He was doing a lousy job of protecting her. Was this how Steele, Brock, and Raelyn had felt over the past few months? They’d been in similar situations, which had thankfully turned out okay.

  So why did he feel like a big fat failure?

  Roscoe stayed right behind him during the short drive. Grayson pulled into the parking lot and waited for Roscoe to park beside him before getting out of the vehicle.

  Eve pushed out of the driver’s side, coming to stand beside him. “This won’t take long,” he told her.

  “It’s fine.” Her tone was listless.

  He wanted to pull her into his arms, but Roscoe had joined them, so they headed inside. The blast of air-conditioning felt good, but he noticed Eve shivered.

  Slipping his arm around her waist, he urged her forward. “I’m MPD Officer Grayson Clark. I’d like to speak to Detective Meyer.”

  The front desk officer frowned. “He’s busy.”

  “I know. I’m the one who called in the homicide. I only need a few minutes, and we’re happy to wait.”

  “I’ll let him know, but he may not have time to meet.” The desk clerk picked up the phone and spoke in a low tone.

  Grayson turned away, giving Roscoe a shrug. “Let’s hang out for a few minutes.”

  “Okay.” Roscoe nodded.

  The minutes ticked by slowly. When ten minutes had passed, he wondered if they were wasting their time. Maybe Meyer had no intention of coming out to talk to him.

  A door opened, and a stunning blonde stepped out, followed by Detective Meyer. The familiar face clicked in his brain.

  Well, well, if it isn’t the infamous Bambi Altman.

  “Thank you, Detective,” she said in a syrupy voice. “I appreciate everything you’re doing to find Andy’s killer.”

  “Take care,” Meyer said in a noncommittal tone that led Grayson to believe the seasoned detective wasn’t necessarily buying the grieving girlfriend act. “I’ll let you know if I have more questions.”

  “Of course.” Bambi gazed up at him. “Anything you need. I want Andy’s murderer caught and punished for what he did.”

  Meyer’s caught Grayson’s gaze and gave a slight nod, indicating he’d be over to talk to him soon. Bambi left the police station without giving him, Roscoe, or Eve a second look. And honestly, he found that odd. Most people were curious enough to glance at strangers. It was almost as if Bambi wanted nothing more than to get as far away from the cops as soon as she could.

  No one said a word until the door closed behind Bambi and she walked out of sight. Then Meyer gave him a resigned nod. “I can pretty much tell you she gave us nothing. Her alibi checked out. No one would want to hurt Andy, he wasn’t cheating, she wasn’t cheating, and everything between them was hunky dory.”

  Grayson nodded thoughtfully. “What’s your gut telling you?”

  Meyer spread his hands. “I think their relationship was more than just personal, even though she denied that. I have no proof, though; we’re still going through Thomas’s phone records. And that will take time since he received dozens of calls from other nurses and providers.”

  “Yeah, that figures.” Grayson wasn’t sure why he’d thought the detective would be further along with the investigation. They’d only stumbled across Andrew Thomas’s body, what, five hours ago?

  “I can confirm they had a personal and professional relationship,” Eve said. “I saw them together at work and at Andrew’s condo. And I also have to tell you he always preferred being called Andrew, not Andy.”

  Meyer nodded. “I hear you. I tried to pin Bambi down on the last time she saw him, but she claims it’s been a few days and was not able to be more specific.”

  Grayson and Roscoe exchanged a glance. “Okay, anything else that you can tell us? We’re still trying to understand if Andrew’s murder is connected to the violent attacks against Dr. Shaw.”

  “Nothing yet, autopsy won’t be until tomorrow, and the drug screen takes time.” Meyer scowled. “If you do find a connection between the two cases, I hope you’ll let me know.”

  “Of course. Thanks for the update.” He was glad Meyer had been decent enough to fill them in, so he added, “We have issued a BOLO for three of Dr. Shaw’s colleagues. It’s possible one of them may be responsible for the attacks against her, although I have no idea why any of them would want Andrew Thomas dead.”

