The Shark (The Forgotten Files 1)
Jo-Jo peered in the window. “He’s not so scary looking.”
“He’s one of the best tracking dogs in Virginia. He helped me find Jax.”
Maria stood at the front door. She didn’t say anything but just watched, her expression worried.
Jo-Jo glanced back at Maria. “She always looks upset.”
“She’s worried about you.”
“She doesn’t know me.”
“Better than you think. She’s also looked at me that way more than a few times. If you haven’t guessed, I can be hardheaded.”
That coaxed the faintest smile. “No shit?”
“I’ll be back this evening.”
Jo-Jo shrugged her shoulders, but Riley knew the girl was simply afraid to hope. “Whatever.”
Riley slid on her sunglasses and slid behind the wheel. She watched as Jo-Jo turned and slowly walked back toward the house. Her gait was uneven as she guarded her right side. Riley had cracked her ribs on a climb once, and they hurt like hell. Impossible to sleep and blinding pain if you sneezed. Tightening her fist, she imagined the judge sentencing Jax to dozens of years behind bars. But unless Jo-Jo was willing to press charges, he’d likely skate by with a year at the most.
Later that morning, when Riley was on I-95, her phone rang. It was Sharp.
“Credit card receipts show that Lenny left his home in Las Vegas five days ago and checked into a hotel about twenty miles from here. Rented the car you found at the park and bought one meal in a local restaurant. Other than that, he wasn’t on anyone’s radar.”
“What about phone records?” she asked.
“Called his bookie in Vegas several times and a few other numbers that turned out to be burners,” Sharp said.
“Have you considered asking Shield to run a search on the guy? His people might know a better way to trace them. They want to catch this guy.”
“And we don’t? Believe me, I want to bury him.”
“I hear ya. Keep me posted?”
“You do the same.”
“Will do.”
When she pulled into her driveway that evening and got out with Cooper, she’d ended a long shift topped off by another visit to see Jo-Jo. She spotted a dark SUV parked in front of her house. Bowman stepped out of the vehicle in no hurry.
She almost asked how he knew she would be here, then remembered the chip in her arm. Terrific. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Been thinking about the text you sent me last night.”
“Walk with me. Cooper needs to stretch his legs.”
“Sure.”
Down the street, she turned onto a small path that cut through the woods behind her house. “Checking in?”
“Afraid so.”
She laughed but heard the nervous buzz behind it. It was nice to have someone checking in on her, even if the arrangement was temporary.
“Sharp said the man who shot himself was Lenny Vincent. He’s from Vegas and a gambler,” said Riley.
“I know. I talked to Sharp an hour ago.”
“Why would he kill himself like that? The forensic team hasn’t finished its analysis yet, but there were hair fibers found in his car that appear to be from Cassie. The theory is that he killed her.”
“I don’t know. Andrews began reviewing his records this afternoon. He was in deep financial trouble, and he has a wife and two kids. I wish I knew the Shark’s end game.”
“How could Vincent know I would be the one to track him in the woods?” Riley asked.
“My guess was that it was a calculated risk.”
The Shark’s web never seemed to end. “I started reading the files you gave me, and I’ll finish them this evening.”
“Do you ever rest or drop your guard?”
“Rest?” Riley asked. “Now and then. Dropping the guard? Almost never.”
They walked in silence for several minutes, and when they got close to the woods, she let Cooper off his leash so he could run.
“Would you like coffee?” Riley asked.
“That would be great.”
When the dog returned, they moved inside and she unholstered her gun, placing it in a closet lockbox, then unstrapped her belt and hung it on a peg.
As they passed into the kitchen, she flipped on the lights. The kitchen table was scattered with the files she’d been reading last night.
As he leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed, watching her, she set a coffeepot to brew. “Did you have any trouble on the road today?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Good.”
She pulled the file of the first victim again and reread it. “Angie was seventeen years old, and she had been on her own since age fifteen. She worked in some of the casinos backstage as a grip for their stage shows, likely with a fake ID,” Riley said.
“If she worked in the casinos, it makes sense she’d have caught the Shark’s attention.”
She tapped her finger on the papers. “That’s not what bothered me. It was the fact that she worked with the stage crew.”
“Why would that bother you?”
“Remember the T-shirt she was wearing? It’s for a band called BANG.”
His eyes narrowed a fraction. “Andrews researched the band. They were handled by Byline Entertainment,” Bowman said. “He said they broke up five years ago.”
“Byline,” she said. “That’s the company leasing Hudson’s field.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Could it be that simple?”
He stepped closer and glanced down at the picture of the first victim. “Shield had an informant while he was working the cases in New Orleans. She was a casino dealer and a part-time singer. She was the one who first told Shield about the Shark and his possible connection to the dead girls. She was strangled to death shortly after she talked to Shield.”
“This guy has eyes and ears everywhere.”
Bowman pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number. “Andrews, this is Bowman. Check on a company called Byline Entertainment and cross-check their concert schedules with local murders that match the Shark’s MO. Great. Thanks.” He ended the call, carefully tucking his phone back into his pocket.
Riley moved to the cabinets and removed two mugs. She could feel his gaze on her, and simply the idea of him looking at her made her heart beat faster.
“He’s not going to touch you,” Bowman said. There was such confidence in his voice.
She faced him. “You sound sure of yourself. He’s eluded you and Shield for twelve years. Why would now be any different?”
“He’s moving very quickly. He’s killed two girls, Lewis, and I’d bet my life he is behind Lenny’s suicide. When a killer accelerates like this, the tendency is to get sloppy. I will catch him.”
She poured two cups of coffee and pulled a carton of half-and-half from the refrigerator. “Duke says I can make coffee taste like ice cream.”
“Black is fine.”
“Have you eaten? I’ve a frozen pizza. You’re always feeding me. Least I can do is toss a pizza in the oven for you.”
He stood close, his energy radiating with such power her skin tingled. “Thanks. But I already ate.”
“Probably best for us both. Hanna loves my frozen pizzas—but her standards aren’t super high.” She handed him his coffee and filled Cooper’s water and food bowls. As the dog crunched on his dinner, she faced Bowman.
He stood at the kitchen threshold, leaning against the doorjamb with a casualness that belied the intensity of his gaze. “You said Hanna is at a triathlon meet?”
“Yeah. She’s on a local team. The coach is great. She’s taken the kids to some high-level meets.”
“What’s Hanna’s best event?”
“Swimming. Considering she only learned how to swim three years ago, she’s amazing.”
“Is she getting any kind of scholarship money?”
“That’s the hope.”
A half smile tugged his lips. “Have her look at Vir