Nocturnal Revelations

by Amanda S Green

  The man lifted his arm, gun in hand. He apologized and fired three shots. Even though Mac remained out of camera range, Jael knew what happened when the man stepped inside. A fourth shot sounded, almost drowning out the man telling Mac she should have paid attention. Almost instantly, Jackson yelled for Mac. The shooter reappeared in the video, hurrying down the sidewalk toward the waiting van. A moment later, Jackson raced outside, running after the man in a vain attempt to stop him.

  Without a word, Jael replayed the video. It lasted less than three minutes but they were the longest three minutes of her life. When the video came to an end the second time, she closed the laptop. Pat sat back, shaking her head in disbelief. Then she looked up at Jael, anger burning in her eyes.

  “Have you checked with the techs to see how close they are to cracking the encryption?” Pat asked.

  “They’re working on it. I’ve told them I contacted those who set up Mac’s security system. The techs should have the key ASAP.”

  Pat nodded, her expression thoughtful.

  “Mateo said they should have it within an hour or so. He was going to send it right away and I reminded him we need to make this look like we’re going through all the proper channels.” She didn’t like it, but she was damned if she’d give Wysocki or anyone else reason to question how the investigation was being run.

  “All right.” Pat leaned back and rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. “Did you recognize the shooter?”

  “No. You?”

  “I don’t think so.” She sat up and blew out a breath. Then she checked her watch and cursed softly. “I need to get to the hospital. Culver wants me at the press conference.”

  Jael chuckled softly, almost evilly. “Have fun.” She ducked the wad of paper Pat launched at her.

  “I could order you to go with me,” Pat reminded her.

  “But you won’t. You want me out on the streets trying to find this bastard.” She tapped the lid of her laptop.

  “Get out of here before I change my mind,” Pat chuckled as she climbed to her feet. “Send the image to Tanaka. Tell her you have a contact with the security company who sent this to you. It’s not for release yet. But have her show the image to Mac’s neighbors and see if anyone recognizes it.”

  “Will do.” She stood and moved to the office door, turning back before leaving. “Pat, we’re going to get this bastard.”

  “And that video puts us one step closer.”

  * * *

  The far doors to the auditorium opened and a hush fell over the room. Reporters waited, recorders held at the read. Camera operators focused on the half dozen men and women who entered and climbed onto the stage. A man who looked like he might have once played professional football moved to stand behind the podium. His dark hair was cut short, almost in a military style. He wore the daily uniform of the DPD. His expression as he glanced around the room missed nothing.

  “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Sergeant Clyde Minahan. I am currently assigned to Media Relations for the Dallas Police Department. Speaking to you today will be Chief of Police Darnell Culver.” He went on to name several others, including members of Baylor’s medical staff. “Before we get started, a few ground rules. We will do our best to answer your questions, but we will not jeopardize the investigation nor will be violate the privacy of our injured officer or their family. One question per reporter and follow-ups may be allowed. However, only if the speaker indicates you may ask something else. Chief Culver?”

  Culver moved to the podium and shook Minahan’s hand. Then he took the sergeant’s place and looked out over the gathering, his expression serious.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, for the record, I am Chief of Police Darnell Culver.” He glanced at his notes and then put them in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “The life of a member of the Dallas Police Force is always uncertain. Each time one of our officers straps on their weapon and picks up their badge, they know it might be the last. It is a risk they, and their families, accept. It is the cost of serving and protecting this great city and its citizens. Unfortunately, it is a risk that turned to reality this morning.”

  Cameras rolled and reporters took notes. Culver paused a moment before continuing.

  “At approximately six forty-five this morning, Captain Mackenzie Santos was ambushed at her home. An unknown assailant approached her house and rang the doorbell. When she opened the door, she was shot four times at close range. The suspect then fled. Captain Santos was transported here. The staff and doctors are doing all they can to save her.

  “It was only through the quick actions of Captain Santos’ husband, her neighbors and a member of the DPD who arrived within minutes of the shooting that the captain did not die on the scene. Not only did they work to stabilize her, they transported her to the hospital without waiting for the EMTs. I have been assured by the doctors here that, at the very least, it gave Captain Santos a fighting chance for survival.

  “As for the attack, at this point, we do not have a motive or an ID on the suspect. Investigators are interviewing witnesses and will be reviewing Captain Santos’ caseload to pinpoint anyone who might have a motive to harm her.

  “I want to make this very clear. The Dallas Police Department will not rest until we find the person or persons responsible for the shooting. There is no place they can hide that we won’t find. They need to do themselves a favor and surrender now.

  “For the rest of you, pray for Captain Santos and her family. Keep the members of the DPD in your thoughts. Today is a difficult day for all of us as we hold vigil for our injured officer and as we lay another officer, Patrolman Frank Malone, to rest.”

  “Chief Culver, what is the captain’s condition?” one of the reporters asked.

  “I’ll let her medical team brief you on her condition, but I will say this. We’re lucky the captain has survived this long.”