  “That’s interesting,” Meyer said. “I’ll make sure our guys keep their eyes open for them too.”

  He nodded and turned to Eve. “Ready to go?”

  “Yes.” Her faint smile didn’t reach her stormy gray eyes. Once they were outside, she said, “I’m glad Meyer wasn’t fooled by Bambi’s act.”

  “Most cops are smart enough to look through that type of thing,” he assured her. “Beauty is only skin deep, Eve. Doesn’t matter how she looks on the outside if her heart is ugly.”

  “I don’t know for sure that she’s an awful person,” Eve said. “Other than she wasn’t above using her looks to make a sale.”

  He thought about that for a moment as they got settled in the rental SUV. He wondered how much sway a physician’s assistant could even have when it came to prescribing medications. Granted, Andrew may have switched his patients over to whatever drug Bambi was pushing, but he was one man in a huge medical facility.

  In the big scheme of things, his influence had to be a drop in the bucket. So why had someone killed him?

  Much like the attacks against Eve, it didn’t make any sense.

  Swallowing his frustration, he backed out of the parking space and headed toward Ravenswood. The city was roughly twenty-five miles from here. He glanced at Eve. “Are you hungry? I’m not sure there’s any food at the safe house.”

  “It does seem as if breakfast at Rosie’s was a long time ago.” She glanced over her shoulder to look out the back window. “Does Roscoe want to stop for food too?”

  “I’ll call him.” He and Roscoe had taken a few minutes to pair their phones with the SUV’s communication system prior to leaving the rental agency. He told the computer to call Roscoe, and ten seconds later, his buddy answered.

  “What’s up?”

  “We’re stopping for lunch if you’re hungry,” he said.

  “Sounds good. I’ll follow you.”

  “Thanks.” He ended the call. “Anywhere in particular you’d like to eat?”

  “Anyplace is fine.” She still seemed out of sorts. “A salad would be nice.”

  He remembered a family restaurant that was about halfway to the safe house. They had just about everything under the sun on their menu. Not the delicious baked goods like Rosie’s but plenty of other options.

  Traffic was light on this warm summer day. It was too bad they couldn’t head to a park or down to the lakefront for a picnic.

  “Tell me about pharmaceutical sales reps.” He glanced at her as he navigated traffic. “Do they have full run of the hospital?”

  “Not at all,” she said quickly. “Andrew was breaking the rules letting Bambi in. There are strict no sales rep policies because the hospital administration doesn’t want patients exposed to expensive drugs when those generic or well-established medicines are often just as effective.”

  “So how did Andrew manage to break the rules?”

  “I don’t know.” She frowned. “I supposed it’s easy enough to blend in by wearing a lab coat and pretending to be a staff member.”

  It still wasn’t enough to justify murder. “Did Andrew mention that Bambi was meeting with other providers? Doctors or physician assistants?”

  She arched a brow. “You mean other male doctors or PAs? I doubt women would buy into her act.”

  She had a point. “Okay, other male providers, then.”

  “No, he didn’t say.” Eve looked away. “It’s not like we had an extensive conversation about his cheating.”

  “No, I guess not.” The more he thought about it, the less likely it seemed that Andrew’s murder was connected to the attacks against Eve. Other than the suspicious timing, it was hard to imagine how they were tied together. For all they knew, Bambi had another jealous boyfriend out there somewhere who decided to eliminate the competition.

  They drove in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. He pulled into the restaurant, relieved that the hour was late enough that they had missed the noon lunch rush.

  Again, he waited for Roscoe to pull up alongside them. With Eve between them, they headed inside.

  “Booth?” the hostess asked.

  Grayson glanced at Eve who nodded. “Thanks, that works.”

  Once they were seated, Eve next to him and Roscoe across the table from them, a harried server brought waters and menus.

  “I’m starving.” Roscoe scanned the menu. “Ooh, barbecued ribs!”

  They often joked that when Roscoe retired from the police department, he would open his own barbecue restaurant. He always ordered barbecued ribs or chicken, then complained that nothing was as good as a Texas barbecue.

