“I gotta say, the guy’s got balls,” Diaz said, reading her mind, as usual.
“I know.”
“I mean, an office building in broad daylight? With a bodyguard right there? It’s almost like he’s daring us to catch him.”
“Or he doesn’t think we can.”
“I’ve been nosing around about Anatoly Markov,” Diaz said. “Word is, people who work for him are accident-prone. One of his dock workers got hit by a truck last year. Another fell off a crane.”
“No kidding?”
“Yeah. I talked to a detective in Channelview. They investigated foul play but could never prove it. Evidently, Markov’s son Andre is involved in the business, but he’s not really suited for it.”
“Why not?”
“I hear he’s a hothead. When he’s not busy wrecking cars and getting into fights, he puts a lot of money up his nose.”
Charlotte shook her head. “What’d I tell you about family businesses? What do you want to bet we find out this whole mess comes down to Anatoly trying to protect his kid from his own stupidity?”
The bartender delivered Diaz’s drink with a smile. He sipped it glumly, and Charlotte knew he’d much rather be drinking a beer.
“So what’s left tonight?” he asked. “And do you need a wingman?”
“Nah, I got it. I just have to stop by the Metropolitan Hotel and interview those Wolfe agents. They’re observant. Maybe they can tell us something useful.”
“I’d say they’re a hell of a lot better than Quinn’s people. His guy didn’t even pull his weapon before his client was on the ground. You believe that?”
“You get what you pay for,” she said. “Wolfe Sec is the best of the best, but they’re expensive, and Quinn’s buried in legal bills in addition to everything else.”
“Why don’t you let me do the interviews?” He nodded at her shoulder. “You go home and ice that injury.”
“I can handle it.”
“I know you can handle it. I’m offering to do it for you.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”
“Because. I know you’ve had a shit day, and I know you hate hospitals. You wouldn’t have gone in unless you were in serious pain. You should put some ice on it and call it a night.”
She watched him, trying to think of something to say that didn’t sound sappy.
“I don’t deserve you, Diaz.”
“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.” He took a big sip of his drink and plunked it onto the bar. “Such as . . . what did you do to piss off McGrath?”
Charlotte didn’t know, but she smiled at the thought. “He’s pissed off?”
“He showed up in the bull pen an hour ago, flinging files and cursing your name. What’d you do?”
“Maybe he’s mad about his murder case not being wrapped up with a nice red bow, like he thought it was.”
“You think they collared the wrong guy?” Diaz asked.
“Don’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“How else would you explain the attempted assassination of Quinn’s entire legal team and the theft of their work product just before trial?” Charlotte asked. “And what about the murder of Shelly Chandler, who was doing errands for the defense? Seems pretty obvious someone is hiding something. And that person is hell-bent on keeping Quinn’s trial from happening.”
“You’re saying they’re afraid of exposure?”
“Exactly.”
“But if this was all about Gavin Quinn, why not take him out a long time ago? Why wait for his trial to start?”
“Man’s been under house arrest. He’s had security. His trip downtown today was the first time he’s been in public in months, and it was a scheduled appearance. It would have been easy for someone to tail him from the courthouse to his lawyer’s office for lunch, then set up an ambush there in the lobby.”
Diaz combed his hand through his hair. He looked almost as whipped as she was. But at least he wasn’t going home with a black-and-blue shoulder. She’d crashed hard today, harder than she’d realized when she’d been hot on the heels of her suspect. She’d thought she might have fractured something, but an X-ray had ruled out broken bones, so it was only a nasty bruise.
Diaz had guessed right that she’d had a shit day. What she needed now was a big dinner, a hot bubble bath, and a solid night’s sleep with no interruptions. But given her luck lately, she’d probably get a callout the minute her head hit the pillow.
The bartender was back with a brown paper bag.
“Bud’s Rib Combo, double coleslaw?” she asked.
“That’s me.” Charlotte handed her a credit card as Diaz took out his phone.
“Crap,” he muttered.
“What?”
“The sergeant wants us back. You got this, too.”
“Does he say what it’s about?” Charlotte pulled out her phone to read the message.
“No, but he’s also got McGrath on here, so I bet it’s about the Quinn case. I hope he didn’t croak in the hospital.”
Charlotte skimmed the message, and her pulse picked up as she read the list of names. “Grant’s on here, too.”
“Grant, the CSI guy?”
“Yep.” She slid off her bar stool. “I think I know what this is about.”
“What? And why are you smiling?”
“I think we may have finally caught a break.”
Jeremy answered his phone as he crossed the hotel lobby.
“Where are you?” Erik asked.
“Just starting my shift. Why?”
“You’re at the hotel?”
“Yeah.”
“Meet me by the bar. I just did a walk-through with the security chief.”
Jeremy checked his watch, annoyed. He didn’t want to talk to Erik right now. He wanted to talk to Kira. He hadn’t seen her since they’d parted ways at the police station, and she’d been looking pretty shaky.
Erik stood beside the hotel bar, scrolling through messages on his phone.
“How’d it go at the station?” he asked Jeremy.
“Fine. No new leads from the security tapes.”
“I heard. Listen, we talked to the hotel manager. They’ve approved two extra cameras for both the main driveway and the employee entrance to the property. Keith just got started installing them.”
“I thought he was with Kira?”
“Trent’s with her. There they are now.”
Jeremy turned to see Kira crossing the lobby with Trent at her side. She caught Jeremy’s eye and changed directions. She wore workout gear and had a white towel around her neck, as though she’d just jumped off a treadmill.
“Hey, you’re back,” she said.
“I thought you were upstairs.”
“I was getting antsy, so I decided to work out.”
Jeremy shot Trent a look.
“We were in the spin room,” Kira said. “It was empty. We had the place to ourselves.”
Jeremy gazed down at her, swallowing all the words he wanted to say. Her cheeks were flushed from exertion, and her hair was damp.
“Are you on tonight?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“You want to come up with us?”
“I’ll be up in a minute.”
Her brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay, whatever.”
She rolled her eyes and walked off with Trent, and Jeremy stared after them.
“He scoped it out beforehand.”
Jeremy looked at Erik. “What’s that?”
“The fitness room.”
Jeremy looked at his friend and realized his frustration must be written all over his face. So what if Trent had scoped it out ahead of time? Taking her down there at all was an unnecessary risk, and he never should have done it. Knowing Kira, she’d been determined to get her way and probably poured on the charm until he agreed.