Chapter 3

Sydney walked toward Walker's desk, her partner half a step behind her. A Hispanic man she didn't recognize was standing by their boss, deep in conversation with Walker and his partner Trivette. They reached the threesome just in time to hear the senior Ranger say, "Alex called and said she'd be coming by."

Walker noticed their presence and tapped the man on the shoulder. "Detective Carlos Sandoval, this is Ranger Sydney Cooke and Ranger Frances Gage."

"Good to meet you." There was no mirth in the man's voice, and his face was void of any emotion – unless you counted exhaustion.

"Detective Sandoval is with the Dallas PD, and is investigating a murder that happened two nights ago." He broke off as his wife came in, manila folder in hand.

Alex handed it off to Walker. "I had these faxed over this morning. Gail Roderick was actually Kristin Deville, an agent with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms. She went undercover ten months ago. The file on her investigation, though, and anyone connected with it, is too classified for me to get my hands on it."

"Nice to have a name," Sandoval muttered. "Thanks, Alex."

The blonde woman forced a smile. "No problem. I'm due in court in half an hour," she said, glancing at her watch, "but give me a call if you need anything." She rested a hand lightly on the detective's shoulder, and then took her leave.

"What's going on, Walker?"

Instead of the Ranger responding, Sandoval did. "Roderick was murdered two nights ago. She was working with a friend of mine, who, for whatever reason, can't tell me what he was working on with her."

"Where do we come in?" Gage asked slowly. He seemed to be as lost as Sydney felt herself.

"You two are going to try to find out anything you can about Gail Roderick." Walker opened the file, drawing out a black and white photo, and handed it to them. "Trent only ever knew her by her cover name, so chances are that's the only name she's used for the better part of the last year."

"Trent?" she asked. The name was familiar, somewhere in the back of her mind, though she couldn't place it.

"Trent Malloy," Sandoval replied. He handed out folders, one to Trivette and one to her and Gage. "This has everything I know about the case, and it includes Trent's file, except his juvenile record, which is sealed." Taking the proffered papers, Sydney filed that little tidbit away in the back of her mind for future reference.

"Where should we start?" she asked. "Any place in particular?"

"Carlos?" Walker asked, glancing toward the detective.

"Ah, I've got people checking things out down by Route 45. Her car – leased under the cover name in Oklahoma – was found by the bus station down there. When nobody touched it for a day and a half the manager called it in. I figured we'd have a better chance of picking up information down there; she was probably only ever near where she was killed when she was meeting up with Trent. But so far, we haven't turned up anything, so Center Street's probably your best bet."

"Got it."

"Give me a call in a couple hours and let me know if you turn up anything."

"Will do." Sydney smacked Gage in the chest with the folder, letting him take it from her hand. "C'mon, pardner," she drawled, smirking as he rolled his eyes.

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Trivette skimmed the file Carlos had handed him, then set it down as Gage and Sydney left. Something about the whole thing didn't sit right with him. Eyeing Walker he asked, "You figure they'll stop in and talk to Trent?"

"I'm counting on it."

Carlos gave the Ranger a curious look. "Why?"

"I want to know how he handles being questioned by someone he doesn't know. I just want to see if he toes the same line with them as with you, and what impression of him Gage and Sydney walk away with."

"Walker, you don't think he really did it, do you?" Jimmy asked slowly. He hadn't known Malloy nearly as long as Walker had, but even he was positive that the man didn't have it in him to kill in cold blood. Sometimes, it was hard to believe he was even capable of hurting another person, he was such a damn goody-two-shoes – and then, inevitably, they'd get into some scrap that would remind him of how lethal the man could be.

"No, I don't."

When his partner didn't offer to elaborate, Trivette didn't push it, and instead redirected the conversation. "While they're out there, what are we going to do?"

"I'm going to call in a favor or two and try to find out exactly what Deville was doing out here. If we can go to Trent with information already, maybe he'll talk."

"I don't like going behind his back, Walker," Carlos said softly.

"He's not leaving you much choice," Trivette countered. "He has to know that you believe he's innocent, and that you aren't going to let him take the fall for something he didn't do. He knows you're going to look into it. It'd be in everyone's best interests if he'd just cooperate."

Carlos turned to face him. "He's been working on this case for seven months. He's been dating this woman. He never breathed a word to anybody; his mother had no clue, and I sure as hell didn't know anything about it. Whatever's going on, he's not hiding this to be difficult. He's got a reason for it."

