Deadly Aim

by Patricia H. Rushford

  Rachael rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding? These days women are foolish not to.”

  “You two were lucky,” Frank barked. “You could’ve gotten yourselves killed. What were you thinking, going to the man’s house?”

  “Shush, Frank,” Anna said. “Don’t be getting yourself all upset. You know it’s not good for your heart.” She got up from the table, poured him a cup of hot water, and handed him a tea bag. “Here, have some chamomile tea.”

  “I’m not drinking anything made from weeds. Give me some coffee.”

  “No,” Anna said firmly.

  He muttered something unintelligible and took a deep breath. “I think I’ll have a talk with Joe tomorrow, Angel. Maybe he can spare one of the guys. Now that I’m out of commission, you need someone else to look after you.”

  “Look after me?” A raw ache started in her midsection. All these years and he still didn’t think she could take care of herself. She still wasn’t good enough. As much as she wanted to confront him, she wouldn’t. It wouldn’t do any good, and she wasn’t about to make a scene in front of everyone. She shot a look at Rachael. “Maybe we’d better go. We’ve had a full day.”

  Paul slipped an arm around Rachael’s shoulders. “I can take Rachael home.”

  Angel shrugged and pushed back her chair. “Okay by me.”

  Anna hurried after her, catching her at the door. “Your father loves you, honey. You know that. He didn’t mean anything bad by what he said. You’re still his little girl, and he wants to protect you.”

  “I know, Ma. I know.” Angel slipped on her jacket.

  Her mother always seemed to know how she felt. Am I that transparent? She let her mother hug her then stepped outside, closing the door behind her.

  She sighed loudly when she got within sight of the driveway. Peter had parked his Jag behind the Blazer, blocking her in. She didn’t want to go back inside—at least not yet.

  “I’m not going to let him get to me.” She tipped her head back, speaking into the wind. “I’m not.”

  She heard someone come up behind her.

  “Do you always talk to yourself?” Callen’s voice was tender and full of understanding.

  “Doesn’t everyone?” She should’ve been annoyed that he’d followed her, but she wasn’t.

  Callen tucked his hands into his pockets. “Want me to have your brother move his car?” He grinned. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind moving it myself, maybe take it around the block.”

  “That’s not necessary. I just need some air.”

  “Want to walk?”

  He held his hand out to her, and she took it. “I’m sorry about this afternoon,” she said. “I overstepped my boundaries. It’s hard to just sit by. I’m not used to being a civilian.”

  “I’m sorry too. I was rougher on you than I should’ve been.”

  “Yeah, you were.”

  “I was so mad at you, Angel. Not so much because of what you did, but because of the danger you put yourself in. Sometimes it’s hard for me to be objective where you’re concerned.”

  “Let me guess—you reacted because you care.”

  “More than I should.”

  “Well, you know what? I’m not some hothouse orchid. I don’t need to be protected. I can take care of myself. I’m a cop, for Pete’s sake.”

  “Of course you can take care of yourself. It’s just that people come with a built-in mechanism that springs into action when someone is in danger. Especially someone they love.”

  She guessed he was talking about her father. “I know my father loves me in his own way. But there’s more to it than that. He wants to make sure I don’t fail.” Tears stung her eyes. “I keep telling myself that I’m a grown woman and I don’t need his help or his approval.”

  Callen stopped and drew her into the circle of his arms. “I know how you feel. But sometimes we never get that approval.”

  She looked up at him. “Your father?”

  “And my mother.” His eyes held a distant pain.

  Angel nodded. “I’m trying not to let it upset me.”

  “If it’s any consolation, you made a good call today. We hadn’t gotten that far, and you were right. By the time my guys got there, all the trash in the neighborhood might’ve been picked up.”

  “You still would’ve had his car.”

  “Mmm. We found traces of blood in the garage and his shower. There was a smudge in the kitchen where it got into the grout on the tile floor. He cleaned things up pretty well, but with the tests we have today, blood evidence is impossible to hide. We’ll run DNA tests.”

