Rookie Instincts

Prologue

The wind whipped off the lake, its chilly tentacles snaking into his thin black jacket, which he gathered at the neck with one raw hand, stiff with the cold. His other hand dipped into his pocket, his fingers curling around the handle of the gun.

His eyes darted toward the dark, glassy water and the rowboat bobbing against the shore before he stepped onto the road...and behind his prey.

She hobbled ahead of him, her shoes crunching the gravel, her body tilted to one side as she gripped her heavy cargo, which swung back and forth, occasionally banging against her leg.

A baby. Nobody said nothing about a baby.

He took a few steps after her and the sound of his boots grinding into the gravel seemed to echo through the still night. He froze.

When her footsteps faltered, he veered back into the reeds and sand bordering the lake. He couldn’t have her spotting him and running off. What would she do with the baby? She couldn’t run carrying a car seat. He’d hauled one of those things before with his niece inside and it wasn’t no picnic, even though Mindy was just a little thing.

He crept on silent feet, covering three or four steps to her one until he was almost parallel with her. Close enough to hear her singing some Christmas lullaby. Close enough to hear that baby gurgle a response.

The chill in the air stung his nose and he wiped the back of his hand across it. He licked his chapped lips.

Nobody said nothing about a baby.

The girl stopped, her pretty voice dying out, the car seat swinging next to her, the toys hooked onto the handle swaying and clacking. She turned on the toes of her low-heeled boots and peered at the road behind her, the whites of her eyes visible in the dark.

But he wasn’t on the road no more.

He stepped onto the gravel from the brush that had been concealing him. Her head jerked in his direction. Her mouth formed a surprised O, but her eyes knew.

When he leveled his weapon at her, she didn’t even try to run. Her knees dipped as she placed the car seat on the ground next to her feet.

She huffed out a sigh that carried two words. My baby.

He growled. I ain’t gonna hurt the baby.

Then he shot her through the chest.

The sound of the shot buffeted his eardrums, and a few birds screeched and took flight, but there was nobody here to help her or her baby...just him.

The girl had crumpled to the ground, her knees drawn up, her hand flung out to the side, inches from the car seat. If her lullaby had put the baby to sleep, the gunshot had awakened him and he wailed as if he knew his momma was gone.

He shuffled forward and hovered over the body. Brushing aside the brown hair that had swept across her neck, he placed a finger at her throat. Her pulse had stopped. Her song had ended.

With the sound of the gunshot dead in the night, the baby’s howls faded into squishy, blubbery sobs.

Shh. Don’t cry, little buddy. All babies looked the same to him, but this one had a blue beanie on his head and a blue blanket dotted with panda bears tucked around his body. His sister always dressed her daughter in pink just so everyone would know she was a girl.

The baby hiccupped and put a knuckle in his mouth, his blue watery eyes wide.

That’s it, little buddy. I ain’t gonna leave you out here for long. He retrieved a crumpled tissue from the front pocket of his jeans and dabbed the baby’s damp cheeks and runny nose. He didn’t bother to blot the blood spots on the blanket.

Then he shoved his hand into his cheap jacket and withdrew a plastic bag, whispery smooth between his fingers. He wiped off his fingerprints with the edge of his shirt and, still pinching the bag with fingers poked into his shirt, leaned over the dead girl and tucked the bag of Dance Fever in her purse. The bullet hadn’t touched the strap. It remained crossed over her body, soaked with the blood still oozing from her chest.

Just a few more minutes, little buddy. He dipped into his pocket once more and pulled out the burner phone they’d given him. They should’ve said something about the baby at the same time.

He flipped up the phone and called 9-1-1. When the operator answered, he pitched his voice low and scratchy. Yeah, there’s a baby in a car seat down by the lake all by himself. Looks abandoned.

Where are you sir? Is the baby hurt?

He gave the operator directions to the gravel road snaking beside the lake, flipped the phone shut and walked back to his boat, whistling the lullaby.

Chapter One

Humming off-key, Aria punched the elevator button with her knuckle and then wiped her clammy palms on the thighs of her black slacks. When the doors whispered open, she stepped inside the car and released a breath as she stared at her mottled reflection on the elevator doors.

She slid her finger beneath the elastic band that held her hair back and pulled it out. She shook her head to loosen the strands over her shoulders. The ponytail begged, Take me seriously. She didn’t need props to get that message across to her coworkers.

She shrugged out of her black wool coat, leaving the purple scarf twined around her neck. Squaring her shoulders, she said aloud, Oh, the scarf? Too busy to notice I still had it on.

She snorted and unwound the scarf, leaving two purple-fringed ends hanging to her waist. The elevator dinged and she stood at attention until the doors opened on the seventh floor.

Hiking her laptop case on her shoulder, she strode down the hallway to the conference room, the heels of her black boots clicking on the floor in a steady, confident beat.

The door to the conference room yawned open on a large space with a gleaming, oval table in the center and two large video screens on either side of the room. A smaller desk hunched in the corner, overflowing with a laptop, an abundance of cords and a variety of AV equipment. The only other person in the room, a curvaceous bottled-blonde with a colorful clip in her hair, hovered over the computer. With a flash of red lipstick, she gave Aria a quick smile and a wink and returned to her work.

