Veiled Intentions

“You told him about this possible connection?”

“No. Of course not. There’s only been one shooting, and I have no proof that there’ll be another one. I didn’t want the couple to bring a possible lawsuit against the department for disrupting their wedding, so I simply reminded the minister of some recent robberies in the area and offered my services as a temporary security guard. He agreed, and we came up with the idea of using the guest registry as my cover.”

So she’d done her homework. He liked that. But this wasn’t a time when Brownie points counted. “The florist and Perfect Match could be a coincidence. There are other possible angles.”

“Yes. Gail’s fiancé was Hispanic, so the shooting could have been racially motivated. Or maybe their deaths are linked to some other aspect of their personal lives.” She paused. “But I don’t believe that, and apparently neither do you, or you wouldn’t have come here today.”

Touché.

Joe fought back an urge to smile. Under different circumstances, he might have enjoyed this verbal sparring, but these weren’t different circumstances. Katelyn O’Malley would be in his way, because despite her denial, this case was personal for her. In his experience, when it got personal, people made mistakes.

That wasn’t going to happen on his watch.

“I came here to follow up on one particular theory. One theory of several,” he assured her.

Joe checked the entryway. No new guests, and the others had already moved into the church. He could hear the organ start to play, an indication that the bride and groom were about to make their entrance.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t be their last.

Katelyn huffed. “I know those theories as well as you—”

“Caucasian male is approaching the church,” the backup officer said through Joe’s communicator.

That, and the sound of hurried footsteps, interrupted whatever else she was about to say. Frantic footsteps that sent them both reaching for their guns. In the same motion, she stepped into the hallway beside him. However, the threat for which they’d braced themselves didn’t materialize.

Judging from the strong family resemblance, the man who came into sight was Sergeant Garrett O’Malley. His gun was already drawn, but he held it discreetly by his side so it wouldn’t easily be seen.

“Katelyn, what’s going on?” her brother demanded.

Because Joe was standing arm-to-arm with her, he felt her muscles relax.

“False alarm,” she let him know. Once again, she reholstered her gun. “This is Sergeant Joe Rico. Homicide. This is my brother, Sergeant Garrett O’Malley, Special Investigations.”

Unlike Katelyn, Garrett didn’t appear to relax. Just the opposite. It was obvious he had issues, and Joe didn’t have to guess who or what those issues were.

“Rico,” Garrett repeated in the same tone that he no doubt reserved for profanity. “According to the rumor mill, the chief sent you in to investigate our brother, Brayden. And possibly Katelyn and me, too.”

“The chief did what?” Katelyn asked. Mouth gaping, she stepped in front of Joe and pinned her gaze to his.

This obviously wasn’t the way to win friends and influence people. But that didn’t matter. He had a job to do, and he’d do it, with or without the O’Malleys’ approval.

“Since it appears you can answer your sister’s questions,” Joe said to Garrett, “I’ll leave you to it and see what’s happening in the church. I’d prefer that people didn’t die while we’re standing around chitchatting.”

It was a good exit line. The only thing missing was, well, the good exit. Katelyn didn’t get out of his way so he could leave, and the hallway was too narrow to go around her. He really didn’t want to play bump and grind just so he could get past her.

Really.

Even if there were various parts of him that thought it might be fun.

Her hands went to her hips. “I don’t know what your agenda is—”

“To do my job,” Joe insisted.

That earned him a scowl. “My brothers are good cops. Don’t judge either of them by the fact that I came here today. This undercover investigation was my idea and mine alone.”

Since it was clear this argument wouldn’t be resolved in the next couple of minutes, Joe put his gun back into his holster, firmly caught her shoulders and moved her out of his path. “I’ll see you both back at headquarters when I’m finished here.”

Joe turned to leave. But he still didn’t manage that exit. A few steps was as far as he got. The sound stopped him in his tracks. Because it was the last thing he wanted to hear. A sound he’d anticipated, and dreaded.

A shot blasted through the church.

THE EMOTION of her argument with Sergeant Rico evaporated instantly, and in its place, Katelyn felt the barrage of instinct and adrenaline.

