Page 7 of Cornered

Tate’s gaze sharpened. “What?”

“I just thought about it. Brenda told me about it the morning after it happened and brushed it off for the most part. She said it was her son sneaking back in after sneakingout. But she seemed shaken. Her German shepherd, Beau, pitched a fit barking and woke them all up, but if it was her son, he doesn’t bark when Mark comes in. That was the one thing that bothered her even though she caught Mark red-handed.” She bit her lip and shook her head. “She said she thought there might have been someone else outside but chalked it up to one of Mark’s friends.” Steph shrugged. “I don’t know if that’s important or not, but figured it wouldn’t hurt to mention it.”

“Absolutely. Thank you.”

Steph nodded and watched them go, then turned back toher desk, her mind unable to focus on work. Her attention kept straying to Brenda’s desk. She walked over and sat in the chair, her gaze traveling over the empty spaces where pictures of Brenda’s family had hung on the cubicle walls. “Oh, Brenda,” she whispered. Surely they’d leftsomethingof her friend. She opened the top drawer and glanced inside, feeling as gutted as the empty nook was. They reallyhadtaken everything. She pushed the drawer shut.

Only to have it resist sliding back into place.

She tried again and got the same result. With a sigh, she wiggled the drawer out and looked inside. Something had fallen into the space at the back.

“What in the world?” she whispered. Steph slid her hand into the opening and grabbed the small notebook. She started to slide the drawer back into its home when she noticed tape on the side of it.

Tape that matched the residue left on the notebook she now held. A notebook Brenda obviously hadn’t wanted found.

TATE LEANEDBACKin his chair and fought the fatigue that threatened to pull him under. He could have happily put his head on his desk and fallen fast asleep, as it had been a long night and an even longer day. But he still had hours to put in before he could go home and find his bed.

“Go catch an hour nap,” Cole said from the door.

Tate blinked at him. “I’ll be all right.”

“No you won’t. I know you’ve been up way longer than you should, and if I have to trust you with my life, I want you to at least be able to see where to shoot.”

Heat crept into Tate’s cheeks. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t plan the timing of this very well.”

Cole waved his phone. “SWAT got a call to a scene. Takethe time to rest while I’m gone. Brenda’s dead. Her case can wait an hour or two.”

Tate nodded. “Be safe.”

“You too.”

Cole disappeared toward the SWAT HQ and Tate smiled. One day that would be him. At least he hoped.

But sleep sounded good. If he didn’t rest, he wasn’t going to be any good to anyone. He hurried out to his Armada. It was an older model, but he loved the spacious vehicle and refused his family’s attempts to get him to upgrade. He aimed the SUV toward his apartment complex.

Fifteen minutes later, when he walked into his first-floor two-bedroom home, he made sure his phone was on ring, dropped into his recliner, and was asleep in almost an instant.

FOUR

STEPH PUSHED HER MOUSEto the side, rubbed her eyes, then glanced at her phone. Then at the little five-by-seven pink notebook sitting by her water bottle.

Still no return call from Cole. She’d give him another hour, then she was going to try James. But if James and Cole were together on a SWAT call, he wouldn’t answer either.

She opened the notebook once more and tried to figure out the weird letters and numbers Brenda used. “ENNB,” she whispered. “What’s that?” Seems like she should know, but she didn’t have a clue. They all had their own way of keeping up with their work, but this coded method was a new one, and Steph had no idea what made her friend use it—or how to decipher it. On a whim, she snapped pictures of each page. She was going to have to turn the book in to the police but wanted a copy for herself. Just in case she could figure it out.

Her phone stayed silent for the next ten minutes. “Oh bother.” She pulled the other detective’s card from her pocket and ran her thumb over the slightly raised black print. Detective Tate Cooper.

His gray eyes with a tinge of green still played in her mind. He’d been tired and hadn’t tried to hide it, but he’d also beenfocused on the task before him. And he and Cole seemed to get along well despite the experience gap between them.

Then again, that was probably mostly due to Cole. He didn’t have anything to prove, and Tate didn’t act like he did either.

A throat cleared behind her and she turned to see Stan. “Hey.”

“Hey, just walking around checking on everyone. How are you holding up?”

She shrugged. “I’m not getting much work done. I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“I know. I’m considering sending everyone home. It’s Friday. We could all probably use the long weekend.”

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