Capelli sat at his desk in the intelligence office, his thoughts reeling and his heart still stuck in his windpipe. But now that the team was here, having been called into place as soon as he and Sinclair had come out of the sergeant’s office less than an hour ago, Capelli had to gather his wits.

Conrad Vaughn was their killer. The evidence was there, albeit insanely well-hidden. The logic followed.

And Capelli had to focus on the facts of this case, to buckle down and sew up his emotions and catch Vaughn before the guy killed anyone else. Before anyone other than Sinclair found out exactly how connected he and Vaughn had once been. Before the team in intelligence discovered he was actually a fraud.

Before Shae, with her shrewd, sexy stare and her all-in attitude, found out that his work ethic was really just a survival skill, and that he couldn’t even be a decent human being even on a dare.

“Okay, everybody. Listen up, because we’ve got a lot of ground to cover. There’s been a break in the Lawrence/Denton case.”

Sinclair’s voice cut through the office even though the room had been mostly quiet to begin with. Surprising, considering Shae and all four detectives on the team were gathered together in the work space. Then again, they had to know they weren’t here for social hour. Sinclair never rallied everyone on a Saturday for anything less than a balls-out emergency.

Which was probably why he ditched the pleasantries in favor of the jugular. “Our primary suspect is Conrad Vaughn, a.k.a. the Shadow.”

“The hacker from the DuPree case?” Isabella asked, clearly in shock, but Sinclair didn’t hesitate.

“Affirmative. Capelli’s the one who came up with the intel, so I’ll let him get you all up to speed. Then we’ll go from there.”

The sergeant sent an ice-blue glance in his direction, lifting his chin in the briefest go-ahead. Scraping for a deep breath, Capelli took the first fact off the top of his mental pile and dove right in.

“On the surface, the DuPree case and our murders seem to have very little in common. Plus, DuPree is obviously dead, so even when the sufentanil turned up in our vics’ systems, logic didn’t dictate that the two cases were related.”

Adrenaline combined with an odd twinge of emotion in his veins at the memory that had triggered his realization to the contrary. Both threatened to make his hands shake, so he busied them by firing up the crime scene board from the keyboard on his desk. Facts. Evidence. Focus.

“But now you obviously think they are,” Moreno said, her surprise giving way to the slightest hint of unease. Damn it, as tough as she was, the DuPree case had still been hard as hell on her, for no less than a dozen reasons both physical and emotional. But she was one of the best cops Capelli had ever seen, so he answered her with the straight-up truth.

“Yes. I think Conrad Vaughn is using arson to cover up deeper crimes like murder, the same exact way Julian DuPree did when he killed Angel Velasquez and Danny Marcus. I also think he left those threatening notes for Shae.”

Maxwell’s dark eyes went hard and narrow from the spot where he sat behind his desk. “And you think that why, exactly?”

“Because Vaughn is the only person with detailed knowledge of DuPree’s crimes who isn’t dead or in jail, the M.O.s for the murders are a match, and we have him on the surveillance video from Shae’s apartment less than ten minutes before the break-in.”

In the two-ton silence that followed, Capelli paused to look at each member of the team. Sinclair standing at attention, observing from the back of the office. Maxwell, Hale, Hollister, and Moreno poised behind their respective desks in various states of shock and awe. But it was the faith and conviction in Shae’s stare that bolstered him, and he sent her a tiny nod before turning toward the rest of the team to continue.

“I know it’s surprising. I didn’t expect the cases to be connected like this either. But the facts don’t lie.”

Capelli sent the image of Vaughn’s face from his laptop to the crime scene board, setting his molars together for just an instant before saying, “Vaughn posed as a floral delivery man to get into Shae’s building. The actual order was legit, but it was placed online using a stolen credit card.”

“So he placed the order, then hijacked the delivery to get a free pass into the building,” Hollister said, and enough of a question hung in his voice that Capelli nodded in reply.

“Yes. The floral company outsources its delivery services and they send all assignments to their drivers electronically. Intercepting a job itinerary and posing as the delivery guy would have been all too easy for Vaughn to do.” Not to mention ballsy as hell, but since Vaughn had stones the size of a baseball stadium, they’d be getting to that soon enough.

