Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
The condo development rose against the darkening sky like a testament to ambition and modern excess.
All glass and steel and uncompromising angles, it stood in deliberate contrast to the Bavarian charm that defined downtown Laurel Valley.
Hank O’Hara had built this on the eastern edge of town where zoning restrictions loosened their grip, where buyers with money craved sleek contemporary lines and walls of windows that framed the mountains like living art.
Grant studied the building as Wyatt pulled into the empty parking lot, his mind automatically cataloging vulnerabilities. Six stories of exposed glass that would glow like a beacon after dark. Perfect for showcasing luxury. Terrible for defense. But then, that wasn’t the point, was it?
“Top floor, southeast corner unit,” Wyatt said, cutting the engine. In the sudden silence, Liza’s breathing seemed too loud, too fast. “That’s the model apartment. We’ll set it up to look occupied—lights on timers, movement behind the curtains. But you two won’t be anywhere near it.”
Grant felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders. “So what’s the real plan?”
“She’s a sniper,” Wyatt said, twisting in his seat to look at them. His green eyes were sharp, focused. “That’s where she’s most dangerous—at distance, with time to line up her shot, with control of the situation. So we take that away from her.”
“How?” Liza’s voice was steady, but Grant felt the tremor in her hand where it rested against his thigh.
Wyatt pulled blueprints from the passenger seat and spread them across the dashboard.
“The model unit will look occupied from the outside. Decoys positioned near the windows, lights creating shadows that could be people moving around. But here’s the thing—from the distance she’d need to set up a shot, she won’t be able to confirm her target. Not with certainty.”
Grant leaned forward, studying the blueprints. “And snipers need certainty.”
“Exactly. She’ll see movement, see lights, but she won’t be able to verify it’s actually you. Not well enough to risk a shot that might miss, might hit a decoy, might blow her one chance.”
Wyatt’s finger traced a path on the blueprint. “So she’ll have to come closer. And when she does, when she enters the building to verify her target, she loses every advantage she has.”
“Where will we be?” Liza asked.
“Here.” Wyatt pointed to a unit on the fifth floor.
“Interior bedroom, no exterior walls, no windows. Reinforced door. Hank uses it as a safe room for the sales team when they’re working alone in an empty building.
You’ll have camera feeds showing you everything—the model unit, the stairwells, the exterior approaches.
You’ll be able to see it all happen without being exposed. ”
Grant felt the soundness of the plan settle into his bones. “We’re bait, but protected bait.”
“You’re the lure that draws her into the trap,” Wyatt corrected. “Once she’s inside the building, we have her boxed. Agents on the fourth floor, more on the sixth. Pressure sensors on every door, cameras covering every inch. She can’t get in or out without us knowing.”
A man in tactical gear approached the SUV, and Wyatt rolled down the window. “Agent Morrison, FBI. I’m coordinating the response team.”
Morrison looked every inch the federal agent—close-cropped hair going gray at the temples, eyes that had seen too much and forgotten none of it, the kind of stillness that came from absolute confidence in his training. He extended a hand to Grant through the window.
“I’ve been briefed on your situation,” Morrison said. “Caine’s got an impressive file. So do you, from what I’ve read. Detroit PD, twenty years, excellent record until internal affairs decided you were the problem instead of the solution.”
“Something like that,” Grant said.
“Well, tonight we make sure she answers for what she’s done.
She’s not walking away from here.” Morrison pulled out a tablet, his movements economical.
“We’ve been seeding information through channels we know she monitors.
Made it look like local law enforcement let something slip about where you’re staying.
Small-town cops who don’t know how to keep their mouths shut at The Alpine Room after a few beers. ”
“Will she buy it?” Liza asked.
“She’ll be suspicious. She’s smart enough for that.
But she’s also obsessed, and obsession makes people take risks they’d normally avoid.
” Morrison’s expression was cold, professional.
“She’s been hunting you for six months. She won’t pass up what looks like a clear shot, even if she suspects it might be a trap. ”
Wyatt gathered the blueprints. “Come on. Let me show you the space.”
The fifth-floor hallway smelled like new construction—paint and drywall compound and the chemical tang of carpet adhesive.
