When a Secret Kills (18 page)

Blue lights pulled into the parking area. Jillian stuffed her gun into the back of her waistband and pulled her shirt down over it. No sense in adding anything more to the chaos.

And then Colton was there with Blake right behind him. Colton kept his badge in plain sight as he made his way over to her. Officers swarmed the area and she watched them methodically and professionally begin to do what they were trained to do.

Colton hollered, “Clear the area.” He pointed out eight officers. “Clear the perimeter as best you can but don’t put yourselves in danger. This perp doesn’t care who’s in his line of fire.”

And then his focus was on her.

Jillian didn’t protest when Colton closed the distance to pull her into his arms. She could lean on his strength for a few moments. But only a few. And she couldn’t get used to it. Not until she told him about Meg. But for now . . .

He asked, “How’s your arm?”

“It hurts.”

“Let me take a look at it.” He started to push her back and she protested by wrapping both arms around his waist. “If I was hurt that bad, I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

He relaxed and let her stay there.

When she decided she wouldn’t fall apart, she released her hold on him and looked around. “I’m an idiot,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

His hand cupped her chin. “We’ll talk about it later. Fortunately no one was hit. Bumps and bruises from the panicked rush to get away, but that’s it.”

Jillian bit her lip and raised her good hand to rake it through her curls. “How did he know?”

“What do you mean?”

“The shooter. How did he know? My coming here was completely impulse. No planning, no agenda, not even a phone call to say I’m on my way. I simply walked out of our hotel and over to the Embassy Suites. How was he here waiting for me?”

Colton frowned. “He couldn’t have been.”

Blake nodded. “And I made sure no one followed us.” His eyes hardened. “Trust me. I would have known if we had a tail. We were clean all the way from our hotel to this one.”

She had no doubt Blake was right. If someone had been following them, Blake would have taken care of it right then. Jillian felt a clenching in her gut. “Then that means he was already at the hotel.”

“Exactly,” Colton said. “And that means we need to know who was at the hotel when you got here.”

“We don’t need to know about
every
person,” Jillian said. She let her gaze linger on his. “We only need to know about those who have any connection to your uncle.”

Colton’s eyes narrowed, then he closed them and dropped his head. “You’re right.” He snapped his head back up and snagged his phone. “I’m going to make some calls.”

Jillian wondered if the night would ever end. Exhaustion swamped her. Colton had Hunter and Katie and every other available detective working through the night checking with witnesses,
comparing stories, and doing their best to help the crime scene unit gather every last shred of evidence that the shooter may have left behind.

She tried to get to Blake, to ask him if he’d heard from his mother, but she’d been corralled by a paramedic who’d patched up her arm and recommended she see her doctor about an antibiotic. Jillian made a mental note to ask Serena about that.

Colton paced in front of the ambulance, his phone pressed to his ear. When he finally stopped and turned to her, she’d just about fallen asleep on the gurney in the midst of prayers for Meg’s safety.

She blinked up at him. “What is it?”

He nodded at the Embassy Suites. “I’m going inside to watch video of the parking lot and the hotel. See if we can pick up anything.”

“I’m coming.”

“Blake can take you back to our hotel. You look like you’re about done in.”

“I am. But that’s never stopped me before.”

Colton simply shook his head. “Right.” He took her hand. “Come on and sit here a few minutes. I need to finish talking to these guys and I can’t have you falling over.”

Jillian followed him to a cruiser and climbed in the back. She leaned her head against the headrest and closed her eyes. Her thoughts swirled, but at the front was the fact that she could have been killed—again—tonight.

What would Meg do without her?

Blake slid into the seat beside her and she jerked. His hand patted hers, and before he could speak, she asked, “Anything from your mother?”

“Yeah. She texted me. They’d been at the movies when we called. They’re at a friend’s house and everything is fine.”

Jillian gave a relieved cry and wilted. “Oh thank you, God.”

Blake asked, “You all right?”

“I’ve been better.”

“How’s the arm?”

“Stinging.”

“Not in the mood to talk?”

“Not so much.”

He went quiet for about two seconds, then said, “I didn’t know things were this crazy, Jillian, or I’d never have come out here. I didn’t know I was putting Meg in danger.”

Jillian’s eyes flew open and her gaze whipped over to Colton who had the phone to his ear once again. “I know.”

“You have to tell him. About the text tonight too.”

“When?” she cried, swinging back around to shoot him a dark look. “In between being shot at, run off the road, or being blown to smithereens? Just when should I sit down and tell him?”

Blake didn’t even flinch, just held her gaze with a steady look. She blinked back her surge of anger and frustration. It wasn’t Blake’s fault. Not completely anyway.

“They know about her. How do we keep her safe now?” Longing to talk to her daughter and hold her swept over her, nearly splitting her in two with the pain of the forced separation.

“I’ll call my mother and tell her what’s going on. I’ll tell her to take Meg to Tony’s and keep her there until I call her back. I’ve also got a former unit buddy watching them. If he sees anything that sets off his alarms, he’ll have her on a plane out of there.”

Jillian sighed and nodded. Her baby, her sweet innocent child who’d been protected and sheltered her entire life, was now the target of killers who wanted her mother.

It wasn’t fair.

