Deadly Aim

by Patricia H. Rushford

  “He did?” Angel lowered herself into the chair her mother had indicated. “Why?”

  “Wanted to know what we thought about his asking you to marry him.”

  “And you said?” Brandon hadn’t said anything about talking to her parents.

  “We told him that if and when you accepted his proposal, we’d welcome him into the family. I’m just curious about what happened.”

  “Nothing happened. Like I said, he asked me, and I said no.”

  Ma nodded, a knowing Mona Lisa smile curving her lips.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I had a feeling you’d turn him down.”

  Angel picked up an old People magazine. “You don’t seem disappointed. Where’s the lecture you’re always giving me about marrying Brandon and settling down?”

  “I was wrong. For a while I thought you’d eventually marry him, but I can see now that Brandon isn’t the man for you.”

  “Humph.” Angel flipped the pages and tossed the magazine back down. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because you aren’t in love with him. If you were, you’d have married him months ago. He’s more like your safety net.”

  Angel rolled her eyes and slumped in the chair until her neck rested on the back cushion. My safety net? “What do you mean by that?”

  “Having Brandon around is a perfect excuse for you not to get involved with anyone else.”

  “You make it sound like I’m using him.”

  Anna peered over the half glasses she used for handwork. “Aren’t you?”

  Angel hadn’t thought about it like that before.

  When she didn’t answer, Anna lowered her knitting. “Brandon loves you, or he thinks he does. All I’m saying is that if you have no intention of getting married, maybe you should break it off. Give him a chance to find someone who’s right for him.”

  “I care about Brandon. He’s a good friend.”

  “He’s a sweet boy, and friendship is important in a marriage, but there is so much more.” Anna set her knitting aside. “I don’t expect you to take my advice, Angel. You seldom do, but just think about what I said.”

  “Okay.” Angel sucked in a deep breath and got up, making the excuse that she had to use the rest room. She had to admit her mother had some valid points, and she would think about them. Just not right now.

  When she came back to the waiting area, her mother had replaced the knitting with a devotional book called Riding the Waves. Angel was tempted to read it. She certainly could use some help staying afloat.

  “How do you do it, Ma?” she finally asked. “How can you stay so calm when Dad’s in there...” Her words were swallowed by a sob.

  “Oh, honey.” Anna put down the book and settled a hand on Angel’s arm. “I’m only calm because God is giving me the strength and peace I need.”

  “But what if Dad dies? He could, you know.”

  “I know.” Anna patted Angel’s arm. “I have thought of practically nothing else since the heart attack.” She sighed, tears gathering in her eyes. “If he dies, and I pray he doesn’t, we will grieve and we will go on as he would want us to. God will see us through this, Angel, just as he has everything else.”

  Angel covered her face. “If it were only that simple.”

  “It is that simple, honey. You trust God, and no matter what happens, you refuse to let your faith be shaken.”

  “Easy enough for you to say.” Was that what had happened to her? Her faith certainly had been shaken more than once. She thought of Dani. Dani’s faith had been like her mother’s. The last words Angel had heard her say were in the form of a prayer. “Heavenly Father, don’t let any of those children be harmed.”

  “Oh, Angel. What happened to you?”

  Angel closed her eyes and began to tell her mother about Dani. She could still hear the sirens and feel the tightness in her chest as they entered the day care through the back door, hoping to surprise the man who’d taken a worker and six children hostage. Two other police officers were supposed to come in from the front. The man must’ve heard them as he stepped into the hallway at the same moment Dani did. He fired twice and ducked back into the room with the children and their caregiver, shouting at the police to stay away or he’d kill them all.

  Angel saw one of the bullets rip into Dani’s forehead, the other into her neck, hitting the carotid artery. Dani staggered back and fell into Angel’s arms. She heard another shot and dragged Dani into one of the empty rooms. Blood oozed out of the neck wound, and Angel pressed her hands against the wound to try to stop it.

