Excerpt: Casual Killer

Macegan’s office was halfway down the hall; a short hall branched off it to lead down to a lobby where his secretary sat. The woman waved her in without looking up, but Jacquie knocked anyway.

“Sir?” she called. “Jacqueline Derby.”

A brief moment of silence passed before he answered. “Come in, Jacqueline.”

Her boss was the only person she could think of who called her by her full first name. She twisted the knob and eased into his office, blinking at the sudden dim light. The only bulb burning in the spacious room was one on his desk, and he was standing in the corner on a cell phone. He glanced up at her, green eyes resting briefly on her blue ones, and looked down at his shoes. Whoever was on the other end of the line wasn’t giving Macegan room to speak. Jacquie closed the door as quietly as she could and stayed next to it, waiting for him to hang up.

There was nothing personal in Macegan’s office. Bookshelves lined the back door and the windows -- bullet-resistant glass, triple-paned, privacy screens to keep anyone outside from seeing in -- and each shelf was either full of books or had some kind of award on it. Her boss was thirty-seven and had won enough police awards that she suspected he’d been the head of a special tactics team, though she’d never looked him up.

Seeing him calm and easy helped loosen the knot in her stomach. He would’ve been sitting behind his desk with his fingers in a steeple if she’d done bad, she just knew it. The fact that he was barely paying attention to her just confirmed her suspicions that he approved of the job.

She’d only used one bullet.

He shifted his weight and ran a hand through his hair; hair that probably had every woman on the street jealous. As far as Jacquie could tell it was natural: short, wavy, white-blond hair. The paleness set off his eyes, made the green pop from the rest of his face. There was a silver ring on his left hand, a plain band, and she wondered sometimes if he had children with green eyes.

“Yes. She’s here.” The words made the muscles in her back clench up, but she didn’t move from her place. “I’m going to -- no, I…”

Jacquie heard the doorknob twisting behind her and reflexively stepped out of the way, blood rushing against her eardrums. Looking over her shoulder, she saw a man step through. He looked almost familiar.

“Jacqueline Derby?” he asked, grinning. He had a plain face, nothing remarkable. He was barely taller than her five feet six inches. She nodded and he jumped in front of her -- she noticed Macegan drop his phone and dart around the corner of the desk. Frowning, she glanced at the man in front of her as Macegan was still a few steps away. A strange light was shimmering behind his dark eyes. “How does it feel to know you shot the wrong man?”

She blinked.

Macegan’s hand connected with the man’s shoulder -- he was a reporter for Station 11, she remembered now -- and shoved him out the door. The man would’ve sprawled onto the clean beige carpet except security had shown up. And AB’s security was nothing to be messed with. Since Jacquie’s heart had stopped beating she could clearly hear the reporter whimper as the first guard’s hand wrapped around his upper arm.

The door slammed shut and Jacquie realized Macegan’s palm had slapped against it to shove it shut. He turned to her and they stared at each other for a long minute.