The next morning, Olivia left Victor sleeping and took Taz for a run. She normally did three miles a day when she could, and the dog seemed up for the exercise.

Trailing Alfie the night before had yielded mixed results. He’d left his vehicle and gone into an alley where she couldn’t shadow him without revealing herself, so she’d waited to see if anyone followed him in. Eventually, she’d been rewarded with a woman in high heels making her way in and not emerging again for several minutes. Olivia had debated whether to sneak in as close as she could and see if she could eavesdrop, but although the daring move appealed to her, it was too risky. Instead, she waited patiently and followed the woman when she came out.

Unfortunately, the woman had slipped into a nightclub a few blocks down and Olivia lost her by the time she parked and entered it. The woman had worn an expensive designer jacket with a hood. The hood had been up the whole time, and the single picture she’d been able to take showed a partial of her face.

Frustration ate at her as she pounded the sidewalk. The woman was tall and thin, but so was half of LA, hundreds of actresses and models starving themselves to death and using dozens of methods to stay skeletal.

She couldn’t rule out either as the woman’s profession. The expensive clothes suggested a certain level of wealth. She only hoped she could put the partial face she had through facial recognition and get a hit. Or maybe when she visited Marquita Lomas, she would recognize the designer shoes.

“How about we take a stroll through the park?” she asked Taz.

Three blocks from her normal route, she found the spot where Cooper had been shot. A piece of crime scene tape was still hooked around a tree, the end flapping in the breeze. Olivia took Taz and they swept the perimeter, her eyes scanning the area and checking for anything that seemed interesting. She went to the spot where Cooper had stood, the blood stains in the sidewalk having turned a rusty brown.

No one was there this early, and she had a clear view of the playground equipment and the trees and bushes lining the area. A car drove by across the way and she watched it, imagining the gang members who had taken the same route that fateful day. The shooter had nearly pinpoint accuracy, and even though he’d missed Cooper’s heart by millimeters, that was still some impressive shooting from a moving vehicle.

She wasn’t buying it.

Her gaze drifted to the buildings across the street. There were multiple businesses stacked side-by-side, none higher than three floors. Trees blocked the majority of those windows, but one had a clear view of where she stood.

Taz sniffed at the grass, marking the spot and panting back to her. She needed to get the reports, see if anyone had checked those buildings. With her phone, she took pictures of the clearing in front, then walked across the park, Taz loping along beside her.

A scan of the rear of the buildings revealed standard fire escapes and a couple metal dumpsters. She took out her phone and shot pictures of the iron stairs at the back of the center building—the one with the view of the park. A visual inspection of the steps showed some rusting metal but nothing to indicate it had recently been used as an escape route. Inspecting the dumpsters, she found the normal bags of office waste—shredded papers, stinky food leftovers, and assorted other trash.

Taz sat and watched the show, ears perked as she went back and forth checking sight lines and looking for any trace evidence. She really needed to get inside to the window with the view, but it was early, and no one was there yet. The name of the business, Kogan & Sons, was nonspecific. It could’ve been anything from an accountant to a realtor to a construction company for all she knew. When she got back, she’d look them up and see if they had ties to any of the other players in this scenario.

When she emerged from the alleyway, she saw a welcome sight. Across the way in the park, Victor stood staring in her direction. He seemed surprised to see her emerge but waved. He was dressed in running gear and must’ve had the same idea as her. Taz barked once in a happy greeting, tail wagging furiously as he and Liv ran to catch up with Victor.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Liv said.

Victor greeted them, giving her a quick kiss and scratching the dog’s ears. “Found your note. A run seemed like a good idea to clear my head, so I thought I’d join you.”

“I don’t think our boys in the car took a shot at Cooper.” She shifted to one side and pulled Victor into the spot where Cooper had stood. Pointing through the trees, she showed him the window of the center building. “My guess is the bullet came from there.”

He nodded. “I was standing here thinking the same thing.”

She pulled out her phone and showed him the pictures of the front and back. “We need to take a look inside, and do a thorough inventory of the dumpsters to make sure our shooter didn’t leave evidence. Do you know anything about this business?”

“No,” Victor said. “I’ll have Thomas get the details for us.” He checked his watch. “Any indication when they open?”

She shook her head. “There are no signs indicating what they do or their hours of operation. We’ll have to come back.”

Her phone buzzed in her hand. Her eyes automatically glanced at the ID and her stomach flip-flopped. The Illinois State Department of Corrections. There were only two reasons they would be calling her. “Um, I need to take this.”

She walked a few steps away, hands shaking as her finger hit the answer button. She cleared her throat. “Fiorelli.”

“Ms. Fiorelli, this is Dan Hoskins. I have some news about your father.”

God, was he dead? Had another inmate killed him?