But God hadn’t promised life would be fair, just that he would walk with her. It was a hard thing to accept sometimes, but . . .

“Everything all right?” Colton leaned in the open window.

Now that the immediate danger had passed, the media had descended with all of its ruthless commotion.

“Yes.” She rubbed a hand over her eyes. “As all right as possible.”

He nodded and started to slide into the front seat when Blake said, “You mind riding back here? I get carsick.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Colton said. “Just moving up to the front door.”

Blake smiled. “I know, but it might take a few minutes to get through that mess.”

The officer slipped behind the wheel as Blake got out and walked around to the front passenger side. Blake and Colton exchanged some male look that Jillian couldn’t interpret, but she had a feeling it was what made Colton’s tension ease slightly.

Colton clapped Blake on the shoulder. “Thanks.” He walked around the cruiser and slid into the backseat.

Law enforcement held the media back, but barely, it seemed. Jillian was grateful for the protection of the squad car. And Colton’s presence beside her.

He slid all the way over into the middle and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She didn’t try to question it, she simply leaned into him and let the officer fight the madness as they inched toward the front door.

She stayed silent while her brain whirled and her arm throbbed.

Finally, the officer motioned that it was safe to get out.

As they climbed out of the car, Blake hovered in a protective stance on her right. Colton covered her left. Jillian wasn’t terribly worried. The shooter had done his damage for the night.

And escaped to try again another day.

“Nothing very helpful,” Colton muttered as he stared at the screen. They’d spent the last two hours watching the hotel security footage. Arriving back at the hotel, Colton and the others had found the media waiting behind the tape to catch anyone coming or going. Dodging them had taken no small amount of skill, but they’d managed.

His uncle and his crew had been shuttled off to safety somewhere by the local police. CNN played a running loop of the reports with speculation that Frank Hoffman had been the target. Everything in Colton wanted to track down his uncle and question him until he got some answers. But first he had a job to do here.

On the flat screen in front of him, the security footage played. They had good cameras and great angles. Unfortunately the gunman had kept his head low, never looking up. The baseball cap did a good job of hiding his features.

“Watch it backward. Trace him back,” Colton suggested.

Head of security for the hotel, Janice Dobson, complied immediately. The footage reversed and Colton pointed. “There. He’s behind the car.”

Hunter and Katie had arrived shortly after the viewing began. Hunter said, “He’s got on a suit.”

“He was someone in attendance with the fundraiser,” Colton said. “Have we got the guest list?”

Katie nodded. “I’ve got it. Sent it over for background checks on everyone.”

The bad feeling in the pit of his stomach hadn’t left since his uncle’s reaction to seeing Colton right before the shooting started. He knew it wasn’t Frank pulling the trigger. But evidence suggested he was bankrolling the man who was.

“A nice suit and a baseball cap. Guy even has a tie on.”

“Get a shot of that tie. Maybe someone will recognize it.”

Katie snorted. “It’s a solid-colored tie. You know how many black suits and solid-colored ties are at those kinds of events?”

Colton shot her a dark look, but couldn’t deny she was right.

He looked back at the black-and-white security footage. They had a good view of the shooting, saw the whole thing unfold. They just couldn’t pinpoint the shooter’s face. The ball cap and hunched posture disguised him pretty well.

“We’ll need the best shot you can get of him. Then we’ll go room
to room asking anyone if they recognize him,” Colton said. He looked at Katie. “You want to see if anyone recognizes that tie?”

She smirked and took the printed picture from Ms. Dobson. “I’ll keep you posted.”

“Where’s your buddy Grayson?” Hunter asked.

“Still at my brother’s house.” Her face flushed and Colton wondered if there was something going on there he didn’t know about. She said, “He’s extending his vacation.” She turned on her heel and he saw a small smile curve Jillian’s lips as she met the other detective’s gaze. Katie sighed and marched from the room.

Colton looked at Jillian and raised a brow. She shrugged in silent communication and he took it to mean that he needed to mind his own business. Turning back to the video footage, he decided they’d gotten what they could. “Thanks for the help,” he said to Ms. Dobson. “We appreciate it.”

“Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you. We want this guy caught too.”

Colton promised he would let her know. To Jillian, he asked, “Ready to call it a day?”

“Yes.”

Blake had been studying the footage. He leaned in and pointed. “What’s that?”

“A piece of paper?” Hunter murmured.

“Something fell out of his pocket?” Colton speculated. “Rewind it.”

Ms. Dobson did.

In slow motion, they watched the paper flutter to the ground from the man’s pocket.

Colton looked at Hunter with satisfaction. “Fingerprints.”

Hunter gave him a grim smile. “If it’s still there.”

They raced from the room with Jillian and Blake right behind them. Colton arrived at the area where they’d seen the paper fall from the shooter’s jacket.

“You see it?” Colton asked.

Hunter grunted. “No.”

Colton curled his fists in frustration, then stood still. “There’s no wind. Not even a hint of a breeze.”

“You think CSU picked it up?”

“Possibly. I’ll call Rick and find out.” Colton pulled his phone from his pocket and punched in the number for the head of the crime scene unit.

Rick answered with a growl. “I’m still processing everything, Brady.”

“I know. I’m not calling for results yet. Chill.”

“I’m just kidding. What do you need?”