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256 pages

English

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Dee Henderson Is Back!Ann Silver is a cop's cop. As the Midwest Homicide Investigator, she is called in to help local law enforcement on the worst of cases, looking for answers to murder. Hers is one of the region's most trusted investigative positions. Paul Falcon is the FBI's top murder cop in the Midwest. If the victim carried a federal badge or had a security clearance, odds are good Paul and his team see the case file or work the murder. Their lives intersect when Ann arrives to pass a case off her desk and onto his. A car wreck and a suspicious death offer a lead on a hired shooter he is tracking. Paul isn't expecting to meet someone, the kind that goes on the personal side of the ledger, but Ann Silver has his attention. The better he gets to know her, the more Paul realizes her job barely scratches the surface of who she is. She knows spies and soldiers and U.S. Marshals, and has written books about them. She is friends with the former Vice President. People with good reason to be cautious about who they let into their lives deeply trust her. Paul wonders just what secrets Ann is keeping, until she shows him the John Doe Killer case file, and he starts to realize just who this lady he is falling in love with really is...

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Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	02 octobre 2012
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781441261175
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0461€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

© 2012 by Dee Henderson
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
www.bakerpublishinggroup.com
Ebook edition created 2012
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means for example, electronic, photocopy, recording without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
ISBN 978-1-4412-6117-5
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible, copyright © 1989, by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The internet addresses, email addresses, and phone numbers in this book are accurate at the time of publication. They are provided as a resource. Baker Publishing Group does not endorse them or vouch for their content or permanence.
Cover design by Jennifer Parker
Cover photography by Tyler Gould
Thus says the L ORD : Do not let the wise boast in their wisdom, do not let the mighty boast in their might, do not let the wealthy boast in their wealth; but let those who boast boast in this, that they understand and know me, that I am the L ORD; I act with steadfast love, justice, and righteousness in the earth, for in these things I delight, says the L ORD .
Jeremiah 9:23–24
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Epigraph
Part One: Paul Falcon
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
Part Two: Ann Silver
9
10
11
Part Three: Linda Smythe
12
13
14
15
Part Four: Jim Gannett
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
Part Five: Linda Smythe
23
24
25
Part Six: Choices
26
27
28
Part Seven: Secrets
29
30
Part Eight: Home
31
About the Author
Books by Dee Henderson
Back Ad
Back Cover