  “Don’t die. Please don’t die. God, help her. Why don’t you help her?” Her prayers were as futile as her efforts to stop the bleeding. Dani had died the moment the bullet entered her skull.

  “It’s too late, Angel.” Another officer pulled her away from Dani’s body.

  “So that’s it, Ma.” Angel wiped away her tears with her hand. “When the shooter went back into the room, a member of the S.W.A.T. team got a clear shot and killed him. The ordeal was over, and Dani was dead.”

  “My poor baby.” Anna slipped an arm around Angel’s shoulders. “So that’s why you left Florida. Why didn’t you ever tell us?”

  “I couldn’t.” She looked at her mother through tear-glazed eyes. “Why couldn’t it have been me? Why Dani? She believed in God, and he let her die.”

  “Oh, honey. Such a terrible thing. But God didn’t pull the trigger, that horrid man did. Dani sounds like a wonderful woman.”

  “She was.”

  “I’ll bet she’s in heaven right now wishing you could see this as she does.”

  “What do you mean?” Angel took the tissue her mother handed her and blew her nose.

  “You and Dani distracted that man and gave the other officers an opening. Dani prayed for the children, and her prayer was answered. None of the children was injured, you said. Think of how happy that must’ve made Dani.”

  “But why her? Why Dani?”

  “I don’t know. Why is one life taken and another spared? Look at Tim’s accident. He lived, his friends died.” Anna shrugged. “All I can say is that God sees the whole. We only see a small part. I’ve learned not to ask so many questions of God. It’s hard sometimes, but there’s a Bible verse that helps me sort it through. ‘God works all things for good...’”

  “‘For those who love and serve the Lord.’” Angel sighed. “I know. I just wish...” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why does life have to be so complicated?”

  Anna rubbed her daughter’s neck and back. “Thank you for telling me about her.”

  Angel didn’t respond. What more could she say? She wasn’t sure why she’d confided in her mother, but as painful as the telling had been, she felt better knowing her mother shared the burden. God had answered Dani’s prayer to save the children. And thinking of Dani being in heaven gave Angel a better perspective. She determined she would use that image when she thought of her friend, not the one where Dani lay dead in her arms.

  Tim came back at 1:00, and at about the same time the doctor emerged from the operating room to tell them everything had gone well with the surgery. “We’ll keep him in recovery for an hour or two then transfer him to his room.”

  When he’d gone, Tim turned to them. “Have you eaten?”

  “No,” Angel answered, “but you two go ahead. I need to get home.”

  Her mother looked disappointed. “What’s going on that you can’t stay here a little longer?”

  “I have something important to do.” Angel didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell them what she was really doing. They might try to talk her out of it, and they would probably succeed. A funeral was the last place she wanted to be. But she had to say good-bye to the boy whose life she’d so tragically ended.

  At her apartment, Angel pulled her hair into a tight bun, wrapped her head in a black silk scarf, and slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses. Fortunately the sun was out, so the glasses wouldn’t draw attention.
She figured no one would notice her, since the place would be crawling with media people. Before leaving, she took a long look at herself in the mirror, pleased with the transformation.

  Angel parked nearly a block away and got to the cemetery just as the graveside service began. The cemetery was located on a hilly area at the northeast corner of Sunset Cove. She stayed at the back of the crowd on a knoll where she could see the proceedings clearly, placing herself near a thin, gray-haired man who wore a long, straggly ponytail and beard and carried a camera.

  Her heart did a little flip when she spied a familiar face. Detective Riley stood off to one side, leaning against a tree, his arms folded, his gaze scanning the crowd. That cool gaze landed on Angel, lingered a moment, then moved away. Had he recognized her?

  She turned back to the green canvas awning stretched over the stands of flowers, the shiny blue casket, and the gaping hole where the casket would be lowered at the end of the service. Her heart ached for the family as they huddled together near the grave. The mother and several other women sat in folding chairs. Grandmothers, aunts, cousins, uncles, she supposed. And friends. There had to be a hundred people there, along with members of the press who’d come to gather more grist for their gossip mills.