Her legs turned to concrete. Everything about the environment in front of her dimmed. She could no longer here the birds singing, the cars driving by, Victor speaking softly to the dog. The green of the trees seemed to turn the same shade as the sidewalk she stood on, the colorful playground equipment faded and washed out.

No words could escape her tight throat, as if a boa constrictor had wrapped around her neck. This did not deter Hoskins from delivering the news. “The parole board has granted a meeting with your father on Wednesday. Thought you’d like to know in case you want to be here.”

No way. Well, at least he’s not dead.

But what were they thinking? She forced herself to swallow down her disbelief. “They can’t seriously be considering him for parole.”

“He’s a model prisoner and hasn’t caused any problems in the ten years he’s been incarcerated. The State takes securities fraud seriously, of course, but in the overall scope of things, we have an abundance of more serious criminals flooding into the system daily. Rapists, murderers, you name it. Model prisoners are paroled early to make room.”

Her stomach cramped. She had the evidence to keep him locked up, but hadn’t used it when she’d had the opportunity. She couldn’t bring herself to testify against her own father. She’d trusted the agents working the case along with the lawyers prosecuting him to find evidence against him in regard to the last murder he’d committed. Most of what they’d had was circumstantial, and he’d pleaded guilty to a lesser charge of securities fraud while setting up his partner, Joey DeMarco. Two days after being incarcerated, Joey had been killed by a fellow inmate. Olivia knew who had been behind the hit, knew her father was responsible. Joey had been a good friend of the family. “He’s like my brother,” her father often said.

What kind of man had his own brother murdered?

“You can’t let him out. He’s a stone-cold killer and you know it.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Fiorelli. There’s nothing I can do. If you have evidence the parole board should be made aware of, I encourage you to attend the meeting and bring it forward.”

The call disconnected and Liv stood frozen in place. She was damned if she did, damned if she didn’t.

“Olivia?”

She turned to see the concern on Victor’s face.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

Covering up the emotions her father always evoked was second nature. She’d been doing it a long, long time. “Everything’s fine.”

She put the phone in her armband and started jogging. “Come on. I’ll buy you breakfast.”

Running would help. She could pound out her anxiety, keep Victor from seeing the fear she knew had to be on her face, and maybe find a way to sort through the sticky, awful confusion in her brain.

Focus on what you can control.

Control, an elusive concept just like family.

Victor caught up to her with ease, the dog as well. “Are we still on to go see Molina’s ex-girlfriend?”

“Absolutely. We can pay her a visit after breakfast. I have shooting practice this afternoon but I should be able to help with your investigation after that.”

And somewhere in between, she had to find a way to keep her father in jail.

Everything was not fine. Ever since the phone call, Olivia had been acting strange. Victor had not intentionally eavesdropped, but had been concerned from the moment he saw the look on her face when the call came through. Her body language had only gotten more worrisome as she had spoken to whoever was on the other end.

You can’t let him out. He’s a stone-cold killer and you know it.

Who had she been talking about? Someone she had arrested?

As he ran beside her, he figured it was better not to pry. She obviously didn’t want to talk about it, even though she was upset. Injustice sucked. He dealt with it every day, and it never got any easier. Bad guys—really bad guys—got off easy, while some folks couldn’t seem to catch a break.

They ran an easy pace, Taz staying in stride, his tongue lolling out the side. The dog was so easygoing, nothing seemed to faze him. The only signs of his former life were the scars around his mouth and ears. He didn’t seem to hold the past abuse from his previous owner against the rest of humanity, and that made him very adoptable. Only thing was, Victor didn’t think he wanted to put Taz up for adoption. Keeping the dog, however, wasn’t the most responsible thing to do, since he was gone so much.

“Race you the rest of the way,” Olivia said, laughing as she charged ahead full speed, the dog up for the chase.

Olivia was fast, but Victor had been a track star back in the day, and still enjoyed running half marathons. Sprinting wasn’t his favorite, but he liked the dynamic, explosive, and precise version of putting one foot in front of the other. He might have been several years older than Liv, but his legs were longer and he liked the chase as much as Taz. He let Liv stay a few feet ahead so he could watch her curvy backside. At the last second, he poured it on and passed her, reaching her front door three steps before she did.

She bent at the waist, panting. “You…cheated.”

He laughed, feeling better than he had in the past couple of days. The earlier phone call aside, he felt hope with the new leads. If indeed someone had shot Cooper from that building, it opened a whole new can of worms, and put them on the right track. All the threads they had crisscrossing with the Suarez Kings and Fifty-seven Gang had not produced the results he wanted. One of the reasons he’d gone to the park that morning was to do the same thing Liv had—stand where Cooper had and get a feel for possible options. She seemed to think along the same lines he did, and now they had an alternate possibility. Some days, that was the thing that blew the lid open on a case.

