Flashback

“Drain it?” she suggested. “Then shovel the dregs out into the compost pile and start all over with clean water.”

He chuckled. “You’d be amazed at how many people agree with exactly that idea. Too bad more of them aren’t in positions to do it. Yet.”

The rest of the evening, except for a brief phone call from her mother—brief because Alex escaped by saying she was busy preparing for the trip to Athena—passed in the pleasant manner that made her long for this place when she was gone. She was so relaxed and calm by the time her grandfather said good-night that she was startled when he added soberly, “Be careful, Alexandra.”

“Of course,” she responded automatically.

But as she lay awake that night, turning things over in her mind, she wondered what he thought might happen in Arizona, what had compelled him to issue that caution about a case that was a decade old.

It might be a decade old, a small voice in her head pointed out, but it was still murder.

And the murderer was still out there.

“I can’t believe Jazz is old enough to be at Athena,” Alex said.

Kayla Ryan laughed. “Neither can I.”

“She’s doing quite well already.”

Christine Evans, the only principal Athena had ever had, or had needed, spoke enthusiastically as she handed the two other women glasses of the lemonade she’d just fixed. They’d both chosen it rather than wine, knowing they’d be driving later tonight.

They’d wanted to meet here, not just because they loved Athena and came back often, but also to check on Christine, and make sure she was truly completely recovered from the gunshot wound she’d suffered during their unraveling of Rainy’s murder. It seemed that she had, and Alex knew that yet another Athena class would be whipped into shape by the indefatigable ex-army captain.

That class was here now and was the main reason Alex was staying in town instead of out here at the campus. With a new session of school in full swing, Alex hadn’t wanted to intrude on the rhythm, even if Christine had said she wouldn’t be at all in the way.

“Jazz has some awfully big footsteps to follow in,” Alex said, nodding at Kayla, whose honey complexion pinkened in what Alex guessed was pride more in her daughter than herself. But her brown eyes sparkled, much as Alex guessed her own blue ones did at the happiness of having her closest friend back in her life.

“A little mother-daughter competition won’t hurt her.”

“I’d argue that,” Alex said ruefully, “except you are thankfully nothing like my mother.”

“And Jazz can’t, and shouldn’t, be me.” Kayla grimaced slightly. “Hopefully she’s smarter than I was at her age. She’s her own person, and she’ll have to find her own path, her own talents.”

“And Athena’s the place to do it,” Alex said, shifting her gaze to Christine, “thanks to you.”

“My, you’re just full of praise tonight,” Christine teased.

“Maybe I’m just glad to be with people who love Athena as much as I do.”

“Uh-oh,” Kayla said instantly at the undertone Alex hadn’t meant to let show in her voice. “Problem?”

“No, not really. Not a current one, anyway. But I do have some news.”

She filled both women in on why she was there, and both were, as she’d expected, as eager as she to get to the truth about Marion Gracelyn’s murder. Christine spent quite a bit of time walking Alex through every bit she could remember about that day.

“Did Marion ever tell you anything about those three incidents that happened before she was killed?” she asked Christine.

Christine frowned. “I knew she had that fire at her home here in Phoenix, the one that they thought was arson, and then, of course, that awful crash with that plane that ran off the runway when taking off.”

“And a week before that, the steering on her car went out,” Alex said. “Her mechanic said the fluid was contaminated. Something that gummed up the works. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was. Highly unusual but not unheard of.”

“Well, yes,” Christine said. “I heard about that, but…you’re saying they’re all connected?”

“Marion thought so.”

“The fire was arson,” Kayla put in. “I remember looking up the report shortly after I started at the PD, when I had access to old reports.”

Christine looked thoughtful. “It does seem a bit much to have three ‘accidents’ of that severity in such a short time span. I should have…I just never put them all together that way.”

“You were in shock,” Alex said. “Everybody who knew and loved her was in shock, not thinking clearly.”

“So you think those accidents were failed attempts on her life?”

“I pulled the NTSB report on the plane accident. The official verdict was accidental debris on the runway, but there were two dissenting investigators who thought it might have been intentional damage done to the plane’s tires.”

