Hayden

I stood on the courtroom steps staring down at a scrum of journalists as I finished my statement and transitioned into taking questions. The reporters clamored around me, shouting questions in rapid succession.

“Do you know the motive behind the killings?”

“Is there any connection between the victims?”

“Any suspects? Persons of interest?”

“I know you have questions, but I’m afraid I can’t answer them at this time since the police are in the midst of their investigation. We’re in a precarious place right now, and I wouldn’t want to hinder them in any way,” I replied. “But trust that I’m working right alongside them. The good people of the NYPD are giving this case and the others like it the highest priority—while also working to keep our streets safe.”

It was such a balancing act—giving answers that would at least partially satisfy the press while also being as vague as discretion required. We were too early in the investigation for me to make a press conference blunder that would blow the case and haunt me forever. God, I hate politics. It would be so much simpler if I didn’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing and ruining a chance at reelection.

“What does it feel like to be hit with this flood of killings only days into your new job?” another reporter shouted. “Do you feel pressure to prove that you’re up to the challenge?”

I considered the question, all too aware of how hyper focused these reporters—and the general public—were on me right now. One misstep and I’d lose everyone’s trust before I’d had a chance to earn it.

“This situation would make me lose sleep whether I’d been on the job for one day or ten years. We can’t and won’t allow New York to become a lawless city. I realize to the people of this city I’m untested, yes, but I am completely confident that I’ll be speaking to you all very soon about our success in finding whoever’s behind these horrible acts.”

More questions erupted, but I spoke over them, knowing that now was the time to end things. “Thank you all for being here today, and we will keep the public informed—as much as we can—during the investigation.”

I made my way back to my office where I found Detective Annibel Saint waiting for me. She rose from her seat as I came in and held out a hand. I shook it, appreciating how firm her handshake was.

“Detective Saint, it’s nice to see you again.”

“Likewise, DA Kent. As I’m sure you’ve been briefed, I’m the lead detective on the Senator Dobson case. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

“Same, though I wish we were collaborating under better circumstances. I want you to know that I’m willing to do whatever I can to help. Like I said, I want to get this bastard.” I plopped down behind my desk. “So, do you have any new information for me? Please say yes.”

With a solemn shake of her head, Annibel said, “Sorry to say there’s not much. According to the autopsy report, the senator was shot from quite a distance away, which leads me to believe that this was a professional hit performed by a very skilled shooter.”

Of course nothing could ever be simple. I sighed, pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to sidestep the wave of stress that hit me like a ton of bricks.

Great. A professional. Someone who wouldn’t make the mistakes an amateur would. Someone who was probably being protected by one or many powerful, dangerous people. I had already had a guess that was who we were dealing with. No mugging gone wrong, or disgruntled mistresses to be found here.

The reporter’s question came back to me, the one about taking all this on mere days into my tenure as DA. It wasn’t ideal, but if I handled it well, it would show that I more than had the chops. I took off my jacket and rolled up my sleeves to get to work.

Annibel smirked at me. “Looks like you had a close encounter today.”

I was baffled for a minute, then I looked down and saw the stain running from the middle of my shirt all the way down to my crotch.

I waved it away. “Yeah, guess I did. Spilled some coffee on myself. No big deal.”

Annibel gave a slow nod. “You’re going to want to be careful about that. That’s not a good look for someone in control. Messy shirt, messy mind, I think the saying goes.”

I smirked. “Never heard that one, but noted. I won’t make a habit of it.” I purposely avoided admitting that someone had spilled on me even though it would make me look like less of a klutz. I blinked as I scrubbed the image of those piercing green eyes away as I thought of the barista from this morning.

As Annibel took her seat and started going down her list of assassins and their alibis, I wondered why I hadn’t just told the detective that the barista at the coffee shop had done it. Why was I protecting her and putting the blame on myself? Especially over something so trivial?

I supposed that there was something about Maddy that made me feel protective of her. It was stupid. I didn’t even know her, and I was risking looking like a disheveled amateur to a colleague whose opinion of me mattered.

But I liked Maddy. There was something about her. Maybe it was as simple as that. She’d gotten under my skin, and I didn’t want to somehow betray her by admitting that she’d doused me in hot coffee.

And besides, so what if I had spilled on myself? “Messy shirt, messy mind” wasn’t even a real saying.

“You want to see what I’ve got?” Annibel asked, winning back my attention.

“Your case, detective,” I gestured, flinging the image of the enigmatic, gorgeous woman from earlier fully out of my mind.

I sat forward in my seat and forced myself to focus as she went down her list of possibilities—while also telling me why each possibility was a dead end and not what we were looking for.

From where I stood, we didn’t have a damn thing. “This is going to be a hard one,” I said once she’d reached the bottom of the list.

“They always are,” Annibel remarked. “But don’t get discouraged. I know it’s not much right now, but we’ll get more. It’ll just take some time.”

“The one thing we don’t have. People are going to start questioning how safe they are if we can’t even protect our high-profile residents,” I said. “But I’m confident that we’ll solve this. You have my full support and cooperation.”

Annibel was pleased. “Glad to hear it. The last DA kind of left the department on our own and only wanted to get involved after the case was sewn up and all the hard work was over. Didn’t care how we did it.”

That got inside my head a bit. “Well, that’s not me. I expect the police to do their jobs within both the legal and moral limits. I’ll do the same.” I looked her right in the eye for the next part. This was as good a time as any to let her know exactly where I stood. “There’ll be no coerced confessions—I won’t stand for any of that bull—but on the other hand, no one’s going to get away with murder on my watch, either.”

Annibel nodded. “Sounds like we’re on the same page.” Her eyes rose to the clock ticking away on the wall above my head. “It’s late. Any interest in grabbing a drink or two nearby before we hang it up for the night?” She tapped her notebook with her pen. “We could go over some of my notes again, see if there might be anything we missed.”

“Thanks, but I’ll have to take a rain check,” I said, my tone friendly but firm. “I think I’m going to hang around here in the office for a while and look over everything we’ve got so far. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’d say looking forward to it, but, well…you know,” she said with a wry look as she strolled out.

Alone, I started combing through the files, but my eyes kept going to the stain on my clothes. I smiled to myself, thinking about the barista. Maddy. The name fit her. I wondered if it was short of something. And those eyes… I didn’t think I’d ever seen any so green before.

She’d been gracious about my intrusion in her conversation with the cop even though I could tell she was the type who knew how to handle herself. It was just that I knew exactly what type of guy that cop was. He wore the uniform with that unmistakable swagger of someone who thought they were above the law. It had been a pleasure to prove that he wasn’t—and that I was both a check and balance that could have his job if he didn’t fall in line.

I’d seen the recognition in his eyes as he’d booked it out of the café, leaving Maddy and me alone…for her to spill my coffee on me. I smiled to myself.

I forced myself to stop thinking about her and focus. Fantasizing (Was that what I was doing?) about the barista was a great distraction, but I couldn’t afford to let my mind wander. I had important things to do now. There were a lot of eyes on me, and I had to prove that I was up to the challenge.

I sighed and blinked away my exhaustion as I went back to the files. I had to get this guy behind bars before he killed again.