They showered together, and Victor enjoyed taking advantage of her wet, naked body as he helped wash her hair, as well as the rest of her. The water festivities ended up taking longer than expected, and they grabbed protein bars on the way out the door to track down Olivia’s lead.

A car was parked behind Olivia’s blocking it in. A sandy haired guy with a beard and a slim frame leaned against the hood. “Hey partner,” he said to Liv. Then he looked over Victor. “I see why you haven’t been answering your phone.”

Olivia didn’t hide her surprise. Taz stopped next to her, his hackles rising. “Danny, what are you doing here? I didn’t realize you were back in town.”

He ignored her question, pushing off the car and holding out a hand to Victor. “Danny Rossiter. How ya doin’?”

Olivia stepped forward. “Danny, this is Director Victor Dupé. Danny is my partner.”

Shaking the man’s hand seemed to make both Olivia and the dog relax. Danny kept up a relaxed posture too, although behind his eyes, Victor saw annoyance. “Right,” Danny said. “FBI Director Dupé. I’ve seen you around, we’ve never had the chance to work together. Nice to meet you.”

His tight tone suggested that was a lie. “The marshal and I are on the way to interrogate a possible informant. What can we do for you, Danny?”

The annoyance in the man’s eyes became even clearer. He smiled through it. “My partner and I need to have a little chat.” He swung his gaze over to Olivia. “Adams called in sick. The boss wants us to handle transportation for Henry Valiant this afternoon.”

Victor signaled Taz. “Come on, boy.” To Olivia, he said, “We’ll be in the backyard if you need us.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “Stay. This will only take a minute. Danny, I’ll meet you at the courthouse. What time?”

Danny obviously wanted to talk to her alone and hesitated, looking down the block as if deciding how hard to press her. “Four o’clock. You will be there, right?”

Now it was Olivia who didn’t hide her annoyance. “Of course.”

He scratched at his neck, once again seeming to take in the setting. “Heard about your old man. Think he’ll get out?”

Olivia’s poker face was pretty damn impressive, but Victor saw a tic start under her left eye. “Not if the state of Illinois has an ounce of intelligence. Look, we need to leave if I’m going to be back in time to help you with Valiant.”

Danny wasn’t easily put off. “You know, all these mobs guys you’re trying to put away out here can’t hold a candle to your dad. Maybe you should head back to Chicago or New Jersey or wherever you hail from originally and worry about getting your own house in order instead of chasing Gino DeStefano.”

A tight smile crossed her face. “We haven’t been partners that long, Danny, so I’ll let that obvious none-of-your-fucking-business opinion pass.” She took a step toward him, staring him directly in the eyes. “But I strongly suggest you keep your nose out of that business and don’t bring up my family again.”

He stared her down before taking out his keys and opening the door to his car. “Answer your phone once in a while, Fiorelli. I don’t have time to hunt you down every time we have a job to do.”

She stood with feet planted and watched him pull out of her drive.

Victor moved to stand beside her. “Nice guy.”

“Oh yeah, he’s a real peach. Came from Arizona a few months ago and doesn’t like the way I work. Seems to think I need someone to keep me under control and make me follow the rules.”

“Rules aren’t your thing.”

She released a deep sigh. “Oh, I love rules, love the law. It’s something to hold onto when there’s anarchy all around, but sometimes you have to bend a few protocols and procedures to get the bad guys where it really hurts them.”

He wanted to ask about the reference to her dad, but decided she would open up when she was ready. It wasn’t hard to figure out—her father must be close to getting paroled. That would explain the earlier call at the park and her reaction to it.

“You still game to go talk to Molina’s ex-girlfriend?”

“Damn skippy, I am.” She hit the fob for her car and the doors unlocked. “Have you heard from your team?”

“Cooper is stable. The others are working with Roman’s team, following up on leads involving the Suarez Kings and who may have set the bomb. Ronni is tracking down the owner of the building across from the park. So far, it’s a dead end. The former owner was a tax attorney who went bankrupt and disappeared. The bank foreclosed on the loan, but nothing’s been done with the property. We’re trying to get a warrant to search it. If you and I can figure out this shooter angle, we may be able to tie the two together and get a better handle on who’s behind both.”

They got in the car, Taz riding in the backseat. Olivia backed out of the drive. “Our gal is Marquita Lomas. She officially dated Frankie B for three years, enjoying a nice penthouse suite, maxing out several of his credit cards, and getting dumped for his current girlfriend, who by the way, has a ring on her finger and is making plans to marry him later this year.”

Victor thumbed through the file on his phone she had sent him. “And how is it Lomas has information about the shooting?”

“Alfonso Barone, the mob guy I’m pumping for information, is the one who put me onto the hit against an upper level DEA agent. Claims he heard about it through someone close to Frankie. It’s possible Alfie is using Lomas to get information he wants, and he’s slicing that up and giving me a teaser here and there.”