  When their server returned, Eve ordered her salad, while he chose the steak sandwich. He and Eve stuck with water, and Roscoe ordered a coke.

  “Do we need to pick up groceries before heading to the safe house?” Eve asked. “I’m not a great cook, but I can make something simple like spaghetti.”

  “We’ll have groceries delivered,” he assured her. “And I love spaghetti.”

  “Not as good as ribs,” Roscoe declared.

  Eve wrinkled her nose. “I’m not a fan of ribs.”

  Roscoe comically placed a hand over his heart. “Stabbed by the pretty doc,” he complained.

  Eve reluctantly smiled, and he was glad she seemed to be getting over their recent setback. She was beautiful, not in a flashy way like Bambi—who he wouldn’t trust as far as he could throw her—but in a wholesome girl-next-door kind of way.

  He pulled himself from those inappropriate thoughts. He needed to remember how badly things ended with Monica. “I’ll need something to work on while we’re holed up in the safe house. If Gabe hasn’t gotten around to checking our three perps to see if they own gunmetal-gray SUVs, maybe I can dig into that. I wish we had enough to get a warrant for rental car agencies to give us information.”

  “We don’t, not without narrowing the search parameters,” Roscoe pointed out. “Maybe if you saw a rental car decal or sticker, that would be enough.”

  “I didn’t.” Sometimes he got tired of the bureaucratic red tape, yet without the proper search warrants, their evidence could easily get tossed when it came to going to trial. “Hopefully, the BOLOs will yield results and those interviews will produce enough evidence for a judge to consider granting a warrant.”

  “Anything is possible,” Roscoe agreed.

  Their food arrived. Eve bowed her head to pray. Beneath the table, Grayson reached for her hand.

  “Dear Lord Jesus, we thank You for this food and for keeping us all safe in Your care. Amen.”

  “Amen,” he murmured.

  “Amen,” Roscoe echoed. Then he grinned. “Dig in!”

  Shaking his head at Roscoe’s antics, he took a bite of his sandwich. It was good. He and Roscoe made quick work of their meals while Eve picked at her salad.

  A phone rang, making him and Roscoe check their pockets. To their surprise, Eve pulled out the small disposable phone.

  “Who could be calling me?” she asked. Before he could advise her not to answer, she lifted it to her ear. “Hello?”

  Had to be a wrong number or spam, he thought.

  “Oh, hello, Dave.”

  Dave who?

  “Oh, um, I hadn’t thought about when it would be a good time to reschedule my presentation,” she said, giving him a clue. The name clicked; he remembered her talking to a Dr. Dave Firestein shortly after her office exploded.

  He leaned forward to ask in a hushed tone, “How did he get your number?”

  She waved him off. “Sure, a week from today should be plenty of time. Okay, thanks.” When he scowled, she belatedly asked, “How did you get this number?” After listening for a moment, she said, “Okay, thanks. Talk soon.” She ended the call.

  “Let me guess, your boss gave him your new cell number,” Grayson said. He should have considered that earlier.

  “Yes. It’s not a big deal; you didn’t tell Roger not to share it.”

  “No, I didn’t.” But maybe he should have. He took another bite of his steak sandwich and wondered why this Dave Firestein was so anxious to set up another live presentation. Then he reached for Eve’s hand. “Where does Firestein work? Madison?”

  “Yes, why?” Eve nibbled on a piece of grilled chicken.

  He met Roscoe’s gaze and was reassured that his buddy was thinking along the same lines as he was.

  Madison was only an hour from Milwaukee. Close enough that Dave Firestein could have been the one to set the bombs, then head off to sit somewhere safe with a laptop with the presentation up on the screen, waiting for the blast.

  Chapter Twelve

  Reading Grayson’s expression, Eve shook her head. “Dave isn’t involved. Why would he be?”

  “It all comes down to your research, remember?” he pointed out.

  “Just because Dave is a molecular biologist, too, doesn’t mean he’s in competition with me,” she protested. “And even if he was, I cannot see Dave setting bombs and detonating them.”