Sweet heaven. The gunman had attacked after all, and she hadn’t been able to stop it. She prayed the bullet had missed its target and that everyone was safe.

“The shot came from outside,” Rico offered, taking the words right out of her mouth. “The west side of the building, maybe. Maybe the rear. Garrett, secure the front doors, and just in case someone else hasn’t already done it, call for backup. Katelyn, you’re coming with me.”

Rico didn’t hesitate. Neither did Garrett nor she. Her brother hurried to the front door, kicking it shut and locking it. He kept his weapon ready, secured a spot near one of the sidelight windows and then pulled out his cell phone. Rico went in the direction of the sanctuary, and Katelyn followed.

“Get down!” Rico yelled to the guests.

Most had already done just that, squeezing themselves underneath the pews. There were raw screams. Chaos. The smell of fear. And in the middle of that, Katelyn saw the bride, groom and the minister cowering between the altar and an archway of pale peach roses.

No visible evidence of blood. Thank God. They seemed unharmed.

For now.

“There’s an auxiliary building out there. Two story, brown brick,” she relayed to Rico. “Our gunman could be using it as a catbird seat.”

He nodded and without taking his attention off the partially shot-out stained glass window, he whispered to her over his shoulder. “You don’t happen to have another brother stashed in the parking lot, huh?”

“I wish. But no. We’re on our own until backup arrives.” Which wouldn’t be for minutes. Long, critical minutes.

Where just about anything could happen.

“Good,” Rico responded. “Because I have an officer out there. One who’s officially on this case, and I didn’t want any of your relatives accidentally shooting him while he’s trying to do his job.”

Katelyn didn’t appreciate the sarcasm but welcomed all the help they could get. Maybe the officer would be able to stop the gunman before any more damage was done.

But at the moment that seemed a lot to hope for.

There’d been damage already. Even if they stopped the shooting here and now, every one of the guests would remember this horrifying ordeal for the rest of their lives. Katelyn blamed herself for that. She’d been in a position to stop this and had failed.

A second shot rang out, quickly followed by another. And another. Two of the three went through a window on the right front side of the church and tore chunks of glass from the frame. No doubt that’s what the shooter had intended to do. Now he or she had a direct line of sight into the church.

Yelling and crying out, the bride, groom and minister scurried to the other side of the altar, but it wouldn’t give them shelter for long. Bullets could easily eat through that wood.

“I’ll make my way over there.” Rico tipped his head to a set of ornate double doors, which were only a couple of yards away from the shattered window. “If necessary I’ll return fire to draw the shooter’s attention. I might be able to get a visual and take him out.”

Yes. Or maybe the gunman would get him first. Of course, that was a chance they had to take.

“I can help.” Katelyn kicked off her shoes and peeled off the silky jacket so they wouldn’t get in her way. “There aren’t any guests near that other window next to the doors. I’ll knock out the glass and return fire, as well. Don’t worry—I’ll keep watch for your officer and make sure I don’t send any friendly fire his way.”

Rico might have disagreed with that impromptu plan, but he didn’t get a chance to say anything. More shots came crashing through the building.

Heavy, thick blasts.

Nonstop, this time.

The sounds were deafening. And they drowned out the shouts, screams and prayers that increased with each new round of fire. Just as Katelyn had figured, those shots were aimed right at the wooden altar. It was the same as the first shooting, the one that had killed Gail and her fiancé. Shots and plenty of them. But that knowledge gave Katelyn no comfort whatsoever. She’d already guessed that Gail’s murder wasn’t some random act of violence.

For all the good it’d done her.

Her guess was right, and yet it’d still been repeated right under her nose.

The bride screamed. Maybe in pain. Maybe just from fear. Katelyn prayed it was fear.

Rico moved. Fast and low. He was almost graceful, surprising for a man his size. With Katelyn following closely behind him, they went toward the door. Along the way, he identified himself and doled out assurances to the terrified guests.

He kept close to the perimeter wall until he got to the row of the stained glass windows, and then he lowered himself to the floor and proceeded to the doors.