  “It’ll match Dixon’s.”

  “I’m sure it will.”

  “What about Alex Carlson?”

  Callen told her what the medical examiner had said.

  “Poor kid. I wonder how much he really knew.”

  Callen shook his head. “We’ll never know. His shift was over at 10:30—somewhere between then and midnight, he was murdered.”

  “Maybe he saw Broadman kill Dixon, and Broadman went after him.”

  “I don’t see where he would’ve had time.”

  “Well, suppose you were killing someone, and you looked up and there’s a kid watching you, what do you do?”

  Callen smiled down at her. “Ever thought about becoming a detective?”

  “As a matter of fact, I have.”

  “Good. Now to answer your question, I’d take out the kid and leave the scene. Which would leave two bodies.”

  “What if Alex ran?” Angel persisted.

  “I’d go after him.”

  They walked for several minutes without speaking. Then Callen stopped and drew her to him. He wove his fingers into her hair and lowered his lips to hers.

  Angel gave herself up to it. She forgot to breathe, forgot to think. But too soon, all the reasons she shouldn’t be kissing Callen drifted into her consciousness.

  Maybe he was getting the same message. He stroked his thumb across her cheek. “You’re driving me crazy, you know.”

  “I am?” She closed her eyes and leaned into him. His arms wrapped around her, and he kissed the top of her head. She put her arms around his waist.

  “I’m losing my objectivity, Angel. I think it would be best if we didn’t see each other until all this has been settled. I may have to hand over the investigation you’re involved in to someone else.”

  Angel didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want him off the case. He was one of the few who believed in her. And she didn’t want to stop seeing him either.

  “Please don’t.” Angel squeezed his hand. “Give it a few more days.”

  He held her for a long time without speaking, and when he did say something, it was to tell her he had to go. Peter’s Jag was gone by the time they got back. She avoided looking at Callen as she got into the Blazer and backed down the drive. He didn’t kiss her or say good-bye. He just stood there with his hands in his pockets, leaning against his car, looking as though he’d lost his best friend.

  As she turned onto the main road, a car moved out of its parking place and seemed to be tailing her. It stayed behind her as she entered the freeway. When she slowed, it slowed; when she sped up, it sped up. Her heart leaped to her throat as she thought about her trashed apartment and the thugs who had attacked her after the funeral.

  “Who are you?” She glanced in the rearview mirror, wishing she could see something more than headlights. “Why are you following me?”

  Maybe it’s a coincidence,” Angel told herself as she watched the headlights bob up and down after going over a speed bump. The vehicle was dark in color, and the driver hung back far enough so that she couldn’t get a good look at it. When she turned into the apartment parking lot, the car stayed behind her, closing the gap. Angel pulled into a spot, hoping the driver would move past. Instead, he stopped behind her, blocking her in.

  Angel let out a long sigh. Her fears subsided as the parking lot lights illuminated the familiar green sports utility vehicle
and its driver.

  She got out and stood there with her hands on her hips, waiting for her partner to step out of the car. “Eric Mason, what do you think you’re doing, following me like that? You scared me half to death.”

  He raised both hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, Angel. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Why were you following me?”

  “To make sure you got home safe.” He was out of uniform, and she had a hunch someone had asked him for a favor.

  “Did my father put you up to this?” she pressed.

  He hesitated a bit too long.

  “He did, didn’t he?”

  “You don’t need to get so bent out of shape. After what’s happened with your apartment being broken into and those guys smashing up your car, you need—”

  “What, a keeper?” She clamped her lips together. It wasn’t Eric’s fault. If she were going to yell at someone, she should go directly to the source. “Okay, I give up. You can tell Dad I made it home safely. But in the future, would you please ask me if I need protection before you start following me?”

  “If you say so.” His perfect white teeth glistened in the light. “Hey, I heard how you nailed Broadman today. Good call.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Sure hope everything works out for you in that shooting situation. I miss working with you.”

