover the door they’d just dashed through.

“Everyone take cover and stay put!” yelled Evan. “Do not go outside!” He pulled Graham to a seated position on the floor and leaned him against a pickup’s wheel. Blood soaked the man’s coveralls and left arm. Evan unzipped the coveralls to Graham’s stomach and pushed the sleeve down to get a look at his arm.

No spurting of blood. Just a small but steady flow from the wound in his bicep. The bullet had gone right through.

“Put pressure on that,” he told Lawson. The owner ripped off his polo to press against the wound. Graham shrieked.

“He needs a tourniquet!” said Lawson.

“Just a lot of pressure,” said Evan. “It’s not arterial.” His heart pounding, he joined Noelle to cover the door. She was on her phone, requesting backup and a perimeter.

“Did you see the shooter?” he asked as she ended her conversation.

“No.” Her face was grim. She nodded toward Graham. “He okay?”

“Yeah. Upper arm. Through and through. Not arterial.” Sirens sounded in the distance. “Anyone else hurt?”

“Doesn’t appear so.” She gave a shake of her head, disbelief in her eyes. “What the fuck just happened, Evan?”

“Don’t know,” he forced out between deep breaths, trying to slow his heart.

“If you hadn’t moved when Graham lunged at you, you would have caught that bullet.”

He’d thought the same, but his brain struggled to accept it.

“I felt the second shot breeze by my head,” he said in a low voice. “But Graham was right there. I’m not sure who was the target.”

“Rowan would have skinned me alive if I’d had to tell her you’d been shot,” said Noelle. She leaned heavily against the wall. “Don’t do that to me.”

“Doing my best.” He bent over, hands on his knees, as adrenaline dumped into his system and he fought back the nausea at the thought of a bullet hole in his head.

Were those shots meant for me?