Chapter 1

1

Voices held back from speaking were sometimes louder than those shouting in protest. Tension weighed like a stone in the small parked Corolla, but Detective Owen Duke focused too intently on the ramshackle warehouse across the street to give the others in the car too much notice. At Duke’s side, Finch’s rosary clicked between his fingers, but any prayers Finch had for the next few minutes remained mute, transformed into shape only by the scant movement of his lips.

Glass shattered in the alley behind them.

“Shit,” someone muttered from the backseat. Duke didn’t know if it was Truong or Rucker. He didn’t really care. Neither made a move except to twist around and check it out through the rear window.

Duke watched them in his mirror until they settled in their seats again, then resumed his scrutiny of the warehouse. No questions. No suggestions they go check it out. That was good. They recognized his authority on this assignment. A step in the right direction.

September sun pounded down against the concrete, uncharacteristically brilliant for Oakland this time of year. It highlighted every vivid piece of graffiti, so the reds and blues and oranges bled across the walls like new scars waiting to form. The sidewalks ran dry, though. Nobody bothered with this part of town anymore. Nobody who wanted to be seen, anyway. That was the way Duke liked it.

The rosary slipped from Finch’s fingers, and he jerked forward to catch it before it hit the floor. The beads clattered together before Finch had it firmly in his grasp again, and a faint blush stained his wan cheeks when he glanced over at Duke.

“Sorry,” he said.

Duke cocked a single brow. “Is it helping?”

Finch pinked even further. His pale blue eyes ducked to stare at the rosary in his hands. “Not really.”

A wave of sympathy washed over Duke, though he carefully caught it and tucked it away before he let it take root or the others noticed. “I suggest you pray harder, then.” Something flashed at the edge of his vision. He turned his head in time to see one of the few unbroken windows on the ground floor slide shut. “Later. We’re on.”

All three of them snapped to attention. Leather holsters rustled as they drew their weapons. Duke bit his tongue about drawing too early. He’d rather they had their weapons ready now than struggle to get them out in time once they were inside. Less noise, too.

He was the first to get out, though the others quickly followed. The heat crawled down the back of his suit collar, coaxing the sweat to the surface of his skin, but he ignored the sticky coolness in favor of measuring his steps as he reached the end of the alley. He glanced up and down the deserted road, then over to the empty-eyed warehouse. The open street offered no cover, but a quick assessment of the windows revealed no obvious surveillance. A short, sharp run, and he was pressed against the side of the building, Finch and the others lining up beside him.

His gaze swept upward. A fire escape that looked like it was held together by rust snaked to the roof. The bottom rung of the first ladder was within reach if he stretched. “Truong, Rucker, go in through the back. Finch is with me.”

Three sets of eyes followed him as he caught the lowest rung and effortlessly pulled himself up. He’d reached the second level platform before he realized none of them had moved.

“Were my instructions not clear enough?”

Though he never raised his voice, the warning in it was clear. He’d spent years perfecting that tone. It was gratifying to see it still worked, he thought grimly as they broke their formation and scrambled to obey. It would have been more gratifying, however, if they had simply done what he’d said in the first place.

Finch had to holster his weapon to make the climb. Duke had his ready, the solid weight against his palm the most comforting sensation he knew, by the time Finch joined him. He didn’t bother with further instructions. If Finch didn’t have it by now, that was his problem. Duke had done everything he could. He wasn’t going to coddle the kid, just because he brought a rosary to an assignment.

The warehouse was five stories tall, but Duke didn’t bother going to the roof. The entry point he wanted was on the third floor, a large, skeletal window with slivers of broken glass still embedded in the frame. He climbed in without letting any of his clothing catch on the jagged edges, focusing on his destination rather than the small grunts coming from Finch behind him. Dust and debris coated the floor, but a sweep over its surface said nobody else had been through this way.