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  I’m FREE! And I can’t WAIT until I see you again!

  Shit, she thought. Howard. It’s got to be.

  It was the first thought in her head and she found herself fighting it off right away. Just like the brutality of the nail-gun murder, something about such a brash statement—sending a dead cat through an apartment window with a threatening note—did not seem like something Howard Randall would do.

  “What’s it say?” Rose asked, stepping closer. She looked like she was on the verge of tears.

  “It’s just a dumb threat.”

  “From who?”

  Rather than answer Rose, she grabbed her cell phone from the couch and called O’Malley.

  From who? Rose had asked.

  And as the phone began to ring in Avery’s ear, as much as she tried to fight it, there only seemed to be one plausible answer.

  Howard Randall.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Quite a lot happened in the twelve minutes it took for O’Malley to show up. For starters, the patrol car from the A1 was not the first vehicle to arrive. A news van came to a screeching halt in front of Avery’s apartment building. She watched three people get out from her broken window: a reporter, a cameraman, and a tech guy, unspooling cable from the back of the van.

  “Shit,” Avery said.

  The news crew was nearly set and ready to go when O’Malley pulled up. Another car came inching in behind him, nearly careening into the news van. She wasn’t at all surprised to see Finley getting out. Connelly was apparently positioning Finley to move up in the ranks—perhaps to even fill Ramirez’s shoes.

  She scowled at the news van as she watched Finley give the reporter a piece of his mind. There was some brief bickering between them before Finley and O’Malley walked out of sight, toward the stairs that would take them to Avery’s apartment.

  The moment they knocked on the door, Avery answered it and did not give them a chance to say anything before she let out her concerns and frustrations.

  “O’Malley, what the hell? I called you directly rather than the station to avoid the news crews. What’s their deal, anyway?”

  “Their deal is that they’re salivating over Howard Randall escaping. And they know you are a familiar face in his history. So they’re keeping their eyes on you. I’m guessing this particular crew outside has a scanner.”

  “Cell phone calls?” Avery asked.

  “No. Look, I had to report this to the precinct. It’s too high profile. They must have picked it up over radio chatter.”

  Avery wanted to be furious, but she knew how hard it could be to communicate covertly when a frenzied media was hard at work to break a story. She glared down at the news crew, saw them filming a segment—saying only God knew what. As she watched, another news vehicle pulled up, this one a small-bodied SUV.

  O’Malley and Finley looked over the brick, cat, and broken glass. Avery had left the note on the floor, not wanting paper that had been on a cat carcass to sit on her kitchen counter or coffee table.

  “I hate to say it,” Finley said, “but this looks academic. I mean…I’m free. Who else could it be, Avery?”

  “I don’t know. But…I know you might have a hard time believing this, but it just doesn’t seem like something Howard would do.”

  “The old Howard Randall, maybe,” O’Malley said. “But who knows how he changed in prison?”

  “Wait,” Rose said. “I don’t get it. Mom got this guy off when she represented him as his attorney. Why would he come after her? You’d think he’d be thankful.”

  “You’d think so,” O’Malley said. “But that’s not how the criminal mind works.”

  “He’s right,” Avery said, cutting O’Malley off before he could go on a tirade. “Someone like Howard would see anyone that was involved in the entire process as a threat—even if it was the attorney that managed to get him off. But Howard…this isn’t like him. On those few times I went to ask for his help he was…I don’t know…sociable. If he harbored any ill intent toward me, he hid it exceptionally well.”

  “Of course he did,” O’Malley said. “You think his escape was a fluke accident? I bet you anything this creep had been planning it for months. Maybe even from his first day there. And if he planned on escaping and somehow coming after you or, at the very least, involving you in some deranged plot, why the hell would he let you know it?”

  Avery wanted to argue but she could clearly see where he was coming from. He had every reason to think that this note had come from Howard. And she also knew that the city’s inherent fear of his escape made it easy for him and Connelly to point the finger in Howard’s direction for the nail gun murder.

  “Look, let’s just put all the Howard Randall stuff aside for the moment,” she said. “Whether it was Howard or not, someone chucked this thing through my window. I just thought it would be best to go through the appropriate channels since it’s clear Connelly wants me as far away from anything that might be Howard related as possible.”

  “I hear that,” Finley said. “I got him on the horn on the way here. He’s tied up with some business with the mayor and the press right now.”

  “About Howard Randall?”

  Finley nodded.

  “Good God,” Avery said. “This is getting ridiculous.”

  “Well, then,” O’Malley said, “you’re really not going to like what he has ordered me to do.”

  She waited for O’Malley to tell her. She could tell that he was uncomfortable—that he’d much rather have Connelly here to deliver the order himself. Finally, he sighed and said: “He wants us to relocate you for a few days. Even if Randall didn’t throw this brick, it’s clear that someone has targeted you and is threatening you. And yes…it’s probably because he escaped. I hate to tell you, but you’re not looking good in this situation. You got him off all those years ago…sent him off into a killing spree. A lot of people—”

  “That’s fucking dumb,” Rose spat. “People think my mom has something to do with his escape?”

