He nodded again. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure things are secured here. We all will.” He jerked his head in the direction of the porch where even more neighbors seemed to have gathered.
“We’re going to have to lift her enough for me to apply new compresses. I’ll use the plastic wrap to hold the ones at her shoulder and side in place. Right now, make a roll from one of the towels. We’re going to use it like a cervical collar. It will stabilize her neck and, hopefully, help keep pressure on that wound.”
“Just tell me when.” He bent and carefully slid his hands into place to lift Mac.
Jael focused on the task at hand, doing her best to forget she was working to save the life of someone she cared for. Mac was more than a friend and fellow cop. She was family by choice. But she couldn’t think about that right now. She couldn’t let her fear distract her.
Quickly, as surely as she had while still an active duty Marine, Jael worked to do everything she could to staunch the bleeding from the Mac’s wounds. As she did, she listened for the first sounds of sirens. An Officer Down call meant every cop able would be responding. But not fast enough. Not this time.
“Mom, SUV’s in place,” Chelsea said from the front door.
“Gary, go with her. Open the hatch and lower the back seats. We’ll put Mac back there. Chelsea, you and Jackson will ride in back with her. Brandon will be up front with me.”
Without a word, the two hurried off to do as she instructed. As they did, Jackson and Brandon returned. Jael looked at her son, seeing the strain reflected around his eyes, the only sign he was upset. Wishing she should could take time to comfort him, she jerked her head in the direction of the front door. As he moved past her, he rested his hand briefly on her shoulder. That was all but it was enough to reassure her. He’d have some bad times about today, they all would, but he would be all right.
She’d make sure of it.
“Jackson, listen to me.” When he nodded, she continued. “She was conscious for a moment. She hurt and she wanted to shift.” She glanced around, making sure they couldn’t be overheard. “We aren’t going to wait for the ambulance. We’re going to take her now. You and Chelsea will ride with her. Keep her calm and don’t let her shift. Do you understand?”
She waited, closely watching as he processed what she said—and didn’t say. Understanding dawned and he swallowed hard, once. Then he nodded and assured her he understood. Good. She trusted him to do as she said. He was Mac’s mate and the alpha of their pride. He could, she prayed, keep Mac from accidentally disclosing what was probably the biggest secret in the modern world.
Knowing they didn’t have any time to waste, she quickly explained how they would carry Mac outside. Before that, however, she wanted to secure her friend’s arm to her side. The more stationary they could keep it, the less likelihood she would start to bleed even more than she was now. At least Jael hoped so.
Silently, they eased Mac into a sitting position. Jael carefully slid Mac’s arm inside her shirt, sling-like. Using the plastic wrap, she secured the arm in place. Then she carefully placed the rolled towel around Mac’s neck and taped it so it wouldn’t loosen. Hopefully, that would be enough to keep Mac from bleeding out before they reached the hospital.
“All right, Jackson, we’ll lift her on three. Keep her as flat as possible as we carry her out,” she said after they carefully slid a blanket under her.
“Let’s do it.”
She counted to three. Carefully, doing her best to match her movement to Jackson’s, she lifted the end of the blanket near Mac’s head while Jackson lifted the other end. As soon as they had her up, she gave Jackson a nod. Gary yelled for everyone to stay back as they stepped outside. Slowly, she and Jackson carried Mac down the steps to where Chelsea had parked the SUV.
Tears burned her eyes as her children climbed into the back of the SUV. Their hands reached out, easing Mac inside and helping the others get her settled. Gary was there with several pillows. As soon as Jael climbed out, he placed them under Mac’s feet. Another neighbor pressed a clean blanket in Jael’s hands, telling her to use it to keep Mac warm.
“Go,” Gary said as he reached up to close the hatch.
“Uncle Jackson, she’s going to be all right,” Chelsea said at the same time.