Their footsteps echoed on floors that had never known the weight of residents, the sounds of life.
Empty condos stretched in both directions, dark behind their locked doors, waiting for buyers who would turn them into homes.
Wyatt led them to a unit in the center of the building, away from any exterior walls.
The main living space was empty, just bare walls and pristine floors catching the last of the daylight through windows that faced an interior courtyard.
But Wyatt moved past it to a room tucked into the heart of the unit.
No windows. Solid walls on all sides. A reinforced door that looked like it could withstand a battering ram. Inside, the space was maybe ten feet by twelve, lit by a single overhead fixture that cast harsh shadows into the corners.
“Safe room,” Wyatt said unnecessarily. “Hank said a buyer insisted on adding it. Reinforced walls, secure lock, a few emergency supplies.”
Grant saw the supplies stacked against one wall—cases of bottled water, boxes of energy bars, emergency blankets still in their plastic wrappers, a first aid kit that looked comprehensive. Everything you’d need to wait out a crisis. Nothing comfortable about any of it.
“There’s a tablet mounted here,” Wyatt said, pointing to a device fixed to the wall at eye level.
“Shows feeds from twelve different cameras—exterior approaches, all three stairwells, the elevator, the model unit upstairs, the hallways on this floor and the one above. You’ll be able to see everything that happens without being exposed. ”
Morrison appeared in the doorway. “My team is staging in units on the fourth and sixth floors. We’ve got snipers positioned on adjacent buildings with sight lines to every possible approach. The moment she enters this building, she’s in a box.”
“What about collateral damage?” Grant asked, the old training kicking in. “Other residents, late-night construction workers?”
“Building’s completely empty. Sales don’t close for another two weeks, and we’ve made sure the few early buyers know to stay clear of the entire block tonight.
Hank’s got his construction crews working a different site.
” Morrison checked his watch. “It’s six now.
We expect her between eight and midnight. She’ll want darkness for cover.”
“Four to six hours,” Liza said quietly.
“We’ll be monitoring everything,” Morrison assured them.
“You’ll have a radio for direct communication with the command center.
Anything you need, anything you see that concerns you, you call it in.
” He pulled a compact two-way radio from his vest and handed it to Grant.
“And for what it’s worth—I’ve run operations like this dozens of times.
This is solid. You’re as safe as we can make you. ”
After Morrison and Wyatt left, their footsteps fading down the empty hallway, Grant and Liza stood in the small room and looked at each other. The overhead light was unforgiving, showing every line of strain on her face, every shadow of fear in her eyes.
“Well,” Liza said, her voice aiming for lightness and missing. “At least the accommodations include running water and climate control.”
Grant pulled her into his arms, needing the solid warmth of her, the proof that she was here and whole. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For all of it. For bringing this into your life, for putting you in danger, for—”
“Stop.” She pulled back enough to look at him, and her eyes were fierce. “You didn’t bring this into my life. She did. And we’re handling it. Together.”
He kissed her because he couldn’t help it, because she was brave and stubborn and his, because they were standing in a windowless room waiting for a killer and she was still standing tall. The kiss was gentle despite the urgency he felt, tender despite the fear that lived in his chest like a fist.
When they pulled apart, both breathing hard, he rested his forehead against hers. “When this is over—”
“When this is over, we’re going to sleep for about twelve hours straight,” she said. “Then we’re going to figure out what comes next. The bakery, your job, our life. But first, we’re going to get through tonight.”
They settled on the floor with their backs against the wall, emergency blankets spread beneath them for padding against the concrete.
The tablet glowed on the wall in front of them, showing a grid of camera feeds.
The model unit above blazed with warm light, and Grant could see the silhouettes of decoys positioned near the windows—mannequins dressed in clothing that could be mistaken for people from a distance.
“It looks real,” Liza said, studying the feeds. “From outside, I’d believe someone was up there.”
“That’s the idea.” Grant’s hand found hers, threading their fingers together. “Caine will believe it too, at first. But she’s too good, too careful. She won’t take a shot until she’s absolutely certain.”
“And then she’ll come in to verify.”
“And then we have her.”