  Angel smiled up at him. “I miss working with you too, Eric. We made a pretty good team.”

  After an awkward silence, he said, “Well, I guess I’ll be going. Uh, do you want me to check out your apartment? I can follow you inside.”

  “No, that’s okay.”

  “I’ll see you later then.”

  Angel took a step toward him. “Eric, I’m sorry if I sounded ungrateful. It’s just that my dad—well, he still sees me as his little girl. You don’t have to keep an eye on me.”

  He grinned. “It’s always a pleasure to keep an eye on you.”

  “Go away, Eric.” She chuckled as she headed for the stairs.

  He waved. “Call if you need me.”

  Unlocking the door, she let it swing open then stepped inside. She listened intently but heard only the soft purring of the heater. The room was dark except for an illuminated clock on the microwave door. There were no strange smells—just a hint of vanilla room deodorizer her mother had left for her.

  The apartment seemed safe enough. She closed the door and locked it. Weariness overtook her as she moved through the rooms, turning on lights. She changed into pajamas then went into the kitchen to put a cup of water into the microwave.

  Angel needed to have a long talk with her father. Though she hated to admit it, even to herself, she was glad that Eric had followed her home. She should’ve let him see her inside as well. She used to look forward to coming home after a long day. Now every time she opened the door, she half expected someone to be waiting for her.

  You’ll get over it, she assured herself.

  I hope so.

  After putting a tea bag in her mug of hot water, she turned on the television and watched the last part of a movie. At 11:00 she turned to the news. As expected, the feature news story focused on Ray Broadman’s arrest for the murder of Reverend Todd Elroy Dixon. There was no mention of her involvement, but then, she hadn’t expected there to be. Hopefully, there would be plenty of evidence linking Broadman to the crime.

  The bad news was that even with Broadman arrested, the civil lawsuit against her would go on as planned. Apparently Michael Lafferty had no qualms about continuing to represent a murderer. She shouldn’t be surprised.

  Angel briefly considered talking to Mavis and Emmie again. Now that Broadman was in jail he wouldn’t be able to intimidate them.

  She picked up the phone and dialed and was greeted with a chilly and indignant Mavis. “You’ll have to talk to Mr. Lafferty. He told us we shouldn’t be talking to you.” She hung up. The woman had apparently changed her mind. Probably their lawyer’s influence.

  The creep. Justice shmustice. Brandon’s father would do everything in his power to extract as much money as possible from the city and from her.

  The phone rang, and Angel let the answering machine pick up.

  “Angel. Are you there?”

  She grabbed the receiver. “Brandon, hi. I was just watching your father on television.”

  “Yeah. That’s one of the reasons I called. I’m sorry you had to see that. I’ve tried talking to him, but he’s convinced that representing Mrs. Hartwell is a good political move.”

  “Hmm.” She couldn’t help wondering how Brandon would feel if she weren’t involved. “Well, he can forget it if he thinks he’ll get any money out of me.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Angel. I doubt it will get that far.”

  “I hope you’re right.” She kicked off her slippers and flopped onto the sofa. She felt a tug on her conscience to break it off with him completely, but she didn’t. Not over the phone, she told herself.

  “Angel, there’s something I need to talk to you about. Remember I said I was representing Michelle Kelsey?”

  “Right, the woman who killed her husband.”

  “That’s hearsay,” Brandon was quick to say. “Well, she found something today that made me wonder if her husband’s death might have something to do with the drug activity that’s been on the rise down here.”

  “What’s that?” Angel muted the television set so she could hear better.

  “She was cleaning out the garage—Jim’s workshop, actually—and came across a stash of cocaine. She says she’d suspected he was a user but didn’t have any proof.”

  “Interesting.” Angel leaned forward and picked up her tea. “How do you know it isn’t hers?”

  He sighed. “I just do. But I’m afraid if I turn this evidence over to the police, they’ll think the same thing.”