Jael nodded for Gary to close the hatch and raced around to the driver’s side. As she climbed in behind the steering wheel, she told Brandon to buckle up. A moment later, she activated the SUV’s lights and siren. They’d already wasted too much time.
“Brandon, call Dr. Patek. Tell him we’re bringing Mac to Baylor. She took three gunshots at close range. She’s wounded at neck, side and shoulder. Tell him we aren’t waiting for transport.”
“Just drive, Mom.” He took her cellphone and searched the contacts list for Patek’s number.
“Hang on, everyone!”
She slammed the transmission into gear. Dirt and grass spun high into the air as she sped off. She said a silent prayer to the gods of traffic to keep the roads clear ahead of them.
3
Lt. Patricia King entered the bullpen and looked around. Early as it was, most of the day shift had yet to arrive. They wore expressions that pretty much matched her own. To the rest of the city, this might be a normal day. But not for the squad and not for the rest of DPD. Today, they were burying one of their own. It didn’t matter that he died while off-duty. He was “family” and they would buy him with honors.
Thinking about the funeral, Pat swallowed against the lump in her throat. As she did, the fingers of her right hand absently played with her wedding ring. Barely more than a year earlier, they’d laid her husband to rest. Malone’s death hit close to home, even if the circumstances were different. Shaking off her memories, she moved across the bullpen in the direction of her office. Crime didn’t stop just because they were laying one of their own to rest that afternoon. There were still cases to review and detectives to prep for court.
All in a day’s work in a city the size of Dallas.
She stepped inside the small office at the back of the bullpen and smiled ruefully. Even after all these months, she found it hard to believe this was her office and not Mac’s. With that office came responsibilities and she’d already lost enough time that morning because the baby decided to throw more cereal around the kitchen than he managed to eat.
Pat tossed her purse onto a chair and set her briefcase on the floor next to the battered desk. As she straightened, her cellphone rang. The moment she saw Jael’s name and number, she frowned. Jael was supposed to drive Mac to work that morning. Not that Mac needed a driver – in fact, she usually resisted having one – but she had court that morning against an attorney who loved using cops as chew toys. Mac had decided to use the drive in to go over her notes one last time before taking the stand.
“King,” she said, leaning against the edge of her desk.
“It’s me.”
Pat’s grip on the phone tightened. Tension and something else roughened the sergeant’s voice. Then Pat heard sirens and someone else—Brandon? But that didn’t make any sense—say something. Every instinct told her there was trouble. But what?
Before Jael could respond, the radio on the corner of Pat’s desk came to life. Pat’s breath caught and her stomach dropped as the dispatcher’s voice filled the office. At the same time, the noise from the bullpen ratcheted up as chairs were shoved back and feet hit the floor, hard. Every cop dreaded an Officer Down call. Gods knows, she’d prayed never to hear it again.
“You heard Dispatch!” Sergeant Kelsey called from the bullpen. “Gear up and stand ready for assignments!”
Pat grabbed the edge of the desk, steadying herself and forcing down memories of Dispatch sending out Officer Down call the morning of the ambush that cost her husband and two other cops their lives. Without thinking, she switched the cellphone to speaker and dropped it onto the desktop. Then she began stripping out of her uniform jacket and shirt as she hurried across the office to the
small closet.
“Jael, talk to me.”
As she pulled out a DPD polo shirt, she fought the urge to scream in denial. She didn’t need to hear Dispatch giving out Mac’s address to know who the fallen officer was. Jael wouldn’t be calling, and certainly wouldn’t sound so worried, had it been anyone else. The only question was if Mac lived.
God, let her be alive.
Pull it together, Pat. The squad needs you right now.
She paused and then grabbed her Kevlar vest. Her hands moved automatically as she pulled it on over her thin tank top. Then she looked down at her dress uniform pants and shoes. Those had to go. She grabbed a DPD golf shirt, a pair of jeans and boots and turned away from the closet. Before doing anything else, she closed her office door, more so she could speak privately with Jael than for personal modesty.
