Carla pulled up a rolling chair next to the computers in Sam’s lab. “Sorry. I get tired real easy.”

Jenna scooted her chair next to her friend. “I hear ya. I’m not even back to normal after the incident with the fire, and it’s been a while.” She leaned forward. “What did you find?”

Before Carla had the chance to tell her anything, Phil rolled in with Sam right behind him. “I called in a favor and had Bianca Bello’s body sent here since the State lab is too backed up to process her quickly. We needed to move on this case.”

“Did you find anything useful?” Jenna asked.

“Apparently, TPD found a bullet in the wall of Creighton Jackson’s boat. The bullet is a match to the one in Bianca’s head.”

“That means whoever killed Creighton Jackson killed Bianca.” Was this case finally coming to an end?

“That would be my first guess.” He turned to Sam.

Jenna had been formulating a plan, but she was hesitant to bring it up. Sam would veto her idea immediately, but Phil might be an ally. “What do you all think of me trying to lure this guy out in the open? After all, he seems to be targeting me.” Okay, that was a stretch when one considered she’d never met Creighton Jackson or Bianca Bello, but her gut told her that these murders were related to her somehow.

Sam slammed his hand down on the counter. No surprise there. “There is no way I’m letting you put yourself in danger.”

She held up a hand. “Now wait. How about if I wear a wire, a bullet proof vest, and maybe carry a weapon.” She paused for effect. “I’m even willing to have a million cops follow me.”

Phil edged toward the group. “I understand you’re concern, Sam, but Jenna may be our only hope here. I don’t know for sure who he’s killed, but someone blew up Jenna’s car and someone knifed Carla. Creighton Jackson didn’t cut his own head off. Given we suspect he might be an employee here, Jenna’s plan might work.”

“A bullet proof vest won’t stop a bullet to her head,” Sam said.

“I agree, but we have to stop him.” Phil turned to Carla. “I know you’ve been working with HR to come up with a match on this guy. Any luck?”

“I’ve narrowed it down to three men who work here that might fit the bill. Jesus Soler, in pathology, is a lab tech. He could be our man. He knows how to use a saw to cut up someone. There’s one guy in maintenance, named Victor Nunez, and another in the footprint lab, by the name of Felix Cardoso. That’s assuming we’re profiling Hispanics.”

“Did you do a thorough background check on them?” Phil asked.

“On those three, yes, and they come up clean.”

“Do any of them have a serpent tattoo?”

Carla blew out a breath. “I haven’t gotten that far.”

Phil turned to Sam. “Let me get with TPD and see what they want to do. The killer could be in our midst, or he could be someone who knows someone here. Jenna, I think we should outfit you with a gun at the very least. Ever handle one?”

“Yes.” The less said the better. While she’d never confronted Phil about being a cop, she was quite certain he knew.

Sam stood next to Jenna. “This is a bad idea. There’s no way I want her to have a gun. It’s too dangerous.” Not only did his voice shake, so did the hand on her shoulder.

What could she say? She wasn’t about to announce how she’d won last year’s annual precision shot award. Going to the range with her dad as a kid had its benefits.

Phil slapped the arms of his wheelchair. “I have another idea.”

Sam shoved his hands in his pocket. “What’s that?” His tone came out almost hostile.

Jenna glanced up and didn’t like the pain that raced across his face.

“Come with me. Both of you. Carla, you know what you have to do.” Phil said.

Jenna grabbed her purse and followed right behind Phil. Sam was right behind her.

She, Sam, and Phil took the elevator to the first floor and headed out the back entrance where Phil kept his wheelchair-equipped van.

“Hop in. I’ll drive,” Phil said.

Sam said nothing as he piled in front. Jenna sat in the back, which was just as well. Jenna needed time to work through her own plan.

“Jenna,” Phil said, as he pulled out of the lot. “I figure the safest place for you right now would be the police station. I called a friend of mine, Officer Larry Bernard, of TPD. He said he could fix you up with a loaner car until you get one of your own. He’ll brief you on my plan to draw out the killer.”

So he knew. God bless Phil. Excitement bubbled up. She’d have a car, and she could work at the station. That was about as win-win as she could get.

“What about Sam? Just because I seem to be the new target doesn’t mean he’s out of danger. The first curse had been aimed at him.”

She looked in the driver’s rear view mirror and caught the small lift of Phil’s lips. “That’s where I come in. I’m going to teach Sam here to shoot a gun.”