  I’m sorry, Billy. More than anything I wish I could change the past and fix it so Sunday had never happened.

  A woman wailed. Billy’s mother? Angel needed to visit the woman to apologize in person. Not today. Probably not tomorrow but someday.

  A short stout man wearing a clerical shirt and collar and a black suit stood on a platform behind a lectern. His powerful voice began expounding on Billy Dean Hartwell’s virtues.

  Hallelujahs and amens rose from the crowd.

  “It is hard to see a child die, and when that death is a violent death—a death that could have been avoided—well, sisters and brothers, that’s even harder. It’s natural to want to seek revenge, but I’ll tell you, revenge is not the answer. It breaks my heart to hear that the officer responsible for Billy’s death has been targeted—her home torn apart. I pray that none of you fine people was responsible. I would remind you that the place to fight injustice and racism is in the courts, not on the streets.”

  Angel felt the hairs rise up on the back of her neck and arms. She had the feeling someone was watching her, but she looked around and didn’t see anyone suspicious.

  “Brothers and sisters,” the reverend continued, “we must not repay evil for evil. Our job is not to hate, not to do harm. Our job is to love and forgive. When a wrong is done to us, we must let the Lord punish the wrongdoer. Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.”

  A small scattering of amens told Angel many of them didn’t agree. She knew the minister was right. They shouldn’t be going after her. But she disagreed with his implication that what she had done was evil.

  The reverend spoke a little more about Billy and his life and how he had died serving others, citing that Billy’s reason for being in the pharmacy that day was to pick up a prescription of insulin for his diabetic grandmother.

  Angel tuned him out, wondering again how she could have misread Billy’s intentions. Had she misjudged him? How would she ever be able to trust her judgment again?

  At the end of the service, Billy’s mother tossed a yellow rose onto the casket as it was lowered into the ground. Angel’s vision blurred with the onset of tears. When the pastor began a final prayer, she walked back to her car. As she pulled out of the parking place, she heard someone shouting. Glancing back toward the cemetery, she saw several men running toward her, and behind them, the media. Were they after her? How could they have known?

  The car. They recognize my car. How could I have been so stupid? She hit the steering wheel with the palm of her hand. Heart hammering, she locked her doors and drove into the street.

  Shouting obscenities, one of the men jumped on the hood of the car and hammered at the windshield with his fists. Angel’s foot hit the brake. The car lurched and died. Bodies slammed against the car on all sides. One man had somehow gotten hold of a rock and slammed it against the passenger side window. Angel screamed and ducked.

  They were going to kill her—drag her out of the car and beat her to death.

  Angel heard the screams and shouts of the onlookers, then the distant sounds of sirens. The voices faded as the sirens screamed with increasing intensity. Thank you, God.

  Angel screamed again when a hand shot through the broken window and grabbed at her hair. He pulled off her scarf, taking a handful of hair with it. Tears stung her eyes. She clutched at her head and sank her teeth into his arm. He growled obscenities, and with his teeth bared, he reached for her again. Angel moved as far away from him as she could.

  Her assailant’s features went from rage to surprise when someone yanked him backwards. Eric flattened him against the car and snapped on cuffs, then read him his rights.

  On the passenger side, Bo grabbed the man with a tire iron and spun him around. The guy turned and swung. Bo ducked and shoved a fist into his face, then brought his arm down on the man’s wrist, disarming him.

  An officer yelled above the chaos, “Put down your weapons and step away from the car!” Angel recognized the voice as Nick’s.

  One by one the attackers raised their hands. Angel gripped the steering wheel and leaned her forehead on her fists.

  “Angel?” Detective Riley leaned in the driver’s side window, releasing the lock and opening the door.

