Free Silent Weapon by Debra Webb

some noise in the papers about increasing tension between Metro and the bureau. In all honesty I had been deep in the throes of my own problems and hadn’t been more than superficially aware of anything else.
    “Why was the bureau involved in the first place?” I asked. I hated to admit I didn’t know why, but I was, after all, just a civilian—one who’d taken little note of the problems of the world during that time frame of personal devastation.
    Are you familiar with the name Luther Hammond? This from Kent.
    “No, sir.” Okay, I was sounding dumber by the moment. I wondered if they would change their mind about an offer of any sort considering how little I appeared to know about the subject. I also considered whether or not I might be better off if they did change their mind. I chucked the concept and forced my mind back on the matter at hand.
    Attention shifted down to Barlow’s end of the table. I settled my gaze on his well-formed lips. I blinked, wondered why I would in a million years notice that just now. This definitely was not the time.
    Luther Hammond is a thug of the highest order, Barlow said. He glanced at Chief Kent but I didn’t turn to the chief quickly enough to catch whatever he said.
    I shifted my gaze back to Barlow in time to follow his next words.
    When you encounter the word mob you surely understand the implications?
    The question was intended for me, I realized. I nodded stiffly. It wasn’t quite clear to me whether or not he’d intended to be condescending. His expression didn’t give away his emotions, but his words made me feel just a little more uncomfortable.
    Luther Hammond is the mob in this city. Again he said the words with no readable emotion.
    I blinked, startled. Nashville had a mob? Since when? I’ve lived here all my life.
    His reach includes every imaginable evil from drugs to prostitution to cheating on his taxes and everything in between. He strong-arms politicians and cuts down anyone who gets in his way.
    Something akin to fear shimmered through me. The tummy-twisting sensation you feel when something goes bump in the middle of the night and you can’t remember if you locked the door or some accessible window before collapsing into bed. How could such a monster be operating in my hometown without my knowledge? Was I that far out of touch? A part of me wanted to ask what this had to do with my recent actions or, for that matter, with me, but that twinge of fear kept my lips tightly sealed. I had a disturbing feeling I was about to find out.
    He’s a killer, Barlow added. He killed Arthur Raby and got away with it just as he gets away with the rest of his dirty deeds. This time I could see the fury burning in those piercing blue eyes. Detective Barlow hated Luther Hammond and that hatred went way deep. I braced against the shiver that realization elicited.
    So far I’d made only two connections to the case I’d been involved in and this one, murder and real estate. I, as all those present well knew, was no expert in either.
    “How does he get away with it?” I asked before I had the good sense to stop myself. I felt reasonably sure I was supposed to be playing the part of listener in this.
    Barlow’s gaze shifted from me to Chief Kent, clueing me in to who was speaking next.
    Because we haven’t been able to come up with enough evidence to stop him. Kent appeared to consider his next words carefully before continuing. Initially the bureau kept us out of their case. But we’ve gotten past that and now we have an opportunity to get in with our own agenda.
    Hammond’s security is extremely tight, Chief Adcock said. We’ve tried repeatedly to get to him. But he’s too smart for the usual methods. No amount of surveillance has touched him. His people stay on the cutting edge of technology. We haven’t been able to even get close. Like Chief Kent and Barlow, until the last, Adcock kept his expression carefully schooled. I paid close attention as he