[23]

“We did all we could, it just wasn’t . . . enough. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

The words echoed in Steven’s mind as he stared at the floor. Just like his brother, Belinda was gone. Her boys were orphans. Zeke was slumped into the chair next to Haley. He hadn’t let go of her hand since the doctor had appeared in the hallway and announced Belinda’s death.

Christina and Laila stood to the side, sipping coffee and talking in low voices.

Katie, Olivia, and Maddy stepped off the elevator and made their way over to her. Haley stood and the three friends wrapped her in a group hug.

“So sorry,” Katie said. She moved to Zeke and squeezed his bicep. “I’m sorry for you too, Zeke.”

He nodded, but kept his eyes downcast. “If he wasn’t dead, I’d kill him.”

Steven knelt in front of the teen, who lifted his eyes and met Steven’s gaze. The dark hatred in his eyes pierced him, but he understood it all too well. “There are others just like him out there.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. Guys like Richie are one reason I became a cop.”

“What are the other reasons?”

“A drunk driver killed my brother. I vowed to get as many drunks off the road as I could. To keep other people from having to go through the pain that my family went through.”

Zeke’s eyes widened. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I am too.”

He felt Haley’s hand rest on his shoulder and give it a slight squeeze. Appreciation for her support rocked him. He cleared his throat.

“Richie is just one of many thugs out there,” he said. “Dangerous and deadly to innocent people. We need good officers fighting to get them off the streets and away from people like you and Micah and your mother. And we need people fighting to keep them behind bars.”

Zeke frowned. “You saying I should become a cop?”

“I’m saying you should think about it. Every woman you save from a Richie will be in honor of your mother. Every drunk I get off the streets is in honor of my brother. And it does help heal the hate.” Or it had. Shame gripped him, but he kept his expression encouraging. After the conversation with his father, a fresh serving of hate had just filled his heart to the very top and he wasn’t sure how he was going to purge himself of it.

Zeke swallowed and looked away.

The doctor appeared in the waiting room once more. “Excuse me. Are you Micah Hampton’s family?”

Haley stepped forward and lifted her chin. “We are.”

“We need you to sign some paperwork. He’s getting a new heart.”

“My mom’s?” Zeke whispered. Haley had told Zeke of his mother’s pleading last words. Even in her pain, her desperation to save her child—her children—had been her priority.

The doctor turned kind eyes on the teen. “Yeah, son, your mom’s.” He turned his attention to Haley. “I need proof that you have the legal right to represent Micah.”

Haley blew out a short breath and swiped the tears on her cheeks. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out an envelope. “It’s right here. Belinda had a will, believe it or not. It’s even signed by her lawyer and a witness. For some reason she felt led to give me guardianship of her boys the day after she met me.” She cleared her throat and looked around. “I guess we know why now.”

The doctor gave a slow nod. “Then let’s get the paperwork done and get this boy his new heart.”

He left and Haley slumped into the chair.

Maddy sat beside her. “What are you going to do about this weekend?”

“I don’t know. My grandfather is still in ICU in a coma and his family—”

“Your family too.”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “My family too—that’s going to take some getting used to—is coming in.” She rose and paced, then looked at each of her friends and coworkers. “But I promised I’d go on this trip.”

Olivia frowned. “This is kind of an extreme circumstance, though. I would think they’d understand if you had to back out.”

“Yes. Of course they would, but I don’t want to.” She pressed her fingers against her eyes. “No. I have to figure out how I can be on that bus when it pulls out Friday morning. That’s two days away. Hopefully things will be much different between now and then.”

He hadn’t forgotten her; he’d simply been biding his time, waiting and watching. The killer reached into his pocket and felt the reassuring presence of his weapon. Ready to use it when he had the chance. She was just hard to get to.

With her practically living at the hospital, his options for how to take her out were limited. Not to mention the fact that she was constantly surrounded by people. Professionals, if his judgment hadn’t failed him.

So, he was just going to have to get creative in how to complete his assignment.

He let go of the gun and flipped the page of the magazine as he listened to the conversation behind him. The doctor had just told her that her friend was dead. What a shame. Not.

He continued to listen and began to plan once more. The possibility of collateral damage had never stopped him before. And it sure wouldn’t now.

With Haley surrounded by her friends and coworkers, Steven left the hospital and checked in with his mother on the way to the precinct. When she didn’t answer, he called his aunt Sadie. “Hello?”

“Hey, I was just looking for Mom. Is she with you?”

“She had an errand to run. I’m here with your dad.”

“Is he all right?”

“Seems to be doing pretty well today. I got him to eat a piece of chicken and some mashed potatoes, so I consider that progress.”

“Where’d she go?”

“I . . . uh . . . she went to visit someone.”

Sadie’s hesitation sparked his curiosity. “And who would that be?”

“Someone who she decided needed her help.”

Steven huffed in exasperation. “Aunt Sadie, why are you being so evasive?”

“Oh dear. I think your father needs his tea refilled. I’ll get your mother to call you when she gets home. Love you, dear.”

And then she hung up.

Steven scowled at the device as though his aunt could see his expression. She was at the prison. He knew it as well as he knew he wanted to hit something. Deciding to talk to his mother as soon as he could, he made his way to his desk and found Quinn pacing in front of it. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“What’s going on?”

“This case. We think we might have a connection on the rich guys getting killed and stuffed in their trunks.”

Steven sat in his chair and booted up his laptop. “What’s that?”

“All of the victims were in the same area of downtown right before they were killed. Different restaurants, a hotel, but all within a three-mile radius.”

“Interesting.”

Quinn checked his phone, then pushed it aside. “Exactly. And it looks like they all disappeared on a Friday night, but were killed on a Saturday.”

Steven studied the whiteboard attached to the easel where Quinn had laid out the timeline. “The houses were all broken into on Saturdays just after midnight. Guess that would technically be Sunday, but you know what I mean.” He frowned. “But wait a minute. This one.” He jabbed the picture of the second victim. “He wasn’t downtown.”

“Actually, he was. We’d discounted them having the downtown thing in common because we didn’t think he’d been there the night he was snatched. But apparently he’d picked up a client at the hotel and spent about an hour there before leaving.”

“How’d you figure that out?”

“His wife said her best friend mentioned seeing him. She called me because she thought it might be important.”

“And we’re just now learning this? Why didn’t the best friend come forward with this when you were investigating his death three months ago?”

Quinn cleared his throat. “Apparently, she hesitated to because she thought he was having an affair.”

“Was he?”

“I don’t know. That’s not my concern. What I care about is we’ve got him in the same area as the others—discounting Carter James.”

“Yeah, but he’s not a victim of these guys,” Steven said. “He’s got his own killer.”

“Exactly.”

Steven rubbed a hand down his face. “It’s about time for these guys to hit again, isn’t it?”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“So, we need to set up a sting.”

Quinn’s eyes gleamed. “That’s why you’re almost as good a partner as Bree. We’re going to set it up for this Friday night—and every Friday night thereafter until we get them.”

“It’s a long shot.”

Quinn sent him a thin smile. “Not with the car that I’m going to be driving.”