The shots stopped for only a couple of seconds. Not for reloading, Katelyn soon learned. And they didn’t stop because the gunman was finished for the day. The break was so the person could change out rifles. The sound of the new shots told her that much since it was a different calibration. Whoever was doing this had certainly come prepared to kill but wasn’t necessarily an expert marksman. The stray bullets were landing everywhere—which, of course, made the situation all the more dangerous.

Katelyn made her way right along behind Joe Rico. Trying to time it perfectly to coordinate with his efforts, she sheltered her eyes and used the grip of her gun to knock out the glass that formed the image of the archangel, Michael. The glass was solid and held in place by not just strips of lead solder but also a sturdy frame. It took several hard jabs before she managed to dislodge enough of it so she could see into the parking lot.

Pressing her back against the narrow section of wall next to the doors, she rotated her body and did a quick check outside. She had a fairly good view of the building—and the dozen or so windows facing the church. Too many windows, and the reflection of the early afternoon sun didn’t make things easier. She quickly scanned them all as best she could.

No shooter in sight.

Yet, he had to be there.

Somewhere.

Because he was still firing.

While still low on the floor, Rico reached up and turned the old-fashioned brass handle on the door. He opened it a fraction and looked out. Katelyn waited for a signal so she could return fire.

And just like that, the shots stopped.

She felt another surge of adrenaline slam through her. A bad-feeling kind of surge. If the gunman wasn’t shooting, then he was likely making his getaway.

That couldn’t happen.

Because she knew in her heart that he would continue this until someone stopped him.

It was a risk, but Katelyn moved closer to the window so she could check the parking lot and the grounds. Rico did the same to the door. He stood, took position and aimed.

“Think,” she whispered to herself. If she were a killer, what would be her escape plan? Not the parking lot. Too visible. Not the side either since it bumped right against a fairly busy street.

No.

He’d go out the rear of the building and slip into the myriad of old shops and businesses that were crammed into this particular part of the downtown area.

Katelyn heard the sound of sirens the moment that Rico opened the door wider. Mumbling something, he peered out. He’d perhaps come to the same conclusion as she had. The gunman was getting away.

“Stay put,” Rico ordered.

It was a logical order.

Katelyn needed to stay there to protect the guests. Still, part of her wanted to go after the gunman.

“Hold your positions,” Garrett called out from the arched entryway that led into the church. Katelyn glanced at him and saw that he had his phone pressed to his ear. “Backup is in pursuit of a white car that just sped away.”

Katelyn released the breath that she didn’t even know she’d been holding. She glanced at Rico, but he didn’t seem any more eager than she was to let down his guard. So they did the only thing they could do. They waited with their backs literally against the wall and their guns ready.

“Is anyone hurt?” Rico called out to the guests.

The response varied, most still layered with panic, but from what she gathered, no one had actually been shot. Nothing short of a miracle. Katelyn said a quick prayer of thanks for that and then turned to the man who’d given her so much grief about being here.

“Still think I’m the wrong person for this case?” she asked Rico.

“Yes.” No hesitation whatsoever.

The analogy of butting her head against a brick wall came to mind. “But I guessed right about the gunman picking this particular wedding. Even in your book that has to count for something.”

He made another check of the parking lot. “It doesn’t count for much.”

Crouching there among shattered glass and the smell of gunfire, it seemed petty to dislike this man because he was arrogant and hardheaded, but that didn’t prevent her scowl. The scowl didn’t lessen either when Garrett called out something else.

“It’s over already. Backup lost the guy in pursuit,” her brother announced.

“It’s over,” some of the guests repeated. Slowly, they began to come out of hiding. Hugging each other. Crying. Praying. Most still in shock.

Katelyn groaned and scrubbed her hand over her face. Judas. This wasn’t over. In fact, that buzz in the back of her head told her it wasn’t over by a long shot.

The killer had just gotten started.

Chapter Three

Joe reread the overview of the proposed mission that Lieutenant Brayden O’Malley had handed him just minutes earlier. The overview didn’t read any better the second time around, and he didn’t hold out hope that a third read would make it any more palatable.

