“Yeah. They’re combing the area. Guy’s long gone.”
“Okay, I’ll bring Samantha. We’ll come get Hannah.”
“I really appreciate this, Nick. I can’t tell you how much.”
“Don’t be an ass. She’s family. So are you. We’ll be there as fast as we can.”
His chest clamped down as the call ended. Worrying about Val, nearly getting her killed, had him strung right to the edge. Worrying about his kid, putting Hannah in danger . . . it was a gut punch he never wanted to feel again.
The worry was muddling his brain, making it hard to think. He had to get his head on straight and he had to do it now.
“So you believe this guy could be our killer,” Hoover said, picking up the conversation where they had left off.
“I think it could be, yeah.”Or it could have something to do with drug smuggling.But he couldn’t say that, since he hadn’t had time to develop the lead, and Hoover wouldn’t appreciate Ethan looking at Stern without a damned good reason.
Add to that, he couldn’t think of a motive for Stern or anyone involved with David Klein to take a shot at Val.
“I’ve talked to Matthew Carlyle. He’s put his team back on alert. He’s got a man with each of the models who live in Seattle, and all of the ones who received a note, even if they live out of town.”
Ethan nodded. “Good. That’s good.”
Hoover stood up from the sofa. “You need to go through your old case files, see if there might be someone who wants you dead. I want a list of anyone who might have a motive.”
“I’m an ex-cop. I do P.I. work. I’ve got plenty of enemies. But I don’t think—”
“Don’t think, just do it.”
“Fine.” He’d do it. There was always a chance he was wrong.
“And I want that list ASAP, so don’t dally.”
“Okay, I’ll start on it today.”
“All right, that’s it for now.” Hoover got up from his chair. “Anything comes up, you know where to find me. In the meantime, keep your head down.”
Ethan felt the pull of a smile. It felt out of place considering the circumstances. “Good advice.” Reluctantly, he released his hold on Val and walked the detective to the door. “Thanks, Bruce.”
Hoover waved as he crossed the porch, heading back to his car.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Two patrol cars remained at the curb and yellow police tape fluttered across the porch. The CSI people had finished their work, had taken photos and dug out bullets. They had studied the angles from which the shots had been fired and managed to discern the shooter’s location.
Officers still scoured the area where they believed the man had been positioned: the rooftop of an empty two-story residence for sale at the end of the block. No shell casings had been left behind.
Aside from the officers in the patrol cars, the rest of the police were gone. Hannah was home from Mrs. Oakley’s, back in the apartment with Ethan and Val. Nick and Samantha were there, getting the child settled enough to take her home with them.
The blouse Val had been wearing was in tatters and covered with blood, so she’d changed into baggy jeans and a soft, loose, short-sleeved gray sweatshirt that was easy to get off and on and allowed plenty of room for her bandaged arm. NO PLACE LIKE HOME in red plaid letters decorated the front. She closed her eyes and tried not to feel as if her safest place had been invaded.
She glanced around the living room. The curtains throughout the apartment were closed just as a precaution. Ethan had found a thin sheet of plywood out in the garage and nailed it over the broken front window. Samantha had vacuumed up the shards of glass scattered all over the carpet.
Val looked over at Hannah. The little girl sat on the sofa, gripping a plastic bag full of homemade chocolate chip cookies as if they were the last food left on planet Earth. Sensing the child’s distress, Snoozie had curled up beside her.
A memory returned of the child shivering with fear on the floor beneath her, and Val fought not to tremble. She glanced up to see Samantha crossing the living room toward the sofa.
Sam crouched in front of the little girl. “This won’t be for long, sweetie. I know you want to stay with your daddy, but he needs to find the man who shot at you.”
“At me and Valentine,” Hannah said solemnly.