  “There are some that have taken it to those extremes, yes,” O’Malley admitted. “Fortunately, there have only been murmurs of it on the news. Have you not seen any of it?” he asked, looking at Avery.

  She thought of those hazed out moments in Ramirez’s hospital room. The TV had been on and she’d seen Howard’s face, getting the gist of the reports through the ticker at the bottom of the screen. But she had never seen her name; she’d never expected to. Finally, she shook her head in response to O’Malley’s question.

  “Well, whatever your feelings on it, I happen to think he’s absolutely right. You need to relocate until this dies down. Let’s say the person that threw this brick isn’t Howard. That means some random citizen threw it. Some disgruntled jerk that thinks you’re responsible for a killer being on the loose. So where to?” O’Malley said. “Think it over while you pack a few bags. Finley and I will be happy to take you wherever you need to go.”

  “No need to think,” she said. “I already have a place in mind.”

  ***

  They arrived at Ramirez’s apartment a half an hour later. It had taken her less than ten minutes to pack the essentials. Rose had also come along, at the insistence of both Avery and O’Malley. After some brief and heated discussion, Rose gave in, stating that she’d stay with her mom for just a day or so…to make sure she was okay.

  When the four of them stepped into Ramirez’s place, it was a little spooky. While he’d technically agreed to move into Avery’s apartment, he’d never gotten the chance. All of his stuff was still there, waiting for him to come home.

  Avery moved about the place, pretending it wasn’t affecting her. She’d been here several times before and had always felt welcome. That should be no different now.

  “You sure about this?” Finley said. “Pardon me for saying so, but it seems sort of sad.”

  “No sadder than her staying in his hospital room,” Rose said.

  Avery wanted to let the place soak into h
er, to get a feel for it and then try to sort out just what she was supposed to do next.

  O’Malley was on the phone as they entered, arranging surveillance details for Avery’s apartment as well as Ramirez’s. They had been very careful about not being followed on the way over, but they certainly didn’t want to take any chances.

  As Avery set her bag down in Ramirez’s living room, O’Malley ended the call he was on. He took a moment, sighed deeply, and looked out the window. Down below, the streets were a little less crowded than they had been when Avery and Rose had been enjoying wine and pleasant conversation. Also, after having a dead cat tossed through her window, it seemed a little more sinister, too.

  “So here’s the deal,” O’Malley said. “For the next three days, you’ll have constant look-outs parked out on the street. They’ll be in civilian cars, but all members of the A1.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Avery said. She was starting to feel like this was all getting out of hand.

  “I think it might be,” he countered. “You’ve been in a sort of solitude on this thing for the last few days. It’s getting ugly. There are vigilante types out on the street, looking for Randall. People are starting to dig into his history and finding you there.”

  Go ahead and finish it, she thought. They’re finding me there as the attorney who managed to hand him his freedom—freedom he used to kill one more person. That’s what you really want to say.

  But he didn’t. Instead, he continued to look out the door. “The first two are going to be Sawyer and Dennison. They’ll be here in about half an hour. Until then…looks like it’s me and Finley.”

  Rose looked at the two officers and then at her mother. “Is this…is it really this bad? We need protection?”

  “No,” Avery said. “It’s a bit too much.”

  “It’s for your mom’s protection. Yours, too. Depending on who may have been behind the nail gun killing and tossing the brick and cat through the window, you could be in danger, too. It depends on how much of a vendetta this person might have against your mom.”

  “Let’s take the dramatic tone down a notch,” Avery said, with venom in her voice. “I’d really rather you not scare my daughter.”

  “Sorry, Mom,” Rose said. “But in the last hour, I’ve had a dead cat come through your window with a threatening note tied to it and then I was rushed away from your apartment and given round-the-clock police protection. It’s safe to say I’m effectively scared.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Any hope of a quiet girls’ night was dashed. When O’Malley and Finley took their leave, the apartment fell quiet. Rose had parked herself on Ramirez’s couch. She was scrolling through social media feeds and texting back and forth with her friends.

  “I guess you know not to tell anyone what has happened,” Avery said.

  “I know,” Rose said, a bit resentfully. “Wait…what about Dad? Should we tell him?”

  Avery thought about it for a moment, weighing the options. If it was just her, there was no question. There was no reason Jack needed to know. But with Rose involved, that changed things. Still…it could be risky.

  “No,” Avery answered. “Not yet.”

  Rose only gave a curt little nod in response.

  “Rose, I don’t know what to tell you. This sucks. Yes. I agree. This is lame. And I’m sorry you’re having to deal with it. It’s not exactly a picnic for me, either.”

  “I know,” Rose said, setting her phone down and looking her mother in the eye. “I’m not even really upset about the inconvenience. It’s not that. Mom…I had no idea things had gotten this dangerous for you. Is it always like this?”

  Avery let out a stifled chuckle. “No, not always. It’s just that this thing with Howard Randall has everyone looking over their shoulders. An entire city is scared and they need someone to blame while they look for answers and a way to feel safe.”