Hale frowned in thought. “Okay, but this guy is obviously smart. Why not just slip in through a side door with a bogus key card like you said and keep himself off the surveillance feed entirely?”

“Because while he is smart, he’s also self-righteous, remember?” Capelli asked. Vaughn had definitely proven both a thousand times over during the DuPree investigation. Even the RPD profiler had been impressed in the bad way by the asshole’s lack of a soul. “Chances are, he did it because he could. Vaughn knows we have no physical evidence to tie him to the notes or the break-in. Sure, he was in Shae’s building, but so were a hundred other people. Even if we could find him”—Capelli paused to let his expression deliver the likelihood that that would happen without a metric ton of work and luck combined—“we couldn’t hold him for so much as a parking ticket.”

Vaughn had been equally stealthy three months ago, triggering viruses on all of DuPree’s hard drives that had rendered them useless just before ghosting to save his own skin. The move was textbook Cover Your Ass, and fuck if it hadn’t done its job in spades.

“Ugh. This guy sounds like a real prince,” Shae muttered, and Capelli hated that his only choice was to nod in agreement.

“Unfortunately, Vaughn is smart and dangerous, which is a bad combination by itself. Add in his narcissistic tendencies, the fact that he has a black hole for a conscience, and his job history running counter-surveillance for monsters like Julian DuPree…”

Moreno filled in the blank, her voice loaded with determination. “And we need to figure out what he’s up to and nail him before he hurts anybody else.”

Dread crawled an ice-cold path down Capelli’s spine, but he wrenched himself back to the facts. “Given our past experience with him, odds are high Vaughn’s got a very calculated plan. We just don’t know what his endgame is, or who he’ll try to kill next.”

“Let’s start from square one,” Sinclair said, shooting a glance at the crime scene board where Capelli had posted the image of Vaughn at Shae’s apartment building. “What do we know about his motive for these murders?”

“It could be money,” Hollister said slowly. “I mean, this is a guy who freelances security and counter-surveillance to some of Remington’s nastiest scumbags. Maybe he’s expanding his résumé to include murder for hire.”

Capelli shook his head. He wouldn’t put murder for hire past Vaughn—Christ knew the bastard lacked even the barest shred of a moral compass. Still…

“There weren’t any bodies at Fiorelli’s.” He turned to look at Shae, certainty and something else he couldn’t name pumping through his veins. “Honestly, I think the most logical motive is revenge, just like Shae said.”

Her shoulders hitched in the barest betrayal of her surprise, but she smoothed over the movement in less than a breath. “Both fires were designed to do a huge amount of damage. It definitely feels personal enough for revenge.”

Maxwell lifted his chin in agreement. “If Vaughn did freelance security for both the Scarlet Reapers and Nicky Bianchi, and somehow things went sour, he would know how to hit them both where it hurt the most.”

“Exactly,” Capelli said. “But even though these crimes were personal in that regard, Vaughn is still methodical as hell. He might’ve used the same M.O. as DuPree for the murders at the meth lab fire, but he was a hell of a lot smarter about covering his tracks.”

Pulling up the ME’s report on Denton, he sent the information to the case board, highlighting the toxicology report. “Denton had the same amount of sufentanil in his system as Lawrence did, but he also outweighed the L-Man by a good fifty pounds.”

“Which means the same amount of drugs would take longer to knock him out,” Moreno murmured. “You thinking that’s why his throat was cut instead? To be sure he went down? I mean, a guy like Vaughn doesn’t take half-measures. He’d probably have a backup plan in place in case the drugs didn’t subdue either victim fast enough.”

Capelli nodded, having already run the odds in his head twice to be sure. “I think it’s the most likely scenario, yes, but there’s a catch with the wound, too. All this tissue damage was done post-mortem. Denton actually bled out from a very precise cut that severed his carotid artery.”

“If the wound that killed him was inflicted first, why go back and do more damage after the fact? It’s not like Denton could get any deader,” Hollister said, and Capelli’s brain shifted over the probabilities until he arrived at the most likely one.

“My guess is to throw us off. That cut was placed in exactly the right spot to do the most lethal damage possible in the shortest amount of time, which means Denton’s murderer was not only calculating, but incredibly smart.”

