Deadly Aim

by Patricia H. Rushford

  She walked him to the door. “Thanks for coming by—and for the pep talk.”

  “No problem.” He turned back, filling the doorway with his large frame. “There’s no way the grand jury’s going to indict you. Trust me on that.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  After saying good-bye and closing and bolting the door, she leaned against it, wishing she could be as sure about all of this as Eric seemed to be.

  As she headed to her bedroom, the phone began ringing. Who’d be calling this late? She walked down the hall, planning to answer it, but in the end she went back to the sofa and let the machine do what she’d bought it to do.

  “Hi, Angel,” Brandon said after the beep. “Must be sleeping, huh? Listen, I’m sorry about tonight. It wasn’t fair of me to buy the house without talking to you first. It’s just that the place was available and there were already several people interested in it. I felt I had to move fast. The proposal still stands, but no pressure, okay? I didn’t realize how serious your situation was until I saw it on the news tonight. My timing wasn’t the greatest, was it?”

  “No, it wasn’t,” Angel muttered, her annoyance with him reappearing.

  “I just wanted to apologize and tell you I love you.”

  Angel didn’t want his apology or his declaration of love, she just wanted to be left alone. She wanted peace of mind. She wanted to believe like Eric that everything would be okay. She turned off the lights, curled up under the afghan, and sat there for a long time, staring into the darkness, listening to the steady pounding of the waves. Sometime around midnight, she made her way to her bedroom and crawled into bed. Sleep came in snatches as images of Billy Dean Hartwell invaded her mind. Images of him raising his toy gun and laughing like a child at play. Images of her, pulling the trigger.

  The phone woke Angel at 7:00 the next morning. Her head still hurt. She refused to open her eyes. After three rings the answering machine picked up and said, “Hi, this is Angel, please leave a message at the beep.”

  “Angel?”

  She groaned into her pillow. “Dad, it’s too early.”

  “You still in bed? Come on, now. I know you can hear me.” He sighed. “You know how I hate to talk into these things, but I got something to say.”

  “Well, say it.” Angel mumbled but made no move to get out of bed.

  “Don’t let those yahoos get to you, Angel. I saw that idiot bad-mouthing you on television last night. He’s trying to make a racial case out of this. Ain’t gonna happen if I have anything to say about it. Already talked to the guys in the department, and they are all on your side. Mike says he can’t believe the guy would go that far. Says he’s going to try to talk to him. Just wanted you to know that.” He hesitated again. “I wish you’d answer your cussed phone. I don’t like talking to a machine.” After another long pause he hung up.

  Angel opened her eyes then closed them again. Coward. You should’ve talked to him.

  She crawled out of bed and shuffled barefoot to the kitchen. Still half asleep, she poured water into the coffeemaker, scooped coffee into the filter, and hit the on button.

  The phone rang again, and again she relied on the machine to intervene. This time it was Joe. Angel picked up as soon as she recognized his voice. “Hi, Joe. I’m here.” She pressed the stop button on the machine to end the recording. “Sorry.”

  “How are you doing, Delaney?”

  Terrible. “Okay, I guess.”

  “You watch the news last night?”

  “Yeah.” And I’m still reeling. I feel like I’ve fallen into a black hole and someone put the top on.

  “Look, I hate to ask, but I need you to come in. Normally I’d give you a few days before we do a formal questioning, but this Broadman guy is stirring things up royally. I got a call from the mayor this morning, and he got a call from the governor before he contacted me. They want this mess cleared up yesterday.”

  “I don’t know what I can do about it.”

  “You can cooperate. Give us your statement. We should have a report from the crime lab in Portland by Tuesday or Wednesday. This thing is taking top priority. Have you made an appointment with the shrink yet?”

  “No. The office wouldn’t even be open yet.” Her tone sounded defiant, and she quickly added, “I’ll do it today.” But I don’t want to. I know it’s protocol, but I’m afraid to go and to talk. I’m afraid I’ll fall apart.