There were quite a few points of contention so Joe chose the first one. “You really think the shooting day before yesterday was a result of a botched burglary of the building next to Sacred Heart church?”

“No,” O’Malley readily answered. “But I’d rather have the press report that than link it with the shooting that happened a week earlier.”

Joe nodded, but the two shootings wouldn’t stay unlinked for long. All it would take was another incident, and unfortunately another incident was probably in the planning stages. That is, if the gunman hadn’t already finalized his next hit. But the real question was—was the killer linked to the matchmaking agency or the florist?

Or neither?

The or neither was the most troublesome scenario of them all. If the shootings weren’t connected through the businesses, then maybe they had a thrill killer or just a plain psycho on their hands.

Not that they didn’t have that anyway.

But Joe preferred his psychos to keep to a discernable pattern, because with hard work and some luck, patterns could be identified.

“The shell casings taken from the two crime scenes didn’t match,” Katelyn said, reading from a copy of the overview. She gave a weary sigh. “So that complicates things.”

“It just means our shooter likes to trade off weapons,” Joe advised her. “It doesn’t mean the crimes aren’t related.”

Another sigh from her. This one wasn’t weary. It had a you-think? tinge to it.

“Arguments? Comments? Objections?” Lieutenant O’Malley asked. “If so, direct them to me and not at each other.”

The man was definitely a multitasker. While he tossed out those leading questions and semireprimands, he looked through a report, scrawled his signature on it and tossed it into his out-box before he went onto the next one. But then, no one had ever accused this particular O’Malley of being inefficient. Just the opposite. The only accusation had been in the area of his preferential treatment.

“Concerns,” Joe volunteered.

Time to move on to point two. He had a lot of concerns, but the major one was the woman with the short, flame-red hair who was sitting next to him. Now the question was how to voice that concern without thoroughly riling Katelyn’s oldest brother, a man he had no desire to rile. Even under a cloud of suspicion, Brayden was formidable. Joe’s investigation into departmental favoritism would no doubt irritate the man enough without adding more to the mix.

“Sergeant Rico thinks this case is too personal for me,” Katelyn countered. “He believes I should step aside because I knew Gail.”

And with that totally accurate observation, she looked across the desk that separated them and met her brother’s gaze. In the next few seconds, at least a hundred or more words passed between them, even though neither spoke.

It was an interesting encounter to watch.

The lieutenant stared at her and lifted his eyebrow, just a fraction. That was it. No other change in his otherwise calm, authoritative expression. Yet the simple gesture caused Katelyn’s mouth to tighten, and her grip on the chair arm whitened her knuckles. Joe could have sworn the temperature in the room dropped by a full ten degrees. It was the most efficient warning he’d ever witnessed.

“Your sister has renegade tendencies,” Joe added, feeling that after what’d just happened, he was probably preaching to the choir. Still, a little choir preaching might go a long way to some changes in this mission proposal. “I’d prefer to work with another detective on this case.”

And Joe already had one in mind. Detective Dawn Davidson, a veteran officer who’d worked a serial killer case just the year before. She had the experience and from all accounts was levelheaded.

“Bringing in another detective might be a problem.” The lieutenant extracted a manila folder from a stack and slid it Joe’s way. “This’ll be an undercover assignment, and Katelyn already has her foot in the door.”

“What door?” Joe asked.

“At the matchmaking agency that might be connected to the two shootings.”

Judging from the soft groan that Katelyn made and the way she sank slightly lower in her chair, this would not please him. From the lieutenant’s elevated eyebrow, it didn’t please him much, either.

“I must have missed that foot-in-the-door part when reading the overview,” Joe commented.

Brayden pointed to the folder. “It’s all in there.”

Katelyn turned slightly away when he opened it and kept her attention focused on her brother. The top page in the folder was a rather lengthy questionnaire from the Perfect Match Agency, and it was dated a week earlier. It’d been filled out just two days after the first shooting.

And the name at the top?

Kate Kennedy.

Joe felt a groan coming on, as well.

“Is this your handiwork?” he asked her.