“I don’t need lessons.” Sam’s sharp retort startled her. “I had enough of that in the Navy.”

Phil glanced over. “That wasn’t in your employment record.”

“I wanted to forget that whole time of my life.”

“Hell’s bells. Maybe you should be giving me some lessons. I’ve become rusty since the accident. Mind?”

Sam shrugged. “Guess not, but I hate guns and hate the thought of guns.”

The image of the dead friend in the restaurant and the young girl’s life cut short flashed in her mind. She understood.

When Phil pulled in front of the station in downtown Tampa, she was never happier to see work. TPD screamed safety—and transportation.

“The Chief promised you security, so we’ll meet you back at your house in a few hours,” Phil said.

Jenna attempted to keep the joy from her voice. “Okay.”

She leaned over the front passenger seat and kissed Sam on the cheek, but his hard jaw didn’t soften. Oh, well. In her heart, she believed this was the best way to handle the killer.

“Be safe,” she called as she slipped out of the van.

She took the escalator upstairs and almost enjoyed the familiar musty smell and the dingy row of chairs for visitors. Jenna dragged her badge out of her purse and planted it proudly on her chest. The young officer at the desk merely nodded to her as she slipped into the back looking for Larry.

Bernard sat at his desk, two empty cups in front of him along with a half eaten sandwich. He looked up and winced.

“You don’t look so sweet yourself, you know,” she said.

Larry dragged a hand down his face. “I heard about your dad. I’m sorry. How’s he holding up?”

“He was alive the last time I looked.” Marlon slid next to her. She didn’t need him today. “Hi, Marlon.”

“Jenna, can we talk?”

Larry waved them on. “The car’s ready when you are, but the Captain wants to speak with you first.”

Marlon dragged a hand around her waist, and she let him lead her over to his desk. “Please sit, Jenna.”

The light in Lucas’ office was on, but the blinds and the door were closed. She had to wait for him to be free anyway. “What’s up?”

“I can’t sleep. I keep going over the scene with your father in my head. How could I have missed the shooter?”

She didn’t want to get into another round with him. “What did Internal Affairs say?”

“They spoke with your dad by phone. He backed up what happened, so I’m exonerated, but I know I’ll be haunted by my mistake the rest of my life.”

He’d have to see a shrink before being allowed out in the field. Poor Marlon. She glanced over at the captain’s office as the door opened. “Speaking of which I need to go see Dad.” She stood, not wanting to listen to Marlon moan and groan anymore. “But first, I need see what the Cap wants.” Jenna knocked and stepped in. “Hi.”

“Shut the door.”

She didn’t need this.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, his gaze on a folder in front of him.

Her shoulders relaxed. She thought he’d tell her he planned to keep her locked in the holding cell until the killer was caught. “As best as can be expected given the circumstances.”

He leaned forward. “Here’s how it’s going to go down. Since we have no idea if our killer will attack by gun, knife, bomb, or whatever, we’re trying to be thorough. I want you to wear a flak jacket at all times.” He lifted up something that looked like a dog collar. “And this too. Assuming he’s responsible for all the deaths around her, he likes to cut throats. This will deter him.” He bent it. “Good old Italian leather.”

“I already have one like that.” With spikes.

“Not like this you don’t. It’s lined with a malleable metal. If he tries to strangle you, he’ll have a hard time crushing the band. Wear the collar under a turtleneck. He won’t see the protection.”

“Are you going to ask me to wear a bullet proof helmet?”

“I wish, but as you can imagine, you’d be a little conspicuous. “He picked up a microphone attached to a wire. “Whenever you go out, put this on. We realize that the best chance of this guy has is getting to you at HOPEFAL, so if we don’t see you for a few days, we’ll understand. The guy’s escalating. Be careful.”

Jenna scooped up the two guns, two knives, and the not-so-beautiful handcrafted neck gear. “Wish me luck.”

“Larry will show you to the car. You’ll like it. It’s rigged up special. Not only does it have redundant GPS trackers, it has bulletproof windows too. There are microphones that will pick up every sound, so no singing.” A hint of a smile cracked his lips. “We had to disable the radio so as not to interfere with the transmission. If this guy managed to worm his way into the car and holds a gun to your head, do as he says. We’ll be nearby at all times.”

And here she thought working at Botanica was dangerous.