Gated Prey (Eve Ronin #3)(7)

Moffett glanced at the bashed-in Rolls-Royce SUV and grimaced with what looked like physical pain before facing Eve. He’d told her before that she didn’t deserve a desk at his station, that she was an attention-seeking, backstabbing novice who’d used politics to get what she couldn’t earn through skill and experience. She’d been imposed on him by Sheriff Lansing. She was sure the two homicide cases she’d solved hadn’t changed Moffett’s opinion of her. If anything, they’d hardened his dislike and distrust.

“What’s the situation?” he asked.

“An attempted home invasion. Three men with guns. Two of them are dead at the house, the third carjacked a woman and fled here. I gave chase. He’s dead in the store.”

“You shot him?”

“The store security guard did.”

Moffett cursed under his breath and glanced again at the Rolls-Royce.

“That’s a half-million-dollar vehicle that’s going to need a quarter-million dollars in repairs.” She wasn’t sure if he was talking to himself or to her. He looked out into the parking lot, at the paparazzi and the civilians with phones and at the first TV news van arriving. “This clusterfuck is going to make national news tonight. Hell, it’s probably on CNN right now.”

“This could have been contained at the house if we had backup,” Eve said, keeping her voice even and tight, trying to tamp down her anger. “Where was it?”

“There was a glitch at the station.”

“What kind of glitch?”

“Gastrointestinal,” Moffett said. “The deputy assigned to watch the video feed was in the bathroom when the invasion began. He ate a bad taco for lunch. Damn food trucks.”

Out of a 24/7 surveillance, the deputy just happened to walk away the instant the invasion occurred? Eve didn’t buy the coincidence. It was obvious to her that the deputy wanted them to die, that he’d waited to send backup until he was sure they’d survived. It was payback for what she’d done to the Great Whites, a secret clique of deputies that originated within the Lost Hill station and had members throughout the department.

“It’s not what you think,” Moffett said.

“It’s exactly what I think.”

Moffett pointed a finger at her and started to take a step forward but then, mindful of all the digital eyes on them, lowered his hand and stayed where he was. “That kind of reckless speculation is the last thing we need right now. Focus on the case.”

“I will.” Every aspect of it, she thought, including the deputy who’d abandoned his post and set them up to die. “Now, if you will excuse me, sir, I’ve got a crime scene to process.”

“Stick to that and stay away from the media. I’ll handle them.”

“Yes, sir.”

She walked away from him and took her phone out of her back pocket to call Duncan. But just as she was about to press the keys, a question occurred to her.

Why didn’t Manny take our iPhones? They’re valuable.

Probably because he knew a cell phone was essentially a tracking device and wasn’t worth the risk.

These were smart guys, she thought, who had a very bad day.

She keyed in Duncan’s number and he answered immediately.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Eve took stock of her situation. Three men were dead and she hadn’t fired a single shot. She got slapped with a clipboard, but that only hurt her pride.

“Yeah, I’m fine. How about you?”

“I may have to ditch my retirement dream of becoming a fashion model, but otherwise I’m fine.”

“Do you need stitches?”

“The paramedic says butterfly bandages should do it.”

“He’s not a plastic surgeon,” she said. “You should see one if you want to avoid a scar.”

“It’s just a scratch, and if it’s not, it’ll add the rugged to my good looks. What the hell happened upstairs?”

Eve turned her back on all the cameras watching her in case anybody was trying to read her lips. “I pulled my gun on the guy and he tried to escape by jumping into the pool. He missed. What about you?”

“My guy got distracted by your guy’s swan dive and I drew my weapon on him,” Duncan said. “He thought he could shoot me anyway. He was wrong. Did you get the runner?”

She told him briefly about what had happened.

He said, “You should thank the security guard.”

“For what?”

“Saving your life.”

“He didn’t,” she said. “I had the drop on the gunman. If I thought my life was in danger, I would have put him down before he got a shot off. Just like you did at the house. The guard overreacted.”

“Maybe so, but it comes down to this: Do you want the guard to live with the guilt of killing a man? Or do you want to give him a chance to make peace with it?”

Eve wasn’t sure Jack had to die, but he put himself in the deadly situation by running into the store with a gun. She’d never know if Jack was about to shoot her or not and she wasn’t going to torture herself over it. The security guard shouldn’t have to, either. He was only trying to do his job, to do the right thing, even if that ended up being a fatal mistake.

“Thank you, Obi-Wan,” she said.