Deadly Aim

by Patricia H. Rushford

  “And you’re married now?”

  Janet flinched slightly and bit her lip before answering. “Divorced, actually.” She lowered herself into the remaining chair and tucked her hair behind her ear. “But enough about me. I’m glad you called. I’ve been reading about the shooting.”

  “You and everyone else in the state.”

  Janet leaned back and crossed her legs, her hazel eyes fixed on Angel’s, assessing, judging. No, not judging. Questioning, maybe.

  “Should I be here—I mean, seeing you about this? Since we know each other...?” Angel picked a piece of lint from the hem of her sweater.

  “It’s fine, unless you feel uncomfortable. I can set you up to see my colleague Dr. Kelly if you’d rather...”

  “No, no. I’d rather see you. If you’re sure it’s okay.” Angel glanced at the window. Just get it over with. One visit.

  “This must be terribly hard for you. I wish I could say I understand what you’re going through, but I can’t imagine. But I have worked with other officers, though, who’ve been through similar crises.” She tucked her hair back again. “Angel, before we officially get started, I need to go over some things with you. You know that anything you say here is strictly between us. I’d like you to feel safe.”

  Safe? I don’t think so. “Don’t you have to tell Joe about my visit?”

  “Only to report that you’ve come.”

  Angel nodded. They hadn’t been best friends in high school, but then, Angel hadn’t really had anyone she considered a best friend. She didn’t do a lot of girl things, preferring instead to hang out with her brothers when they let her. But she remembered that even back in high school, Janet’d had a way of making people feel comfortable.

  “I may take notes from time to time, but those are just to help me remember what we talked about. I’ll keep a chart on your visits, and you’re welcome to read them anytime.”

  “I don’t think there’ll be another visit.” Angel glanced down at her hands. She clasped them together and put them between her knees.

  “Hmm.” Janet pursed her lips. “It’s true you’re only required to come once. I hope you’ll change your mind. I won’t push you, of course, but I will be glad to see you whenever you want.”

  “I appreciate that.” “Seeing a psychiatrist is nothing to be flippant about.” Angel could almost hear Detective Riley’s admonishment, could almost feel his hand on her wrist. “I’ll see how it goes.”

  “Well, if you only plan on coming once, what do you think would be most helpful to you?”

  “Um...” Angel paused to lick her dry lips and rubbed a damp palm across her slacks. “I don’t know.” She stared at a spot on the carpet. “I never had to shoot a person before.”

  “And how are you feeling about that?”

  How do I feel? Lousy, guilty, sick. Angry. “I feel like I did what I thought was right.”

  “But that doesn’t make it any easier, does it.” Janet leaned forward. “How are you sleeping, Angel?”

  “Fine.” She rubbed at her wrist and thumb. “Well, that’s not quite true. I had a hard time getting to sleep last night.”

  Janet nodded. “I can give you something for that.”

  “I don’t need meds. I just need a few days to...” Her argument drifted off.

  “I’ll write you a prescription. It’s up to you, of course, but I strongly suggest you take them.” Janet pulled a prescription pad out of her pocket and scribbled on it. “It’s one of the better sleep aids and shouldn’t make you feel hungover in the morning.”

  Angel reached for the script. “Thanks.”

  “Are you eating?”

  Angel smiled. “My mother is seeing to that.”

  “Good.” Janet grinned. “Knowing your family I imagine you have a good support system.”

  “Are you kidding? Too good.”

  “Lean on them; let them take care of you. And feel free to call me anytime.” Janet paused. “What would you like to talk about today?”

  Nothing. Everything. “I don’t know.” Angel folded then unfolded her arms.

  “You could start by telling me what’s the hardest part of all this.”

  Angel thought about that for a while before answering. “Feeling like I committed a crime when I didn’t. I hate having people think of me as a racist and implying that I shot Billy on purpose. And having the media pick me apart.” She frowned. “Being placed on leave. That’s hard. I’m supposed to just sit back and leave the investigation up to strangers. I understand the rationale, I just don’t like it.”

