His gaze flew to her. “I was on my way home. I saw the lights. That was just chance.”

Kenton leaned forward. “Did you smell the alcohol on his breath?”

He flinched. “I wasn’t working the case! There were other units already there, and he was being loaded into the ambulance by the time I—”

“You smelled the booze. You knew what he’d done.” Kenton flipped open Skofield’s file. “And he got away, didn’t he? Got away with murder.”

“He was paralyzed, stuck in that chair, trapped in his house—”

“But he was alive.” Sam again. “That’s a whole lot more than we can say for Rhonda.” She crept to the table. “And you know it, don’t you? I bet you pulled his file as soon as you got back to the office. You saw all the DUIs. You knew what he was. He killed that woman. He should have been rotting in jail, and that ate you up, didn’t it?”

“The DA’s office had the evidence,” he snapped. “They’re the ones who take the cases. If they didn’t want to press for a murder conviction—”

“Then there wasn’t anything you could do,” Sam murmured.

A nod.

“Well,” Kenton drawled slowly, “there actually were a few things you could do.” He waited for Malone’s gaze to come back to him. “Or rather, a few things Phoenix could do.”

“I am not f**king Phoenix.”

Monica shut the door behind her. “What have I missed?”

Ramirez shook his head. “Not much yet. It looks like the show is just getting started.”

Her eyes narrowed when she caught sight of Sam. In interrogation? Since when?

“Did it piss you off to see them all get away with it? Breaking the law, hurting innocents—did that just make you furious?” Kenton’s voice fired at the cop.

Monica edged toward the viewing window to get a better view of Peter Malone’s body language. Definitely pissed. And nervous. His eyes darted back toward her, or rather, to the two-way mirror. Then he looked back at Kenton.

“I’ve been working this case with you, man. I’ve been trying to find him! I’ve been here.” Peter leaned forward now. “Maybe you’re the one who’s pissed. Your witness is dead and you’re looking to blame someone.”

Beside Ramirez, Captain Lawrence flinched.

Kenton just stared back at Malone.

The cop’s eyes narrowed. “Sure hope you plan to do a better job of watching Lora’s ass. I’d hate to see her wind up like—”

Kenton sprang to his feet and lunged across the table with his arms out and his hands fisted.

Oh, hell. “Ramirez… get in there!”

But Sam had Kenton. She grabbed his arm. “Kenton, easy.”

Monica could tell by his face that easy was the last thing Kenton was feeling.

“Are you threatening her?” Kenton demanded in a voice that was barely human.

“I’d never threaten, Lora. She’s my friend. I want her safe.”

“Do you?” Still that low rumble. “Or do you just want her to pay? Is she guilty, too? Because she rejected you? Just once, right? That’s all you said she wanted.”

Monica saw the cop’s hands flex, as if getting ready for a punch. Kenton was pushing all the right buttons.

Let’s see what happens when Malone’s control breaks.

“I wouldn’t hurt her!”

“Then tell us where you were,” Sam said. So calm in the face of that male storm. “For every kill, give us an alibi.” Her quiet voice seemed to settle Kenton.

Kenton took a deep breath and slowly eased away from her and back into his chair. “That’s right, that’s all you have to do. You’re innocent? We’re wasting our time? Then tell us where you were and all this goes away.”

“Start with Jennifer.” Sam pushed her file across the table. “Where were you on the eighteenth of October?”

“I’m supposed to remember that?”

“Yeah,” Kenton told him. “You are.”

The guy spun away and faced the mirror.

Monica studied him and noted the tense lines on Malone’s face. A lot of rage. And some fear. Now why would the fear be there? Phoenix didn’t strike her as a man who was afraid.

More like desperate for attention. Fame. He’d called the news station because he wanted his fifteen minutes. He’d demanded them.

Then attacked Lora because he hadn’t gotten them.

“You’re not gonna believe this, but I was fishing at my uncle’s cabin near Pontlock Lake.”

“And I’m not going to believe it because?”

Malone’s shoulders drooped a bit. “I was alone. I remember—I remember the date because my captain had to call me in.”

“Called on his cell phone,” the gravelly voice of Captain Lawrence told her. They were the first words he’d said the whole time that she’d been in the room.

Monica glanced over at him, brows rising. “He didn’t have a direct line at the cabin?”

The captain shook his head. Deep grooves bracketed his mouth and eyes. The captain looked older today. Much, much older. And that arrogance she’d seen before? Gone.

“What about the others?” Sam asked, flipping through the files. “Tom Hatchen? Charlie Skofield—”

“Dammit, I was here!”

“Um, no.” Sam looked up at him. “I checked the station log. You were off-duty for all those attacks.”

“No, no.” He turned, giving Monica a side profile view as he ran his hand through his hair again. “Wait, wait! I was here, don’t you remember? When the call came in from Phoenix? I was here, so there’s no way it could have been me! We’d just finished up that damn briefing and—”

“You weren’t in the bullpen when the call came in,” Monica murmured even though she knew that he couldn’t hear her. Because as soon as she’d heard Phoenix’s voice, she’d turned and scanned the area. She’d talked to Peter just moments before, but he hadn’t been there.

“It would have been easy enough to duck outside, find a quiet place, and make a sixty-second call.” Kenton cocked his head. “Or did you think we hadn’t considered that possibility? You were there before he called, there after, but no one remembers seeing you exactly when the call came in.”

“This is bullshit!”

“So you’ve said.” One shoulder lifted. “Just give us an alibi. That’s all we need.”

“How about today?” Sam circled around the table and headed toward him. “Tell us where you were when Bob Kyle was killed.”

His lips pressed together.

