“I was just going to say be careful, and don’t take any chances. Things are crazy enough out there.”

“Why, Lieutenant, it almost sounds as if you care.”

“I’ve got enough paperwork to do without adding your bloody carcass to the pile.”

He grinned and shook his head. “I’m touched by your concern. I’ll let you know if I find anything. You’ll do the same?”

She gave a short nod of agreement, even though sharing info with the FBI usually went against her entire belief system. In this case, however, it seemed only fair since Hill had notified her of Vasquez’s potential disappearance.

They walked out to the lobby together and went their separate ways without another word. But as always, being around Hill left her feeling off balance and out of sorts. After she’d confronted him about his propensity to stare at her, he hadn’t denied being attracted to her.

While the attraction was definitely one-sided, knowing he had a thing for her was weird. Maybe she’d give Shelby a push—or even a shove—in his direction. Whatever it took to get his eyes off her and on to someone else before his staring issue caused her more trouble with Nick.

She sent a text message to all her detectives, letting them know that Willie Vasquez had left the stadium without security and was out of touch with his family and the team. She asked them to keep a lookout for the ballplayer, but to keep his potential disappearance to themselves. It wasn’t necessary to explain the need for discretion to any of them. They carried gold shields because they “got it” without having to be led to it.

Determined to shake off the encounter with Hill and her concerns about where Willie Vasquez might be, she put her earbuds back in and turned up the volume on Bon Jovi to drown out her disturbing thoughts. She pounded away on the computer all night until she was so stiff from sitting in one position for hours that she had to stand up and stretch. Through the main door she could see the first hint of pink and orange lighting the sky, signaling the end to what had felt like an endless night of chaos, violence, arrests and paperwork.

One of the dispatchers called her over.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“Possible homicide.” He handed her a slip of paper with an address on Independence and Seventh. “Body in a Dumpster.”

“Got it.” Sam took a quick look around and saw no sign of the brass. If she couldn’t find Chief Farnsworth, she couldn’t ask Chief Farnsworth, right? “Give me ten minutes to get out of here before you tell anyone else about this, got me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”