  “All those things would be difficult to deal with. What are you doing now to cope?”

  “I’m ignoring the press.” Angel glanced at her watch, glad the session was almost over. “I’m trying not to think about what people are saying. I’m adjusting.”

  Janet nodded. “Are you?”

  “What do you mean?” Angel lifted her head and answered in a defensive tone. “What else can I do but adjust? It’s not like I can fight back.”

  “Do you remember the words to the Serenity Prayer?”

  “You mean the one that goes: ‘God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference’?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “I haven’t thought of that for a long time.” Angel let the words play through her head again.

  “You may want to repeat those words from time to time. Might help.”

  Angel doubted it but promised to keep it in mind.

  Janet uncrossed her legs. “Our time is almost up. Are you sure you don’t want to come in again?”

  “I don’t know. Let me think about it.”

  When the session was over, Angel thanked Janet and hurried out to her Corvette. Ten minutes later, she turned onto her street. She sucked in her breath and made a quick U-turn. The dead-end street had turned into a parking lot with media vans and reporters swarming all over the place. She had a feeling most of them had come to see her.

  Sudden tears heated her eyes. Now what? She drove to Joanie’s Place, her favorite espresso shop, and went inside. After ordering an eight-ounce mocha latte from Joanie’s assistant, Angel plopped onto one of the sofas in front of the fireplace. Leaning back, she closed her eyes. She could go to her parents’ house, but how long before the vultures found her there? If the members of the press had done their homework, they’d be able to track her down no matter where she went—unless she called Brandon and got a key to his new house.

  No way. How could you even think such a thing? Besides, you’ve never been a coward, and this isn’t the time to start. You have to go back.

  God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

  Angel sipped at her coffee, letting its warmth seep into her bones before heading back to the apartment. She couldn’t change the media, but she could refuse to let them get to her.

  She released a grateful sigh when she approached the apart-ments and saw two black-and-whites with their lights flashing. Nick Caldwell was talking to the apartment manager, who looked none too happy. Mike Rawlings stopped her as she turned into the apartment complex.

  Angel greeted him. “Hey, Mike, what’s up?”

  “Wondered when you’d show up.” He offered her a sympathetic smile. “You’ve become quite a celebrity.”

  “Not by choice.” Angel ran a hand through her hair. “Look, Mike, I just want to go home. Is there any way you can get these people to leave me alone?”

  “We’re working on it. In the meantime, I can escort you in.”

  “Thanks, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Give me a sec, and I’ll tell Nick.” He went over to where Nick and the manager were talking. Nick glanced over and waved at her.

  Mike jogged back, looked at the crowd, and said, “Are you sure you want to go in there?”

  “No, but I’m not
going to let them run me out of my own place.”

  Reporters fired questions at her as she drove into the crowd, but Angel ignored them. Mike went ahead on foot, clearing the way through the crowd to give Angel access to a parking spot. Once she’d parked, he escorted her upstairs to her door. “Yell if you need someone to run interference when you leave.”

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll hibernate until they find someone else to pick on.”

  “That could take a while.” Mike hurried down the stairs, and Angel heard him use his lapel mike to call in another officer.

  She briefly considered holding a press conference and telling her side of the story, but what would that accomplish? Besides, she was bone weary and close to tears. She turned around to slip the key into the lock and found that someone had already unlocked it.

  The hair on the back of Angel’s neck rose. Her throat constricted. She reached for the gun that wasn’t there, remembering she’d left it in the holster hanging in her bedroom closet. The door had been locked when she left; she was sure of it.

  “Okay,” she murmured to herself, “don’t panic. It could be Ma.” She moved to the side and eased the door open with her foot. “Ma? You in there?”

  No one answered. Angel cautiously stepped inside.

