Page 4 of Targeted at Christmas

“All right.” To Cooper, this implied that she might want to move away from the public corruption case without Eckhart to go after. But as the lead investigator, he preferred to keep all options on the table in the investigation. Especially if there was reason to believe that there was more to the building inspector’s death than met the eye.

Cooper got into the SUV and started it. As he drove to the Phoenix Police Department headquarters on First and West Washington Streets, he couldn’t help but be more than a little suspicious about the timing of Horace Eckhart’s death. Was it simply a case of rotten bad luck on his part at the worst possible moment? Or a deliberate effort to silence him as the primary—but by no means only—suspect in a public corruption investigation?

Cooper was still mulling this over when he arrived at the PD. He went inside the twenty-seven-story tower that was not far from Phoenix City Hall and the Municipal Court, and was directed to the floor that contained the Violent Crimes Bureau’s Homicide Unit detectives. He spotted the cubicle that belonged to the person he was looking for, Homicide Detective Hallie Flores, and saw the slender twentysomething woman with long dark hair in a braid, sitting at the workstation studying a laptop with the intensity that Cooper often did with his own laptop and the important info on it relative to an investigation.

When she looked up at him, he realized they hadn’t met before, and introduced himself. “Special Agent Cooper Reid.”

“Agent Reid.” She met his eyes curiously. “I’m Detective Hallie Flores. How can I help you?”

“I understand that you’re the detective investigating the death of Horace Eckhart?”

“That’s right.” Hallie sat back in her dark blue office chair thoughtfully. “What’s your interest in the case?”

She obviously has no idea, Cooper mused, accepting it as simply a matter of miscommunication between the departments. “Mind if I sit?” he asked, eyeing the black vinyl guest chair by her desk.

“Please,” she told him with a nod.

Once seated, he regarded her and said, “Eckhart has been the subject of a federal investigation into public corruption.”

She arched a thin brow. “Really?”

“Yes. We believe he’s been taking bribes from developers and others in their orbit to further their agenda.” Cooper leaned forward. “In fact, I was planning to bring Eckhart in for questioning when I learned of his death.”

“Hmm,” Hallie said contemplatively. “Tough luck.”

“I think it could be more than that,” Cooper told her. He had to add, “If I’d known about this sooner from your department, it could have saved me a trip to the Planning and Development Department.”

“Sorry about that.” She made a face with regret. “Up until about an hour ago, Horace Eckhart was just another John Doe—with no identification on him… I’ve just been trying to put the pieces of his life together since, without realizing he was on your radar.”

“I see.” Cooper didn’t hold that against her in the slightest. “What can you tell me about Eckhart’s death?”

Hallie rested a small hand on her acacia desktop and said equably, “At approximately seven o’clock last night, he was shot to death in the Gotzon Garage on North Second Street. Ballistics found that the bullets used for the two shots to the head at close range came from a Korth 2.75-inch Carry Special .357 Magnum revolver. As the garage attendant on duty at the time heard nothing, I’m guessing the shooter used a sound suppressor.”

“Sounds like it was a targeted assassination,” Cooper said, contemplating the notion of someone taking Eckhart out.

“We think this was the result of a carjacking,” Hallie told him matter-of-factly. “Or so it seems. The victim’s wallet and car keys were missing—which made him initially a John Doe. A license plate reader picked up a BMW M8 Gran Coupe as it left the garage. It was registered to a Horace S. Eckhart. Only he wasn’t inside the vehicle, we soon discovered, in putting two and two together,” she pointed out. “Video surveillance showed two people wearing ski masks were in the front seat. The BMW was found abandoned two miles away on Sopley Road. The Crime Scene Response Unit is going over it even as we speak, hoping to find DNA or prints that belong to the unsubs and can lead us to them.”

Cooper bristled. “Hope you find them soon,” he muttered, disturbed at this unexpected twist in his investigation. Who were they? And why carjack this vehicle in particular? “I’d like to have a little talk with the suspects myself.”

“You’re more than welcome to interview them once we have them in custody,” Hallie said assuredly.

“All right.” He pinched his nose, pondering. “In the meantime, my public corruption investigation will continue.”

Her gaze sharpened. “You really think that Eckhart’s death is related to your case?”

“That’s still an open question,” Cooper admitted, knowing there were more leads to follow before making a proper assessment. But his gut instincts told him that the smoke and fire thing probably meant something. “Let’s just say it’s pretty suspicious with the timing and all.”

Hallie nodded. “I can understand that.”

“When I have more to go on, I’ll let you know.”

“Do that,” she said. “If our cases interlock—and apparently they have, no matter how you slice it—I want to be kept in the loop, Agent Reid.”

“Of course, Detective Flores,” he promised, and added, to be sure they understood each other, “That works both ways.”

Hallie smiled. “Agreed.”

After getting to his feet, Cooper shook the detective’s soft hand before leaving her cubicle.