  Culver stepped back and Minahan took his place, introducing the head of Baylor’s Emergency Department. Ten minutes later, Minahan once more stepped up to the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, we will hold another update at four this afternoon. Thank you.” He turned and escorted those who had addressed the media out of the room. Cameras followed their progress. As the doors closed behind them, the image on the television screen changed to one of the on-scene reporters standing outside the hospital.

  “That was Chief of Police Darnell Culver and members of the medical team here at Baylor University Medical Center.”

  A coffee mug flew across the office, striking the far wall. Damn it! What did it take to kill that bitch?

  He turned his attention back to the television. He listened as a team of reporters recounted not only what had been said at the press conference but reported from their locations near Santos’ house. Unfortunately, they had no solid information for him. The only good news, if he could call it that, was the shooter hadn’t been identified or captured. But even that could be a ruse. He’d learned the hard way not to trust Santos and her champions to manipulate the situation to their best advantage.

  He frowned slightly and turned off the television. As he did, he glanced at the cellphone resting on the desktop. He should have known better than to trust anyone outside of his inner circle to carry out the job. But he also knew the importance of maintaining his distance from anything that had to do with Santos. Besides, he’d been sure he held all the cards this time. Obviously, he’d mistaken the degree of motivation needed to insure success. Now he needed to figure out the best way to clean up the mess without it splashing back on him.

  A simple job, or it should have been, shot to hell because of incompetence.

  He knew better than to be surprised, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. Mackenzie Santos had the proverbial nine lives of a cat. Somehow, she survived Wilcox’s attack more than two years ago. Not only had she survived but it had awakened her latent powers as a shapeshifter. She survived the Circle not once but several times, defeating not only Wilcox but
others who should have had no problem dealing with a shifter so new to her abilities. There were other times as well when she should have died, both before she started shifting and after. Each time she’d come through and each time his determination to end her and her bloodline deepened. Sooner or later, her luck had to run out.

  And he planned on making sure it was sooner rather than later.

  But first he needed to deal with the one who failed him. He might give the man a second chance. Or he might decide to use him to throw the police off the scent. Then he could deal with Santos in his own way and time.

  Part of him wanted to do just that, no matter what the personal risk. Santos needed to die and perhaps it was time to do his own dirty work. But not until he knew all other options, and loose ends, had been followed.

  11

  Pat climbed out of her department-issued sedan and glanced around. Nine hours. Nine hours since the 911 call went out. Nine hours since Jael and Jackson loaded Mac into the rear of the SUV to drive her to Baylor. Nine hours and she still lived. Nine hours without a break in the case.

  Shaking off her frustration, Pat stepped away from the car. As she did, she eased her control over her cougar. She needed the enhanced senses of her jungle cat. They gave her an advantage the other detectives didn’t have, one she wouldn’t hesitate to use. Not if it meant finding the bastard who shot her friend and former partner.

  “Damn, LT, now I understand why Jael moved to this neighborhood,” Det. Shelly Tanaka said as she crossed the lawn to where Pat stood. “The neighbors have been more than cooperative. Not one of them with security cameras balked when we asked for this morning’s footage. When we asked if anyone might have caught something on their phones, they simply held them out and told us to take them.” She smiled and then chuckled softly. “Well, a couple of the teens balked, but that was more because they had stuff on the phones they didn’t want their parents to find out about.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me.”

  Nor did the sight of a young couple who lived several houses down moving among the officers working outside the crime scene tape, handing out bottles of water and soft drinks. A grandmotherly sort followed with sandwiches for them. Two men who looked like they could play professional football had stationed themselves at the end of the sidewalk leading up to the house, the yellow tape at their backs. Pat had no doubt they’d gladly take anyone from the media who tried to get past them to the ground. The media might not recognize the difference between them and most other people who gathered outside a crime scene, but cops did. These neighbors were anything but looky-loos. They were there to back up and support the cops in any way they could. Mac was as much theirs as she was DPD’s and they would do what they could to protect her and Jackson’s privacy.

  “Have they been able to add anything?”

  Tanaka checked her notes before responding. “A couple of the kids were waiting for their school bus at the top of the street. They saw the van pull in. Couldn’t see the driver but they both said there was something off about it. It drove slowly, as if the driver was checking out the neighborhood. When I asked why they paid attention to it, they said the captain taught them to always be aware of what’s going on around them and to trust their gut. Their guts told them something was wrong. They even pulled out their phones and took video of it. We’ve sent the phones to the lab with orders to try to get what they can.”

  “Good.” They slowly crossed the yard toward the house. “Have you had a chance to show the perp’s picture around?”

  Tanaka nodded and then frowned. “I did. None of them recognized him. A couple thought they might have seen him before but couldn’t be sure. They’ve promised to tag me if they figure out when and where they did.”

  “It was a longshot. Still, maybe we’ll get lucky.” Pat watched as an evidence tech finished collecting blood from the entranceway. “Once the scene’s released, let’s get a crew in to clean it up. We don’t need the captain’s family having to deal with it.”

  “Already taken care of, LT. Some of the crime scene techs said they’d come back and handle it. Our people will help and even some of the neighbors have offered to as well.” She nodded out the open door. “One of them owns a landscaping business and has a crew coming over as soon as they get the go-ahead to deal with the front yard where the SUV dug up the turf.”