1

I ’m pulling into the scene now. There are four dead, but Jackie wasn’t hurt. I’ll be back in touch, Dad, as soon as I know more.” FBI Special Agent Paul Falcon parked behind a Chicago squad car within sight of the blue-and-white restaurant awning with Falcons scrolling across the fabric. He shoved the phone back in his pocket. It was just after eleven p.m. and the dark street was bathed in the flashing lights of squad cars. FBI Agent Sam Truebone met him as he cut between the medical examiner’s van and the crime-scene van.
“I’ve seen Jackie, talked to her,” Sam said immediately. “Your sister is furious, but fine.”
Paul felt the sharp edge of his tension ease off. Being on the other side of town when the shooting occurred had made the drive a slice of private abyss. “Who’s got the scene?”
“Lieutenant Sinclair.”
Chicago PD had sent one of their top homicide cops. The woman wasn’t hard to spot, as she controlled the scene, people flowing to and away from her. Paul headed her direction.
“Hello, Kate.”
“Your sister’s fine.”
“I heard that.”
“One of your father’s places,” she added.
“When is it not?” His father’s empire ran to so many corners of the nation, pockets of family business showed up everywhere he turned. “Need some help?”
She smiled at him. Not the one she normally gave him warm, welcoming, and often amused this was her cop’s smile, cool and assessing, but willing to play nice. “I don’t mind working with the Feds when it suits me, and in this case it does. This shooter is one of yours.”
“That fits the night this is becoming. Which one?”
“Andrew Waters. We’ve got him on tape. Rick Ulaw, undercover narcotics cop with the sixteenth precinct, was having dinner with his wife. Waters walked up to the table and shot him twice in the back and once in the head. He then killed three civilians who got in his way. He left the scene in a dark blue sedan. His photo is out to every cop in the state, and newscasts have just put it up. If he’s in Chicago, he’s ours. If he’s slipped out, you can help haul him back so I can bust him.”
“You’ll have everything we have on him within the hour. And I’ll personally take any assignment you want to give me. You want flyers plastered on telephone poles in Mexico, I’m your guy.”
“I’ve already called Marcus and told him I want Quinn on it tonight coordinating the manhunt. Leave Sam with me, and give me Christopher Zun. I like him.”
“You’ll have them.”
She was married to an FBI agent, had the head of the U.S. Marshals as a close friend, and called the Chicago Police her territory. Kate would get whatever she needed to run the case. And he was wise enough to let her have a clear field to do it. If Waters could be run to ground tonight, Kate would get it done. Paul could delegate the work, but he couldn’t delegate family. And right now he had family to deal with.
Kate must have been thinking along the same lines. She nodded toward the restaurant. “Go convince your sister to go home. We’ve got the scene handled. As ugly as this case is, it is also simple. I backtrack to figure out who hired someone to kill a cop, and I chase the shooter into a rathole somewhere.”
“Waters has no known family or friends in Chicago, but he’s got a connection to the Lacomb crime syndicate, and they work this far north.”
“Thanks.”
Paul nodded and headed into the restaurant. He knew whom he could trust, and he could trust Sam and Kate. The case and the chase were in good hands.
Waters. The name had actually crossed his mind as a possible suspect when word of the shootings first hit. Paul knew the man’s work, and the original report had sounded like his MO. Waters had been hired for nine murders and managed to chalk up a body count of sixteen. Now he was at ten and nineteen. Cops had clipped Waters’s car in Virginia, cornered him in Boston, and shot him once in Philadelphia, and no one had ever been able to get a good enough hold on him to snap on cuffs. He’d disappeared into Mexico three years ago, and they had been working a cold case trying to stir him out of the muck. This time cops were on the trail within the hour. They might have him tonight.
The restaurant main dining area showed the chaos of events chairs overturned, meals abandoned, the violence at table twenty-two. Officer Ulaw’s body had been removed as well as two of the civilians. The medical examiner was still working over the waitress who had been shot. Paul could smell the blood and lingering gunpowder, overlaid with the burned smell of overcooked food.
This was absolutely senseless violence. Waters could have shot the detective in the parking lot, or walking into the precinct, or in his car at a stoplight. Waters had chosen to shoot his victim in a crowded restaurant. He liked others to see his violence; he enjoyed killing bystanders who got in his way. They would have to catch him to end this. Waters reveled in killing too much to ever stop. If Kate didn’t get him tonight, Paul would on one of the tomorrows. It was a small corner of family truth that a Falcon didn’t stop hunting.
Observing the scene, Paul found himself wishing his lady shooter had been hired for this hit instead of Waters at least then there would have been no bystanders killed. She’d never shot other than her target. She had never killed her victim where the family would see the death or where a child was present. She’d shot thirty people in the head, but treated it as business to be done carefully and precisely. She’d been quiet for nine years. He’d never come close to catching her, but she remained on his mind. And he was still quietly hunting her.
He was the FBI’s top murder cop, and hired shooters stayed at the top of his priority list. Tonight he regretted more than ever that he hadn’t caught Waters in time. Paul stepped carefully around the room and moved toward the voices in the kitchen.
His father would be here by first light, to do what could be done to help the victims’ families, to do what could be done to help those who had seen this violence. The Falcon restaurant would reopen, after it had been gutted, after the image of this tragedy had been erased.
It would reopen with his father at the doors and welcoming the first guests. Paul knew his dad.
And he knew his sister. “Don’t throw that, Jackie.”
He ducked as a white mixing bowl came sailing toward him. It hit the door and then the floor and cracked into pieces.
“You’ve been hunting this guy for years and you haven’t caught him yet? You let him stay out there and do this to my guests, my place?”
He ducked another bowl. He’d taught her to throw as a kid and done a good job. He held up a hand and pointed a finger at her. She wavered on the third bowl and set it back on the counter.
“Rough night. Sorry about that.”
He was near enough now to simply wrap his arm around her shoulders and hug her.
“Four dead, Paul. Four.” Her voice was muffled against his shirt.
He rubbed his hand across her hair and let out a harsh breath. “Glad you weren’t one of them.”
“Trish worked for me for a year. She’s a sweet kid.”
“No one is going to rest until this guy’s caught. It’s what is left that we can do, and we’ll get it done.”
“He killed a cop.” Her voice trembled. “That’s your table when you come for a meal. It could have been you.”
“It wasn’t.”
He could feel the energy and passion burning out of her. The crime-scene tape marked the area she couldn’t enter, but what was within her reach had been scrubbed down and set back to order. The grills and the stoves were glistening clean, the food in process packed away. At least she wasn’t running away from it; she was rec