Scene of the Crime

by Sharon Dunn

  Jackson took off before she could respond. He spoke frantically into his radio.

  Darcy flattened against the wall and worked her way toward the shop entrance. There was no one else on the sidewalk. She slipped into the shop, which was still crowded, though everyone had moved toward the rear of the shop. Some people were talking on their phones in urgent voices. Others were just pressed against the wall, staring at nothing. No one was shopping. She stood off to the side at the back of the store, as well, separated from the cluster of people.

  Her heart squeezed tight with fear for Jackson’s safety. Smokey sat at her feet, moving his head back and forth, watching the other people.

  Something hard pressed against her back and a male voice spoke into her ear. “Drop the dog leash and come with me. You make a fuss and I’ll shoot you and the dog on the spot. You understand?”

  Darcy shook her head. When she dropped the leash, Smokey turned to face her. His face filled with expectation, awaiting a command.

  “Tell him to stay,” the man whispered in her ear.

  “Sit. Stay, Smokey.” Her voice quivered with fear.

  The dog did as he was told.

  “Now let’s you and me head out the back door.”

  Darcy glanced around at the crowd, wondering if she could get someone’s attention before a bullet entered her back. Not likely, as the man sounded serious. Would he risk being caught? The ideal plan was probably to take her someplace more secluded. Either way, it was clear his intent was to kill her.

  TEN

  Jackson hurried up the stairs. He was greeted by a long hallway with doors indicating various offices, lawyers and accountants mostly. He could only guess at where the shots had come from. Judging from the sound, they had not been from a rifle but a handgun. He wondered if the woman intended to get them into a vulnerable place and then take her shot at Darcy. A handgun didn’t have the long-distant accuracy of a rifle, so chances were she’d been firing from the second floor. But still, how had she so quickly gotten from the shop to here and in place to shoot at them?

  There were three possibilities for where the shots had originated. The first door indicated the office of a financial planner. Jackson knocked on the door.

  “Yes, come in.” The voice sounded frightened.

  Jackson opened the door and stuck his head in. The first thing he saw was a desk with two computer monitors and a headset that had been tossed on the floor. A man in a suit was pressed against a far wall. He looked at Jackson’s uniform. The man’s stiff shoulders relaxed a little. “I heard the shots. What’s going on?”

  Off to his side, Jackson heard banging and shuffling. He poked his head out of the office just in time to see a woman running toward the stairwell.

  Jackson sprinted after her. By the time he flung the door open and glanced up the twisting stairwell, the woman was not in sight, though he heard the tap, tap, tap of footsteps above him. She had to be in good shape to have run that quickly, but why not run down to the street?

  Jackson raced up the stairs until he reached the rooftop where there was a garden and several storage sheds. No one was currently working in the garden. He scanned side to side. The rooftops were connected well enough that you could run from one to the other. There was a small group of people several rooftops over. They were sitting at tables and had a barbecue going. He didn’t see the woman anywhere. That meant she must be hiding behind or in one of the storage sheds.

  Pulling his weapon, he checked around the first storage shed. When he tried to open it, he found it was locked. He moved to the second shed, making a sweeping pattern with his gun. He moved toward the next shed.

  A bullet whizzed by him, so close that his skin tingled and his eardrum felt like it been hit with a tiny hammer. He fell to the ground and then peered up. The shot had come from the garden of corn and sunflowers, which were high and thick enough to hide someone. The foliage rustled and a woman half rose then took off in the direction of the next rooftop. Would she risk trying to jump across? She sought shelter behind the final shed just as Jackson rose and aimed his weapon. He didn’t want to kill her, only wound her.

  “Police!” he said. “Come out with your hands up!”

  He stepped steadily toward the shed. In the distance, he heard sirens. Once the shooting had happened, NYPD sent all kinds of backup, not just the units that were in the area. Judging from the sound of the sirens, some were probably still five minutes away.

  “Give yourself up,” he said. “This place is going to be surrounded in just minutes.” He kept his weapon aimed at the shed as he moved in.

  A strange noise not too far from the shed caught his attention. It sort of sounded like metal creaking or something that needed to be greased. Still on high alert, he raced to the edge of the building. Using the shed to shield her from view, the woman had climbed down a fire escape as far as it would take her. She was now hanging from a windowsill. He watched as she dropped the ten feet to the ground and raced up a back alley. She ran like lightning. No way could he make that climb and catch up with her.

  He clicked on his radio. “Suspect is on the run. Looks like she’s headed up an alley toward Flushing. Suspect is considered armed and dangerous.”

  He hurried back to the stairwell and sprinted down, taking the stairs two at a time. Though he headed up the alley, running as fast as he could, he knew that his efforts were probably futile. The woman had some athletic chops; he had to hand it to her.

  He ran all the way out to Flushing Avenue, searching everywhere while he caught his breath. The crowds were just too abundant. It would be too easy for her to blend in. The rest of the NYPD would put an all points out for her, and the search would continue in a five-block radius around the Navy Yard.

