Donahue nodded again. “The shooter not only brought a gun to the condo, but he procured hollow-point bullets. He planned to kill, if he fired.”
“He killed Tomlinson from behind,” Olivia said. “He had to walk through the office door and around his desk. Tomlinson didn’t happen on him like Weems did. He went there to kill Tomlinson. But why? And assuming this isn’t really about environmental arson, why hide behind it?”
“Go find out,” Abbott said. “Keep me informed. Be back at five. Be careful.”
Everyone stood to go, then halted when the office door opened and Faye, their clerk, stuck her head in. “Turn on the TV. Channel Eight. They know about the ball.”
With an oath, Abbott turned on the television, where a reporter stood in front of the wreckage of Tomlinson’s warehouse, holding an orange in one hand.
“Sources tell us that the ball was about the size of this orange. They also tell us that a similar ball was found in the condo fire. The ball is solid glass, with the map of the earth etched on its surface,” the reporter said. “This is important, as it links these fires to the infamous SPOT organization, which destroyed an office building twelve years ago, leaving one woman dead. SPOT’s leader, Preston Moss, is still wanted for the fire and the woman’s death. Moss disappeared and has not been seen since.”
Abbott muted the sound when they rolled old footage. “Goddammit,” he snarled.
“It was all over the fire department, Bruce,” Olivia said. “I told you yesterday it was just a matter of time.”
“I know, but I was hoping for more time. This changes nothing about our plans, so go do what you were going to do. I’ll deal with the press. Barlow, please impress on all the firefighters the importance of keeping quiet on this story.”
“They know, Captain,” Barlow said. “If the leak came out of the fire department, I’m sure they’ll deal with it appropriately. But I’ll tell them again.”
“That firefighter,” Abbott said, “the one who caught the ball. What was his name?”
“David Hunter,” Olivia said. “I’ll call him, warn him.”
“Fine.” Abbott waved them to the door. “Go, get me some answers.”
Chapter Thirteen
Tuesday, September 21, 9:25 a.m.
David pulled his pickup truck in front of a big sign that read K-9 TRAINING, and below it hung a much smaller sign in a child’s script that read… AND DOGGY DAY CARE.
“Come,” he said and Olivia’s German shepard jumped from his truck and ran to the door. Assuming the dog knew the way, David followed. He knocked, but there was no answer. The door was unlocked, so he went in, setting off a beep and a flashing light overhead.
“Hello?” he called. He could hear dogs barking from somewhere behind the wall. There was a reception counter, but no receptionist. Then he heard it-a small moan of pain. He looked down at Mojo, saw the dog’s ears had pricked up. He’d heard it, too.
David saw a woman, facedown on the desk, red hair hanging down her back, her arms dangling uselessly at her sides. “Ma’am?” he said but she didn’t respond. He took her arm to check her pulse, then jumped back when she leapt to her feet, fists clenched.
“Who are you?” she demanded and once he’d recovered his composure, he immediately recognized her from one of the pictures on Olivia’s mantel.
“David Hunter,” he said. “You’re Brie, Olivia’s friend.”
She narrowed dark brown eyes. “You’re the jerk.”
David rolled his eyes. “Not anymore,” he said.
“Wait.” She stumbled to her desk, finding what looked like two hearing aids. Popping one behind each ear, she squinted at his face. “Did you say ‘not anymore’?”
She was hearing impaired, he realized, and hadn’t heard him come in. “I did. See, she even trusted me with him.” He patted the dog’s head, and Mojo licked his hand.
“You must be a sweet talker to have earned a second chance after what you did.”
Embarrassed, his cheeks heated. “I heard someone moaning.”
She sank into her chair. “That would have been me. Dying. Don’t talk so loud.”
He smiled. “You must have been in on the major mojitos last night.”
She put her face back down on the desk. “Don’t say that word ever again.”
“I might be able to help,” he said.
Blearily she looked up at him. “You have a gun?”
“Give me your hand.” He put pressure against the base of her forefinger.
“Voodoo?” she mumbled.
“Acupressure. It should help the nausea.”
“Oh. Paige does that.”
“I know.”
One brown eye opened, then narrowed. “How do you know?”
“Because I know her from the dojo. We train together.”
“Ohhhh. So that’s what was up with her last night. I bet Liv’s mad.”
“Jury’s still out on that. Any better?”
“Maybe. Why did you scream another woman’s name when Liv was doing you?”
For a moment the question left him speechless. “Because I’m a jerk.”
“Very good answer,” she mumbled. “For a jerk, you have really good hands.”
“Thank you,” he said dryly. “Next time, maybe you shouldn’t have so many mojitos.”
“And maybe next time you should lay off the champagne,” she shot back.
He winced. “Touché. Can I leave the dog with you?”
“Of course. What are your intentions toward Liv?” she asked.
“Honorable.” He thought about what he hoped would happen later. “Mostly.”
One side of her mouth lifted. “All right. But she’s been hurt before. Don’t hurt her.”
“I’m trying not to.”
“I believe you. But even if you didn’t mean to, you hit her where it hurt the most.”
“I know. I know her fiancé left her for an old lover. And then I said… what I said.”
“Which was bad. But your being friends with Paige first was just the cherry on top.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“Because Paige is like a honey bee. It’s a little ego deflating, walking next to her. Worse for Liv, because she doesn’t see herself like everyone else does.”
“Why?”
“From what I’ve seen, some of it was her mom. She was… demanding.”
“She told me her mother died the year before her father,” David remembered. “But she talked like she’d loved her mother.”
“She did. But life was tense in their house. It can’t have been easy raising a kid alone-and an illegitimate one at that-back then. Her mom was always, ‘Get an education, get a scholarship. Don’t depend on your face, use your brain.’”
“Good advice,” David said cautiously. “Isn’t it?”
“When it’s balanced. From what I’ve gathered during past mojito sessions, and what I saw myself, Liv’s mom put down her looks and nothing she did was good enough.”
“Olivia strongly resembles her father, just like Mia,” David said. “That must have been hard for her mother, too, to look at her daughter and see the man who’d tossed her aside. Still, that doesn’t make it less wrong or any easier for Olivia to get past.”
“True. But I’m sure you’ll find a way to make Liv feel really pretty. Just say her name this time. Olivia. Say it with me now. O-li-vi-a.”
David’s cheeks grew warm again. “I’m going now. What about the dog?”
“I’ll keep Mojo with me. He was mine first, you know. But he flunked training academy and needed a home. Olivia needed company after Doug left. It worked out. Hey, I heard you made a damn good save at the condo.”
“How did you hear that?”
“My dad was at the warehouse fire last night. He’s the vet taking care of that drugged guard dog. He said it was all the gossip. So, you play ball?”
“Went to school on a baseball scholarship.” For one disastrous semester. “Why?”