  “You haven’t wanted to believe it was anyone close to you,” Grayson said softly. “And I understand that. It’s not easy to look at people you’ve been working with for years as the enemy. But you need to keep your mind open to all possibilities.”

  It was hard to argue with that, but she still couldn’t see it. Then she remembered how Roger had told her all her colleagues had been upset at her promotion. Every. Single. One.

  She stared down at her half-eaten salad, feeling sick. How would she face them once this nightmare was over? Return to business as usual, acting as if she didn’t know?

  Nope. She was not doing that. It would be best to clear the air, confront them one by one about their feelings. She wouldn’t apologize for being promoted, but maybe she could do better in being a friend. Maybe join them in after-work activities. If she was welcome.

  “O’Dell’s Pub.” She didn’t realize she’d said the words out loud until Grayson turned to stare at her. She flushed. “I’m sorry, I just remembered that Nick once mentioned O’Dell’s Pub. It’s not far from Trinity Medical Center. I believe many of the hospital staff go there after work.”

  “You’re just remember this now?” Grayson asked with a frown.

  “I know, I’m sorry.” She felt like an idiot. “You asked earlier if the guys went somewhere after work, and I said I didn’t know. But I think Nick mentioned O’Dell’s. I never paid much attention to what they were talking about unless it involved research.”

  “It’s okay.” Roscoe offered a reassuring smile. “At least we know now when we can still do something about it.”

  “We should swing by the place,” Grayson said. “Just to see if there’s a gunmetal-gray SUV with a bullet hole sitting in the parking lot.”

  “I highly doubt either of these guys would be that careless,” Roscoe said. “But it’s worth a drive by.”

  “I’ll call Melrose,” Grayson said. “We’ll get license plate numbers of Strong’s and Abbott’s personal vehicles from him.”

  “Don’t forget Larry Kimmel,” she added. “If we’re going to check, may as well do all three.”

  “Good idea.” Grayson shot her a smile, and she was relieved he wasn’t upset with her. Why did her brain work like this? It was one of the reasons she had sticky notes everywhere. A thought would pop into her mind long after she’d read some article. Sometimes days later. Almost as if her brain had a longer than normal processing time.

  It was both a curse and a blessing.

  A blessing because even with the delayed response, she had been able to do great things with her research. But in this situation, it would have been nice to have remembered about O’Dell’s sooner.

  She took another bite of her salad, listening as Grayson copied license plate numbers down on a napkin.

  “Thanks, Gabe. Appreciate the intel. Oh, one more thing. Will you please run the license plate registration for a Dave Firestein in Madison? I need the make and model of that one too.” There was a brief pause as Grayson waited. He munched a fry as he waited. “Great. Thanks.” He slipped his phone back into his pocket. “Unfortunately, none of our suspects drives a gunmetal-gray SUV.”

  “We always figured it would be rental.” Roscoe looked thoughtful. “You know, I think that may be one way to get the information on the rentals. Call each company to see if anyone returned a vehicle with a bullet hole. We wouldn’t need a warrant for that.”

  “I like it,” Grayson agreed. “I’m sure they’d be willing to give us that information, especially as it’s indicative of a crime. I can work on that when we reach the safe house, after we do the drive-by of O’Dell’s Pub.”

  “I can do the drive-by,” Roscoe offered. He used his phone to take a picture of the napkin Grayson had scribbled on, “while you and Eve head to the safe house.”

  Eve sipped her water watching Grayson. The way he hesitated told her he wanted to be there. Clearly, sitting on the sidelines while others worked the investigation wasn’t in his DNA.

  “We’ll go together. It shouldn’t take long,” Grayson said. He didn’t look at her. “We won’t be in harm’s way. If we spot one of the vehicles, we’ll call Rhy and have him send a couple of squads pursuant to the BOLO.”

  “Okay.” Roscoe shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  They finished their meal, the guys eating with a sense of urgency. She wished she’d remembered O’Dell’s Pub earlier. Grayson paid their server with cash, leaving a nice tip, then rose.

  “I’d like a bathroom break,” she said in a low voice.

 

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