“Get. Out. Of. My. Way.” She tries again, but before she can threaten Reed any further, the chief’s black SUV rolls to a stop at the edge of the cordoned-off lot. Several officers straighten.
He steps out, all heavy muscle and authority. Broad shoulders taper into a thick torso, and I can’t help but wonder what his workout routine is like. He’s covered in his dark overcoat, cap pulled low and shielding the scar across his left eye. I don’t deal with him often, and when I do, it’s impossible to pretend to focus on anything but that scar. It’s long, slashing from the top of his eyebrow diagonally across his lid and over his cheekbone where it fades into the hollow of his face. Whatever happened to him, which I haven’t had the balls to ask, left his eye clouded over. The iris is an opaque milky gray that doesn’t focus. Everyone says that when he gives press conferences, his haunting stare into the camera reaches them through their screens.
I can’t help the tinge of unease that jumps on me as he limbers toward us. It’s rare for the chief to see a crime scene personally. Granted, this serial killer has garnered a pretty big name for himself in the past few weeks. Still, our sergeant, captain—I’d expect visits from them, not the chief.
His boots plow across the asphalt, and with the recycling plant shut down and the leering, questioning stares silencing the uniformed officers, it’s quiet. Well, until Reed offers a snigger to disrupt it all.
Aoife glares at him.
Chief Anderson stops in front of Aoife, Reed, and me. His blond hair is combed back, his good eye a rich terra-cotta color that seems unnatural. Neck veins pulse, but he crooks his head toward us, not taking his eyes off Aoife while he adjusts his black leather gloves over his hands.
She doesn’t blink at his scar.
Huh.
“Chief Anderson, I was just instructing Miss O’Donnell that her presence here isn’t required.” Reed touts his words in aformality he reserves for the upper hierarchy of the force, but I gotta hand it to him, he doesn’t even stutter.
“I’m not going anywhere. I want to verify it’s him.” Her eyes soften. “Ineedto know it’s Ronan.”
“Ronan?” Chief asks, and I snap my gaze to him. Why does he repeat that name so casually?
Reed notices too and shuffles on his feet.
Chief Anderson nods, and Aoife sidesteps Reed, rushing toward Ronan’s … well, Ronan. She stares at him, pinching her face into a grimace before it caves into a painful expression that she covers with her hands.
Her shoulders shake as she leans over.
I’m helpless, driven to her, but as I go to move, Reed slaps an arm over my chest. He stares with a distasteful smile at her, and something ignites in me. Was this me? Relishing the death of those I felt went against the grain of traditional society. Hell—who does that? It doesn’t matter that Aoife’s mob or that Ronan was, too. One human lost his life, and another human has ruined all my good intentions.
Suddenly, she stands and swipes at her cold, runny nose. Her gaze squints, her focus narrowing on Chief Anderson. In three long strides, she closes the distance, boots ripping through the mind-grating crunch of ice. While advancing, her hand slides behind her back, and in one fluid motion, before anyone can react, she tears her gun free from its holster.
Metal flashes in my peripheral as Reed pulls his gun. Several officers yank their own, running toward her, but that doesn’t deter her from leveling her weapon squarely on the chief. She doesn’t hesitate, the barrel of the gun lands smack in the middle of his forehead. I rush toward her.
“Wait! Don’t shoot!”
Aoife’s eyes flick to mine.
“Stand down!” Chief Anderson’s voice booms, echoing off the corrugated metal building. The other officers slowly surround Aoife and the chief.
“Aoife,” I say, holding both hands up as I approach her. “This isn’t the way?—”
She stares, hard and unblinking.
“You promised,” she grits out. Her upper lip curls and her chin quivers. Her eyes connect with both Anderson’s eyes, like looking into them is a staple.
Promised? I open my mouth to respond, but Chief Anderson beats me to it.
“I know.”
What? Something coils loose inside me, and I drop my hands. He knows? What the hell?
“You promised,” she says again, and this time her voice cracks, and several tears betray her snarled expression. The gun shakes in her trembling hand, and it slips on the sweat beading over Anderson’s forehead. “You said you put your best men on it after Finn. But look!”
Chief Anderson’s gaze rolls toward Ronan’s head.
“Look at Ronan! Dead. Murdered. I couldn’t tell my father about Finn. How the hell am I supposed to tell him about Ronan, Ace?”
Ace? Who is Ace? Reed shoots a look in my direction and raises his eyebrows.