  “Good.”

  “Joe?” Angel bit her lip, not sure she really wanted to know any more, yet feeling that she needed to.

  “Yeah?”

  “On television last night, I heard that another body had been found.”

  “That’s right.” Joe paused for a moment, and she wondered if he’d tell her about it. He cleared his throat and went on. “We’re not disclosing much to the media yet, so keep the info under your hat. Detective Riley spotted a body out on the pier behind the old cannery where you cornered the kid. No connection to the burglary or your situation that we can see. They found drugs on him. The victim was a known dealer out of L.A.—probably involved with the gang.”

  “Have you identified him yet?”

  “Name’s John James Monroe. Goes by the name of J.J. Ever hear of him?”

  “No, doesn’t ring a bell. Um—one more thing. The family says Billy wasn’t a gang member. Is that true? He was at the pharmacy, and I assumed...”

  “Don’t second-guess yourself on this, Delaney. Besides, it’s not me you have to convince. When can you get here?”

  She glanced at the clock on the microwave. “In an hour.”

  “Good. Your union lawyer will be here too—he called this morning to get your home number. Detective Riley with OSP will be here as well. Hopefully, we’ll have everything cleared up in a few days.”

  “I hope so.”

  Just before hanging up, he made an attempt to reassure her, saying he was on her side.

  Angel wished she could believe him, but his job was on the line as well as hers. Joe might be loyal to his officers, but she had no doubt he’d sacrifice her to the wolves if things got too hot. He’d never said as much, but she suspected that if he hadn’t had to fill his quota of female officers, he’d never have hired her.

  Why am I even thinking about whether or not he’ll support me? It isn’t going to come to that. I fired at the kid because I had to. He was a threat.

  No, he wasn’t. The voice was almost audible in its intensity.

  Yes, he was. I had no choice.

  Angel pushed aside the internal arguments and finished her coffee as she dressed and got ready to go to the police station. She was about to walk out the door when she remembered the psychologist. Better at least make the appointment before Joe got on her case again.

  “Oh yes, Miss Delaney,” the receptionist said after Angel had introduced herself. “We’ve been expecting your call.”

  “Why’s that?” She knew why. Apparently Joe was checking up on her. The knowledge didn’t improve her mood.

  “Um, Mr. Brady said you’d be calling. He just explained the circumstances.”

  “I see.” How much had Joe said?

  “Dr. Campbell has an opening this afternoon at 2:00. Could you come in then?”

  “Sure,” Angel told the receptionist. “The sooner the better.” Might as well get it over with. She was obligated to make one visit to the counselor, then she was off the hook. With the appointment made, she hung up.

  You may need to go longer. The thought was invasive and sounded too much like her mother.

  “I don’t need counseling,” she argued aloud. “It would make me look weak to the other officers—especially to Dad.”

  This has hit you hard. Besides that, you’re still struggling with Dani’s death.

  “Dani’s death has nothing to do with this. I’ll be fine.” She paused with her hand on the doorknob. “As long as I quit talking to myself.”

  She took a deep breath to brace herself for an attack by the multitudes of me
dia. But they weren’t there. Too early, she guessed, or maybe her news was already getting old. One could only hope.

  Angel got to the station at 8:30 sharp. Joe greeted her as though this were an ordinary briefing on an ordinary day as he ushered her into the interrogation room—the same room she herself had used to question witnesses. The room was filled by the rectangular wooden table and six chairs. A pitcher of water and several glasses sat in the center of the scarred table.

  The two men Joe had told her about were already seated, and both stood as she and Joe came in. Angel recognized the OSP officer immediately. Yesterday he’d arrived on the scene unshaven and wearing scrubby looking, paint-splattered jeans and a sweatshirt. He’d even had streaks of blue paint in his hair. Today he wore a tie, and under his tweed jacket she could see the familiar outline of his holster.

  He cleans up well. She turned from his assessing gaze and focused her attention on the lawyer.

