Chapter One
Roused from a deep sleep, Detective Michael Martinelli swatted at the buzzing near his ear.
It didn’t stop.
With a groan, he lifted his head off his desk—the same desk he’d used to study for the SATs, now covered in crime-scene photos and notes about the unsolved case haunting him. His phone rattled next to the clock.
Had to be a case. He answered the phone and started searching for his pants in the glow of the desk lamp.
“Rise and shine, Martinelli. We got a case.” Liam Finnigan’s voice still held a bit of Irish brogue from his childhood homeland. How did he sound so alert at this ungodly hour?
“Did you get any sleep, or have you been up all night?” His own gravelly voice couldn’t disguise the fact that he’d been deep into REM cycle.
His partner laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to know. Now get over to Ridgeside Mall. Jewelry store break-in near the east entrance.”
“I’ll be useless unless I get caffeine.” He tried to stretch the kink out of his neck.
“Can you hold out till I get there?” He was going to pay big time for falling asleep at the desk.
Again. But it seemed the only way he got any shut-eye these days: pushing himself to pure exhaustion trying to make sense of the cold case and then crashing.
“I think I can manage while you fuel your addiction,” he said with humor. “See you there.” Finn ended the call.
Michael finished dressing. Scrubbing his face on the way to the bathroom, he stumbled over his brother’s backpack in the hallway.
Why couldn’t Gabe keep his stuff in his own room? Mom would’ve—
The thought was enough to stay Michael’s hand as he grabbed the bag.
Instead of pitching it into the disaster of a room his high school brothers shared, he set it gently aside against the wall.
The boys probably didn’t remember how Mom would put stray items under “house arrest” until the perpetrator paid to have them bailed out.
It had certainly cured Michael of leaving his things out.
What would she think of the state of the house now?
Five years, and the gaping hole inside only grew. Not that he had time to fix that now.
The ice-cold water he splashed on his face helped shock his senses alert. Time to focus on the case. Maybe this one, they could actually solve.
Michael pushed the heart-wrenching memories aside and reached for the bag of organic coffee in the kitchen.
Finding only a few beans at the very bottom, he groaned and threw the bag away.
Apparently, Kate hadn’t gone shopping yet this week.
He scribbled coffee on the list stuck to the front of the fridge with a penguin magnet.
If his sisters were going to insist on drinking his good stuff, they could at least replace the bag.
Resorting to instant granules, Michael heated the water and poured it all in his to-go mug. It took five minutes he didn’t have to find the lid in the Tupperware cabinet. He should be grateful Raphael had actually done the dishes after being reminded three times yesterday.
The streets were quiet and dark as Michael drove through the upper-middle-class neighborhood his family had moved to two decades ago.
The coffee tasted awful, but it helped him stay alert for deer.
Within a few miles, he reached the Renegade, Colorado, city limits and soon parked at Ridgeside Mall.
Other Renegade and South Eagle police vehicles were there, pulled up close to the entrance, ready to leave quickly if needed.
Michael followed the lights and noise inside the mall to the high-end jewelry store. Uniformed cops stood at the edges of the store, many of them giving him the side-eye as he walked into the scene. Better than the open hostility when he’d first joined the force.
Barely.
Finn, however, had never taken the rumors to heart. And he’d been the only one willing to partner with Michael when he’d made detective last year.
If Michael had still thought God cared, he’d have thanked Him for it. For now, he’d keep the gratitude to himself.
Finn still wore the same slacks and dress shirt from earlier today—make that yesterday—but his tie was loosened and the top two buttons undone.
He sipped tea from a paper cup in the middle of the room.
Glass cases were mostly empty, the mirrors in them reflecting the lights, all meant to show off bright gems.
“What’s the rundown?” Michael asked him.
“Alarm went off just before two a.m. By the time the mall cop got here, the gate to the entrance was open. One case with gold necklaces and chains was smashed. Suspect ran off with those and a few watches.”
“That’s it? They didn’t go for diamonds or bigger-ticket items?”
Finn shrugged. “Obviously, we’re not dealing with criminal masterminds here.
Hopefully that makes our job easier.” He nodded toward the back.
“Still waiting to see the surveillance. Although the suspect came in through the gate, I think they exited out the back of the store. I was waiting for you to check it out.”
Michael nodded and followed Finn around the cases, past the cash register, and behind a partition. A door led out to a hallway behind the stores. They found the nearest point of entry—a fire exit.
