Manhunt. Lisa Phillips

tucked away below ground level like it needed to be out of sight.

      Hailey ignored the bell and hammered on the front door. “This is the US Marshals, Ms. Phelps. We need to speak with you.”

      That would get the neighbors talking. Hailey would probably get into trouble for disturbing Princess Phelps’s life, but she just knew there was a connection between Deirdre and Farrell.

      She pounded again. “Open the door, Ms. Phelps!”

      The voice that came from behind the door was muffled, but high-pitched. “Go away.”

      “Federal agents,” Eric called out. “Open the door.”

      “No!” the female yelled. “I know my rights.”

      She glanced at Eric, and they shared a grin. Why did no one ever worry about Hailey’s right to ask a simple question to someone who was clearly hiding something? That made her wonder again what secrets Eric was keeping, but there wasn’t time for that now.

      Not to mention the last thing she needed in her life was another man who was going to hide stuff from her. Not when she was trying to keep life as simple as possible for her and her daughter.

      Hailey banged on the door. “We just want to ask a few questions, Ms. Phelps. This won’t take long, and then you can go about your day.”

      “I’ll go about my day when you leave me alone. This is police harassment!”

      Hailey chuckled. “Open the door and tell me you don’t know where Steven Farrell is and we’ll be on our way.”

      “No.”

      Apparently Princess Phelps wasn’t interested in taking the easy way out. Hailey only had her suspicions. If Deirdre didn’t want to open the door and talk, there wasn’t much else she could do without probable cause and a warrant.

      The neighbors probably loved the shouting match happening on their quiet little street, but this was pretty much the highlight of Hailey’s day. There was a rush to her work, a satisfaction in being part of an organization that brought down the worst of the worst criminals and put them away. Justice. Honor. She breathed these things. Her heart beat by them.

      Hailey heard the ratchet of a shotgun.

      Eric launched himself at her just before the front door exploded.

       THREE

      Raindrops hit Eric’s face. He blinked up at the gray sky and shot to his feet, his weapon already in his hand. “I’ll call it in.”

      “There’s no time. He’ll get away.” Hailey hit the front step and Eric followed, their weapons angled down as they swept through the hall. Hailey probably wanted proof of Farrell’s presence, or Deirdre’s involvement, before they got reprimanded for going off on their own without informing anyone.

      Eric hit the button on his Bluetooth and scanned the empty living room while he used voice dialing. “Duty phone.”

      He saw Hailey react, but she kept her eyes on the room as they swept through it, clearing the designer luxury of the first floor, room by room.

      “Deputy Marshal Ames.”

      Eric didn’t hesitate. He lead straight in with, “Shots fired.” He gave the deputy marshal Deirdre’s address. “Backup requested at same address.”

      “Farrell?”

      “Possible location of escapee, but no sightings yet. House is not secure.” Eric ended the call. Most women didn’t pick a shotgun like that if they had the choice, though it wasn’t unheard of. He was guessing Farrell was here somewhere.

      The throaty rev of a muscle car preceded a crash. Eric and Hailey both rushed to the front door. A black sports car roared up the short drive from the basement garage onto the street with a woman at the wheel. Where was Farrell?

      “I’m guessing that was Deirdre.”

      Hailey nodded. “We need to finish clearing the house. Then we can get a BOLO out on Deirdre. Farrell could still be in here.”

      Eric followed her upstairs. The “be on the lookout” order was already out for Farrell, but if Deirdre knew where he was, finding her could be the quickest route to the escaped fugitive.

      And yet, Hailey still wanted to find the fugitive all by herself. Of all the partners the task force could have assigned him, Eric was stuck with Hailey. She wasn’t the only marshal with something to prove, that was for sure. But couldn’t he have been paired up with someone who actually respected the rules? That must have been too much to ask for.

      It just proved how far Eric had fallen. With his rank of inspector stripped, he was now a plain old deputy again, demoted through no fault of his own. Clinging to the bottom rung, he got routinely stepped on by the more senior members of the team on their way to the boss’s fancy coffeemaker. He was stuck with what they all saw as the weak link—the firecracker none of them had ever been able to bring in line. Why couldn’t she do what she was told?

      Eric should have guessed when he saw her red hair. She wore it tied back all the time, like she was trying to tame her own nature, but little wisps of it always hung around the sides of her face. He supposed some might call her pretty, but he’d found her attitude eclipsed the understated way she dressed. Maybe she should work on toning down her personality.

      The front bedroom was clear, as was the bathroom. Two toothbrushes were on the counter by the sink and the toilet seat was up. Hailey entered the rear bedroom first. A mattress on the floor in the corner looked to have been used recently.

      The floor was covered with papers, photos and reports. All of their personnel files. Everything Farrell’s assault team needed to know about the four marshals who were supposed to have transferred him to that plane.

      Hailey dug down and pulled out a map of the airfield. “They knew everything. Who we were, when we’d be there...all of it. Farrell has information on all of us.”

      Eric shook his head. “Why would he still need it now? I figured he’d split town first thing, but he’s been staying here all week with this? Why?”

      Hailey lifted a photo of a little girl and her whole body tightened. A picture of her daughter? The girl had Hailey’s green eyes and red hair. He knew from the guys she had a child.

      Eric set his hand on her shoulder. “Easy.”

      Hailey stepped away. “I’m fine.”

      Eric sighed. She was going to pretend finding that here didn’t mean anything? “You’re allowed to have a reaction, Hailey. Take a minute, and when you’re good we’ll get back to work.”

      “So I have a daughter. It doesn’t mean I need any special concessions.” She glanced out the window. “The team will be here in a minute. We should get downstairs.”

      Thunder rumbled across the sky, reverberating in his chest like a bass guitar cranked up to ten. The day had suddenly flipped from work to personal.

      All he wanted was to punch in, do his job, and then punch out at the end of the day. Not that going home to an empty apartment and all the stuff he hadn’t unpacked yet was all that great, but Eric didn’t much want to be chasing scum all day, running down outstanding warrants and hauling in criminals like some glorified trash collector, either.

      The guys on the team thought they were so tough, going after criminals on a daily basis. And the crazy part was Hailey wanted to be exactly like them. As if being “one of the guys” was something to aspire to. Witness protection hadn’t just been a step up from this, career-wise—it had been a calling, and he’d loved every minute of it. Eric didn’t want to live in the past, but it was hard when he’d left behind so much.

      Bye, bye dream job. Hello, hick town, Oregon.

      He needed to