  “Officer Delaney.” The other man introduced himself as Randy Grover and reached across the table to shake her hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it down here yesterday. I live in Portland, and there was no way I could get here before 6:00.” The lawyer, an average looking man with a stocky build, wore glasses and had a bald spot on top of his head, similar to Joe’s, though not as pronounced. He smiled and shook her hand, but his eyes told Angel that she wasn’t high on his priority list.

  “It’s okay. I don’t think your being here sooner would have made a difference.”

  Randy Grover sat down, opened his briefcase, and removed a legal pad and pen. With pen poised above the pad, he looked up at them as if to say, Let’s get on with it.

  “Officer Delaney.” The guy from the Oregon State Police came around to where she stood to shake her hand. “Detective Callen Riley.” His hand felt warm, firm, and strangely comforting. “This is a tough time for you.” His statement echoed the concern and understanding she read in his face. His eyes, a gentle sea green, searched hers, forcing her to look away for fear he’d see too much or look too deep.

  She needed air. She gulped back a surge of panic that nearly made her bolt for the door. She might’ve run if her legs hadn’t gone all rubbery on her. Her voice caught on the thank you she muttered to Detective Riley as she slipped into the chair he pulled out for her.

  “I was hoping we could wait a day or two for the formal statement,” Riley said, glancing at Joe then returning his gaze to her. “If you’re not up to this today, we can postpone it.”

  Neither Joe nor the lawyer commented. Grover looked like he had other things to do. Joe leaned against the wall, his expression unreadable. In her earlier conversation with him, he’d left no doubt as to his opinion.

  She glanced up at Riley. “Thanks, but I’m okay with it. We’re all here, so I might as well get it over with.”

  Detective Riley nodded. “All right, if you’re sure.”

  She nodded. I’m not. I may never be, but I don’t seem to have much choice.

  Riley produced a tape recorder from his open briefcase and set it on the table in front of her. The lawyer had a smaller one of his own. Angel gulped back another wave of panic.

  “We’ll try to make this as easy as possible on you.” Riley’s soothing voice washed over her.

  Easy? How could it ever be easy? Already the hard wooden chair hurt her rear, and she shifted to find a comfortable position.

  Detective Riley poured a glass of water and set it in front of her. From the counter behind him he snagged a box of tissues. When she frowned at his actions, he murmured, “Just in case.”

  His kindness was almost her undoing. There was such a thing as being too nice. Angel closed her eyes for a moment, pushing her emotions back. She needed to be objective and to tell her side of the story. “I’m ready.”

  Detective Riley and the lawyer punched the record buttons on their machines. Riley began by giving his name and the date, and listed the others present in the room, then asked her if she was aware that she was being recorded.

  “Yes,” she answered. Obviously she was, but Oregon state law required officers to inform the party being recorded.

  “Officer Delaney, this is a criminal review of the shooting, not an internal affairs investigation. It is not required that you submit to this interview.”

  “Wait a second.” Randy Grover turned to Angel. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  She hauled in a ragged breath. No, I’m not sure of anything. I want it all to go away, but it won’t. “I want to get it over with. This is as good a time as any.”

  The lawyer leaned back, willing to let it go. She’d seen some lawyers blow long and hard at this point. Grover seemed to have other things on his mind.

  Angel glanced over toward the door, where Joe was still standing, then at the lawyer sitting opposite her, and finally to the detective, who sat at the narrow side of the table just to her left. Her heart hammered so loudly she felt certain they’d catch it on the tape. “Go ahead. Do you want me to start with the burglary?”

  “Way before that,” Riley said. “Start at the beginning of the day from the time you got out of bed. Work your way up to the shooting. Be sure to include any prescription drugs you take, alcohol consumption, amount of sleep, that sort of thing.”

  Drugs? Alcohol? What was he thinking? “I don’t take anything, and I would never drink before I went to work.”

  Riley nodded. “Just take your time and give as many details as possible.”

  She cleared her throat then took a sip of water from the glass to moisten her dry mouth. She set the glass down and rested both arms on the table. Staring at the water glass, she began talking.