  “You haven’t called the authorities?” Angel set the mug down so hard the hot liquid splashed on her hand and the table. “Brandon, what are you thinking?” She padded to the kitchen to retrieve a towel.

  “She’s scared, and I don’t blame her. The authorities haven’t exactly been kind toward her.”

  “Call them, Brandon. Better yet, call Detective Riley. He’s investigating that case. You can trust him to do the right thing.”

  “I don’t know...”

  “Brandon, what’s the matter with you?” She mopped up the spilled tea and went to the closet to get her handbag. After rummaging through it for a moment, she came up with the business card Callen had given her. He’d written his cell phone number on the back. She read the number off to Brandon and insisted he make the call. “It’ll be best if you call. I’m going to give you thirty minutes, then I’ll call Callen myself. This is important evidence, Brandon, you know that. Besides, it might be just what you need to get Mrs. Kelsey off.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  After saying good-bye, Angel turned off the television and got ready for bed. As she brushed her teeth, Brandon’s phone call nagged at her. Callen was working on the Kelsey murder, and now it looked like there might be drug involvement. J.J., a known dealer, had been shot, and hours later the pharmacy had been stripped of narcotics. Alex Carlson was dead, with drugs found in his system. Then there was Billy’s death, in which someone other than herself had fired the two fatal shots. Finally, she thought about Dixon’s murder. So far there didn’t seem to be any indication of drug involvement, unless you added Alex’s death to the equation.

  She grabbed a pen and paper out of the kitchen drawer and drew a circle. In it she wrote “drugs.” She drew lines from the circle like spokes, then at the end of each she made a circle. In each circle she wrote the names of the victims.

  Broadman had killed Dixon, she felt certain of that, and he may have killed Alex. Could he be the head of the drug ring she’d heard about? She’d heard the narcotics officers talking about some guy whom they thought oversaw the drug operations along the coast. So far no one had been able to get a handl
e on him. But they did know he did most of his dealings on the phone and went by the name of Duke. Suppose Duke was actually Ray Broadman, and Ray was behind all of the murders?

  She couldn’t wait to talk to Callen about her ideas. She glanced at her watch. Thirty minutes had passed since she had talked to Brandon, so she picked up the receiver and punched in Callen’s number.

  He answered on the first ring.

  “Did Brandon call you?”

  “Yeah. I’m meeting him and Mrs. Kelsey right now.” He hesitated. “Thanks. You did the right thing.”

  “Callen, I’ve been thinking. Is there a possibility that all of these murders, including Billy’s, are drug related?”

  “I’ve considered that. Now I’ll be looking at it even more closely.”

  “Do you think Broadman is behind it all—like could he be the kingpin or something?”

  “I doubt it. The guy’s too hot tempered to head a successful operation like that.”

  “I just wondered—I mean, he’s got a nice house and car, and it takes a fair amount of money to retain Michael Lafferty as an attorney.”

  He sighed. “Angel, I do notice these things. I already have people trying to pinpoint Broadman’s location to find out where he was and what he was doing at the time of the deaths.”

  She should have known Callen would already have it covered. He wanted her to butt out, and she should.

  He cleared his throat. “I just pulled up at the Kelsey place so I have to go.”

  “Let me know how things turn out, okay?”

  “I’ll tell you what I can. And thanks, Angel. This might be the break we’ve been looking for.”

  Angel thought seriously about getting dressed and going to the Kelsey place but finally decided that her being there would serve no purpose except to make Callen angry with her again. Besides, she was exhausted.

  When she finally got into bed, she did something she hadn’t done in a long time. She prayed.

  Morning came too quickly, but instead of dawdling in bed, Angel got up and stumbled to the kitchen to make coffee. At 8:00 she called Janet’s office for another appointment. Just before falling asleep the night before, she’d realized that she needed to come to terms with the conflicting and destructive patterns that had developed between her and her parents—especially her father. Angel hoped Janet could help her work through the problems.