Page 10 of Shadow

“I just closed a case. I still smell like old coffee and bad motel-room shampoo.” Daphne walked back to the tub, eyed it. Her bubbles were dying. “Not available for two weeks.”

“This can’t wait.”

Of course it couldn’t. “Caroline⁠—”

“I sent you an email.”

“I’m not checking email. I’m not checking anything. I’m officially off the grid for forty-eight hours.”

“Don’t make me say ‘Route 19, sally port three’ and the reroute I never wrote up.”

“Wow. Really? You could have just said please.” She glanced in the mirror. Oh, she’d lost weight on the last op. Too many meals skipped.

“Yeah, well, this is a biggie. I needed a gentle reminder.”

“More like a cattle prod. Whatcha need?”

“Check your email.”

Oh. Caroline didn’t use that tone unless it was catastrophically bad.

“Hold on.”

Daphne walked to her laptop, still on the coffee table where she’d left it three weeks ago. Opened it. Email loading.

Incoming message. Large file.

She opened the attachment.

Crime scene photo.

A woman—late fifties, dark navy suit—lying on white marble with blood pooled around her torso. EMTs loading a black body bag. Evidence markers scattered across the floor.

Daphne’s chest tightened. “What happened?”

“This morning, our witness was assassinated.”

Daphne zoomed in. “Looks like a professional hit. Clean shot. Chest wound. The woman’s eyes are still open.”

“Martha Lintz,” Caroline said. “Fifty-seven. She was going to testify against the Shadow Syndicate’s financial operations. She was supposed to be in protective custody.”

“So federal protection failed.” She got up, took a sip of her wine. Still needed to open up. “Why is that my problem?”

“Because we think someone inside is feeding the Shadow Syndicate information. It was a coordinated attack—one of our other witnesses was stabbed in prison.”

Daphne stared at the photo. Martha Lintz looked like someone’s grandmother.

“We need someone outside the system.”

“Hire Blake Blackwater.” Blake was an old friend who did security work for hire.

“We need someone who doesn’t trust the system. Someone who’ll do this their way. Someone with a perfect record.”

Ah. There it was.

Daphne opened the next file. Crime scene overview. Courthouse lobby. Marble floors. Grand staircase. Windows facing⁠—

Her breath stopped.