Fatal Reunion. Jessica R. Patch

really are a hardnose.”

      He had Piper to thank for that.

      “Must want that sergeant’s promotion bad, huh?”

      Luke had worked tirelessly to be where he was. Paid penance every day for his prior mistakes. He wanted this promotion. Needed it. Piper wasn’t going to get in the way this time, but his gut screamed everything about this case would track back to her. And it terrified him because the instinct to defend and shelter her had resurfaced the second she’d marched into Mama Jean’s room. It’d been difficult to keep a tough exterior, but then, he had plenty of old hurts to fuel him.

      Luke would do his duty to serve and protect and nothing more. He wouldn’t allow Piper to rob him of his heart again. No getting tangled up with emotions. But as he resolved the issue, a sliver of doubt wiggled like a splinter in his chest.

      * * *

      “Did I see who I thought I saw?” Harmony asked as she and Piper breezed through the glass entrance doors. The wind picked up Harmony’s shiny blond hair, blowing it in her face.

      “I think I should stay the night in the waiting room,” Piper said, ignoring the question.

      “Mama Jean is gonna be out cold all night. You need some rest. Come back early. Fresh.”

      Harm was right. But there was no way Piper was going to sleep well. Her nerves tingled on edge already, but something else wafted in on the night’s current. She paused and scanned the parking lot. Only a few lit posts dotted the area. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention.

      “What’s the matter with you, Pipe?” Harmony paused and followed Piper’s gaze. “You looking for Luke?”

      Piper put her arm out to block Harmony. “Something’s off.”

      “What do you mean? What did he say to you? Was something stolen?” She removed Piper’s arm from across her middle.

      “He’s working homicide now. Investigating Christopher Baxter’s murder.”

      Harmony rifled through her purse and plucked her keys. “He know anything?”

      “I don’t know.” Piper swallowed; a knot swelled in her abdomen. “I guess I’m just freaking out.”

      “So what did he say?”

      Slowly, Piper started toward her car, Harmony at her side. “Not much, and I doubt he’d offer any additional information. He thinks I’m involved. Of course.”

      “That’s ridiculous and he knows it.” She pointed across the lot. “I’m over there. See you at the house.”

      “Okay. Be careful.” Piper watched as Harmony hurried to her car, unlocked the doors and climbed in. When she safely drove away, Piper strode toward her own car. Could Chaz have reemerged and hurt Mama Jean? He was that evil.

      Piper pressed the fob on her key ring to unlock the doors to her car. She rounded the hood to the driver’s door.

      A shadow leaped from the side of the car, throwing Piper off guard, her bag falling to the ground.

      Something heavy struck her thigh, sending a blinding pain up her side, clear to her teeth. She stumbled backward, tripping over the concrete parking bumper, and landed on her backside.

      The attacker, dressed in a dark hoodie, mask and gloves, lunged forward. She jumped to her feet, landing a front kick to his chest.

      Grunting, he faltered and dropped his weapon.

      The tire iron clattered against the asphalt.

      Piper gasped. Same weapon used to assault Ellen Strosbergen—the woman nearly killed in that last burglary Piper had been a part of a decade ago.

      Her assailant hunkered down and came at her full force, but she dodged and kicked him into the side of the car. He bounced off the back door with a thud, leaving a dent, then grabbed the tire iron and hightailed it through a line of parked cars.

      Where was the parking security?

      Piper gave chase, weaving through the vehicles. A dark van squealed into the lot, and the shadowy figure hurtled in before speeding away. She rubbed her thigh and fisted her hands to control the shaking. Hobbling back to her car, she scrambled in and locked the doors, heart beating out of her chest.

      What to do? Find Luke? She peeled out of the lot. Would he even believe her? No. He wouldn’t. She was on her own.

      * * *

      Luke ducked under the crime-scene tape and slipped a pair of blue bootees over his shoes while studying the mechanic shop. Eric did the same. So much for getting a solid night’s sleep. Crime never rested, and he wouldn’t have been able to anyway. Piper was back and mixed up in this somehow. A train sounded in the distance. Horns blared and tires squealed over Poplar Avenue, piercing through the chilled night.

      A uniform filled him and Eric in on the scene at hand. “Girlfriend said he didn’t come to bed. Found the vic in the bay. His face is pretty mangled.”

      Luke followed the officer into the bay, the smell of oil and exhaust wrinkling his nose. A Caucasian male, early thirties, lay in a pool of blood, a stained tire iron beside him. That would definitely rough up a face. Brought back memories of poor Ellen Strosbergen.

      It might have been used to bloody the vic’s face. But from what Luke could tell, it wasn’t the cause of death. The man’s head was lying at an odd angle.

      “Neck broke?” Eric asked.

      “Pretty sure. I’m interested to know which came first, the bludgeoning to the face and head or the snapped neck. Medical examiner on his way?” Luke browsed the area. Two cars raised on jacks, a few tires lying around. Tools in disarray, but not due to someone tossing the place—just seemed business as usual. A few greasy rags dotted the grimy concrete floor.

      “Yeah. Crime-scene unit, too,” the officer said.

      “Name?”

      “Tyson Baroni. Thirty-four. Owns the shop. We called his next of kin. Has a brother that lives in Arlington.”

      Tyson Baroni. He was hardly recognizable. Luke’s stomach soured, and he chomped on the inside of his lip. Squatting, he carefully retrieved Baroni’s wallet. A card fell out.

      He read the name scrawled across the middle.

      God, why now? I’m finally getting beyond it after all this time.

      “Whose card is that, Ransom?” Eric asked.

      “Piper Kennedy’s. Business card for her dojo in Jackson.”

      “The granddaughter from the hospital?” Eric’s eyes held questions.

      “Yep.” Piper claimed she wasn’t involved, that she was clean. “I want to talk to the coroner and the girlfriend. Rule her out.” He reached into his jacket pocket and popped two antacids. With skilled martial-arts training, Piper was more than capable of snapping a neck. Was the girlfriend? Dread churned like a frosty tornado.

      “What do you think she had in common with him?” Eric stared at the body, squinting.

      Everything. “Ten years ago, Baroni ran with Chaz Michaels. A low-life dirtbag who got his jollies burglarizing the elderly who lived in wealthy neighborhoods. He was the wheels.”

      “You think he had something to do with the robbery-homicide earlier? How does that link with the granddaughter?”

      Luke stretched his neck from one side to the other. “Piper Kennedy was Chaz Michaels’s girlfriend for a while.” And much more. “She and Baroni were friends.”

      Eric stroked his thumb across his lower lip. “So, you like Baroni for the robbery and think the Kennedy chick retaliated for knocking her grandmother around?”

      Possibly. Whoever was in Mama Jean’s basement had a mission. The question was: Did they