Director Alana Suzuki, smart in a navy pantsuit with a snowy-white blouse, barreled through the door. You made it. She thrust out her hand to Aria, her eyes gleaming behind translucent-framed glasses. Welcome aboard. I’ll do the introductions when everyone gets here. Take any seat around the table.

Director Suzuki. Aria gripped the older woman’s hand, giving as good as she got. Glad to be here.

Alana, please. She ran a hand through her short black hair, unapologetically peppered with gray. We’re an informal bunch here.

The woman tapping away at the computer called out. Uh, you might want to revise the invitation to take any seat. There’s no assigned seating, but everyone always claims the same spot. Habit or security.

Alana waved her hand at the other woman. Don’t pay any attention to Opaline. She’s our tech guru and her mind works in mysterious ways. Opaline, this is our new team member, Aria Calletti. Aria, Opaline Lopez.

Opaline raised her hand and wiggled her fingers, her long nails matching the red of her lips.

Aria cleared her throat. Nice to meet you.

With Opaline’s words about the seating hanging in the air, Aria folded her arms across her bag and wedged a shoulder against the wall. She didn’t want to ruffle anyone’s feathers on her first day.

As long as you played by the rules, went by the book, you’d fit in. She’d discovered that as a beat cop on the mean streets of Detroit. Go along, get along and do your job.

The other team members started to filter into the room, a few in pairs, a few on their own. As Aria glanced at each person, his or her name flashed into her brain. She’d done her research on the Tactical Crime Division team when Director Suzuki—Alana—had invited her to apply for it. And apply she did.

She’d given up her job with the Detroit PD and hit the ground running at the FBI Academy in Quantico. Five months later, she’d taken the assignment with the TCD and was ready to hit the ground running again.

A few of the team members nodded at her as they grabbed seats. Aria had pretended to be looking through her bag to explain her delay in taking her place at the table—with the big boys and girls. When everyone seemed settled in, she slid into a seat next to Supervisory Special Agent Axel Morrow, his large frame dwarfing the chair.

His blue eyes assessed her as she scooted her chair forward, making her glad she’d opted for slacks and a jacket but regretting the loss of her ponytail.

Alana stood at one end of the table and commanded the room. At just over five feet tall, her physical stature was not responsible for the snap to attention, all eyes on her, conversations dying out. The woman had a presence—an erect, military bearing that radiated confidence and demanded respect.

She had Aria folding her hands on the table in front of her like a schoolgirl.

Welcome back, everyone. I want to congratulate you on the successful completion of Operation Lollipop. A job well done.

The room erupted in applause and Aria joined in. She’d read the files on the human trafficking case and couldn’t wait to be part of this team that did so much good.

Okay, okay. Alana held up her hand. Don’t get too carried away. We have the next case on our plate. Before I get into that...we have a new team member I’d like to introduce Aria Calletti. She can say a few words about herself and then we can go around the room and you can tell her who you are. Try to keep it under a minute, Opaline.

The other team members chuckled, as Opaline tapped a finger to her chest, her heavily mascaraed eyes wide.

As she took her seat, Alana nodded in Aria’s direction. Tell us a little something about yourself, Aria.

Aria cleared her throat. I grew up in Holland, Michigan, and joined the PD in Detroit. Due to my age, I did a lot of undercover work in narcotics, especially at the schools, and worked dope as a beat cop. While working as a cop, I put myself through Wayne State, criminal justice major. Got lucky on a big case and helped bring down a drug kingpin. That’s when Director Suzuki invited me to apply to the FBI with this division as my goal.

Axel, Alana’s second-in-command, held up a finger. That’s ‘Alana’ to you. We’re not into formalities.

Selena Lopez, the K-9 handler, her dark hair in a sleek chignon, nudged Axel in the shoulder. And don’t you dare call Axel ‘Supervisory Special Agent Morrow.’ He hates that.

She’s right. We’re on a first-name basis around here. Axel rubbed his arm. Impressive stuff, Aria.

Alana took off her glasses and hunched over the table. Yeah, that was a little more than luck, Aria. Her investigative work was instrumental in bringing down that dirtbag. That’s why she’s a perfect fit for this team. Anything else you want to tell us?

Anything else...such as how she felt as if her entire career hinged on her ability to pull her own weight on this team? Such as how she felt like an imposter? That her real self was that distorted image in the elevator door?

That’s it. Aria pressed her lips together and eked out a small smile.

You, go. Alana leveled a finger at Opaline in the corner.

We met earlier because I was the first person here, as usual. Opaline wiggled her fingers in the air. I’m the tech support for this motley crew. They’d fail miserably without me. Oh, and I heard you had a bunch of brothers who are firefighters, so if any of them are single I’m willing and able...and that was well under a minute.