  Starting early on made the telling easier, until she got to the actual shooting. She emphasized that she had yelled at the boy to stop. “He did stop, and I thought he was going to give himself up, but then he turned around and raised his weapon. He pointed the barrel right at me. I know now it was a toy, but I had no idea then. The gun looked real, and I felt I had no choice but to fire or be killed.”

  “Were you in fear for your life?” Riley asked. He’d been leaning back, the way a disinterested high school kid might slouch in class. Only he seemed anything but disinterested. He’d listened to the entire account with his gaze fastened on her.

  “Yes.” She rubbed her forehead and took another drink of water. “I truly believed he was going to shoot me. When he raised his gun, I... I fired.” Angel licked her lips, shoving away images of Billy’s face, the blood. She couldn’t let herself think about that. Not now.

  “You did very well.” The OSP detective leaned forward to turn off his machine.

  “There’s something else,” Angel heard herself saying.

  Detective Riley waited for her to continue.

  “Just make sure you have your facts straight,” Eric had told her when she’d mentioned firing one shot. She still couldn’t be sure. If she hadn’t fired those three shots, someone else had been in the building with her, but that made no sense at all. Eric had explained how a person could fire multiple bullets in a deadly force situation and think they’d only fired once. Why had she opened her mouth? If she said anything, she’d look like an idiot. She took another drink of water to cover the silence. Finally, she put the glass down. “I know this is going to sound strange, but I...”

  Forget it, Angel. Let it go.

  “If you’d rather wait...” Riley said.

  “No. I’m all right. I was told that I fired three shots. I guess I must have—there’s really no other explanation. Eric and Nick came in while I was kneeling next to the kid, trying to stop the bleeding. Bo was there too, and Mike, but I’m not sure of the order. I didn’t want him to die.” Angel bit her lip and closed her eyes, fighting back a surge of tears. God, please don’t let me fall apart now. I have to stay strong and at least look confident. Forcing Billy’s image from her mind, she let her gaze move to Joe. Then to the detective, she said, “I heard three shots, but I think I only fired once.”
r />   “Who told you you’d fired three shots?” The detective seemed annoyed.

  “Um... I’m not sure. I don’t think they actually told me that; they said they heard three shots and so did I. I guess everyone assumed I’d fired all three.”

  “Did you see or hear anyone else in the warehouse while you were there?” Detective Riley asked.

  “No. I looked around and didn’t see anyone. It was dark, but I’m sure Billy and I were alone.”

  “There were three gunshot wounds in the victim.” Joe pushed away from the wall and placed his hands on the table. “You’re saying only one of them was yours?”

  Angel ran a hand through her hair, hitting several snarls.

  “We’ll know soon enough.” Detective Riley focused back on her. “It’s all right. No need to feel embarrassed. You may remember things more clearly in a few days. That’s why we like to wait before getting a formal statement.”

  “So do I.” Joe straightened. “I told you about the situation with the mayor.”

  “Hang the mayor.” Riley tossed the recorder back in his briefcase and snapped it shut. “Since when does politics come before an officer’s well-being? And while we’re on the subject, who leaked Angel’s name to the media?”

  “I did,” Joe admitted. Turning to Angel he said, “It was a mistake, and I’m sorry.”

  Angel didn’t know what to make of the three men. Joe was acting true to form, but Detective Riley seemed to be more of an advocate for her than her lawyer.

  Riley turned back to her, and his demeanor softened. “Unless you have something more to add, we’re through for now. I’d like to talk with you when I’ve had a chance to go over the evidence. For now though, I’d suggest you get some rest. Do something good for yourself.” He reached into his left jacket pocket and retrieved a card. “Call me anytime you want to talk.”

  She pocketed the card and mumbled her thanks.

  “Angel,” Joe said as he opened the door, “thanks for coming in.”

  “I’d say my pleasure, but that would be a lie.” Angel stepped into the hall.