Kayla drew in an audible breath. “So if we accept that these were all caused incidents, we’re down to who caused them.”

“And if we can figure out who caused them, it should lead us to who killed her,” Alex said. Then she looked at Christine. “Did you have any suspicions, at the time it happened?”

“I never thought it was someone who’d been against Athena,” Christine answered. “Not that there weren’t plenty of them. But Athena already existed, and was successful, by the time Marion was killed. Why would anyone wait that long?”

“I tend to agree,” Alex said. She knew that Christine had excellent instincts about people, and a great deal of common sense.

“Judging from what I’ve heard around town over the years,” Kayla offered, “it could just as easily have been some conspiracy freak, with a crazy idea about what Athena is. People still have some out-there theories.”

“I guess I hadn’t realized,” Alex said, “that so many people had such wild ideas about us.”

Christine chuckled. “It’s the price we pay for the low profile. When people don’t know exactly who or what you are, they either don’t care or tend to make it up for themselves. And most people who make it up have outrageously over-the-top imaginations.”

“Tell me about it.” Kayla’s tone was wry. “When I applied at the PD, and they found out I went here, the first thing one of the old farts on my oral board asked was if that was the school that taught women to take over the world and drive men out.”

“Good grief,” Alex said. “What did you answer?”

“I said no, but that it did teach us to recognize men whose masculinity was so fragile they were afraid of strong women, and how to treat them gently.”

As Christine laughed, Alex hooted aloud; she’d never heard that story from Kayla before. “And yet you still got the job?”

Kayla grinned. “Turned out they dragged out the old dinosaur for every female’s entrance exam. Figured if she could deal with him without getting rattled or angry, she had a chance of making it.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Alex said.

“It is,” Kayla agreed. “And come to think of it, the idea came from Eric Hunt. The detective who handled the investigation, although he was still the dinosaur’s partner when I came on. He was Phoenix PD then, but he’s ours now.”

“What’s he like?”

“He’s a cop,” Kayla said, as if that said it all. As perhaps it did, Alex thought. But then Kayla added, “A good one.”

Alex waited, sensing there was more but not wanting to push. At last, with a sigh, Kayla went on.

“He’s just in a rough place right now. Tired. A string of tough cases and long hours. He’s liable to be a little touchy at first, that’s all.”

Alex nodded. “I’ll be gentle.”

Kayla laughed. “Don’t be. Eric doesn’t need it. As long as he knows you’re not there to make cops look bad, he’ll help you.”

“You know that’s not why I’m doing this, right?” Alex asked. It was an aspect that hadn’t occurred to her before Kayla had mentioned it.

“Of course I know,” Kayla said. “But it’s him you have to convince.”

“I’ll manage.”

“You always do,” Christine put in. Then, settling back in her chair, she eyed Alex with interest. “So…tell me about you and the Dark Angel.”

Alex nearly groaned. “Can’t we stick to something easy, like ten-year-old murders?”

It was Kayla’s turn to laugh. Alex quickly turned on her friend; anything was fair game now. “Why don’t we talk about you and Peter instead?” she said, referring to the detective Kayla had gotten involved with during Rainy’s murder case.

“Because he’s not an Athena legend,” Kayla said with exaggerated blitheness.

“Fine,” Alex said, defeated. “He’s fine. I’m fine. We’re still testing the waters, trying to make the long-distance thing work.”

“Wasn’t he supposed to be in D.C. about now?”

“Yes.” She tried to leave it at that, but Kayla and Christine were both watching her too intently. “He is in a D.C. Training seminar. We’ll be getting together when he gets back here.”

And if I weren’t the biggest coward on the planet, I’d probably be staying at his place, like he’d offered, instead of a hotel.

Later, she tried not to fixate on the thought as she headed back to her nice but impersonal room at that hotel. Justin had been great about not pushing for more than she was ready to give, while at the same time making it clear that he wanted more. Much more.

Not that she didn’t want it, too. She was just…what? Cautious? Careful? Wary?

Afraid?