"So you'd rather let him go to prison for this – or be executed – than go behind his back to figure out what really happened?"

Apparently, that was just enough to push Sandoval over the edge. "Y'know, I have my boss breathing down my neck saying I'm not doing enough to nail him. I don't need you lecturing me that I'm not doing enough to clear him. I said that I don't like going behind his back, not that I'm not going to do it." Jimmy watched him tighten and then release his fists. "I'm just worried that someone's going to end up getting hurt."

Silence overtook the three men until Walker broke it. "Trivette, I want you to run a check. Find out how many professional hitters or enforcers meet the description Carlos gave us. Once you have a list, run down their last known locations and affiliations."

"Give me a call if you find anything," Carlos said, starting toward the door. "I gotta get back and see how long I can hold off getting an arrest warrant."

Jimmy watched him go, then turned back to his partner, who had the file Alex had given him open in his hands and was staring at it intently. "You see something?"

"Maybe." He didn't move a muscle.

Trivette waited for a moment, then tried again. "You want to tell me what it is?"

"Maybe." His eyes stayed locked on the folder.

Third time was the charm, right? "Now?"

"No."

Scowling at him, Trivette tossed his hat on his desk and went in search of coffee. The man could be absolutely infuriating sometimes

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Gage flipped through the file Sydney had assaulted him with as they got into her car, and let out a low whistle. "No wonder no one thinks he did it; this guy's a regular boy scout."

As she started the car, Syd looked over at him. "How so?"

He waited until they'd pulled out into traffic to reply. "Reverend's kid, third-degree black belt, was an Army Ranger – hand-to-hand combat instructor." At that, Gage glanced at his partner out of the corner of his eye, seeing a smile play over her lips. She was a sucker for all that Jackie Chan stuff, much to his detriment. "Received a hardship discharge after his dad died, so he could help his mother take care of her other three kids. Now he owns a karate academy – on Center Street, not far it doesn't look like, from where the woman was murdered – and works as a private investigator."

"What sort of cases?" Sydney asked, flipping on the turn signal.

"Minor stuff – cheating husbands, that sort of the thing."

"What would ATF want with a two-bit PI?"

Gage shrugged. "Doesn't make much sense. Though, he has helped out the Dallas PD and the Rangers before – helped stop a serial killer targeting cops, a Sadist, white supremacist group…" he trailed off, brow furrowing. "Here's something interesting."

"What?" The car drew to a stop at a red light and his partner glanced over at him.

"He won't carry a gun."

"That is… interesting." She frowned as they started forward again through the intersection. "It say why?"

He turned another couple pages. "Some accident when he was a kid; doesn't give any details. Wonder if it's got anything to do with his juvenile file."

"You caught that too, huh?"

"Yeah." He frowned, running a finger down the sheet he was reading to keep his place as the car bounced over a road that was still under construction. "He was trained by Walker, part of that Kick Drugs program he does."

"There's where the juvenile record comes in." They turned another corner and Sydney parked along the curb, just before the still-taped-off crime scene. "He match the physical?"

"Yeah."

His partner shook her head. "Y'know, he sure sounds like the guy."

"Yeah." Gage climbed out of the car as Sydney turned killed the engine.

She joined him on the sidewalk and took the folder from him, taking a few minutes to review the material he'd not gone over in the car before tossing it onto the seat and closing the door. "What do you say we pay this Malloy a visit if his place is open?"

Gage rolled his eyes even as he nodded. "You just want to check out his dojo." He smirked as Sydney choked, then clapped her on the back when she started coughing. "You okay there?"

"You—"

He gave her an innocent look. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Cooke." She gave him a glare that could freeze the sun and started across the street.

"You coming?"

"Right behind you."

They stopped about a block past the crime scene, in front of a door emblazoned with 'Thunder Karate.' Reaching for the door, Gage held it open as his partner preceded him into the building. The place was almost silent, and they walked down a small hallway toward the main room. The floor was covered in blue mats, and occupied by a single man in a karate uniform, the name 'Malloy' in black lettering across his back.

"Mr. Malloy?" Sydney asked. "Trent Malloy?"

He turned to face them. "Yes, what can I—" Then he stopped short, probably having seen their Ranger stars. "Come to arrest me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow but looking surprisingly calm.