Realization flickered over Hale’s face. “And almost certainly not a rival gang banger looking for a down and dirty revenge kill, like we originally thought.”

“Jesus,” Maxwell said. “This guy really is methodical.”

A few seconds passed, and Capelli could tell from everyone’s expressions that they were processing the intel. It was a lot, he knew—even Sinclair had given up a few signs of rare surprise when Capelli had first unloaded the whole story in the sergeant’s office. Finally, Hollister broke the silence, his eyes not on Capelli or the crime scene board, but oddly on Shae.

“Vaughn clearly knows Shae is investigating the arsons, which is attention he might not have been banking on when he came up with his strategy.” The detective paused as if he was selecting his words with extreme care, his voice softening as he asked, “Is it possible she’s his next target?”

The thought sliced through Capelli as precise and sharp as razor wire, closing over the “no” lodged firmly in his throat. The sting grew teeth as he registered the shock-laced fear on Shae’s face, and no amount of logic could explain the way his heart was currently trying to pry its way out of his rib cage.

“No.” He swallowed—twice, because he didn’t trust his throat to perform even its basic function past the single syllable. Facts. Facts. He needed the facts. They never lied.

The first one that appeared in his brain was that if Vaughn went near Shae again, Capelli would murder the man, bare-handed and smiling.

“I don’t think so,” he said, turning toward her and tamping down his emotions once and for all. “If you were a target, Vaughn would’ve hurt you when he had the chance. There’s no way he doesn’t know we have extra eyes on you now because of the notes, and he won’t do anything that’ll get him caught. No matter how arrogant he is, he’s smart enough to know that going after you now would be strategic suicide.”

The rationale took most of the terror out of her eyes and his chest—thank fuck—and a second later, Shae’s chin lifted in that way that was as unique to her as her signature. “If this brainiac whack job thinks he can scare me off the case, he has another thing coming.”

“We’ll keep our current security measures in place anyway, just as a precaution,” Sinclair said, one hundred percent unyielding. “McCullough, you’ll still need to check with the team every twelve hours and be escorted to your car at night. No sense in giving this asshole any bright ideas.”

She nodded, and Hollister took the opportunity to add, “We’re not going to let anything happen to you, Shae.”

“So where do we go from here?” Maxwell asked, and the straight to the point question tethered Capelli right back to his focus.

“Forward. If we want to take Vaughn down, we’ll have to catch him in the act.”

“Easier said than done,” Hale mused, her eyes on the photographs of the two crime scenes on the board at the back of the office, and as much as Capelli hated it, she wasn’t wrong.

“Vaughn knows how to stay four steps ahead of the system. We have to assume he’s hacked the arson database and the RPD alert system at the very least. He’s got tech just like ours—”

Hollister interrupted with a humorless pop of laughter. “Uh, we have you, dude. Nobody’s got tech like ours.”

“Unfortunately, Conrad Vaughn does.” Unease coursed back into Capelli’s veins at how thoroughly he knew the truth of it, but he pulled in a slow breath to cover the thought. “He’s got a brain the size of a building and the power of the Dark Net at his back, which means for him, there are no rules. I put extra security measures into place on the intelligence database that should block him moving forward, and I have a call in to the RFD to do the same for the case files over at arson.”

“Should block him,” Moreno repeated, her brows lifting toward her hairline, and yeah, here’s where things got thorny.

“The only way to absolutely guarantee that our network won’t be breached is to unplug it, which we obviously can’t do. We can keep certain things offline by going old school—burner phones and face-to-face coms.” It would be a righteous pain in the ass to tap dance all over the grid, no doubt. But Capelli had worked with far less access to break a case. Plus… “Even if by some small chance Vaughn does get access to our database, that’s not necessarily all bad news.”

Both Hale and Shae chirped in surprise, but the detective found her footing first. “Um, correct me if I’m wrong, but won’t we totally be tipping our hand if he can put eyes on our DB? Then he’ll know everything we know.”

“It’s not an ideal situation,” Capelli said in the interest of full disclosure. “But not everything we do and know will be online. And more importantly, if Vaughn can see us—”

“We can see him, too,” Shae finished.

