Deadly Dreams - By Kylie Brant Page 0,21

it wasn’t difficult to guess his identity from the uniform and polished brass. A deputy commissioner. Maybe even the commissioner of police himself. Whichever he was, he was unfamiliar.

The mystery was soon solved. “Commissioner of Police Douglas Lawton.” At Eddie’s introduction Risa took the man’s outstretched hand. “And you’ll remember Inspector Wessels. Marisa Chandler.”

They all found seats. When they sat, they were nearly elbow to elbow in the cramped space. “I assume Captain Morales already briefed you about our request.” Lawton lost no time getting to the point. “Although I’m not personally acquainted with your record, I am with that of your employer, Adam Raiker.” His narrowed gaze passed over her, not missing a detail. “And with his agency, which has made quite a name for itself since its inception. He assures me that you will be invaluable on this case. Inspector Wessels and the captain recall your work for the department, and they concur. That’s good enough for me.”

Somehow Marisa thought that Raiker had held more sway with the man than had his employees. The thought came without rancor. There were few in law enforcement circles that weren’t familiar with Adam’s legendary rise in the bureau, or with his last near-fatal case. But it would be the reputation of the agency he’d built since leaving the FBI that led to this man’s stamp of approval.

“You understand I’m still on sick leave,” she offered. Her nerves were jittering wildly. Doubt ping-ponging inside her. But after Raiker’s final words to her yesterday, it had been impossible to turn down Morales’s request when he’d called last night to invite her to this meet.

“Through with physical therapy, your boss said. No permanent muscle damage.” Lawton’s smile creased his face but managed to look only perfunctory. “Glad to hear that. Your former coworkers can’t say enough about your uncanny instincts. We’ll take any edge we can get on this case. In an unofficial capacity, of course.”

“Of course,” she murmured, and avoided, barely, the impulse to wipe her damp palms down the front of her crisp black pants. Unofficial, she thought wildly. Without pressure. Without unrealistic expectations.

If only it could be disconnected from the haunting specter of Ryder Kremer’s death.

The commissioner continued. “We spent last night compiling a task force of the best talent our department has to offer. Detective McGuire will be reporting to Captain Morales, who in turn will keep us informed every step of the way.” He rose, signaling that the meeting was at an end. “We appreciate any assistance you can offer.”

“Yes, sir.” What else could she say at that point? Risa thought, a little wildly. The three men seemed to take it for granted that her presence here was tacit acquiescence to join the task force.

And wasn’t it? If she’d hoped to convince Morales she had nothing to offer, the time to do so would have been on the phone last night. By agreeing to the meet, she’d taken the first step toward following Raiker’s advice. She was facing her demons.

God help her.

Eduardo’s expression was grim when his superiors had gone. “How much did McGuire tell you yesterday?”

“Someone is targeting cops. Plainclothes detectives, which is even more suspect.” Because she thought better on her feet, Risa rose and shoved her hands into the pockets of her black suit jacket as she paced. “No connections have been found between the first two suspects.” She threw him a look. “Unless a link has been discovered with yesterday’s . . .”

Morales shook his head. “Not yet.” With a quick glance to the clock on the wall, he rose, as well. “Briefing should begin in a few minutes. It’ll be the first full report some of the task force members have heard. I’ll let you get the full rundown from McGuire. We’ll talk later.”

Nodding, she preceded the captain out the office door, her estimation of McGuire kicking up a notch. Getting himself named lead detective of the task force was no small feat. When she had a moment maybe she’d quiz Eddie about the detective’s experience. She recalled her impression yesterday that McGuire seemed unsure about his new captain. She wondered if Eduardo held McGuire in higher esteem than McGuire seemed to him.

The conference room was filled with detectives and uniforms both. Most still stood around the coffeepot at the back of the room or in small clusters, talking in hushed voices. She saw Jett Brandau in the back of the room with Cass, the woman who’d arrived late to the scene yesterday. Risa

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