  He pulled out the bagged hat he’d picked up. One of the tracker dogs might be able to find her. He hurried back to the building where he’d left Darcy and Smokey. Outside the building, Tyler Walker was waiting with Dusty, along with dozens of other police units, both K-9 and patrol. Tyler must have been one of the units that was close by to get here so fast.

  Jackson handed Tyler the hat. Dusty picked up on a scent right away. After Jackson briefed the other officers on all that happened, he headed into the imported home goods store. At least Darcy had been kept safe.

  He hurried inside. Most of the people were still gathered at the back of the store. Their expressions communicated fear and alarm.

  He moved up one aisle and down the other, not seeing Darcy or Smokey. He stepped into the third aisle. When Smokey came running toward him, dragging the leash, Jackson knew something was terribly wrong.

  * * *

  Still pressing the gun in her back, the man led her onto a back street. At least ten people stood in the street, which was normally not that busy as it was the backside of businesses where the Dumpsters were kept.

  He spoke through gritted teeth. “Where are all these people coming from?”

  She’d heard the sirens. NYPD had probably sent many units to deal with the active shooter. These people probably had taken shelter in the back alleys thinking it was safer from potential violence.

  “Once your friend shot at me, I’m sure the NYPD pulled out all the stops.”

  “Shut up,” he said. “Do what I say.” He poked her with the barrel of the gun. His free hand was wrapped around her forearm. To the world, they probably looked like a couple out for a stroll. Though Darcy thought the expression on her face might indicate they were a couple who had just had a fight.

  She scanned the faces around her. No one was even looking in their direction.

  Yelling for help or that she was being kidnapped might mean he would just shoot her on the spot and run, aiming the gun at anyone who tried to take him down. The police were close by...if she could just get on a street where they were. If Jackson had figured out what happened to her, he might have given the other officers a d
escription of her.

  “This place is crawling with police.” She still felt the pressure of the gun against her back. “Even if you shoot me, you won’t get away.”

  “I’m Brooklyn born and raised. I know every back alley and shortcut.” The man sounded nervous to her.

  He pushed her forward around a corner and onto another street. Two blocks up, she saw the flashing lights of a police vehicle. He yanked her back around the corner. He must have seen it, too.

  “Like I said. You’re surrounded. Why don’t you let me go? You can get away.”

  He pushed on her back. “Let’s just keep going down this street.”

  Darcy walked, moving her eyes while her head remained still. She had to find the opportunity for escape. “You’re not even doing this for yourself, are you? It’s that woman who is behind it all.” Maybe she could get some information out of him. Maybe she could break his resolve. “What is she to you, your girlfriend?”

  “Shut up, I said.” His voice broke. “I should just shoot you now. Take my chances.”

  Of course, if she ended up dead, any information Darcy gathered would not help anyone. She could tell the man was growing more frustrated. He could be pushed toward giving up as fast as he could be pushed toward just shooting her.

  They walked by a building where Darcy noticed a homeless man was passed out. He wouldn’t have slept through all the sirens. He must been unconscious from some kind of drug or too much alcohol. The shooter stopped and stared at the prone man. “It would be nothing to shoot you and leave you to look like you were sleeping just like him.”

  Fear charged through her like a raging bull. There would be no time to scream even at this close range. “There would be blood. People would see.”

  Still gripping her upper arm, he pushed the gun barrel into her back again. “Up there, that street.”

  The street he was pointing to looked like more of an alley or side street. Chances were, it would be deserted. She had to get away before they turned the corner.

  Sirens sounded in the distance, but some were growing louder, maybe two blocks away. The man hesitated in his step. His grip on her arm loosened. This was her opportunity.

  She wrenched her body, wrestling free of his grip. His gun was visible. She shouted, “Help! Help me!”

  Several people looked in her direction.

  The man pointed his gun at them. “You come at me and I’ll shoot.”

  The few people who had looked her way took a step back, fear clouding their expressions just as a patrol car rounded the corner.

  The man shoved her forward and ran down the alley just as the patrol officer got out of his car.

  Darcy fell, putting her hands out in front of her to brace for impact with the concrete. The patrol officer assessed the situation. One of the onlookers pointed up the alley. The officer sprinted toward the street where the armed man had gone.

  An older woman came up to Darcy and held out her hand to her. Darcy could barely stand. She felt like every bone in her body was vibrating. She’d managed to stay levelheaded through the whole ordeal. Now that she was safe, all the fear and panic she’d held at bay flooded through her like a tsunami.

  The older woman didn’t say anything, only patted her shoulder. The rest of the people watched Darcy as she brushed off her pant legs. Her heart was still racing.

  Jackson and Smokey came around the corner. She stumbled toward them and fell into his arms.

  He held her and whispered in her ear. “It’s all right now. You’re safe.” He drew her closer. “I was so worried about you, Darcy.”

  “He could have killed me.” The realization made her weak-kneed all over again. But it was different now with Jackson so close. As she reveled in the safety she felt in Jackson’s arms, a sense of calm returned.

  Smokey whined at his feet. He wagged his tail when Darcy lifted her head to look in his direction. “You were worried, too, weren’t you?”

  Jackson tightened his embrace and drew her closer. She had the sense that he wanted the moment to last as much as she did.