“Exactly.” His heart thudded faster, his fingers twitching over the keyboard beneath them at the mere possibility. Christ, it would only take him two minutes—maybe three—to get a bead on the guy if he caught him lurking online. Yeah, Vaughn was smart, but Capelli knew him. Knew all his tendencies and quirks and maneuvers.

Which was why the dark, greedy hope in his chest fizzled with his next breath.

“Tactically speaking, that heightens the odds he’ll stay away from the DB altogether. He knows we’re on alert, and he thinks he can outsmart us without the intel anyway,” Capelli said.

Sinclair took a step toward the group, his jaw set and his expression as serious as a sledgehammer in full swing. “Well, that’s where he’s wrong, because we’re going to nail his ass to the wall like a Monet. I want to know everything there is to know about Conrad Vaughn. All known associates, last known address, anybody he might have done counter-surveillance for, anyone whose feathers he might have ruffled. If this guy has left so much as a breadcrumb of intel, I want every single one of you to know it inside and out, right down to what color socks he’s wearing.”

Sinclair slid a stare in his direction, but only for a second before his gaze moved over the rest of the team. “I want to know what this guy is going to do before he even knows he’s going to do it. Let’s get to work, people. Capelli?”

The sound of his name sent a prickle of warning over his skin, but ah hell, he couldn’t let so much as an ounce of it show. “Yes, Sarge?”

“A word in my office before you get started.”

Fuck. The non-request never, ever meant anything good. When Sinclair told you to close the door, the way he did when Capelli stepped over the threshold a few seconds later? You might as well put your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye.

Still, Capelli had no choice but to nut up and act normal for appearance’s sake. “What’s up?”

Sinclair ran a hand over his gray-blond crew cut, letting it rest on the back of his neck for a second before answering. “I know I don’t need to tell you how badly we need to catch this guy. Just like you don’t need to tell me how big a task that’s going to be.” His next pause had Capelli’s heart stuttering behind the gray cotton of his Henley, because with it came that expression Sinclair almost never trotted out.

Regret.

“You and Vaughn have a history. One your team doesn’t know anything about.”

Every part of Capelli froze except for his eyes, which shot directly to Sinclair’s. “I haven’t had any direct personal contact with the guy in eight years. I gave you everything I know about the guy when we tracked him three months ago, and you and I have already agreed that my former working relationship with Vaughn doesn’t have any bearing on the case in front of us.”

Yeah, Capelli hated the truth, and no, he definitely didn’t want to go broadcasting his past like a breaking news alert. But if disclosing his past with Vaughn would help the team catch him, Capelli would’ve done it the second the guy had surfaced.

“We did,” Sinclair said past his frown. Although he didn’t elaborate, he didn’t have to in order for Capelli to hear everything he hadn’t spoken but had somehow still managed to say.

“None of what happened in the past will keep me from being able to track him so we can take him down,” Capelli said, and Sinclair’s expression in return brooked no argument.

“If I thought it would, you wouldn’t be here. But even if we catch Vaughn today and your teammates are none the wiser about your knowing him, that still doesn’t mean your past isn’t going to come back to haunt you.”

My past haunts me every single day. It’ll haunt me until I die.

Capelli bit his tongue just in time to trap the words burning there. Damn it, he needed to get it together. To clamp down on his emotions, to find his composure now more than ever.

He looked out the window facing the main intelligence office, eyes searching wildly until they landed on Shae, sitting at the end of his desk. She was focused on her laptop screen, her honey-colored ponytail brushing over one shoulder and her eyes determined. Bright.

Pure.

Unexplainably, Capelli’s breath moved in. Out. In again before he said, “I’m good. Really.”

“If the case depends on it—”

“If the case depended on it, I wouldn’t think twice about telling them everything.” The same went for if any member of the team’s safety was on the line, although he sure as shit hoped he didn’t need to say that out loud. “But it doesn’t. Either way, this thing with Vaughn isn’t going to get personal. It isn’t going to get in the way of us catching him.”

“That may be.” The lack of edge in Sinclair’s voice backed up the words one hundred percent. “But I still think you should talk to them, Capelli. They know you. You need to trust that.”

Slipping on as much of a smile as he could muster, he gave up a nod.

“Thanks. I’ll think about it.”

It was the first time in eight years that Capelli had ever lied to the man.