Chapter 9
Chloe was exhausted, frustrated, and scared as hell, not necessarily in that order.
A little over twenty-four hours had passed since she’d gotten the phone call from Addison that Leo Navarro’s blood had been found on Sal Brinkman’s body in three separate places.
Given how violent the stabbing had been—she shivered, not thinking about it, not thinking about it one tiny bit—the fact that Navarro had sustained small cuts of his own in the process wasn’t entirely shocking.
That he’d been careless enough to leave behind DNA of that nature was a little more of a surprise, although not one Chloe was mad about.
But that the Intelligence Unit had gotten a big enough break to get an extensive warrant, then found exactly zero evidence to put the nail in Navarro’s coffin after a fourteen-hour search?
That was entirely shocking, not to mention a problem of epic proportions.
They’d seized plenty of assets to test for the presence of blood, just in case.
But Esme had only been able to describe Leo in a dark, “bougie” suit, and Leo owned conservatively two hundred suits in black, charcoal, and navy blue.
None of them had appeared bloodstained, and with the amount that Brinkman had lost, it would be impossible to miss on whatever Navarro had been wearing when he’d killed him.
The laptops and phones the RPD had seized had yielded nothing that connected to Brinkman at all, so far, and even though Camila had rendered a detailed drawing of the murder weapon per Esme’s description, the search hadn’t turned up anything that matched.
Chloe was trying to be patient, trust the process, blah blah blah. But the search warrant was supposed to seal the deal, not create an opportunity for Navarro’s smarmy lawyer to make enough wiggle room to escape a murder charge. For God’s sake, Navarro’s blood had been found on Brinkman’s body.
Her heart pounded faster, sweat forming between her shoulder blades despite the air conditioning blasting through her MINI Cooper.
Dread, cold and familiar, crept into her mind like a recurring nightmare, but no, no, no.
She needed to be strong for Esme. The DNA evidence was solid.
Irrefutable. It might be all they had in this moment, but it was proof.
Chloe could do this. She was tougher than she’d been two years ago.
You’re perfectly capable of thousands of things.
Tyler’s voice echoed up from her memory, sending a whole different batch of feelings through her chest. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, every time she’d gone to her happy place to re-center over the past twenty-four hours, there he’d been in her head, all calm and cool and I’m-your-wingman.
The reconciliation, of sorts, had been overdue, Chloe had known.
The couple of months they’d spent giving each other the Heisman had been wearing thin, and as pride-stung as she’d been that he’d practically run screaming from their kiss, she couldn’t marinate in his rejection forever.
They were partners, at least temporarily, and she’d actually had a good time with him at the party venue—the first truly good time she’d had since this case had kicked off.
Even if that truly good time had almost ended in another impulsive kiss.
“Nope,” Chloe whispered, leaving the thought behind as she pulled into the parking lot behind Station Seventeen.
She and Tyler had a job to do, and that job did not involve their mouths touching in any way.
Her ego had already taken a direct hit courtesy of their first lip lock.
The last thing she needed was to nuke the fragile truce they’d reached by even thinking about flinging herself at him again.
With her resolve locked in like a laser sight, Chloe scanned the parking lot with care, choosing the closest available spot to the building even though it was still light outside.
A little cautious, maybe, but she knew from experience that caution was necessary.
Being aware of her surroundings was rule number one in personal safety—even if she was a few hundred feet from a station full of first responders.
Sliding out of the driver’s seat, she grabbed her laptop bag and the trusty canvas totes she’d tucked into the backseat, fixing an oversized smile to her face as she headed toward the fire house.
Party planning. Wedding cake. No kissing, no murder case.
Happy thoughts only, she repeated with each step. Got it.
But then the front door swung open when she was less than ten paces from contact with the buzzer, and a fleet of giant, over-sexed butterflies took flight in her chest at the sight of Tyler on the threshold.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, and God, was it too much to ask that his T-shirt and uniform pants not worship every inch of his body? “Shit! Hi,” Chloe blurted, trying to keep the heat in her veins from reaching her cheeks (and failing, because one word: redhead).