  He pulled free of the hug and looked into her eyes. “Let’s get you home. There are plenty of officers here to continue searching,” he said. “You have been through enough for one day. I think my priority needs to be with getting you home safe.”

  She so appreciated his sensitivity to how shredded she felt right now. They waited around for a while longer. After giving their statements, they returned to his SUV and loaded up.

  He talked as they drove through traffic. “Considering everything that has happened, I think I can get a patrol car to park outside your house for the whole night.”

  “That would be great.” She was still trying to calm down. Part of her wished that it would be Jackson parked outside her place. She only truly felt safe when she was with him.

  He made the call to Gavin while they were en route. Jackson explained the situation and added, “She needs a higher level of security than I alone can manage in my off-duty hours.” He glanced over at her and gave her his trademark wink.

  “Let me put you on hold one minute,” Gavin said. “I’ll see what I can authorize.”

  Jackson turned to Darcy. “I’m sure they will put someone in place. If not, I’ll park outside your building.”

  His offer touched her heart. “But you have to go on shift in the morning. You’d be exhausted.”

  “I’d do it for you, Darcy.”

  Jackson had the phone on speaker and Gavin’s voice came back across the line. “We can have a car outside her building within half an hour.”

  “Ten-Four,” Jackson responded.

  They fell into a comfortable silence. It was still early in the evening, the sky had just started to turn gray.

  Though her heartbeat had returned to normal, Darcy was stirred up from the trauma of having had a gun held on her again. She thanked God that she was alive. That she had such a good friend like Jackson. And then she tried to focus on something positive. “It will be good to see my sister and my cat again.”

  Jackson found a parking space a few blocks from her building. “I’ll walk you to your door and then I’m going to stay parked outside until a patrol car shows up.”

  “You can come inside, if you like.”

  “Your sister’s been home for most of the day, right?”

  “Yes,” she said. “So what you’re saying is that there is no chance of anyone waiting to jump me inside.” She was a little disappointed to not be able to spend even a few more minutes in Jackson’s company.

  Leaving Smokey in the car, they made their way up the sidewalk. “I’ll watch the street, and I’ll text you when the patrol unit shows. He or she will stay here all night until I can come to get you in the morning.”

  They stood outside her apartment building door, facing each other. “Thank you for everything, Jackson.”

  A moment passed as they gazed at each other.

  Darcy fell into his arms again, seeking the comfort of his strength and steady nature. She pulled back and looked into his eyes. “Could you call me instead of texting when the patrol officer shows up? I’d love to hear the sound of your voice. I don’t know... It gives me a sense of peace.”

  “Sure.” He seemed amused by her request. “You have a good rest of your night.”

  “Okay.” She fumbled in her purse for the key, grateful that there was a streetlamp to illuminate the entranceway so she could see to shove it into the lock.

  Opening the door, she turned back to look at Jackson. “See you in the morning.”

  “Remember not to stand in front of the windows,” he said.

  “I know,” she said.

  “Sorry to sound like a broken record. I just want to make sure I see your smiling face and dimples in the morning.”

  His remark softened the blow of having to live with the realit
y of her life being under constant threat. They both seemed to be prolonging the goodbye. Jackson’s company and protection felt so natural, like breathing. Darcy found herself not wanting to be away from him.

  She stepped inside, closing the door behind her, then headed to her apartment.

  Her sister was sitting at the table working on a laptop. She smiled up at her. Mr. Tubbs rested on the couch. This was home.

  Darcy collapsed on the couch and petted the cat. “I’ve had quite the day.”

  She stared at the ceiling thinking about her growing attachment to Jackson and how hopeless she felt about it.

  ELEVEN

  The next morning, Jackson got a call from Darcy saying she was free to go back to work, so he picked her up. After dropping her at the lab, he found himself distracted at the morning briefing for the Brooklyn K-9 Unit. His mind was on Darcy and her safety. And if he was honest with himself, he would rather be with her than anywhere else, not just to protect her but because he genuinely liked being around her.

  From the front of the room, Gavin briefed them on what had happened to Darcy yesterday, advising that any unit that was in the area of the lab or her home should be on the lookout for anything suspicious and report it in right away.

  “We have the man in custody who held her at gunpoint. He’s not talking. We believe he is just hired muscle and a woman is behind the attacks on Darcy Fields. Now, Detective Walker will brief us on the Emery double homicide and the progress made in locating the person little Lucy had said she missed during a recent interview.” I miss Andy was all Lucy had said on the subject, and her aunt and uncle had confirmed that there was no one named Andy in her life. “We believe,” Gavin continued, “that finding this person of interest might help us make a break in the murder of her parents. Tyler?”

  Tyler rose from his chair and walked to the front of the room. He had told Jackson that he felt like the Emery case was deeply personal, not just because Lucy’s aunt had married one of their own—Detective Nate Slater—but because every time he looked at Lucy, he thought about his own eighteen-month-old little girl who was also growing up without her mother. But they were both grateful that Lucy had a loving mother figure in her aunt and that Willow and Nate were in the process of adopting her.