“Talk to me, Jael. What happened?”
“Mac’s down, shot at the house,” Jael said. “We’re on the way to the hospital now.”
Pat’s mouth firmed. She closed her eyes for a moment and said a quick prayer. In the background, she heard Chelsea reassuring Jackson that Mac was going to be all right. Brandon told someone to have a team ready for them. They were only a few minutes out. Then Jael told everyone to hang on a moment before tires squealed and a horn sounded. Jael cursed and then asked if everyone was all right.
“Jael?”
“Sorry, traffic’s a bitch and a bastard in a semi didn’t like the fact I cut in front of him.” The strain in her voice worried Pat because very little rattled the sergeant.
“Mac’s condition?” Pat began changing clothes.
“Bad.” More honking and a curse from someone who sounded very much like Brandon. Pat smiled slightly, despite her fear, knowing that at any other time, Jael would have read her son the riot act for using such language. “She took four shots at close range. Three shots hit her. Her vest stopped the fourth. She was bleeding badly enough I didn’t dare wait on an ambulance.”
Pat swallowed hard. Jael hadn’t said much but it was enough to tell her all she needed to know. Not only was Mac badly injured, but she wasn’t healing. Otherwise, Jael never would have risked transporting her.
Damn it. Was the nightmare starting all over again?
She shook her head. She didn’t need to jump to conclusions, not before they had more information. This might have nothing to do with the circumstances surrounding Mike’s murder. It might have nothing to do with what they were and everything to do with the fact Mac was a cop.
God, let it be that simple for a change. Please.
“How far out are you?” Pat asked as she pulled on her boots.
Cellphone to her ear, she stepped into the bullpen a few moments later. All around her, detectives stripped out of their uniform shirts and jackets. Some stood in tee shirts, looking as if they couldn’t figure out what to do next. Others pulled clean shirts from desk or filing cabinet drawers. Then, as if sensing her presence, they paused and all eyes turned to her. Their grim expressions told it all. They knew who the injured officer was. Even if they hadn’t recognized the address when it went out over the air, at least one of them would have made calls to find out who’d been shot. Now the detectives and uniformed officers under her command checked their weapons and waited. Pat motioned for them to hold their questions as Jael told her they were only minutes from the hospital.
“I’ll meet you there. Keep me posted.” She ended the call and slid the cellphone into her hip pocket.
She breathed deeply, striving for calm. A year ago, a similar call went out. Three of their DPD brothers had been ambushed downtown. All three died on the scene. Only a few knew that terrible day that one of the dead was her husband. They’d kept their relationship a secret and it hadn’t come out until after Mike’s funeral. How she managed to get through those first few days, Pat still didn’t know. It wasn’t until Mac returned home and was there to help that she began to function again. Now Mac had been ambushed. Worse, it had happened in Mac’s own home.
Pat pushed down the memories and the grief. Then she shook herself, much as her cougar would do were she shifted. Shoulders back, spine straight, she stepped to the front of the bullpen. What she had to do next wouldn’t be easy, but she needed to be the one to confirm what they already suspected. Then she’d put them to work. They would find out who shot their captain and they would get her justice.
She only hoped Mac lived to see it.
The moment she turned to face everyone, she felt the change in the room. Night shift detectives and support personnel stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the those of the dayshift already there. Expressions grim, they waited. They might not know exactly what happened, but they knew it was bad. Worse, they knew who the injured officer was and they wanted blood, not that she blamed them.
“Officer Murray, I need you to go to Captain Santos’ office. Ask Mrs. Duncan to join us. I know it’s early, but she will be there.” She was always in early those mornings, like today, when Mac had court. “Officer Talib, check the break room and the interview rooms. Anyone from the squad you find, send them here. The rest of you, hang on. Finish changing out of your dress blues. I want to do this just once.”