As Finn pushed through, the fire alarm sounded. “Whoops. They just turned this thing off too.”
They walked out into the cool October night. A crumpled fast-food wrapper rolled across the deserted parking lot. Movement in the shadows by one of the loading docks caught Michael’s eye.
“You see that?” He peered into the dark edges of the parking lot.
“Yep. Your turn to take the lead.”
Pulling out his Glock 17, Michael moved toward the dark corner as a figure sprinted across the pavement and down an incline.
He lost him in the line of evergreen trees separating the mall parking from a movie theater—until a shadow shot out from between the trunks.
The person slipped around the corner of the yellow stucco building just as Michael pushed through the trees.
He was gaining on him. Sounded like Finn was right behind him too.
“Suspect on foot. Gray hoodie, black jeans!” Michael yelled back to his partner.
“I’ll call it in. You go that way. I’ll go around the front.”
After a quick glance over his shoulder to see Finn pulling out his radio and disappearing around the corner, Michael surged forward. A blur of gray and black flashed ahead. “Police! Stop!”
Gray Hoodie slowed enough to look behind him.
Aw, man. It was a kid. Probably too young to even shave. The flash of fear in his eyes must’ve given him extra speed as he bolted around the dumpster. But Michael’s coffee had kicked in. He sped forward, kicking up loose gravel. Lunged and grabbed the kid by the arm.
“Get off me. I didn’t do nothin’!” The teen wriggled, but as skinny as he was, it wasn’t much of a fight.
“If you didn’t do anything, why did you run?” Michael adjusted his hold and spun the kid around to face him.
Finn jogged from the other direction and came up behind the boy. “What do we have here?”
“Good question.” Michael released the kid’s arm. He wouldn’t get far if he decided to take off. “Let’s hear it. Why are you out here? It’s well past curfew.”
“I just needed some air. I couldn’t sleep.” The boy was practically shaking in his ratty sneakers. The stained hoodie hung from his shoulders.
“What’s your name?” Finn asked him.
“Stitch.”
“That can’t be your real name. Let’s see some ID.”
The kid shrugged. “Ain’t got none on me. I can’t drive yet.”
“Then it looks like you get a trip to the precinct.” Finn hooked the kid around his upper arm and led him away.
“I didn’t do nothin’! I swear!” He swung his head, looking from Finn to Michael and back again. He tripped, but Finn’s grasp kept him from hitting the pavement.
A glimmer of metal in the boy’s front pocket caught the orange glow from the streetlight above them.
“What’s in your pocket?” Michael asked. The three of them stopped at the edge of the theater parking lot.
A grubby hand shoved its way into the pocket. “Nothin’.”
Michael held out his own hand. “Show us now. It’s only gonna be worse for you later.”
“It’s just somethin’ I found, is all.”
“Then let’s see it.” Michael made a gimme motion with his hands.
“I swear, I found it. I didn’t steal nothin’.”
Michael had learned with his own brothers that a hard look and long moment of silence could work wonders. He waited.
Finn snickered. “Better spill it, laddie. You’re getting the Martinelli stare-down.”
The kid’s fist slowly emerged from his pocket, a gold chain dangling from it.
“What do you have there, Stitch?” Michael asked.
“Like I said, I found it.” Fear lurked in the scowl Stitch shot at him.
“And where did you find this?”
Stitch lifted his chin in the direction of the mall. “Over there. On the ground.”
“Show us.” Finn let go of the kid’s arm.
They pushed through the tree line, up the hill, and back to the shopping center.
Stitch led them to the loading docks in the corner. “I found it here.”
A bright-yellow metal staircase comprised of three steps led to an exterior door next to the large overhead truck bay.
“Where here?” Michael looked around.
“Just under those steps.” Stitch pointed.
“Did you see a truck or any vehicle?” Finn asked.
The boy shrugged. “There was a truck leaving the parking lot when I got here, but I didn’t pay no attention.”
“Describe it.” Finn pulled out his notebook.
The kid rolled his eyes. “I dunno. It was old. White.”
Michael began a methodical inch-by-inch scan of the loading area—top to bottom, left to right—and let Finn continue to question their witness.
“What time was that?”
“I don’t got a watch. I just came to skate.” The boy walked over to the shadowed corner and grabbed his skateboard from where it was propped against the concrete wall and showed them. “You got the necklace, and I didn’t do nothin’. Can I go now?”