Kira watched as the detective skimmed the paperwork and knew the exact moment her gaze landed on the name Craig Collins. She glanced up.
“Where did you get this?” Spears asked.
“The courthouse this morning.”
She looked at her partner. “This is the deadbeat brother-in-law Quinn mentioned.”
“What about him?” Diaz asked, peering at the folder.
“It’s a bankruptcy filing. Ava Quinn’s brother has money problems.”
Watching Spears flip through the pages, Kira felt a swell of relief. Clearly, she understood the implications in terms of a new suspect in Ava Quinn’s murder case.
Brock emerged from the crowd near the elevator bank. He was flanked by two bodyguards, Erik and Trent, and the three of them made an imposing trio in their black suits. Brock noticed Kira and walked over. The entire legal team had spent the lunch break in the conference room, strategizing about how to incorporate Kira’s latest bombshell into their client’s defense.
Gavin, meanwhile, had stood beside a window, silently gazing out over the downtown skyline. The man had looked shell-shocked. And he probably was. Kira couldn’t even imagine the betrayal he must be feeling right now.
Brock’s entourage stopped beside Kira.
“You show her?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
A shrill scream pierced the air.
Kira whirled around, searching for the source as the screams continued.
Hands clamped around both her arms.
“What—”
“Go!” Jeremy commanded as he and Trent propelled her across the lobby. They were on either side of her, and her feet barely touched the ground.
“Move, move, move!” Jeremy said, slicing through people as they hustled her to a corridor. They rushed down the hallway and stopped at a solid gray door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. Jeremy opened it, and she noticed the pistol in his hand as he pulled her inside.
“What—”
“Get down,” he ordered, cutting her off again.
She dropped into a crouch beside the wall, and Brock joined her.
“What happened?” she asked Brock.
“I heard someone say something about a gunman.”
“Where? I didn’t hear anything.”
“Don’t move,” Erik ordered. “I’ll be right outside.”
Kira’s chest clenched as the door whisked shut, leaving them alone in the dingy room. It was a staff break room, from the looks of it, with a table and chairs in the middle and a coffeepot on the counter.
“Where’s Gavin?” Kira asked.
Brock was already on his phone. “Fuck,” he muttered. “He’s not answering.”
Kira’s chest tightened again. She tucked her forehead against her knees and tried to breathe.
The door burst open, making her jump, but she saw that it was Jeremy.
“Quinn’s been shot.”
She jumped to her feet. “Where is he? Where’s the gunman?”
“He fled the building.”
“He?”
“They think it’s a he.”
“Who’s ‘they’?” Brock demanded.
“Quinn’s bodyguards,” Jeremy said. “Come on.”
Taking Kira by the elbow, Jeremy guided her to a door she hadn’t noticed before. He opened it and stepped into an adjacent room that was bigger and brighter and crowded with people. A long counter on the far wall was filled with video monitors.
Erik leaned over one of the screens, pointing at something and talking to two uniformed security guards.
Brock turned to Jeremy. “What happened?”
“Quinn was stepping out of the elevator when someone shot him,” Jeremy said. “He went down right there, and the woman beside him started screaming.”
Brock cursed. “Is he—”
“Paramedics just showed up. We don’t know.”
Jeremy turned to Kira and rested his hand on her shoulder. “You all right?”
“Yes—I didn’t hear gunshots. I didn’t hear anything, except for the screams.”
Jeremy stared down at her, his gaze intense. And then she understood.
The hallmark of this shooter was that he used a silencer. He’d probably scoped out the lobby and waited in the crowd by the elevator until Gavin stepped off.
Kira closed her eyes. Jeremy’s hand tightened on her shoulder.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. I . . . I can’t believe this is happening again.”
“Kira.”
She turned to look at Erik.
“Come take a look at the monitors. We’re searching for a tall male wearing a black baseball hat, according to an eyewitness.”
She crossed the room to the row of screens and studied the footage. She recognized the concrete pocket park in front of the office building. People milled around and sat on benches, seemingly oblivious to what had just happened.
“Anyone look familiar?” Erik asked. “You and Jeremy might be able to ID him.”
Kira studied the figures. The camera was placed at a second-story vantage point. She searched for someone running or jogging or even walking briskly away from the scene. She moved to the next monitor, which showed a view of the attached parking garage. The next monitor showed footage of the sidewalk on the building’s north side as a police car raced up to the curb and stopped.
Diaz stepped over. “See anything?”
“Not yet,” Jeremy said.
Kira turned to Erik. “Are we sure he fled through a street-level exit? What about the tunnels?”
“A witness said he went out the front door, walking quickly.”
“Walking?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“There.” Jeremy leaned forward and tapped on the monitor. “That’s him.”
“Is that Rusk Street?” Diaz leaned closer. “Okay, we’ve got an update,” he said into his phone. “He’s moving east on Rusk. I repeat, east on Rusk.”
“Who’s he talking to?” Kira asked Erik.
“Detective Spears. She went after him.”
Kira eased closer to Jeremy, peering around him to look at the monitor. She immediately saw what had his attention: a tall man walking quickly down the sidewalk. He wore a baseball cap and had both his hands stuffed into the pockets of a heavy jacket that didn’t fit the ninety-degree weather.
“That’s him.” Jeremy pulled Kira closer. “Take a look.”
She studied the man’s gait, his build. “Yeah, I think that’s him,” she said.
As he neared an intersection, the man pulled off his jacket and wadded it into a ball. He walked past a trash can and stuffed it inside.
“He’s at Rusk and Travis, and he just ditched something. Maybe the weapon,” Diaz said. “You see him? Looks like he’s headed into the Southwest Bank Tower, west entrance. You copy?”
Kira’s heart pounded as she watched the man enter the building. “That bank lobby has direct access to the tunnels.” She looked at Diaz. “You guys are about to lose him.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
WEST ENTRANCE?” Charlotte demanded, pressing her phone to her ear as she ran as fast as she could.
“Affirmative.”
She raced for the revolving glass door, where people streamed in and out. She still hadn’t spotted the man in the black ball cap, so she was blindly following Diaz’s directions over the phone.
“We have units en route,” Diaz said. “Should be there in . . . one to two minutes.”
Faint sirens sounded in the distance as Charlotte reached the door. “Tell them to hurry.” She entered the lobby, where she was hit by a cold blast of air-conditioning. She skimmed her gaze over all the people, searching for a black ball cap, or even someone tall moving suspiciously quickly. Baseball caps were easy to ditch, and she couldn’t get hung up on that detail.