B.J. Daniels - Mercy

Laura nodded even though she didn’t eat like that anymore. Couldn’t. Being on the force, she had worked out all the time, kept active and could eat anything she wanted and did. Now...well, now things were different.

Once the waitress left again, he said, “Six months ago, I was put on cold cases down in the basement.” He nodded. “I know. I was lucky they didn’t send me packing.”

“I’m sure you’ll be back on fieldwork soon. Rourke, you’re too good to leave you stuck away much longer. If you can just hang in—”

He shook his head. “Surprisingly that’s not the problem. They’ve reinstated me for fieldwork. They want me back on the job.”

Frowning, she said, “Then I guess I don’t understand.”

“I found something in an old case file. Something I want to chase.”

This was the Rourke she knew so well. Once he got on the scent, he couldn’t let up until he caught what he was chasing. Wasn’t that why he’d ended up in the basement with the cold cases?

“I’ve been ordered to assist with an asset seizure on a drug case that any fool can handle.”

She stared at him. “This is why you invited me to lunch. You want me to talk you out of whatever it is you’re thinking of doing?” She shook her head, seeing her error as she studied his face. “No, you want me to encourage you to chase it.”

Laura couldn’t help being touched that her opinion meant that much, while at the same time, it really wouldn’t matter what she said. She was sure his mind was already made up. He just wanted that little push and from who better than his old partner?

Her gaze shifted to the file he’d placed on the seat of the chair next to him. What had he found that would make him risk his career over it? “So, let’s see it.”

“Maybe we should eat—”

Laura rolled her eyes. “You didn’t get me down here for the burgers or the Scotch. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

He gave her a sheepish grin as he reached for the file folder. “I found something—some old photographs,” he said with an excitement that would have been contagious when they’d worked together. He opened the folder and leaned toward her. She caught a whiff of his oh, so familiar aftershave. Her pulse thrummed. She loved seeing Rourke like this.

* * *

ROURKE FELT EVEN more anxious as he pulled out the photographs. He trusted Laura’s judgment. Now he worried that she’d tell him he was wrong, that he’d lost his edge. That he was about to make yet another mistake. Only this one would cost him his career and for nothing.

He slid the photographs from the folder and reached into his jacket pocket for the magnifying glass he’d brought. The photos were all of a group of onlookers standing behind yellow crime-scene tape. As he started to hand over the shots, his eye went to the one face, a face he hadn’t been able to forget from the first time he’d seen the young woman—and realized that he’d seen her somewhere before.

Laura took the three photographs and the magnifying glass. “What am I looking for?”

He didn’t answer as he watched her scan one photo, then another until she had looked at all three.

She frowned and studied each again, more slowly this time. “These are from three different crime scenes.”

He smiled. He’d been right to bring this to her. He just hoped she saw what he had—that one face in the crowd. What Laura might have lacked in polish as a homicide detective, she more than made up for in street sense and down-to-earth logic. She didn’t jump to conclusions. She took in information, digested it, considered and then assessed the situation with almost a coldhearted clarity.

Rourke had always trusted her judgment because of it. Not that he’d been happy at first about being partnered with a woman when he’d joined the Seattle P.D. Like a lot of other men, he’d been biased, believing that when the cards were down, even a good woman cop would be weaker than a man or may become emotional and be a liability.

He could laugh about that misconception now. Laura Fuller was tougher, more capable and less emotional in a tight spot than a lot of male cops he’d known. As he had in the past, he wondered now how she’d been raised. She’d never talked about growing up, but at first he’d suspected, because of how tough she was, that she might have been the only girl in a houseful of brothers. She’d never seemed to want to talk about what she offhandedly called her boring childhood, but then she’d mentioned once that she had a sister. He’d gotten the impression that the sister was her only family and that they weren’t close.

As inseparable as he and Laura had been in the past, he realized that he didn’t really know her. His fault, since all his focus had been on his career for as far back as he could remember.

The waiting now, though, was killing him.

He started to say something when Laura hesitated on a corner of a photo where a dark-haired young woman stood just beyond the crime-scene tape. He watched Laura spread the three photos on the table, going from one to the next. He could feel the change in her. She’d seen it!

His relief was almost palpable. He couldn’t help the surge of adrenaline that shot through him. If Laura saw it, then he had to be right. He was onto something.

“It’s the same woman, isn’t it?” he said, no longer able to contain himself.

As Laura studied the woman in the three photos, she unconsciously pushed a lock of her blond shoulder-length hair back behind one ear. He realized that she’d let her hair grow out since he’d last seen her and felt a wave of guilt. After she’d been shot and left the Seattle P.D., he’d checked on her often during the first few months. But since taking the job with the U.S. Marshals, he had gotten so busy he couldn’t remember the last time he’d called her.

She handed back the magnifying glass. “Three different neighborhoods? Three different homicides?”

Rourke nodded.

“And these are the best shots you have of her?”

“Unfortunately. But she’s the key to those three murders. I can feel it.”

“She might just be a murder junkie. Probably has a scanner next to her bed and responds whenever she hears the call.” Laura shrugged and pushed the photos back toward him. “Have you been able to identify her?”

“Not yet. I’ve hired a private investigator to canvass the neighborhoods where the murders were committed.”

She raised a brow in surprise as she realized he had been working outside the U.S. Marshals Service and apparently for some time. “Aren’t you taking this a little too personally?”

He’d already gone rogue, and now she knew it. “I just have a feeling about this one. I can’t let it go.” He looked down at the photos spread on the table, his eye going to the dark-haired woman. Her face had been haunting him for weeks. When he closed his eyes at night...

She shook her head. “What are you doing, Rourke?”

He could hear the skepticism in her voice. He wished now that he’d ordered a drink. He could use it. Laura thought he was looking for a lead where there wasn’t one. Unfortunately, his boss thought the same thing.

He’d never been plagued with self-doubt when it came to his instincts. But after almost costing a man his life...

“Rourke, what am I really doing here?” Laura asked.

* * *

“I NEED YOUR HELP,” Rourke said, leaning toward her conspiratorially. “I remembered that your background was psychology and criminology. Did I hear correctly that you’re doing freelance profiling for the Seattle P.D.?”

Laura shouldn’t have been surprised that he knew this, but she was. Just as she shouldn’t have been disappointed that he’d asked her to dinner because he wanted her help on a case.