With that, she returned to her office. She had calls to make, some of which she would give anything to let someone else do. But she couldn’t. Those, however, had to wait until she called Chief Culver. By now, Dispatch would have notified the Chief of Police, but she needed to let him know what little she could.
Five minutes later, Pat once again stepped to the front of the bullpen. Detectives, uniforms and civilian employees from more than just Homicide filled the room. Most belonged to the Crimes Against Persons Division, but there were others from different divisions. All looked at her hopefully and she wished she had better news for them.
“Listen up,” she said as she closed the door. “You’ve heard the news by now. Approximately twenty minutes ago, an unknown subject approached Captain Santos’ home and rang the doorbell. When she answered the door, they shot her. She took four shots at close range. The one bit of good news we have right now is that her husband was home. He called it in and did what he could for her until help arrived. Sergeant Lindsay arrived shortly after that. She assessed the situation and determined the captain was hurt badly enough they couldn’t wait for the EMTs. She is transporting the captain to Baylor. They have picked up a police escort and Traffic is working to clear the route to the hospital.
“As of a few minutes ago, the captain was alive. That’s the best I can say. I won’t lie to you. She’s hurt badly. Otherwise, Jael would never have risked transporting her.”
“The perp?” Detective Jennifer Sears asked, her voice cold and hard.
“Got away. By the time Jackson got downstairs and to the captain, the shooter was driving off. What little I know right now comes from Jael. Jackson saw the perp leave in a white panel van. She saw that same van speeding out of the neighborhood and described it as being similar to those driven by contract delivery services. No visible plates, dark tinted windows and damage to the left rear quarter panel. An APB has been issued.”
Not that it would do much good. There had to be hundreds, maybe thousands, of vans matching that description in Dallas County alone.
Pat paused, letting the information sink in. Silence hung heavily in the room. Someone’s cellphone buzzed once before being silenced. All eyes remained on her. She knew what they waited for. Like her, they wanted the case and, as far as she was concerned, it was theirs. At least until the brass said differently.
“Sergeant Kelsey, I need you to run point here for the next few hours. If any of our people have court this morning, they’re to be there. No excuses. The captain wouldn’t thank us for perps walking free because we didn’t show up to testify. Night shift personnel who don’t have court are to get at least four hours down. Then, if they want in on this investigation, they can report to Detective Tanaka,” she told the nightshift supervisor.
“Understood, LT,”
Kelsey said.
“Tanaka, Buttkowski, Anders.” She named several others assigned to the squad. “Report to the captain’s house. Tanaka, you have the lead. Find out what the hell happened. Let’s ID the shooter and get him in custody before anyone else gets hurt.”
Those she named began gathering up their things in preparation of leaving. Before they could, she once again called for everyone’s attention.
“Nguyen, Sears, I want you at the hospital. Interview the captain’s husband. He is not a person of interest, but he may have seen or heard something that will help us ID the shooter without realizing it. Also, they have a state-of-the-art security system.” And that, Pat knew, was putting it mildly. “Ask Jackson if the system was armed and if the cameras were operational. Even if the cameras weren’t on this morning, get his permission to check footage for the last two weeks. Whoever shot the captain had to have scoped out the house. We might get lucky and find them on video.”
“We’ve got it covered, LT,” Nguyen said and Sears nodded in agreement.
“We will run this case by the book. The captain would expect it and, by God, I don’t want her shooter to skate on a technicality. Understood?”
“Understood,” everyone repeated.
“Get to it. Change into soft clothes if you are heading into the field. Don’t even think about not wearing your vests. Not after today. Work your cases and, if you have time to help on this, do so. One more thing, we will have a presence at Officer Malone’s funeral. The captain’s injury doesn’t lessen that loss, nor does it relieve us of our duty to support Malone’s family. Those of you working the captain’s case, figure out who from your team will attend. Sgt. Kelsey, I’ll leave it to you to make the assignments from the rest of the squad.
Nocturnal Revelations Page 3