She didn’t like the idea, but she couldn’t definitively say it wasn’t true. She was honest enough with herself to admit it, even to figure out why. It annoyed her that she was letting her mother influence her, but it was an example she’d had all her life.

But she knew she couldn’t drag it out forever. Either they were in a relationship that would by definition have to progress, or they weren’t. Justin was tacitly giving that decision to her, telling her that his was already made.

He’d also understood her need to dive into this investigation, and accepted easily her leaving for Arizona so soon after he’d left it for D.C. He was going to be busy most of the rest of the week, anyway. He’d simply changed his schedule to come back when he was done, instead of hanging around there an extra few days to spend them with her.

She wished she wasn’t so confused about her feelings. There was more to it than the fact that she’d barely escaped what she was sure would have been a disaster with her former fiancé, Emerson. She just wasn’t sure what it was. While her maternal grandparents and her parents had had a rocky relationship, G.C.’s had been solid and happy until her grandmother’s death, and that was what she thought of when she thought of such things.

And while she’d been relieved to end her engagement to Emerson, she hadn’t been wary of marriage itself. Not that she was sure that was what Justin had in mind, of course. Nor was she sure how it would work out if it was. Not with careers that had them currently living with most of the country between them. Twenty-three hundred plus miles was at the upper end of geographically undesirable.

The only thing she really was sure of was that Justin wouldn’t wait forever.

Alex shivered.

She had to be having a flashback to the last time she’d been here, when they’d been trying so desperately to disprove the assumption that Rainy, their beloved Rainy, had fallen asleep at the wheel and died in the ensuing accident. Why else would she feel a sudden chill, despite the fact that the temperature was a balmy, Phoenix-in-spring seventy-two?

She pulled the rental car into the left lane to pass a slow-moving gardening truck. Someone behind her had the same thought and also pulled to the left. She glanced at the truck as she passed, noting the lawnmowers in the back, and wondering about the people who insisted on having a lawn in this climate.

She smiled at the driver as she passed, silently congratulating him for managing to make a living at being an anachronism.

She eased back into the right lane so she could make the turn up ahead that would take her to the Athens Police Department. As she went, she resumed mentally running through the contents of Marion’s letter. She had it virtually memorized by now, both intentionally and from repeated readings, including last night at the hotel.

She’d left the original with her grandfather, who was going to keep it safe just in case. She’d thought it wise not to carry a copy of the letter around with her, so she’d made a list of the high points in an encrypted file on her PDA.

She slowed her speed after she completed the right turn. Building was going on here at a mad pace, as it seemed it was everywhere in the greater Phoenix area, and she wasn’t sure she’d spot the driveway she needed in time to make the turn.

Sure enough, the vacant lot next to the police station, that area of scrub and mesquite that had always been her landmark, was no longer empty. The big marquee for the new convenience store nearly obscured the small sign for the department, and she almost missed it.

A quick glance in the mirror told her she had enough room between her car and the blue sedan behind her to make the quick turn. She heard some hard braking farther behind her, and silently apologized to the driver of the gardening truck, who was now pulling over to the curb, probably to resecure something that had come loose because of her quick move.

She found a parking spot in front and was quickly out and heading for the front steps when she remembered she’d left her PDA in the car. Since it had all her notes in it, including those on Marion’s letter, she turned to go back for it.

And stopped dead, staring.

She blinked, but she knew she wasn’t mistaken. The blue car that had been behind her was stopped in the convenience-store parking lot. The vehicle was still running, dark-tinted windows closed. Angled so the driver could see the police department building, and the spot in which she’d parked her rental.

She recognized it now as the car that had pulled out from behind the gardening truck at the same time she had. As if the driver had seen her spot him, the car suddenly reversed out of the drive, tires squealing. The car rocked as the driver hit the brakes. She heard the bark of tires biting as the car accelerated hard and fast, cutting back into the traffic lane, nearly clipping an SUV that was driving decorously along in the slow lane.

In moments the blue car was out of sight.

Coincidence?

She couldn’t be sure, but she didn’t think so.

What she did think was that she had the answer to that chill she’d felt before. On some level she’d been aware of the car’s presence.