  “Shoot straight with me, Mom: are we going to be okay?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “Really? Then who threw that brick? Was it Howard Randall?”

  “I don’t know. Personally, I doubt it.”

  “But there’s some weird…thing with you two, right?”

  “Rose…”

  “No, I want to know. How can you be so sure?”

  Avery didn’t see any reason to lie to her or to keep her in the dark—especially now that she was apparently a part of this.

  “Because a dead cat through a window is too obvious. It’s too showy. And despite what the methods of his murders might say, Howard Randall wouldn’t do that. A dead cat…it’s almost comical. And in talking to him both as an attorney and a detective…it’s not something he’d do. You have to trust me on this, Rose.”

  Avery looked out the window at the black Ford Focus that sat three floors down, parked along the far edge of the street. She could see the basic shape of Dennison’s left shoulder as he sat in the driver’s seat. Sawyer would be beside him, probably habitually munching on sunflowers seeds, as he was known to do.

  Thinking of the brick and the cat, she started to cycle back through her past. Between her career as an attorney and the few years she’d spent as a detective, the wheel of names and faces in her head was a long one. She tried to think of who else might have reason to toss the brick and cat through her window but it was too much—too many faces, too much history.

  Jesus, it could have been anyone…

  She turned back to the apartment and tried to envision the last time Ramirez had stood within it. She slowly walked the length of the living room and kitchen, having been there before but seeing everything as new. It was a small place but decorated nicely. Everything was clean and organized, each item in its designated place. His fridge was decorated with several pictures and postcards, mostly from family members Avery had never met but had heard about from time to time.

  How many of them know what has happened? she wondered. During his time in the hospital, only two family members had come by to visit. She’d known that Ramirez’s family wasn’t very close but something about his family not coming to see him struck her as sad—even though she’d likely get the same if something happened to her.

  She turned away from the fridge, the images of those strangers suddenly too much for her. In the living room, there were pictures here and there of his life: a shot of him and Finley at a cookout, playing horseshoes; a picture of Ramirez coming across the finish line at a marathon; a picture of him with his sister when they were much younger, fishing along the edge of a pond.

  “I can’t,” she said quietly.

  She turned to Rose, hoping she had not heard her audible denial.

  What she saw was Rose asleep on the couch. She’d apparently conked out in the moments Avery had taken to look at the photographs. Avery studied her daughter for a moment, feeling the first stirrings of guilt. Rose had no business being here, mixed up in all of this.

  Maybe she would have been better off if I’d not reached out to patch things up, she thought.

  It wasn’t just a wandering woe-is-me thought. She genuinely wondered it sometimes. And now, with both of them under surveillance and people threatening her for sins of her past, it was worse.

  Maybe I’m not being threatened for the sins of my past, she thought. Maybe it was really Howard. Maybe he’s snapped in some way I could not have predicted.

  She supposed if she were doing her job correctly, she could not simply eliminate the possibility that Howard had killed that poor girl with a nail gun and then, the next night, tossed a dead cat with a threatening message through her window. She had no evidence to support that he hadn’t done it so logically, he’d be a suspect.

  I’m too close to him, she thought. I’ve come to know him in some way that makes me place him on this weird pedestal. Did he intentionally do that?

  It was a scary thought, but he was brilliant. And she knew his penchant for mind games. Had he manipulated her in some way she still did not understand?

  She p
icked up her two bags and carried them into Ramirez’s bedroom. She had crammed the basics from the box of Howard Randall case files into one of them before leaving her apartment. She took those out now and fanned them out on the bed.

  This time, she did not waste time looking at the photographs. Right now, she just needed the facts. And the facts as she knew them, as had gone down in the books, was that once upon a time, Avery Black had been an attorney who had represented a man who was being accused of murder. She’d suspected that he committed the act but there had been no evidence and the case was getting torn apart in court. In the end, she had won. Howard Randall had been free to go. Over the course of the next three months, college girls from the ages of eighteen to twenty-one were killed in grisly yet effective ways. In the end, Howard Randall had been caught. Not only that, but he openly confessed to the crimes.

  Avery had watched it all on television. She had also quit her job as an attorney and had been motivated to start working toward a career as a detective—a career almost everyone told her was out of her reach. She was getting a later start than most. She was a woman who was haunted by the ghost of Howard Randall before his murders. There was too much baggage. She’d never make it.

  But here I am, she thought, looking over the details. Maybe that’s why he was always so open to speaking with me in prison. Maybe he was among those who thought I was a lost cause in trying to become a detective. When I not only became one, but became a damned good one, maybe I earned his respect.

  And sadly enough, she hoped that was the case. She’d like to think that she couldn’t care less if Howard Randall respected her—but she did. Maybe it was his intellect or the simple fact that no one had challenged her the way he had when they had occasionally met.

  She thought of those meetings while she pored over the case files and it all connected like a frantic tennis match in her head. Back and forth, back and forth.

  He genuinely seemed happy whenever I saw him, with the exception of a single time when he thought I was taking advantage of him. He had connections in the prison, able to get knowledge of the outside that other prisoners could not.