Targeted. Lori L. Harris

For the first time, she wondered what he saw when he looked at her. The side of her face ached from where she’d hit the wall. She was probably pretty bruised. When she talked, there was a searing pain on the left side of her lower lip, which probably meant it was busted.

      What he saw…what anyone looking at her would see was the face of a victim. The demeanor of a victim. And she hated that even more than her physical appearance.

      “Katie?”

      For a second, she couldn’t remember what they’d been talking about, then it came to her. About her sister. About the nickname.

      “No one besides your family and Carlos knew about the nickname?” the police chief repeated.

      She took another sip of water and hoped no one would notice her tears. “No.” Admitting defeat, she wiped them off with her hands.

      “When was the last time you saw Carlos?”

      “A little over two months ago. I had just broken off the relationship and told him I was moving my paintings to another gallery. When I went to get them, he’d locked them up.”

      “What did you do?”

      “I hired an attorney. But Carlos called later that same night. Evidently, my attorney had already contacted him. Carlos said that I’d regret my decision. I assumed he meant professionally.” She took a deep breath. “Three nights later, he was waiting for me when I got home. I didn’t see him until it was too late. I wouldn’t have gotten out of my car if I had. He tried to drag me inside the condo. When a neighbor came out, Carlos took off. The neighbor never got a good look at him, though.” She swallowed. “I filed charges. He produced a witness who said he was with her when the attack happened. The charges were dropped. I moved up here.”

      “So you believe Carlos Bricker hired someone to harm you?”

      “Yes.” She rubbed her forehead. Her head was really beginning to ache. Which wasn’t a bad thing. If it hurt enough, she wouldn’t be able to think anymore.

      Chief Blade turned his attention to his brother. “Okay, Alec. What can you add to Katie’s statement?”

      “He’s right-handed and knows how to handle a gun. Either military or police training, or maybe he’s just heavy into weaponry. He placed two shots within inches of each other and over my head in a darkened house. Right-handed because of where he was standing at the time he fired and the trajectory of the rounds. My guess is a 9 mm auto. The fact he didn’t panic suggests he’s been in similar situations.”

      At that moment, the young deputy at the door let in a man dressed in jeans and a T-shirt emblazoned with the words Grateful Dead. He had a short, neatly trimmed and nearly black beard. A tape measure rode his belt and he carried a large leather case. Just inside the door, he stopped to pull paper covers over running shoes—the kind doctors and nurses used in the operating room—then looked toward the living room and his boss.

      “Martinez, I think you know my brother,” the police chief nodded at Alec, then motioned with a hand toward Katie. “This is Katie Carroll.”

      Katie managed a weak smile and received a nod from the young Hispanic man.

      The police chief stood. “I’ll have more questions, Katie, after I’ve had a chance to look around. We’ll need the clothes you’re wearing. I’ll get you some to change into in a minute, but for now, try to relax. We’ll try to get through here as fast as we can.” He looked at his brother. “Perhaps you could get a list of anyone who may have been through the house recently. We’re going to need to get their prints, too, for elimination.”

      He joined the technician in the foyer and they moved into the back hallway and the kitchen.

      Alec sat in the chair Jack had vacated. “I know you said no to the hospital, but you really should go and get checked out.” He reached out, pushed the hair away from her left cheek, his concerned eyes briefly studying the bruising. “I’d like to be able to tell you that it looks better than it feels, but I’m afraid the opposite is true.” His smile was small, patient and fleeting. “You could have a minor concussion. And if nothing else, the doctor could give you something to help you sleep.”

      Sleep? She didn’t think she’d be doing that anytime soon.

      She struggled with a small smile of her own, one she intended to make her appear stronger than she was feeling. “I’m okay. Or will be when this is over.”

      “Shouldn’t take much longer,” he assured her, repeating his brother’s words.

      She nodded. “The idea that someone hates me enough to want me dead…” She shook her head slowly. “I think it would be easier if I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Because then I could tell myself that it had nothing to do with me.”

      She was starting to feel flat. As if she’d been up too long and was suffering from sleep deprivation. Able to function, but not very well.

      Alec removed a small notepad from the inside pocket of his jacket. “It’s just the adrenaline. It’s not unusual to feel high one moment and then the next start to feel tired. Perhaps while you’re still up to it, we should make that list of who’s been inside the house.”

      She placed the glass of water on the table in front of her. “When you first busted in here, you yelled FBI.”

      “I was with the FBI. I’m not any longer.” He didn’t allow her to comment. “Who has access to your home?”

      Because of the way he’d answered and how he seemed to want to brush by his past employment, she figured something had happened. That or he was anxious to fulfill his duties and leave. She wasn’t looking forward to that moment.

      “He was wearing gloves.”

      “But we can’t be certain how long he’d been in the house. He may have removed them at some point.”

      She recalled the candlelight in her bedroom. Maybe he was right. Perhaps her attacker had removed his gloves to light them.

      “Just the landlord. I think he hired an electrician to fix the electric panel box in the kitchen, but you’ll need to check with him.”

      “We’ll be asking him these same questions. How about friends? Coworkers?”

      She lifted her gaze to his. “No. I’ve mostly kept to myself.” Tonight was to have been the first foray into dating since she’d moved up here. She’d seen it as the beginning. A new start with new friends—a brand-new life where anything was possible. She liked Deep Water. Liked the people even more. They seemed less complicated than her Miami friends. More genuine.

      She should have known it wasn’t going to work.

      Alec ripped out the page. “If you think of anyone else who’s been through here, be sure to tell Jack.”

      When he started to stand, she stopped him with a hand on his jacket sleeve. “Thanks. For everything.”

      “You’re welcome.” He smiled, and this time his eyes seemed warmer. “For everything.”

      Her hand still rested on his arm. She was trying to work up the courage to ask him to stay with her for a few minutes more when Jack returned.

      Self-conscious, she withdrew her hand, and as she did, Alec stood.

      She swung her gaze toward Alec’s brother. The police chief refused to meet it.

      “Alec, you need to take a look at this.”

      “What is it?”

      “It’s the bedroom.”

      Katie started to get to her feet. Alec’s hand resting on her shoulder kept her seated.

      “Why don’t you stay put for now?”

      Chapter Three

      Crime scene technician Andy Martinez stood