memories. They were better off without him. He couldn’t change what had happened. Most days he worked so hard that he could barely think by the time he reached his apartment. And that was the way he preferred it. Otherwise, the memories of the family he’d lost would hound him.
He couldn’t regret his decision, though. He knew that he’d done what he could to protect them.
No, it was better this way. How many people got the opportunity to be up for partner at a prestigious firm such as Landis Law at the age of twenty-nine?
Tyler continued to the parking garage, his mind full of the case he was preparing to prosecute. It would be a tricky one. Would the witness’s testimony hold up? He had his doubts about the woman. She’d waffled on a couple of details. Part of him dreaded putting her on the stand. And not only because of her weak testimony. In his gut, he wondered if she was being honest. Having someone swear under oath was a serious thing—at least it was to him. His reputation depended on his providing credible witnesses.
Arriving at his car, he unlocked it and placed his briefcase on the passenger seat. Then he remembered the brief. He unlatched the black briefcase and searched through it. His heart sank. The brief he’d printed out to review that night before tomorrow’s court case was still on his desk.
With a sigh, he shut the car door and jogged back to the elevator. It would only take five minutes to go and retrieve it, but he hated inefficiency. His schedule was too jam-packed for him to be wasting time.
Tyler returned to his office. There it was. He picked up the brief he’d printed out and flipped through it to make sure all the pages were present. If he had to come back for something else, he would not be pleased.
Finally, positive that he had everything, Tyler switched off his light and headed out again. Gene’s light was on. That man worked even harder than Tyler did. He could hear the murmur of Gene’s voice. He was probably on the phone.
I’ll just stop in and remind him that I’m going directly to the courthouse tomorrow morning.
Sauntering to the open doorway, he popped his head in.
Crack!
Stunned, Tyler watched as his boss fell back in his chair, red blossoming like some obscene flower across the once pristine shirt he wore. Gene was still, his eyes staring vacantly. Was he dead? Tyler jerked his gaze to the man standing across from Gene. His back was to the doorway. But Tyler knew exactly who it was. He recognized the dragon tattoo rising up from the collar of his dark jacket. Wilson Barco. The most wanted man in town. The man suspected of running a crime syndicate that was involved in everything from money laundering and drug trafficking to murder.
He hadn’t seen Tyler yet. That was the only thing that was keeping Tyler alive.
He had to get out of here. Backing away from the door slowly, Tyler moved as quietly as he could. It wasn’t quiet enough. Spinning around, the killer snapped the gun up and aimed.
Tyler ran. The bullet meant for him smashed into the wall where he’d been standing. A watercolor painting crashed to the floor, glass skittering across the surface.
Tyler didn’t give it a second glance. His only hope was to make it to his car. He kept his head low as he ducked around a corner. Another bullet, but this time it made a solid thunk as it was embedded into the wall. He bolted past the elevator. No way was he risking waiting for it to open. Even if he made it, he’d be a sitting duck once it arrived at the bottom. The stairs. No other choice.
Another gunshot. A hot pain shot up his arm. He’d been shot. Despite the pain, he kept running. A little pain was better than being dead. Which was what he’d be if he slowed down.
Darting through the empty lobby, he grabbed his lanyard with a shaking hand and swiped his badge in front of the security panel, unlocking the door to the stairwell. It beeped, and the light turned green. He yanked open the door and jumped through the entrance, pulling it shut as the killer burst into the lobby.
He hit the stairs as the next bullet pinged against the metal door. He didn’t slow down. Even though the door automatically locked when it shut, he wasn’t taking any chances. He had no idea how Barco had made it into the building after hours. For all he knew, he could have already figured out a way to bypass the security system.
His feet made loud clanging noises as he rushed down the stairs to the basement. It couldn’t be helped. He had just hit the second landing when he heard another set of shoes racing down the stairs behind him. He didn’t have as much time as he’d hoped.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he whipped open the door to the parking garage and ran to where his four-door sedan was parked. It was still unlocked. Tyler hopped in and started the car, just as Barco burst out of the doorway.
Without fastening his seat belt, Tyler shifted into Drive and yanked on the gearshift harder than he had in years. The car jerked forward. Spinning the wheel, he drove toward the exit. His rear passenger window shattered. A second bullet hit the side of the car.
“God, help me!”
Tyler hadn’t talked to God since his wife had packed up and left, taking their toddler daughter and his joy with him. He’d been so angry at God for not intervening. For not opening his eyes to what was happening. But even if God had shown him, would he have been able to change? He was a workaholic, just like his father had been. Plus, his work was his private mission. God hadn’t helped him then, so he had decided he didn’t need God.
He needed God now.
Tyler careened around the parking ramp leading to the exit. Glancing up into the rearview mirror, he sighed. The killer wasn’t there. Yet.
The street was just ahead of him. All that separated him from the outside world and the parking garage was the long wooden gate arm. Out of habit, he slowed. The gate started to lift as the sticker on his windshield was registered. Another glance in his rearview mirror. His blood froze.
Barco was running up the ramp.
What was he doing? He stomped on the gas pedal. The engine roared, and the car shot forward. The boom barrier splintered as his car broke through it. He could hear an alarm sound as he pulled onto the street. The car he cut off braked and skidded, and the driver blared his horn at Tyler.
“Sorry, buddy,” Tyler muttered.
Where did he go now? He had to go to the police. And then home.
Home. He couldn’t go there. Barco had seen him pull out of his parking space. His very prominent parking space with his name on it. In this day of technology, it would be easy for anyone to find his identity and address. He had no doubt that if he went home tonight someone would be waiting for him.
He couldn’t worry about that now. He had to go to the police. A vision of Gene flashed through his mind. What had he done to deserve being murdered?
He turned into the police station so fast that he barely missed sideswiping a police cruiser. He threw open his door and raced up the steps, holding on to his injured arm. The clerk at the window gaped at him for three seconds before rushing to assist him.
* * *
Two hours later, Tyler was sitting in a conference room at the police station. His arm had been cared for by the paramedics, and he’d been given something to take the edge off the pain. Fortunately,
