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overseeing the disposal of a bomb at a Houston medical clinic when the bomb exploded, injuring a toddler, Agent Jimenez, and another officer. “The fallout from Houston didn’t in any way compromise her ability to do her job, physically or psychologically?”
    “Absolutely not,” Parker said. “She took a hit from some shattered glass, but she’s been released by medical. Like I told you, Jack, she’s the best. She lives for her work and, despite what the president says, doesn’t make mistakes. If it were me or anyone I cared about strapped to one of those bombs, I’d want Evie working the scene.”
    Which is why he personally brought Evie on board. Jack always worked with the best. He took another long sip of bourbon, the ice clinking at the barely there tremble in his hand. On this one he needed the best.
    After he finished the call with Parker, he dialed up the investigator he’d hired this morning, a former Navy SEAL who’d been running a private investigation firm in Los Angeles for more than thirty years.
    “Any news?” Jack asked.
    “We found a possible match at the third bomb scene, but nothing definitive at this point.”
    “Keep me posted.” But Jack wasn’t about to sit back and let others do the work, even good ones like Agent Jimenez and his PI. He took his computer from the patio table, set it on his lap, and called up the photos of the third crime scene. With the moon shining overhead, Jack began to search for the sun.

Chapter Five
    Thursday, October 29
7:16 a.m.
    E vie had been in her share of war rooms, but none with so many naked women on the walls. This morning someone on the Angel Bomber task force had made enlarged prints of each of the paintings in the Beauty Through the Ages exhibit and hung them on the walls of one of LAPD’s case conference rooms. Images that inspired a three-month killing spree were now inspiring a team set on capturing that killer.
    And she was a member of that team.
    After a near-sleepless night at a cheap motel north of the Arts District, she finally got a call from Parker.
    “The president wasn’t happy about you taking the high school disrupt in Maine,” Parker had said, his tone crisp and factual.
    “Bullshit,” Evie had argued. “He wasn’t happy that I was on TV. I’m the face of a botched bomb disrupt that has the American public doubting his administration’s ability to control both foreign and domestic terrorist activities. This is all about him covering his ass.”
    “And he will continue to do so until next year’s election.”
    Something akin to a growl clawed up Evie’s throat. “Officer Gilley took full responsibility for his actions in Houston, and Internal Affairs cleared me of any wrongdoing or negligence.”
    “The president finally read the IA report, and he agreed to lift your suspension.”
    Yes! She’d fisted her free hand and punched the air. It was about time.
    “But you need to keep your nose squeaky clean on this one.” A laugh had rumbled on the other end of the line. “Well, at least as clean as you can keep it.” Parker’s voice had softened. “Remember, Evie, your job is to preserve life, all life, including yours.”
    And with that Parker had assigned her to the multi-jurisdiction task force investigating the Angel Bombings. Less than fifteen seconds after hearing those beautiful words, she was on the horn with Vince Ricci and told him about the Beauty Through the Ages collection. Within minutes, Vince had mobilized his team and called a task force meeting.
    She stood in front of a copy of the fourth painting, the portrait of the woman in the red dress and child with a halo of golden curls. She’d held enough of her nephews to know that cheek. Soft and warm, powdery and sweet. “You are not going to die.” She ran her finger along the cheek. “Do you hear me? You will not die.”
    “Took you long enough,” a deep voice said from behind her. Vince Ricci gripped her shoulder and gave her a one-armed squeeze.