After a moment, he leaned back in his chair. “You've definitely got the attitude down, Karis.”
I ignored the way my stomach squirmed when he said my name. “That’s Agent Melendez to you, Mr. Murray,” I said coldly. “Now, what do you have that I want?”
A grin slowly spread across his face, and I realized that I probably should have worded things differently. His sense of humor, apparently, hadn't changed. Fortunately, he didn't offer whatever inappropriate comment I knew was buzzing around in his head. However, he didn't say anything else either.
After a minute of silence, I stood up. “Agent Alverez, thank you for humoring me, but he doesn’t have anything. He’s all yours.” I started to move back to the place where I'd been standing before.
“I’ll tell you,” he said, surprising me. “No specifics until I get my deal, but I'll tell you what I have to offer.”
I turned back to him but didn't sit down. “We're listening.”
“I'll tell you everything I know about who killed Leticia Backman,” he began. “And if you let me look through your open cases, I'll give you whatever I have, including names if I know them.”
I resisted the urge to look over at Benita. If we could offer all that to Colman, he might overlook our rogue investigation.
“But I’m not saying anything else until you can put something on the table,” he added. “And I want it in writing.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “We’ll see what strings we can pull for you, and we’ll be back when we’ve got something. Sit tight.”
Chapter Two
Karis
With my mind and emotions both reeling, I rested the back of my head against the wall, needing a moment to collect myself. I closed my eyes and let out a long, slow breath.
Benita put her hand on my arm. “Hey, good job in there, Rookie. I’m impressed you were able to stand your ground with him, knowing who he is and what he means to you.”
“Meant to me,” I corrected her, even though I wasn't sure the past tense was actually correct. I hadn't yet been able to figure out where the past and present broke apart when it came to my feelings for Bron.
She gave me a look that said she didn't quite believe me but didn't call me on it. “Take a moment while I grab the forensics report for the Backman crime scene. Colman will have our asses if we ask him to cut a deal without knowing the majority of the evidence.”
“Knock yourself out,” I said, closing my eyes again. While I listened to her footsteps going down the hall, I measured my breathing, forcing myself to calm down. If Colman saw me worked up, he'd start asking questions that I didn't want to answer.
By the time Benita returned with a manila folder in her hand, I was sitting at my desk, jotting down notes so I wouldn't forget the observations I'd made.
“I don’t know how he did it.” She tossed the folder onto my desk, clearly annoyed. “We’re aware that he was at the house by Mrs. Backman's own admission, but there's practically no evidence to support that he was there at all. None around the body or the room where she'd been found. Either he didn’t do it, or he’s just that damn good.”
I looked up from my chair. “You really think he did it, don’t you?”
“It’s just too easy. The shortest distance between two points is usually a straight line, even if we don't like it.”
“I think that's what makes me believe it isn't Bron. It doesn't fit his MO–”
“What we know of it,” she interjected.
I nodded. “Right, what we know of it. But, still, you'd think if he was a violent criminal, there'd be more of a trail. We saw how he pulled off the museum heist. No violence.”
“He drugged the guard,” Benita pointed out.
“He did,” I admitted. “But not with anything that could've really hurt him. And when Mrs. Backman caught him with her maid,” the words left a sour taste in my mouth, but I continued anyway, “he didn't resort to violence. He tried to smooth things over.”
“He was running when we caught him.” She sat on the edge of my desk and gave me a hard look. She knew I was too close to the case, and it could be clouding my judgment, so she was playing devil's advocate. Coming up with all the reasons why Bron could have killed Leticia. I didn't like it, but I understood why she was doing it.
“Maybe he did realize that she'd identified the painting and knew she'd go to the authorities,” I offered, trying to be open minded, see all the possibilities.
“And maybe he went back to her house, killed her, and then fled the scene.”
“Was anything missing?” I asked.
“CSU is still taking inventory.”
“But there wasn't anything with him when we caught him, right? Just clothes and personal items. No paintings or sculptures or anything of value. Why would he go back, kill her, and not take what he wanted? It doesn't make any sense. He's careful, meticulous. That sounds reckless.”
For a moment, she was quiet, and I watched her thinking things over. After a minute, she gave a reluctant nod.
I breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn't completely come around, I could tell, but at least she was admitting that things didn't necessarily add up. “He’s the definition of connected, right?”
“Right,” she agreed.
“And we're pretty sure he's been hired to do jobs for other people, right?”
She nodded.
“What if whoever he was doing the job for caught wind of our investigation and decided to tie up loose ends?”
“That's a possibility,” she admitted, chewing on her bottom lip.
“My gut tells me he's innocent,” I said. “Of the murder, at least. And I swear it's not because I don't want to believe he did it. I don't, but I think the facts support his claim that he’s innocent.”
Benita sighed and ran her hand over her short, onyx-colored hair. “All right. We'll go with your gut on this one. You want to talk to Colman yourself?”