On some level she’d known she was being followed.

Chapter 4

“Just what I need, a fed.”

Alex caught the muttered imprecation, although she doubted she’d been meant to. Detective Eric Hunt—Kayla had introduced them and then sneakily decamped—looked up quickly, as if he suspected he’d spoken too loudly.

He’d be nice looking, she thought, if he ever smiled. There was something appealing about his boy-next-door looks, sandy hair and golden-brown eyes. He seemed…trustworthy, she thought. A good quality in a cop.

“Look,” he said, “I know you’re a friend of the lieutenant’s—”

“Don’t let that influence you.”

He gave her a look that told her what he thought of that piece of impossibility.

“Just,” she said lightly, “think of me as a P.I.”

She smiled. He frowned.

“A P.I.? With an FBI badge?”

“This has nothing to do with the FBI. I’m investigating an old case of yours, yes, but as a private citizen.”

She supposed she couldn’t blame him for the suspicions that showed in his expression. In his place, she’d be hard-pressed not to wonder herself.

In his place, she thought, I’d get some sleep.

He looked beyond tired. Beyond even exhausted. He looked, she realized, burned out. She’d become familiar with the look, that world-weary, heard-too-much, seen-too-much expression that could quickly collapse into don’t-give-a-damn. Once somebody hit that wall, coming back was a long, hard road many chose not to even attempt.

He leaned back in his chair. It creaked, the way just about every government chair she’d ever seen did. His cubicle was typical, small but not cramped, plastered with notices and suspect photographs, official memos and reminders.

But not, she noticed, much in the way of personal items. A postcard with a photograph of a snowcapped mountain, a snapshot of what appeared to be that same mountain and, looped over a pushpin, a long chain with a set of dog tags. She couldn’t read the name from where she stood.

“How long have you been a cop?” she asked.

His frown deepened. She guessed if she’d been anybody else the answer would have been “What’s it to you?” Instead it was a grudging, “Eighteen years.”

Long enough to burn out. And then some. “First job?” she guessed. He didn’t look over forty, even with the tired eyes.

“Yeah. Straight into the academy from college.” He shrugged. “All I ever wanted to be.”

He still sounded a bit on edge, so she tried another tack.

“Just so we’re clear, I don’t expect anything from you. I’m not asking that you reactivate the case or get involved at all. I’m just letting you know I’m here, and what I’ll be doing.”

“What do you want, then?”

“Your thoughts about the case, mainly. And a look at the original file. I’ve seen ours but not yours. Although, if you have any personal notes or recollections, copies of those would help, too. Beyond that, I’ll stay out of your hair.”

He leaned back slightly, puzzlement replacing the frown on his face. “Why?”

She lifted one shoulder. “Because, this is personal, not official.”

“Oh? You guys took over the case in the first place, the vic being a senator and all, so why don’t you check with your own investigators?”

“I have. But you were first investigator on the scene. Your impressions are the most important.”

“So I’m supposed to believe an FBI agent—”

“Scientist.”

“Whatever. I’m supposed to believe the FBI shows up in tiny little Athens asking about the unsolved ten-year-old murder of a former U.S. senator, and it’s only personal, I’m not going to get sucked up into the federal wood chipper?”

Her mouth twitched. She fought the grin. “It is a bit of a stretch, isn’t it?”

She finally got the smile she’d been thinking about earlier. And it did, as she’d suspected it would, transform his face. He went from guarded and world-weary to open and approachable—and charming—in the space of a few seconds.

“It really is personal,” she assured him. “Marion Gracelyn was a longtime family friend. She was like an aunt to me, and my family would really like to know the full truth of what happened that night.”

“Wouldn’t we all,” Hunt said wryly.

“It means even more to me, because of where it happened.”

He lifted one sandy brow. “The women’s academy? You go there?”

“I did.”

He looked curious then. “I hear it’s quite a place. Lieutenant Ryan went there didn’t she?”

Alex nodded. “She did. We were best friends.”

“And she’s one of the best cops I’ve ever worked with.”

