Emergency Response. Susan Sleeman

in the family room. He should go see what the reporters were saying about the shooting. Instead, he watched Darcie load the dishwasher. Despite the fiasco at dinner and his brain warning him to back off, he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her.

      Look at him. Standing there like a fool after a dinner that nearly made him hurl. If a chance to have dinner here came up in the future, he’d say no, even if it was his last meal on earth and eating here was his only choice. He’d take hunger, thank you very much.

      His phone rang and he looked at the screen. His lieutenant.

      “Lockhart,” he answered and leaned against the island.

      “Thought you’d like to know we completed our canvass and forensics finished their sweep.” Emerson’s tone was flat, as if he didn’t care about the outcome.

      “And?” Noah asked, hoping they’d located a lead on their shooter.

      “The canvass didn’t turn anything up. Several people were either not home or not willing to open their door to us. You know how it goes. They may have seen something, may even know the guy, but they’re not going to help.”

      Noah wished he didn’t know how that went. They’d solve more cases if people spoke up. “It’s not surprising for that neighborhood.”

      “Exactly. I’ll have officers follow up and let you know if they convince anyone to break their silence.”

      “And the criminalists? They find any forensic evidence?”

      “Yeah, but you’re not going to like it.”

      “Go ahead.” Noah gritted his teeth.

      “They recovered a crumpled piece of paper with Darcie Stevens’s name on it. It was located where the shooter vaulted over the fence. Like he was trying to ditch it in case he got caught.”

      “Darcie’s name’s on it?” he repeated like a parrot.

      She must have heard him as she pivoted to look at him.

      “See for yourself,” Emerson said. “I’ll text a photo of it to you right now.”

      After drawing Darcie’s attention, Noah decided not to ask any additional questions before getting a look at the picture. His phone dinged and he opened the file. The scrap of paper held a handwritten list with the numbers one through three and a name listed behind each number. First place belonged to Leland King, second to Ramon Flores. Bright red slashes ran through each of their names. Darcie’s name took the third slot. Slash-free.

      A hit list.