“Not really,” I said but got up from my desk anyway. “But I guess if we’re going to get any kind of immunity for our boy, it has to come down from him. You do all the talking.”
“Of course,” she said. “Watch and learn.”
I followed my partner to our boss' office, working to keep my face expressionless. With the forensics report and the information Bron promised to provide, we could ask for a reduction in charges at the very least. Depending on what he had to offer, immunity could be a possibility, though I knew Colman well enough to know that would be a long-shot. If he found out my personal interest, I had a feeling it would make things worse.
“Ladies,” Colman greeted us as we entered his office. “It must be my lucky day. What’s the occasion?”
Benita tossed the folder with the forensics report onto his desk and nodded at it. “You’ll want to see this.”
“It’s a folder.” He looked at it and back up at the two of us. “Good job, ladies. You're really getting to the bottom of solving our office supplies shortage.” He grinned, but the humor didn't reach his dark blue eyes. “No, really, if I wanted to deal with these reports, I’d still be in the field instead of counting on beautiful women like you to do the work for me. So, tell me, what’s in the folder?”
“It’s not what’s in the folder,” I told him. “It’s what’s not in the folder that’s important.”
Benita shot me a surprised look. I shrugged. I was a little surprised myself. She gestured at me to continue.
“Our suspect in the museum case, Broderick Murray, is connected to the recent homicide of Leticia Backman, but this folder shows a lack of forensics evidence to link him directly to her death. He says he knows who did it and can lead us to them.”
“He doesn’t know that we don’t have anything to tie him to the murder, yet, right?” Colman checked.
“Right,” Benita answered. “We’re pretty sure he can lead us to several people, including Backman’s murderer, as well as the people he pulled the museum heist for, which may allow us to get back the stolen property
.”
“He's also offered to go through old case files and offer whatever knowledge he can about those particular cases,” I added.
Colman gave me a leering once-over. “Much as I'm enjoying the view, would anyone care to explain why you’re in here talking to me about it instead of trying to get that information from him?”
“He wants a deal,” Benita said.
Our boss rolled his eyes. “I’ll give him a deal. He helps us out and we won't pursue the death penalty in the murder case.”
My blood turned to ice. I hadn't even thought of that.
“Is that even a possibility, sir?” Benita asked it for me.
“You said that Leticia Backman came in to report a forgery?” Colman asked. “Then he killed her out of retaliation or to prevent her from testifying. Both fall under offenses covered by the federal death penalty.”
Shit. He was right. As much as I hated it, he was right.
“He’s connected enough that he might be able to give us some valuable leads if we can promise him immunity. And there really isn't any forensic evidence to connect him to the murder.” I tried a different tact. “I doubt it'll even be enough to get an indictment.”
“Immunity?” Colman snapped. “You want to give him immunity?” He shook his head. “Agent Melendez, am I understanding right that you took a personal interest in this case?”
Shit.
I shot a look at my partner, who shrugged and shook her head to tell me she didn’t tell him anything. I believed her. Colman might be a sexist pig, but he wasn’t an idiot. I rarely spoke out on cases. He must've figured there was something more than ambition behind my sudden change.
“I understand that you want this case to be as successful as possible, but the idea that this one man is going to serve us up an international art smuggling ring on a silver platter is ludicrous,” he continued.
“You’d be surprised how convincing Agent Melendez can be, sir,” Benita defended me while at the same time deflecting at least a bit of Colman's suspicions.
He grinned. “I like surprises, Agent Melendez, and I'm sure you're full of some good ones. Care to try to persuade me of your...people skills?” He raised his eyebrows.
My fingers curled into fists. That was going too far, even for him.
“How about this for persuasion?” I kept my voice even. “You can cost us the case – and since you’re our boss, the weight will come down hardest on you for putting a rookie on something this important knowing she probably needed a smaller assignment to start her off since she’s so inexperienced. Or...you can give Benita and me what we need to bring down a whole lot of bad guys, including a murderer.”
He pulled at his tie, loosening the collar of his shirt. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, as if he realized he'd said too much. “Okay, okay. I’ll make some calls and see what I can do. Let me get the DA on the phone and see what kind of room I have to work with. I’ll let you ladies know something as soon as I know it.”
I knew that one day, smarting off to him would get me in trouble, but he knew as well that his veiled advances would make him come off worse.
“Agent Melendez.” He stopped me at the door. “Good work.”
I was surprised. He didn't usually give compliments without strings attached. “Thank you, sir.”
“Just make sure you get as much out of him as you can when I get the okay. And close my door behind you.”
“Got it.” I closed the door and joined my partner back by our desks.
“What was that about?” she asked.
“He wanted to tell me I did a good job with Bron,” I told her.
She made a dismissive gesture. “That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it. Immunity, Rookie? You’re asking for Bron to get let off for stuff that he actually did do.”
I shrugged. “Well, I figure the more we can get him, the more he can give us. Plus, if we shoot for the stars, we should at least land on the moon, right?”