  “Good.” Pat looked way from the dried blood where Mac had fallen and shook herself. “If you need more help here or in chasing down traffic cams or business security feeds, let me know.”

  “Will do. Right now, the neighbors are taking a lot of the pressure off by keeping the media at bay and by not saying anything to them except ‘no comment’.”

  Pat chuckled. That had to chap the reporters looking for even one soundbite to use in their next report.

  “I’m going to do a walk-around. Then I need to head back to the station before I have to put in an appearance at Malone’s funeral.” She glanced at her watch. “I need your initial report by two. Chief of Ds and Chief Culver want a briefing on the case at three-thirty. There’s another press conference at four. I’ll do my best to keep you from having to be there. You and your team are better used in the field right now. Even so, the Chief may decide you need to at least answer a few questions from the press.”

  “I’d really appreciate it if I didn’t have to be there, LT.”

  Pat nodded, completely understanding, and started back toward her car. For a long moment, she stood in the middle of the front yard and stared up the street. Police barricades had replaced the makeshift barricades erected earlier by the neighbors. Two uniformed officers and several of Mac’s neighbors guarded the entrance to the cul-de-sac. Beyond them, reporters and their vans waited, shouting questions to anyone close enough to hear.

  She turned and strolled around the side of the house. As she did, she eased her hold on her cougar a little more. Instantly, the cat leapt to the front of her awareness. Her senses expanded and she felt the cougar’s anger and worry for their friend and alpha.

  Hunt! the cat demanded. Pat knew she meant the shooter and not their normal quarry of deer or rabbit. Hunt now!

  Aya, no. We don’t know the target, she said firmly. Do you scent anything we can use to find the prey?

  Her cougar didn’t like being told no. Pat chuckled at the mental image the cougar sent her of the cat turning her back on Pat and padding off in a sulk. Then Aya turned and lifted her head, drawing in air. As she did, Pat mimicked her. She opened her mouth slightly and inhaled, breathing deeply. Nothing, at least nothing she hadn’t expected. Too much time had passed.

  Damn it.

  But she would return that night and she’d shift. Maybe they’d get lucky.

  Good. Want to hunt the one who hurt alpha.

  “Me, too,” Pat said softly.

  Even though she knew Tanaka and the others had checked the backyard, Pat opened the gate and stepped through. This was more than a random shooting. Someone had targeted Mac. The security video seemed to confirm that. Why else would the shooter apologize just before opening fire? If that was the case, their paths had to have crossed somewhere. Even though she doubted the shooter was as experienced as they first thought, she felt sure he had studied Mac and her habits. That wasn’t easy when the target was a cop as good as Mac. She would have picked up most tails. So who shot her and why?

  As she walked the perimeter of the property, Pat took time to talk with very detective and uniformed officer she passed. She spoke with the neighbors. They all shared an anger and disbelief she understood. For the first time, she began to understand how Mac must have felt when she’d been kidnapped. The weight of finding not only Pat but the others taken with her and making sure the existence of shapeshifters didn’t become public knowledge, had weighed on Mac. Then they’d lost Mike in that damned ambush.

  Pat inhaled deeply and pushed down the pain of her husband’s loss. Losing him the way she did almost broke her. It would have if Mac hadn’t been there to help
pick up the pieces.

  Now it fell to Pat and those under her command to find out what happened to Mac and to bring those responsible to justice.

  She started back to the house and stopped as a car came to tire-squealing halt at the foot of the driveway. Turning, her brows pulled together in a frown. Every cop there knew the car was a DPD issue. But it was the sight of the two people, one male and one female, who climbed out that brought everyone to a halt. Dressed in black suits, white shirts and black ties, the two looked like Feds. Pat knew better. IAB’s stink was all over them.

  For a moment, she considered cursing. Then her lips turned up in a predatory smile, her cougar lurking just behind her eyes. Aya wanted to hunt and these two would fit the bill nicely, figuratively if not literally. But first, Pat had something to do.

  She pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to Jael, giving her a head’s up that Wysocki was running true to form. Then she slid the phone back into her pocket and crossed the yard in the direction of the newcomers. Wysocki, or at least her detectives, was about to learn how foolish it was to take her on.

  * * *

  IAB on scene. About to send them packing, tails between legs. Will contact Culver. Make sure they don’t get near Jackson or Mac.

  Jael reread the text and then sent an acknowledgement. A moment later, she shoved the phone into her hip pocket and hurried off.

  “Make a path!” she yelled as hit the stairs at a dead run.

  Employees found themselves shoved to one side as she raced upstairs. She didn’t hear their questions or the occasional protest. None of that mattered. Not when she had a feeling all hell was about to break loose upstairs.

  Her phone pinged again as she reached the third floor, signaling another text. Reading it, she cursed long and hard even as she quickened her pace. Pat’s warning hadn’t come soon enough. Now she had a young uniformed officer doing her best to stare down an IAB rat, a captain rat no less.