Tyler, looking as unruffled as ever, lifted his chin and smiled. “Hey. Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
A beat of silence passed. If it had been last month, or even last week, the pause would’ve been awkward, but something about Tyler’s presence made the tension in her shoulders ease. “It’s okay. I guess I wasn’t expecting white glove service.”
“Ryan’s finishing up a scene report, and he asked if I’d meet you at the door.
You know, just to be safe, since it’ll start getting dark soon.
” Tyler lifted a hand. “Before you say it, I know you don’t need an escort to get from Point A to Point B.
Just think of this as one wing-person looking out for the other. ”
Well, that took the steam out of her argument. “If only my brother could use his powers for good.”
“I told him you’d hate it, but you know how he is.”
“Wildly overprotective and borderline ridiculous?” Chloe asked, unable to help herself.
The only change in Tyler’s expression was the tiniest lift of one corner of his mouth. “I was going to say stubborn. Can I help you with those?”
He gestured to the grocery bags in a nonverbal may I? but she shook her head. “No, thanks. I’ve got them.”
A protest flickered in his stare, but to her surprise, he didn’t voice it. “Okay,” he said, falling into step beside her as they moved past the entryway. “So, how’s the case going?”
“Fine,” was what she meant to say. God knew she was an expert on not letting anyone see her stress. So, when what flew out of her mouth was, “Truth? Not great,” she was as surprised as Tyler.
He stopped short in the empty hallway. “Really? I thought Intelligence had a search warrant.”
“They did.” Without divulging specifics that would violate protocol, she gave him the basics.
Yes, the DNA was strong evidence. Yes, there had been a search.
But they hadn’t turned up another shred of anything connecting Navarro to Brinkman, and without further proof that would make the case airtight, the D.A.
was still hesitant to green-light an arrest warrant.
“Intelligence is pushing to bring him in and Tara said she’s ready to prosecute with the forensic evidence plus Esme’s testimony. But they’ll only get one chance to make the charges stick, and her boss is still on the fence—for now, at least.”
“Shit,” Tyler said. “So, where does that leave Esme?”
“Still safe, for now,” Chloe said after a momentary hitch, but of course, her face told on her.
He lifted a brow. “But?”
Annnd welcome to the freshest source of her frustration. “But Tom and the Intelligence detectives decided not to tell her about the DNA yet. They think the case details will stress her out too much, so they want to wait until the D.A. officially okays an arrest warrant.”
“And you think that’s a bad idea.”
“I don’t think it’s fair to her,” Chloe said, her feelings spilling over.
“I get that she doesn’t need full disclosure on every single thing.
That’s not how these cases work. But I know what it’s like not to have any control over the danger you’re in, and the DNA is crucial to the case.
It’s proof that this guy committed the crime.
It just feels like something she should know about. ”
Tyler nodded, but didn’t crowd the conversation, and the space allowed Chloe to reset and take a breath.
“Anyway, I’m sure that’s more than you bargained for when you asked how the case was going.
I’ll stop unloading on you so we can meet up with Ryan and Addison.
I know you guys are on shift, so you probably want to get to it. ”
His brow furrowed, but only for a second. “Oh. Okay, sure,” he said, making an after you gesture, then stepping in beside her as they moved toward the large common room at the center of the fire house.
“Ooooh! It’s always a good sign when your hands are full,” Addison said as soon as they got two steps into the room, and Chloe laughed, the tension in her chest dropping another notch.
She held up the bags. “I’ve been to this fire house enough times to know not to show up unless I knock with my elbows.
And, since I’m sure Hawk had dinner covered”—rescue squad lieutenant Gabe Hawkins had never not had dinner covered in the entire time Chloe had known the guy—“and I fed the Intelligence Unit earlier this week, I figured fair is fair, so I brought dessert.”
She placed the bags on the nearby coffee table just in time to be half tackled, half hugged. “You have my whole heart. Seriously.”
Ryan arched a dark brow from the spot where he stood next to Addison. “You do realize I’m standing right here? Like, within earshot and everything.”
“Yes, sweetie, but your sister is a pastry chef,” Addison countered with the same tone she’d use for words like “high priestess” or “revered dignitary”.