“Why the ex? Why not the current girlfriend?”

“I overheard Alfie talking to a woman on the phone. He was telling her she needed to get close to this guy again, as if they had broken up. He was giving her relationship advice, if you can believe it, but in a manipulative way. Totally using her to get intel. If Frankie still has a soft spot for her, maybe that’s how she’s able to pump him for information without being obvious, and Alfie is using that for his own purposes. I’m not sure, but my gut tells me this informant he refers to is not part of the syndicate itself, so the ex-girlfriend angle works. Pillow talk, and all that.”

“At this point,” Victor said, “I’ll follow any lead, and I trust your intuition.”

She seemed to flinch slightly. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Oh, yeah?” he teased. “Why not?”

She bit her bottom lip and worried it for a moment. Her eyes stayed on the road as she merged with traffic on the freeway. Her knuckles were nearly white from the grip she had on the steering wheel. “Listen, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

The phone call? Her dad’s situation? “It’s okay. You don’t have to discuss your family with me, especially the situation with your father. I understand it’s private.”

Brows furrowed, she glanced at him then back to the road.

He touched her shoulder, not sure about that look. Maybe he’d misread the whole thing. Did she want to talk about it? Had they passed an invisible line where she was now comfortable telling him the ugly details? “If you do want to talk about him, I’m more than happy to listen.”

There. That should cover it both ways. Man, he was rusty with this relationship stuff. All Tracee had ever wanted to do was talk about things. He’d always been a good listener, but eventually he’d started tuning out all the details about her Hollywood peers that she reveled in.

He was used to listening to his agents and hearing the words behind what they actually said. Like a profiler, he could almost read their minds and understand them on a level that was much deeper than the facts they put in their reports.

Olivia eased down in her seat ever so slightly, her grip loosening. “My dad is a subject that is usually off-limits, but I appreciate the offer. Bottom line, the facts are very straightforward. He was a mafia hitman for twenty-some years. I didn’t even realize he wasn’t like a normal dad until I was eight or nine. For a long time, I couldn’t reconcile what he did with the man I knew who came home to us every night, who tucked me in and read bedtime stories to me. But as I got older, I began to understand what a monster he was to the rest of the world. He’s been in federal prison for ten years on securities fraud, not for all of the murders he committed. I’m told he’s been a model prisoner and the parole board is considering releasing him. It makes me sick to my stomach.”

As if to emphasize her words, one hand snaked to her lower belly and rested there.

He knew there was much more to the story, but wanted to give her space. “Totally understandable that you don’t want him out.”

“What about your dad?” she asked, abruptly.

Her need to deflect and change the conversation to something not about her did not escape him. The subject was a touchy one for him too, his dad not exactly an upstanding role model either. “My father suffered from manic-depression and alcoholism. He tried to take his own life when I was ten, my mother tried to stop him, and she ended up with a bullet in her spine that left her paralyzed from the waist down. After he shot her, he ended up murdered—the case is still unsolved. He left me and my four sisters behind. My mother has spent her life in a wheelchair, and if it hadn’t been for some close relatives taking care of us kids, she probably would’ve lost all of us to the foster system. As soon as she was out of the hospital and able to return home, I insisted on going back too. My aunt and uncle, who I was living with at the time, refused to let me, so I ran away and made it home to her. I refused to leave her and eventually got all four of my sisters under the same roof with us again. It was a rough life, but we all ended up okay.”

“Okay? I’d say you’ve done better than that, Director.”

“Still haven’t solved my father’s murder—for years, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I had a lot of hang-ups about the night my mother was shot. But all in all, the important thing was not letting it tear us apart.”

“Your sisters must absolutely adore you for keeping the family together.”

He smiled, thinking about Brenda, Danille, Ruth, and Nikki. Four amazing women who gave him nothing but hell all the time about working too hard, too long, and still being single. His mother usually led the charge. “We are a close-knit family. I think you’ll like all of them. They’re strong women, like you.”

She took an off-ramp. “I’d like to meet them, you know, when and if you want me to.”

He definitely did. “As soon as we’re done with this case, I’ll plan something, okay? Maybe I can finish painting the house and have a picnic.” He’d never planned one in his life, but suddenly, it seemed like the domestic thing to do, right up there with introducing his new girlfriend to his mom and sisters. “How about you? Any siblings?”

She stiffened again and took another right turn, craning her head as if she were looking for the correct street. Maybe she was. “I had a brother. He’s dead.”

No emotion crossed her face, her eyes scanning house numbers. Another touchy subject probably best left for a different time. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Sixty-three thirty-seven. Here we are.” The car slid up to the curb. “I’ll take lead, okay?”

Yep, she definitely didn’t want to talk about her family any longer and he didn’t blame her. “Lead the way, Deputy Marshal Fiorelli. I’m right behind you.”