  The sight that greeted her made her feel as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. Someone had been there all right, and it hadn’t been a social call. Her furniture had been overturned and slashed, and it looked as though the intruders had mopped the floor with everything she owned.

  She didn’t hear anything and suspected the vandals were long gone, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She backed out of the apartment and started to yell for Mike. Her fellow officer had already gone, and though she could see him pushing through the crowd toward his patrol car, she didn’t want to attract attention by calling him back. Instead she knocked on her neighbors’ door.

  Rob had clothes on this time, jeans and a green-and-gold Oregon Ducks T-shirt. “Angel, how’s it going? You see all those people? Man, must be weird getting all that attention.”

  “Yeah, weird. I—”

  “Guess what?” he interrupted. “I’m gonna be on the news tonight. They said they wanted to interview some of your neighbors.” He shrugged. “I told them you were a really nice kid.”

  “Thanks, Rob. I appreciate it, but I have a problem and I could use your help.”

  “You name it.”

  “Someone trashed my place while I was gone.” She cleared her throat. “Can I use your phone? I don’t want to touch anything in there, and to be honest, they may still be there.”

  “Yeah.” He stepped back, motioning her in. “Why didn’t you say so? Trashed it, huh? Are you sure? I mean, I guess you are. Funny, I didn’t hear a thing.”

  I wonder why. Angel glanced at the blaring television. She asked Rob to turn the volume down, then reported the break-in to the dispatch operator. After the call, she thanked Rob and went back outside to wait.

  As she suspected, Mike and Nick responded immediately. From her vantage point on the second floor, she could see them elbow their way through the crowd, dodging the media and all their paraphernalia. When they reached her building, they took the stairs two at a time. Nick got to her first. “What’s this about a break-in?” he panted.

  “See for yourself. I went to unlock the door and realized someone had already done it. Thought at first it might be my mother, but no way would she leave a mess like this.”

  “Sorry, Angel,” Mike said. “I should have gone in with you.”

  “Don’t be. It’s not like we expected it.” She stepped aside while Mike and Nick pulled their weapons and cautiously moved inside.

  A few minutes later, the men came back into the hall. “Something tells me this wasn’t a simple robbery.” Nick holstered his gun.

  “No kidding.” Angel released the breath she’d been holding.

  “We’ll get the crime lab guys in here to process it.”

  She nodded her head. “I want to look around.”

  “Shouldn’t hurt; just leave stuff as it is,” Nick cautioned.

  “I know the routine.” Stepping carefully to preserve evidence, Angel picked her way from room to room, swallowing hard to keep from dropping to her knees and sobbing. Nothing was as it had been when she left. Her cupboards had been stripped bare, contents scattered all over the floor and counters. The furniture had never been in the best shape, but now all of the cushions had been slashed and the stuffing spilled out of them. Even her clothes had been torn off their hangers and lay on the floor in shreds. And the gun was gone. No surprise there.

  “Can you tell if anything is missing?” Mike asked.

  “The gun Nick gave me. Otherwise, I have no idea.”

  She needed to get away from Nick and Mike for a minute, so she went into the bathroom and closed the door. She flicked on the light and caught sight of the mirror. The intruders had written “Racist Pig” with red lipstick across the mirror. She clenched her stomach and turned away from the mirror, swallowing back the bile rising to her throat.

  “Angel?” Mike knocked on the door. “You okay in there?”

  He and Nick were both standing outside when she opened the door and pointed to the mirror.

  “Did you see this?”

  Mike stepped into the tiny room and froze, his big hands making tight fists at his side. His Adam’s apple moved up and down, and for a long time he didn’t speak. Then he pushed past them. “I need some air.”

  Nick swore and rubbed the top of his head.

  Angel felt numb and nauseous and hot and cold all at the same time. Her knees buckled, and Nick caught her on the way down. He eased her onto the rim of the bathtub.