“You went to the fire station.” Kenton gave him the reminder, not that Monica thought the guy actually needed one. “You left. Where’d you go?”

“Lora’s. You found me there. You know exactly where I was.”

“You’ve got some time unaccounted for there, Malone.”

Killing time?

Malone swallowed. “After I left the fire station, I went straight to Lora’s place.”

“Shit.” The curse came from the captain. “I’m getting him a union rep. We’re not doing this—”

“I’m not gonna stand by and let a friend die.” Malone’s chin was up again. “I went back to search her property, and I was there the whole damn time!”

“Then you’d better hope a neighbor saw you.” Kenton’s body was bow tight. “Because, Malone, it’s not looking good for you. Not good at all.”

“This is one hell of a mess.” Those were the first words Kenton spoke when he and Sam entered the viewing room.

“That’s my cop you’re trying to tear apart in there.” Captain Lawrence finally tried to defend Malone. Right. Too little, too late. “He’s cooperated and answered your questions—”

“And didn’t give me a single alibi,” Kenton snapped. He wasn’t in the mood for any of the captain’s bull. Not then. Not when he could still picture Bob Kyle’s charred remains. “Your detective is the picture of cooperation.” His eyes never left Monica’s face. “What did you see?”

“Not enough.” She exhaled and began to pace with quick, long strides. “He didn’t slip up, not once. He’s angry, but he’s still controlled.”

Yeah, that’s exactly what Kenton had thought. Malone was angry, but it didn’t seem to be the killing rage of a murderer. Instead, the guy just seemed pissed that he was being questioned. Malone had met his stare for most of the interview. There’d been no nervous gestures or slip-ups with his story.

“I’m sending men to Lora Spade’s neighborhood.” Lawrence gave a decisive nod, and it was the first decisive thing Kenton had seen the guy do since he’d f**ked up the media interview and spilled too much information. “They’ll find a witness. My man will be cleared.”

Then the captain was gone. He rushed out, probably so he wouldn’t have to keep looking them in the eyes.

Kenton waited. One beat. Two. When he was sure they had privacy, he said, “Come on, Monica, give me something that I can use against this guy.”

“He could be Phoenix.” One shoulder lifted, then fell. “But I need more. I can’t say yet what I believe.”

Fuck. Not helpful. “Hell.”

“His dad died in a fire,” Jon said. “He hangs out with firefighters. He slept with Kenton’s girl—uh, sorry, Kenton. The guy has means, and he has motive. One hell of a lot of motive.”

“Going after criminals.” Sam nodded. “That’s definitely motive for a cop.”

“More than just cops.” Monica glanced over at Malone. He’d just sat down. He turned his chair toward the glass and stared.

Not that he could see anything.

“How long are we gonna be able to keep him?” Sam asked.

Kenton stared back at Malone. Had the guy been threatening Lora? Rage bubbled inside him, nearly choking him. “We’re keeping him until Captain Lawrence’s men get back, and we see what we’ve got.” He glanced at Jon. “And then, if we cut him loose, I think we need to cover our bases.” This wasn’t a job that he wanted the Charlottesville PD handling.

A nod from Jon. “Babysitting duty.”

“You are the best when it comes to trailing.”

“Guess while I’m doing that, you’ll be watching Lora’s ass, huh?”

“Damn straight.” Because that gnawing in his gut told him that she wasn’t safe. “I’m heading to the fire station now.” Garrison and the others could just deal with it.

“I might take another go at our detective.” Monica’s voice was quiet, contemplative. “Not making any promises, but I’ll see what I can get.”

Good. “Call me. If you find out anything, call.”

“You know I will.” Her gaze went back to the cop. “If I can get him to break.”

CHAPTER Seventeen

Chaos ruled at the fire station. Even as Kenton jumped from his vehicle, a fire truck swiped by him, sirens blazing.

Phoenix.

He ran for the station’s entrance and shoved open the front doors. “Lora!” He shouted her name as he raced toward the check-in desk.

“She’s gone.”

His gaze whipped to the right. Max walked out, shaking his head. “She was on the truck.”

Kenton’s heart shoved into his chest. “Was it—” No, no, Monica would have called him if they’d gotten a tip-off from Phoenix.

But Phoenix hadn’t called in Kyle’s death. There’d been no taunts about saving the victim. No challenge to the firefighters to get there first.

Could the bastard be changing his rules?

Fuck, yeah, he had changed the rules. Kyle hadn’t deserved any “punishment.” Phoenix had torched him to cover his own ass.

“It’s a house fire on Delaney Boulevard.” Max licked his lips. “We got word that there could be some kids inside. A neighbor called it in. She didn’t know if the family had gotten out. The woman just saw the flames.”

Kenton took a breath. She’s safe. Doing her job.

“The kids—they’re always hard for Lora. For all of us.” Max rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Damn but I hope they get them out.”

So did he.

“Those cops you had tailing her—they’re on the way to the scene.”

They’d damn well better stay close. “Delaney Boulevard?”

A quick nod.

And Kenton knew that he’d be chasing a fire truck.

Because it could be a trap. Just like the others.

Luke opened the door of the viewing room. He’d stayed back and let the team on task do their jobs. But it was quiet now. The captain was long gone, and Ramirez was on the phone with Hyde, briefing the boss on the body that they’d found today and on the detective they’d just grilled.

Sam watched Monica begin her interrogation in the adjacent room. “I don’t want it to be him,” Sam said.

“I know.”

“I want people to just be what they should be.” Softer. “He should be a good cop.”

Luke watched through the glass as Monica pulled out a chair and sat in front of Malone. Someone had turned the sound off in this room so he couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Luke could see the movement of Monica’s lips. “Maybe he is.”