Aria shot a quick glance at the K-9 handler, Selena Lopez. She’d read in the bios that these two were sisters. Selena’s tight smile and clenched hands in front of her told Aria nothing...well, almost nothing.

I’ll go next. The tall, cool blonde sitting across from Aria held her up hand. I’m Carly Welsh. I’ve been on TCD for three years, and before that, I was with the FBI in Detroit. So, we have that in common, Aria. Welcome to the squad.

Selena spoke up, her low voice vibrating. "That’s Dr. Carly Welsh. She’s got a Ph.D. in biological warfare."

Aria’s gaze darted back to Carly, a rosy hue washing over the blonde’s pale cheeks. The knots in Aria’s gut twisted a little more.

The brooding man at the end of the table ran a hand over the top of his head. I guess I’ll go next. I’m Max McRay. Explosives. Did a stint in the Army. Looking forward to working with you, Aria.

Axel put a hand over his mouth and coughed. War hero.

Aria nodded at Max. He hadn’t mentioned the fact that he’d lost the lower half of his left leg to a bomb in Afghanistan. Although he’d had a slight hitch in his step when he’d walked into the conference room, if Aria hadn’t read his bio, she wouldn’t have known about his leg.

I’m Selena Lopez. Selena put her long, slender fingers in the air and wiggled them, just as Opaline had done. "My raison d’être on this team is surveillance and tracking. My partner’s a white shepherd named Blanca, and if she doesn’t like you... I don’t know, Aria."

Blanca’s a good judge of character. Axel tugged on the lapels of his jacket. She happens to love me.

Max shot back. That’s because you give her treats when Selena’s back is turned.

Busted. Carly flicked a rolled-up piece of paper at Axel, who caught it easily in one hand.

Aria’s lips stretched into a smile. The relaxed camaraderie of the team tightened those knots in her belly even more. Would she ever be able to engage in this friendly back-and-forth?

She’d never been one of the boys on the PD; had always felt like she had her nose pressed against the glass. As the only girl in a family of five siblings, she was accustomed to that feeling. Her brothers loved her, of course, but were overly protective and, like Rudolph, she’d never joined in their reindeer games.

Axel bobbled the ball of paper Carly had fired at him between his palms, his blue eyes alight. I’m Supervisory Special Agent Axel Morrow. You can call me Axel or Axe. I would say that I’m Alana’s right hand, but we all know that honor belongs to Amanda over there, furiously taking notes on her laptop.

The cute redhead seated next to Alana peered over the top of her computer and grinned. You got that right.

Aria studied Axel as he reeled off his background—his work background. His gift of gab must be one of the reasons for his top skills as a hostage negotiator. He could probably get anyone to do anything. At the FBI Academy, they’d studied some of Axel’s criminal profiles for their insight and accuracy.

Now, Aria narrowed her eyes at the good-looking blond and practiced a little profiling of her own. Did he use his charming manner to mask the tragedy of his young life?

That’s me in a nutshell, but feel free to ask any of us anything anytime. We’re here to help you. He flattened a hand over his heart. Great to have you on board, Aria.

Now, for my true right hand, last but certainly not least, Amanda Orton. Alana tapped the redhead on the shoulder.

Amanda stopped typing. I’m Amanda Orton. I’m Alana’s assistant. If you want to reach Alana or schedule a meeting with her, you come through me.

And if you want to get to Amanda, you have to go through that massive security guard downstairs, who happens to be her husband. Axel raised his eyebrows. You see him? He looks like a linebacker for the Lions.

You do not need to go through him to see me. Amanda’s lips and eyes turned up at the corners. You can reach me anytime, Aria, and I’m the keeper of the birthday club so I need to get that from you at some point.

Carly rolled her eyes. As if we need to be reminded of our birthdays every year.

Let me know when you want it, and I’ll give it to you. Aria tucked her hair behind one ear. Thanks for introducing yourselves. I’m so impressed with your work, and I can’t wait to be a contributing member of this team.

Silence. Ugh, had she laid it on too thick?

The only one missing is Rihanna Clark. She’s our PR person. She interacts with the media, the local PDs and crime victims. She had a meeting today, Alana said, rapping on the table and pushing to her feet. Now that the niceties are out of the way, we have work to do. Opaline?

Opaline clicked her keyboard and the oversize TV screens on either side of the room came to life—only to show death. Two young women, both on their backs, sprawled on the ground, a gaping gunshot wound in their chests.

Alana aimed a pointer at the split-screen, the red laser hovering over the bodies. Two victims in Port Huron. Both near the lake, different roads. Single gunshot to the chest, point-blank. The Port Huron police don’t have any leads yet but...

The next slide jumped onto to the screen and Amanda gasped. I-is that a baby?

It is. Alana clenched her jaw. A baby in a car seat was next to the most recent victim. Child Protective Services has the baby now, and the PD ordered DNA tests to determine if the baby belongs with the dead woman.

Max growled. Was the baby hurt?

The baby is fine, which is how the second body was discovered. Someone called in an abandoned baby. Didn’t mention the dead body next to the baby, but reported the baby.

Was it the killer? Axel hunched forward, the