  Angel tumbled out and flew into his arms, burying her face in his chest. She wanted to thank him, but nothing came out except for the choking sobs.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “I... I don’t think so.”

  Detective Riley led her away from her battered Corvette to his unmarked Crown Victoria and helped her into the passenger side. “Stay here. I need to help round these guys up. I’ll be right back.”

  Angel had no intention of moving. She held her fist to her mouth, afraid to take it away. She tried to slow her breathing down and look at the incident objectively, as if someone other than herself had been the victim. Her fellow officers were still making arrests. Most of the crowd had backed away and stood on the sidelines.

  The media, of course, had their microphones hot and their cameras rolling. For once she was almost glad to see them. Their photos would document the assault. Angel wondered if it would change the public’s opinion of her. On the other hand, the media had a way of making the police look bad. She adjusted her sunglasses and lifted her right hand to her brow to block a photographer’s shot.

  She heard the driver’s side door open, and Detective Riley folded himself into the seat. Her hands shook as she ran them through her hair.

  “You okay?” he asked. “Should I call an ambulance?”

  “No. I’m just shook up.” Shook up? I’m terrified.

  “Our guys will haul these creeps down to the station. I assume you’re going to press charges?”

  “Of course.” She reached for her seat belt. “They were going to kill me.”

  “And might have, too, if I hadn’t been there to call for backup.” The detective turned the key in the ignition and turned around to check for traffic. “You’re lucky I recognized you.”

  Angel frowned. “You did?”

  “You’d have to do a lot more than wrap your hair in a scarf and wear glasses to fool me.”

  “Then I’m glad you were here.”

  “You shouldn’t have come.” He seemed angry, and Angel couldn’t tell if his anger was directed at her, her attackers, or himself.

  But she bristled at his parental tone. “You’re probably right, but I had to. I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “What’s not to understand? You wanted to pay your respects. I might’ve done the same thing.”

  Angel gasped as they drove past her Corvette. “My car looks like it’s been in a demolition derby.”

  “Nick is calling a tow truck to haul your car into the impound lot. We’ll need it for evidence
.”

  A man from the crowd shouted at them as Riley started to pull out. “Racist pigs!” He came into the street and slammed his fist against the passenger side window. “Killer cop!”

  Detective Riley was out of the car and on him before he could finish the sentence. He whipped the guy around, slamming him against the car. Not an easy feat, since the guy must’ve weighed close to three hundred pounds.

  The man cried out as the detective yanked his wrist around and pulled it sharp against his back. “Do that again and I might forget I’m a cop!” Riley then shoved him in Bo’s direction. “You’d better take this scumbag before I do something I’ll regret.”

  “I hear you, man.” Bo slapped the cuffs on the guy, mirandized him, and put him into his patrol car. “I’ll take it from here.”

  Detective Riley got back into the car. His hands gripped the steering wheel as he stared straight ahead. After a few seconds and several calming breaths, he drove out onto the main road.

  “You were a little rough on him,” Angel said.

  “Don’t remind me.”

  Callen wasn’t certain what had happened in those few minutes. Seeing those guys on Angel’s car had turned his blood hot. He very seldom got riled to the point where he’d manhandle anyone. But he’d been blindsided, and all he could think of was protecting her. He glanced at Angel, angry with himself for caring and angry with her for being there.

  He’d gone to the cemetery to observe the crowd and maybe get some clue as to what was going on. He’d asked both Nick Caldwell and Mike Rawlings to come too. He’d wanted them to look around and see if they spotted any of the gang members who had hit the pharmacy. He hadn’t gotten a chance to ask them. He’d do that later. Right now his biggest problem was sitting beside him.

  She was safe—at least for the time being. There was something a lot bigger than a burglary and the deadly force situation going on here. Angel’s apartment had been vandalized, and she’d just escaped being beaten to death. Callen had no doubt they would’ve killed her if they hadn’t been stopped when they were. He thanked God he and the other officers had been close by.