Sydney shook her head. "That's not why we're here." She stepped forward and held out a hand. "Sydney Cooke. My partner, Gage."

He shook both their hands, his grip solid and sure. He didn't look or act like a man with a murder charge hanging over his head. Of course, appearances could be deceiving. "You Walker's people?"

Gage nodded slowly, trying to decide how much they ought to say about what they were doing. Sandoval had said that Malloy wouldn't tell him what he knew. The question then was whether, if he knew what Sandoval and Walker were up to, he'd try to stop them. There was no doubt in his mind, though, that their boss had planned on them talking to the man, though. If he hadn't, he'd have told them expressly to leave him alone. Best to feel him out a little first.

His partner apparently was thinking along the same lines. "Do you recognize the name Kristin Deville?"

Malloy shook his head, face blank, but not in a way that looked forced. "Should I?"

"Maybe. Probably not. That was Gail Roderick's real name."

The blond started. "How do you know that?"

"Someone… has connections," Gage said vaguely. Walker might trust this guy, but they didn't know him from Adam, so he didn't feel like taking chances.

"Walker or Alex?"

Gage didn't respond, changing the subject slightly instead. "We know she worked for ATF, too." That one he didn't seem too surprised at. "That who you were working for?"

There was a flash of resignation in the martial artist's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by resolve. "I told Carlos – Detective Sandoval – twice that I couldn't tell him anything more than I already had."

Before Gage could reply, Sydney had stepped forward. "Look. You don't know us, and we don't know you. But we all know Walker, and he won't leave this alone until he finds out what's really going on."

"I know."

Before either of them could reply, they heard the front door open and, turning, saw a young man who very much resembled Malloy coming toward them, gym bag in hand. "Trent?" the kid asked.

"Tommy, meet Ranger Cooke and Ranger Gage. Rangers, my brother Tommy. They're friends of Walker's, and they were just leaving." Any other time or place, a comment like that would have gotten under Gage's skin. But something about his tone kept it polite and it didn't come across as an order or a threat. The man just seemed… tired, and the boy looked uncomfortable.

He forced a smile. "We'll be in the neighborhood." He saw Sydney nod at the boy as they headed for the door.

Once outside and halfway back to the car, Syd stopped and turned to face him. "What do you think?"

"I don't know. I don't think he did, but I think he's scared of something."

"Yeah, but what?" She shook her head. "I know something, though."

"Hmm?"

"I think Detective Sandoval overlooked a second suspect."

Gage frowned, then his eyes widened. "What, the kid? Are you serious?" She couldn't be.

"Yes. Everything they have against Malloy is circumstantial, and almost all of it applies to the young Mr. Malloy in there too."

"He has no motive, and you don't know if he's trained enough."

"He has some training; I can tell by the way he carries himself. And with a brother who owns a dojo? I'd bet money he's a black belt. And as for motive – neither does Trent. They were arguing over something he thought was too dangerous for her. There's no motive there."

He frowned, unable to deny her logic. "Maybe that's what he's afraid of." Then, "He's Trent now, is he?"

Sydney closed her eyes for a second, looking pained, then opened them and smacked him in the back of the head all in the same moment. "There are two of them. It makes sense to use first names."

He thought about that for a second. "Oh. Yeah." He rubbed his head where her palm had connected. "That hurt."

"You're such a wimp," she muttered, her voice dripping in mock disgust. She shook her head and started walking again. "Come on. I want to at least hit a few places before lunchtime."

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"Trent?" He started at his brother's voice. "You okay?"

After a very long silence, during which Tommy slowly inched closer to him, he nodded. "Yeah. Just need to let off some steam."

The younger man's eyes danced. "I've got a little free time."

Trent laughed. "You're asking for trouble."

"What, from you, old man?" He picked up the bag he'd set down. "You better warm up while I change. Wouldn't want those old joints to lock up on you."

Trent grabbed his brother, pulling him into a hug – then, swiftly, flipped him, pinning him to the ground. "I don't think I have too much to worry about."

He let Tommy roll away from him and rose onto his knees as the boy stood. "Suit yourself, old man."

"Old man," Trent muttered, rising and trying not to wince at the slight twinge in his back. "I can't wait until you hit thirty!" he called after his brother.

"Let's try twenty, first?" he heard a muffled shout, followed by the kid's laughter, a welcome reprise from the strain of the last couple days.