Benita laughed at my corny cliché and rolled her eyes. “Okay, fair enough. I’m going to get some coffee. It could be a while before Colman has anything for us. Want anything?”
“Same as usual. The strongest thing you can get me, and black.”
“Got it.”
I plopped down in my desk chair. The weight I'd had on my shoulders from the moment I'd first seen Bron had only gotten worse. Now that everything was coming to a head, it had become almost crushing. I needed to find something to distract me or it was going to be too much. I had to be strong.
Chapter Three
Bron
I stared at the reflection in the one-way mirror on the wall in front of me. Who had I become that my oldest friend could look at me and imagine that I was capable of murder? I knew I wasn't the kid I once was or the man I could've become if things had been different, but over the years, I'd managed to convince myself that I wasn't a bad guy. I didn't hurt people, so what I did wasn't really wrong, per se.
But I'd seen the look in her eyes when she heard about Leticia. She'd been at odds with herself, part of her not wanting to believe that I could've done it, but another part of her thinking that it was possible. The fact that she didn't know for sure hurt more than I expected it to.
I never should have pursued her. The moment I'd realized she was on the case, I should've left the city. Instead, I'd chased her, let her catch me.
I'd fucking kissed her!
Part of me wondered if I’d set myself up, done it all on purpose on some unconscious level, allowed myself to make mistakes to get caught rather than turn myself in. Maybe because I actually was feeling guilt over what I'd done. Maybe because I wanted to see Karis again.
Now, however, we stood on opposite sides of the law. It was her job to assume the worst in me, to put me away for the things I’d done. On top of that, her partner seemed convinced that I’d murdered Leticia, and at the moment, that seemed like enough to convince Karis of the same. I couldn't really blame her though. She trusted her partner.
She didn't trust me.
I looked in the mirror. Why should she?
Pulling at my shackles, I clanged them together, hitting them against the table just to make a little noise to distract me from the thoughts in my head. Karis had claimed she and her partner were going to see what they could do as far as a deal, but they were probably just reviewing all the ways they could make their case without any real evidence.
The door opened slightly, and Karis stepped inside. It didn't matter how many times I'd seen her recently. She still took my breath away. Dark brown curls, light blue-gray eyes. I saw the girl I'd known in the woman in front of me.
She closed the door behind her and entered the room. She wore a black blazer and black slacks with a white blouse neatly tucked in. The top two buttons were left open, giving her a more casual look than her partner. It didn't matter what she was wearing though. Or the fact that she'd arrested me.
I wanted her.
If I wasn't the same kid I had been before, she definitely wasn’t the same little girl anymore. She’d grown into a beautiful woman who owned whatever room she walked into. She'd always had that tough presence, the kind that demanded respect wherever she went. Her going into the FBI wasn't actually that surprising once I thought about it.
Her fingers wrapped around the back of the chair across from me and pulled it back so she could sit down. Her eyes met mine for a moment and then slipped away to somewhere above my shoulder. I didn't blame her for not wanting to look at me, but it still hurt.
“Here's the deal,” she said briskly. “We’re trying to see if we can get you some kind of immunity in exchange for your assistance in capturing Backman’s murderer. We also want the names of people you’ve worked for and with over the years.”
“That’s good news.” I'd foolishly been hoping to get a chance to talk to her as Karis, but it was clear that she was Agent Melendez now, and I didn't know if that would ever change. I had to take this one step at a time. “But, I can’t
tell you anything else until I see something official. I won’t give up that kind of valuable information on an empty promise.”
She shook her head but still didn't meet my eyes. I couldn't stop staring at her though.
“I understand. I’m not trying to sneak any information out of you.” She paused, and her voice softened. “I know you probably don’t believe me, and I know you have every reason to be suspicious, but I'm telling the truth.”
Here, she touched my hands, her fingers electrifying my skin, sending a mixture of regret, nostalgia, and hope through me. I regretted even more than ever that this was how we’d re-connected. I hadn't realized just how much I’d missed her touch, the touch of a friend and companion, someone who had my back for as long as I could remember.
And, maybe, just maybe she still had my back.
“I’m on your side, Bron. I want nothing more than to see us get all of this cleared up so you and I…” She stopped herself, cleared her throat, and then went on, though I doubted what she said next was her original thought. “So that you can go free and get on with your life.”
She turned her head, pulled her hand away. I didn't need to see her face, however, to know that she was disgusted with me. Hell, I was disgusted with myself.
“I want to see you on the right side of the law, Bron,” she said quietly. “You’re better than this.”
“How would you know?” The words came out harsher than I'd intended, but I didn't apologize. She hadn't been there. She didn't know.
“I get it,” she said. “You’ve had it rough. Neither one of us has had it easy, okay? I'm trying to help you, but if you don't want it, fine. I'll let the DA know to go ahead with what we have.” She started to stand up.
“No, wait.” I turned my hands in their shackles to grab her fingers and keep her from pulling away completely. “I’m sorry. You’re not the one I should be angry with. Sit. Please.”