Chapter 2 #2
“Listen,” he said, forcing his voice to stay level, “I understand you want answers. But you need to leave this to the police.”
“The police didn’t investigate my father’s death. Why should I trust them to investigate this one?”
“Because it’s our job.”
“Your job.” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Your medical examiner already ruled this suicide. Your captain already wants the case closed. Where exactly is the investigation happening?”
Dax’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt. She was right. That was the worst part. She was absolutely right.
But he still couldn’t have a civilian journalist running around contaminating evidence and interfering with his work.
“Go home, Ms. Barrett. Let me do my job.”
“Are you investigating this as a murder?”
The honest answer was yes. But if he admitted that, she’d never leave. She’d follow every lead, get in his way, probably get herself killed if there really was a murderer involved.
“The investigation is ongoing,” he said carefully.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only answer you’re getting.” He took another step toward her, using his full height advantage. “Now delete those photos and go home. Before I find a reason to arrest you.”
She held her ground. Dax had to give her credit for that. Most people backed down when he turned on the intimidation. But Quinn Barrett just gripped her camera tighter and stared right back at him.
“You can’t arrest me for standing on public property.”
“I can arrest you for interfering with an investigation. For harassing a law enforcement officer. For about a dozen other things if I put my mind to it.” His voice dropped to a growl. “Don’t test me.”
Finally, something in his tone must have gotten through. She took a step back.
“Fine. I’ll leave.” But her expression said this wasn’t over. “But I’m not going to stop investigating. My father deserves justice. Thomas Crane deserves justice. And if the Blackridge Police Department won’t provide it, I will.”
She turned and walked away, her camera still clutched in her hands. Dax watched her go, noting the set of her shoulders. Stubborn. Determined.
Trouble.
He pulled out his phone and called Carson.
“Mercer,” Carson answered. “Please tell me you’re on your way back.”
Dax stood in the middle of the sidewalk as he held his phone to his ear.
The afternoon sun beat down on his shoulders.
“Run a name for me. David Barrett. Died about ten years ago, supposedly car accident.” He scrubbed his free hand over his face, still irritated from the encounter with the pushy journalist. “And get me everything we have on his death investigation.”
“Why?” Carson’s voice carried that careful tone he used when he knew Dax was about to do something the captain wouldn’t like.
“Because I think Thomas Crane’s suicide might be connected to it.” Dax straightened, scanning the parking lot out of habit. Making sure Quinn Barrett wasn’t still lurking around with more questions.
Carson was quiet for a moment. The kind of silence that meant he was weighing how much trouble this would cause. “The captain’s not going to like this.”
“The captain can deal with it.” Dax’s jaw tightened. He’d had enough people telling him to drop this case. “Just get me the files.”
A sigh came through the line. “On it. Anything else?”
Dax glanced at the spot where Quinn Barrett had been standing, half-expecting to see her still there with that stubborn set to her shoulders. “Yeah. See if we have anyone watching Quinn Barrett. Reporter from Portland. She’s asking questions about Crane’s death.”
“You think she’s a problem?”
His hand tightened on the phone. The image of her walking away—completely unaware of the danger she was courting—made his jaw clench. “I think she’s going to get herself killed if she keeps digging.”
“Want me to assign someone to keep an eye on her?”
Dax paused, thumb tapping against his thigh. He should say yes. Should let someone else deal with the reckless journalist. “No.” The word came out rougher than intended. He straightened, surprised at his own answer. “I’ll handle it.”
He ended the call and headed back inside. But his mind wasn’t on the crime scene anymore. It was on amber eyes and stubborn determination and a woman who was clearly in over her head.
David Barrett’s daughter, investigating her father’s murder. Thomas Crane dead under suspicious circumstances. A possible connection between the two cases.
And a journalist who wouldn’t back down.
Perfect. Just perfect.
Dax finished documenting the scene, then headed to his truck—a beat-up Ford that had seen better days but still ran. He sat in the driver’s seat for a moment, hands on the steering wheel, and tried to think.
He should let this go. Follow the captain’s orders. File his report noting the inconsistencies, then move on to the next case.
But he’d never been good at letting things go. Not when something was wrong. Not when he knew someone was getting away with murder.
That instinct had served him well in the military. Had saved lives. Had also gotten him in trouble more times than he could count.
It looked like it was about to get him in trouble again.
Dax started the truck and pulled out of the driveway. He had files to review. Connections to trace. A case to build, whether the department wanted him to or not.
And a journalist to keep track of. Because Quinn Barrett was going to keep investigating. He’d seen that fire in her eyes. She wasn’t going to stop just because he told her to.
Which meant she was going to need protection, whether she wanted it or not.
Dax’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. He didn’t want this complication. Didn’t want to deal with a civilian in his investigation. Didn’t want to be responsible for someone else’s safety.
He’d already failed at that once. Afghanistan. The convoy. His friends’ screams still echoed in his nightmares.
But he couldn’t let Quinn Barrett walk into danger blind. Couldn’t stand by and watch her get hurt.
Even if she was stubborn and annoying and way too pretty for his peace of mind.
“Damn it,” he muttered to the empty truck. He hit the heel of his hand on the steering wheel and then fired up the engine.
This case just got a lot more complicated.
And something told him Quinn Barrett was going to make it even worse before it got better.