  “Stay put,” he ordered when she tried to push herself up. He wet a washcloth with cool water and placed in on the back of her neck. “Keep your head down.”

  She offered a mild objection but did as she was told.

  “Your dad’s on his way,” Nick said. “He’ll take you home.”

  Angel felt too sick to argue. By the time the dizziness had passed, her father had arrived and with him, her partner, Eric Mason.

  Eric looked around and whistled. “Looks like someone’s trying to get even.” His concerned blue eyes met Angel’s. “You okay?”

  She sighed. “I’ll manage.”

  Frank Delaney’s angry gaze traveled around the apartment, finally settling on her. “Come on, little girl. Let these guys do their job. I’m taking you home.”

  Little girl. He hadn’t called her that in a long time. But she didn’t argue. Like a robot, she walked outside with Frank on one side, Eric on the other.

  “Don’t worry, Angel,” Eric said. “We’ll find out who did this. I promise.”

  “Darn right, we will,” Frank added. Then he suggested they go around to the back of the apartments to escape the reporters. At the moment, Angel didn’t care about the reporters or anything else. She just wanted to get as far away as possible. When she and her dad reached his patrol car, which was parked about a block and a half away, Eric went back to her apartment.

  “I can’t believe this,” Frank grumbled as he pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the car. “Revenge, that’s what it is, pure and simple. Probably that Broadman fella. He as much as said he planned to get even.”

  Angel started to go around to the passenger side and stopped. “Dad, wait. I can’t leave.”

  “Of course, you can.” He took hold of her arm, guiding her as though she were a child. Angel pulled away. “I’m not going anywhere. I need to stay here and clean up this mess.”

  He huffed. “What’s the matter with you? The boys won’t be done sifting through the evidence for hours yet. You need to be someplace safe. You need to come home.”

  “No. You go ahead, Dad. Tell Ma I’m okay. I’ll stay a while and maybe come to the house later.”

  Frank shook his head. “Angel...”

  “Don’t. The last thing I need is a lec
ture on how stubborn and mule headed I am.”

  Her father looked stricken. His ruddy complexion took on an ashen tone.

  “Dad?” Her refusal to go with him couldn’t have caused the change. What was the matter with him?

  Frank took a step back, connecting with another patrol car. He gasped for air, grabbing at his chest as his knees buckled. His face contorted in pain as he dropped to the blacktop.

  She dropped down beside him. “Dad, what is it?”

  He gasped and pressed a hand to his chest.

  Angel’s heart skidded to a stop. She’d been on enough emergency calls to know he was having a heart attack; she just couldn’t bring herself to believe it was happening to him. “Where’s your phone?” She reached around to his right side, pulled his cell phone from his belt, and punched in 911.

  She knelt beside him as he twisted around and tried to sit up. “I’m okay,” he gasped. “Just a twinge.” He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt then pulled out a small vial of nitroglycerin tablets and fumbled with the cap. “Need to take one of these.”

  Angel pushed his hand away. “Let me get it.” With shaky hands she removed a tiny tablet and gave it to him. He placed it under his tongue.

  “How long have you had nitroglycerin tablets?” she asked as she replaced the top.

  “Couple... of... months.”

  “You got heart trouble and didn’t tell me. I suppose you haven’t told Ma either.”

  “Didn’t want to worry her. You know how she is.... Besides, it’s nothing.” He winced again as he tried to stand.

  “Don’t move. You know better than to—”

  Her lecture was interrupted by screaming sirens as the ambu-lance careened toward them. A few media people, curious about the sirens, began showing up but had the good sense not to interfere.

  Minutes later Frank was hooked to an IV and he and Angel were heading for the hospital in the back of the ambulance. The EMTs verified her suspicions—her dad was having a heart attack. But they wouldn’t know for certain how bad it was until the doctor ran some tests.

  Angel gripped the gurney. He’s not going to die.

  Frank placed a beefy hand on top of hers. “If... if I don’t make it...”