“I’ll tell her you said so,” Alex said with a smile.

“Oh.” He looked chagrinned. “I guess you already knew that.”

“We were in the same class,” Alex said. “So yes, I know how good she is.”

No point in trying to explain about the Cassandras; he didn’t need to know, and likely wouldn’t understand anyway. Nobody would who hadn’t been in that kind of situation where the bonding was deep and permanent.

Whether it was that she knew Kayla, curiosity about Athena or something else, she didn’t know, but he came over to her side after that.

“Look, your guys pretty much nudged me out of the whole investigation once they got here. Not that I blame them, really,” he added in a burst of refreshing candor. “I was pretty green.”

“Sometimes I think I still am,” she commiserated, and earned another smile.

“Naw. Definitely red,” he quipped, and to her surprise she didn’t mind the reference to her hair. Perhaps it was the boy-next-door thing that softened it from taunt to friendly tease.

“Anyway,” he said quickly, as if he’d embarrassed himself, “most of the files of that era aren’t digital, so they’re in storage in Phoenix. I can send for them, but it’ll raise a flag.”

She knew that was likely true; you didn’t dig out a murder case on a U.S. senator without drawing attention.

“I could tell them it’s just been bugging me, and I want to look at it again,” he said.

Something in the way he said it told her it wasn’t totally a ruse. “Does it? Bug you?”

“Yeah,” he admitted with a half shrug. “It does. It was my first murder, and probably the biggest case I’ll ever be involved in.”

She nodded in understanding. “Well, I’m not really trying to hide what I’m doing, just to keep it under the radar as long as I can. So if you think you can do it without sending up a flare…”

“I think so,” he said, and she smiled at the change in his attitude. Oddly, he glanced away for a minute, much as she did when she thought she was going to blush.

“Thank you.” She put every bit of sincerity she was feeling into her voice. “I really appreciate it.”

As if inspired by the positive reception of his first offer, he said “I can dig out my own notes, if you think it would help. I kept all the old ones on paper, so it’s not a digital file.” He gave her a slightly sheepish smile. “And back then, I wrote down everything.”

Definitely boy-next-door material, Alex thought.

“So did I,” she said, grinning at him. “I think it would probably help a lot, then. Thanks, Eric.”

He colored visibly then, and grinned back at the same time, a combination she thought awkwardly sweet.

It seemed she had gained an ally.

“Anything else, Agent Forsythe?” he asked.

“Alex,” she said, granting him the familiarity she’d already taken. She started to answer his question in the negative, then thought again. “Could you have a license plate run for me?”

He looked surprised, but nodded. “Sure.”

She handed him the piece of paper she’d scribbled the number from the blue car on. He took it and sat down at the computer terminal on a table behind his desk. Less than a minute later he handed her a printout.

The name and address meant nothing to her, but she hadn’t really expected it to. She tucked it away, just in case, while he dug into the bottom drawer of the big file cabinet that stood beside the desk. While it was in the back of the very full drawer, he had no trouble finding the file, and Alex guessed it was because he looked at it with some regularity. As did most cops with the cases they couldn’t forget.

He straightened, glanced inside the dog-eared and marked-up manila folder and then held it out to her.

She opened the cover, scanned the first page of neatly written, single-spaced notes. “Are you sure you don’t want to just make me a copy and keep the originals?”

“I’d just as soon you had to bring them back,” he said.

Her gaze snapped back to his face. Had she interpreted that right?

He gave her a one-shouldered shrug. “You brighten up the decor around here,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said, a little taken aback. But he didn’t press any further, and she was left not certain if he’d meant it as merely an aesthetic comment or an invitation.

He walked with her back to the front of the department. As they neared the doors, Alex held back. “Would you do me a favor? Look out and see if you see a medium-blue sedan with very dark tinted windows parked anywhere within line of sight?”

“The license plate?” he guessed.

She nodded. Without further questions he walked over to the doors and stepped outside. After a couple minutes he came back inside. “Don’t see him. But if you want, I’ll open the back gate for you, and you can get out using our employee exit. Maybe a pile of marked units will make him think twice.”