“Yes. But no one at Perfect Match has any idea that I’m a cop. No one. Kennedy is obviously an alias.” Katelyn directed the rest of her explanation to her brother. “I wanted to get a look at the people who worked there. I figured this was the fastest way to do it.”

“But not the smartest way,” Joe quickly let her know. “You could have jeopardized everything by going in there on your own.”

“But I didn’t.” Moving to the edge of her seat, she repeated it to her brother. “I can do whatever you need me to do to make this undercover assignment work.”

“I’m not the one you need to convince, Katelyn. The chief assigned Sergeant Rico as the lead for this case.” And the lieutenant sat back and left it at that.

The proverbial ball had just been tossed into Joe’s proverbial court.

Unfortunately, he also knew how these next few minutes were about to play out.

Hell.

Katelyn O’Malley had certainly put him in a hard place with her coloring-outside-the-lines attitude. Still, it’d only compound the problem if he let his personal feelings influence the most logical way to approach this. Well, it was the most logical approach considering she’d already tossed a monkey wrench or two into the scenario. “It wouldn’t be smart for me to use another detective at this point,” Joe concluded, speaking more to himself than the O’Malleys. He glanced at the questionnaire while he finished up his explanation. It figured. Katelyn had listed chili as her favorite food. “If the killer’s part of the Perfect Match Agency, then he or she might be suspicious of anyone registering so soon after the second shooting.”

“Guess that leaves you out then, huh?” Katelyn all but smirked at him.

Even though it was borderline petty, Joe liked it when people did that, especially when he could smirk right back. He calmly shuffled through the papers in the folder, extracted his own questionnaire and passed it to her.

Her eyes widened and skimmed over the first page. “You filled this out the same day I did?”

Let the smirking begin. “Yes.”

She hissed out a breath. “Need I remind you that you just accused me of jumping the gun by going to the agency?”

“The difference is—I was on this case, and you weren’t.” Joe held out his hands to emphasize the space. “Big difference. I’m talking huge.”

The temperature went down another notch, and her eyes narrowed to slits.

“Which brings us up-to-date, I believe,” Brayden interjected. Good timing, Joe thought, since Katelyn looked ready to implode. “We have to act fast. There are only five days until Saturday. Five days until a whole host of weddings are scheduled to take place all over the city. Five days to stop a killer from striking again.”

Joe was well aware of that. Those five days were already breathing down his neck. “I’ve learned the florist in question is doing the flower arrangements for two weddings this weekend, one Saturday, another Sunday night. But neither couple met through the Perfect Match Agency. If fact, I haven’t been able to connect any of the upcoming marriages to a matchmaking agency.”

“Neither have I.” Katelyn pulled out her own set of notes from a leather briefcase that was leaning against her chair. “And therein lies our problem. Perfect Match doesn’t release all the names of their former customers who’ve made wedding plans. So it becomes a needle-in-a-haystack approach.”

“It’s the only approach we have right now,” Joe fired back. “We could stake out all the weddings in San Antonio, but it’ll eat up a ton of manpower and cause people to ask too many questions and maybe even panic. Plus, there are the other ceremonies, the ones that aren’t listed in the paper. We wouldn’t be able to cover those. So our best bet is to go back to the source of the connection—the Perfect Match Agency. They require matched couples to meet there first for an icebreaker, and there’s one every Tuesday night, including tomorrow night.”

“It starts at seven-thirty,” Katelyn provided. “We don’t need an invitation. We just need to be computer matched…somehow.”

It didn’t surprise Joe that she knew those details. She’d probably already picked out the clothes she was going to wear. And she’d done all of that before even being officially assigned to the team.

His team.

He hoped like the devil that she didn’t wear those sexy stilettos and the little green outfit. He’d have enough distractions as it was.

“Detective O’Malley and I’ll do this intro thing tomorrow night at Perfect Match,” Joe continued, making sure he sounded like the boss. Because after the minifantasy involving her choice of fashion, he needed the reminder in the worst sort of way. “We’ll pretend we were high school sweethearts and that we’re surprised but happy to be reunited.”