the volume of his voice. “I’ve been asking some questions.”
“Questions?”
“Some of Trevor’s old buddies. Somebody has to have heard something.”
Though part of her didn’t want Tim doing any investigative work on his own, Tracie felt partly relieved he’d taken the initiative. Tim had contacts she had no other way of reaching, but she’d never feel comfortable asking him to get in touch with them for her. “And?” she prompted.
“Hello, Tracie.” Heath had snuck up on her.
Tim pinched his mouth shut.
Tracie could have kicked her new partner. “Hello, Heath.” She knew she needed to introduce Heath to Tim, but she didn’t know how to break it to Tim that Heath had replaced his older brother. “Tim, have you met—?”
“No,” Tim shifted his coffee to his other hand. “You’re Heath, right?”
“Heath Gerlach,” her new partner shook Tim’s hand. “And you’re Tim Price.”
“Yes. Trevor’s little brother.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your loss.”
“Thank you.”
The men maintained eye contact, and Tracie tried hard to read what passed between them. Animosity? No, Tim was too pure of heart since his conversion to sink to that. She didn’t even sense a competitive spirit. In fact, they almost seemed to share understanding. Sympathy. Tracie felt herself softening ever so slightly toward Heath. She didn’t nearly trust him, but he’d demonstrated a rare sensitivity toward her grieving friend. It was far more than she’d expected.
Now she just had to figure out how to get rid of Heath so Tim would finish telling her what he’d learned.
“You’re filling my brother’s slot on the force, hmm?” Tim raised his cup to his lips, his face curious, his tone without guile.
“He’s left me some pretty big shoes to fill,” Heath offered.
“Size fourteen, to be exact,” Tim offered.
Tracie chuckled along with them, her mind immediately latching on to Trevor’s shoe size. The same as the footprints they’d found at his house. But he’d been dead for over a month. Could the footprints have been that old? Impossible—far too much snow had fallen since then. Could their gunman have slipped on a pair of Trevor’s boots to throw them off his trail? It was certainly a possibility.
She was so intrigued by the idea, she didn’t pay attention to what the men were discussing until she heard Tim saying, “As I was just telling Tracie, I’ve been in contact with some of Trevor’s friends.”
“But I thought everyone involved in the diamond smuggling had been caught,” Heath said, his words taking Tracie back to the final showdown on Devil’s Island six weeks before—right after Trevor’s death.
“Everyone involved,” Tim repeated, his eyes darting around the room. He lowered his voice and leaned in closer to the two of them. “You must not realize how deep this thing goes.”
“Why don’t you enlighten me?” Heath’s quiet voice remained casual.
Tim shrugged. “I’m meeting with some guys tonight. I don’t know if I’ll learn anything, but if you guys to stop by my place tomorrow, say around noon, I’ll tell you everything I know.”
“Tomorrow at noon then.” Heath graciously raised his coffee cup to Tim, then took a sip and walked away.
Tracie watched him go, her insides roiling with a mixture of frustration and distrust.
Tim’s words pulled her from her thoughts. “He seems nice.”
“Yes.” Tracie admitted. “He does.” Almost too nice.
Heath called Jonas Goodman as soon as he got back to his apartment.
“Tim Price is talking.”
“Really?” his FBI supervisor actually sounded impressed for once. “And what’s he saying?”
“I don’t know yet. We’re meeting him tomorrow at noon. I’ll call you afterward.”
“Are you sure you’re up to this? I received your medical report last night. Those bruises on your back look ugly.”
“They’re even uglier today, but that’s not going to stop me. This case is cracking, and that gunman yesterday has me convinced whatever’s going down here is big. You don’t pull out an assault rifle unless you’re pretty desperate.”
“Or pretty stupid.” Jonas noted. “Remember, we are working with crooks here.”
“Crooks who successfully imported synthetic diamonds and passed them off as the real thing for over a decade,” Heath reminded his boss. “Hardly the work of a jumpy amateur.”
Jonas let the remark slide. “What about the girl? Got any dirt on her?”
“Tracie?” Heath bristled at his boss’s choice of words. “She’s clean so far.”
“Then dig deeper. She was way too tight with Trevor not to be involved with his business. We need to catch the remaining smugglers who are still out there. She has to know something.”
Heath’s hand tightened on his phone. “How do you know that? Do you have information you haven’t passed on to me?”
“Of course not. But everything points to her.”
Heath wanted to defend Tracie, but he checked his emotions. Why did he feel so strongly about her? He couldn’t give a solid reason. “Okay,” he relented. “I’m on it.”
“Good. If you’re going to crack this case, you’ll need to crack her first. But I don’t think that will be too difficult for you.”
Heath hesitated. “Could you clarify that statement?”
The insinuation in Jonas’s voice carried clearly over the phone. “She’s a young woman working a lonely job. You’re an attractive man.” He cleared his throat. “Don’t worry about fallout. You do what you have to do. We’ll clean up afterward.”
Heath’s throat tightened as he realized what his boss was openly hinting at. He’d always enjoyed working under Jonas Goodman, who had a reputation as a maverick, and whose unorthodox tactics never failed to make his job more interesting. But a sick pit churned in his stomach as he realized how much more complicated his job description now was. He’d killed before. In his line of work, it was a given. But he’d never broken a woman’s heart.
“Heath?” Jonas spoke into the silence. “Do we have an understanding?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. I expect a full report tomorrow. And I don’t like disappointment.”
“Yes, sir.” Heath’s throat
