L. Sellers - The Gauntlet Assassin

Lara didn’t plan to do that. She felt guilty, knowing she would make it harder for whoever investigated Kirsten’s death, but she would make up for it by looking for Bremmer herself. Lara spoke Morton’s number into her iCom, not trusting her shaky fingers to key it in: It’s Lara Evans from Eugene. My roommate is dead, and I think your lover, or whoever it was that shot at you, followed me here and tried to silence me. I think he killed Kirsten by mistake.

She scanned the text, decided it was fine and said, “Send.”

Morton hadn’t responded to her last message about smoothing things over with the director, so Lara had no idea when or if she would hear from him. How long should she wait? Lara decided to contact Minda Walters if she didn’t hear from the commissioner in the next five or ten minutes. The director would not be pleased, but she would want to be informed in advance.

While she waited, Lara dug out her all-purpose tool and her duct tape. She unscrewed the vent in the bathroom ceiling and taped the gun to the side of the metal pipe. Unless cops were looking for drugs, they wouldn’t search there. Anxiety built steadily as she fastened the cover back in place. How long would she be without the gun? Six hours? Twenty-four? Lara dug in her bag for her Mace, then changed into jeans.

She waited five minutes, checked her iCom even though it hadn’t beeped, then sat down at the NetCom. She looked at recent incoming messages, found the one Minda had sent that morning, and hit Reply. The message went straight to Minda’s hotel room/office, and after eight beeps, the director’s face appeared in the corner. She wore a silky shirt that looked like a pajama top but her tattooed makeup gave her a wide-awake look. Lara felt sweaty and disheveled from her run.

“What is it, Lara? It’s inappropriate to contact me at this hour unless you have an emergency.”

“Kirsten’s dead. I came back from a run and found her on the floor.”

“Dear God.” The director’s hand flew to her face. For three seconds, she seemed stunned, then she kicked into program-director mode. “What does she look like? Has she been shot? Is she a bloody mess?”

“There are no obvious wounds. I think she might have been tasered.”

A moment of silence.

“If I had done it, I wouldn’t be calling you. It looks like random violence.”

“Have you called the police?”

“No, I thought you might want to handle it.”

“Stay in the room. I’ll make the call and handle the media.” Minda’s image disappeared. Lara thought it was odd that the director expected her to sit in a room with a dead body, but Minda knew all of their bios, including the fact that Lara had been a homicide detective. Her iCom beeped and she snatched it from the desk.

The commissioner’s face appeared in the small screen, so Lara tapped the Speaker option. “Sorry for the bad news. I just told Minda and she’s calling the police.”

“You need to keep your theories to yourself.” Morton spoke like a man used to making people jump. Lara didn’t like it, but she let him finish. “Richard Bremmer didn’t kill your roommate. That’s nonsense, so please don’t mention it to the police. It was probably Kirsten’s boyfriend or some guy she blew off.”

“I saw Bremmer in the back of the room at the orientation this morning. He either followed you here or he followed me. Someone asked about me at the hotel desk before I arrived. I think I’m in danger.”

Morton scowled. “I’ll get you some protection. It’ll seem natural after your roommate was killed.”

“Thank you.” Lara knew it was time to confront him. “The guy who shot you, he’s not really your lover, is he? There’s something else going on.”

“He is my boyfriend and there’s nothing nefarious. You spent too many years as a cop and now you’re paranoid.”

“Or just finely tuned to bullshit. Call him off me, whoever he is.”

“I said I’d get you protection.”

“What I need is for you to make sure the cops don’t hold me long enough to miss the Puzzle on Wednesday. They’ll consider me a suspect.”

“I don’t have much clout with law enforcement, but I’ll do what I can. Please keep quiet about our earlier encounter.”

“Okay.” Lara paused. “For now. If they charge me with murder, I’ll tell them everything.”

“Don’t! I have to go, Minda’s messaging me.” Morton cut her off, and Lara sat down on the couch to plan what she would say when the police showed up.

Minda arrived first, bursting in without knocking. She had a cameraman with her, as always. Lara didn’t move from the couch. From the hall, Minda glanced over at her and said, “We may or may not use this footage, depending on how this incident plays out in the ratings, but we have to film it.”

“You should stay out of the crime scene.” Lara stayed put. She wanted no part of this broadcast.

Minda turned back to her cameraman, gave him a few directions, then recorded a short segment directed to the viewers, a video clip they might never see.

The camera guy came in for a close-up of the body and Lara winced. If the killer had dropped any trace evidence, it could be ruined or compromised by contamination. This would be bad for the crime scene tech who processed the scene…if they still sent technicians out. Maybe the detectives had to do all of it now. Most local law enforcement budgets had cut everything and everyone considered nonessential.

A police officer stepped into the room. “Shut off that camera and get away from the body.” The stocky Hispanic cop didn’t shout, but he carried an authority that few would defy. The cameraman started to move further into the room. This time, the officer shouted. “No! Out in the hall. But don’t leave.”

The camera guy hustled past the cop and out the door. The officer looked over at Lara. “You’re the roommate who found the body?”

“Yes.”

“Stay there. A detective will be here to talk to you in minute.” He turned to Minda in the hallway. “Who are you?”

“Minda Walters, the director of the Gauntlet.”

“Were you with her when she found the body?”

“No. Lara informed me that Kirsten was dead, and I came down to see the situation.”

“Where were you before?”

“In my room here at the hotel.”

“Alone?”

“Yes, but I was involved in a video chat with several people who can testify that I didn’t leave my room until I heard from Lara.”

“Please go back to your room and stay there until another officer arrives and can clear you.” He sent the cameraman away with the same directions, then stepped back into the hall to stand guard. The presence of only one patrol officer at a homicide was indicative that the D.C. police had suffered similar budget cuts as Oregon had.

Twenty minutes later, two plainclothes detectives arrived, and Lara suspected the presence of the second was only because the victim was a Gauntlet contestant. The high-profile nature of the crime meant solving this one would be a priority. Her gut tightened at the thought. Cops under pressure looked for easy solutions. In this case, that would mean to blame her.

The detectives conferred with the uniform officer in the hall, then one started knocking on doors, while the other took photos of Kirsten’s body. Lara watched him work, noting the gentle expression on his face as he examined the victim’s hands and upper chest. He was six-two with close-cropped silver hair and wore a black microfiber jacket over his broad torso. Lara noticed his wide-spaced hazel eyes and strong chin, experiencing a tug she hadn’t felt in a long time. Why did she always have such a thing for good-looking cops? Because relationships with them were so perilous?