With a Vengeance
Page 9
“How’s Yancy?”
She glanced toward the cubicle where she’d left the fire chief. “Bullet went through his right arm. Shattered his humerus and he lost a lot of blood. Not life-threatening, but I don’t know about nerve damage.”
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line. Pete was probably wondering the same thing she was. How would big rough and tough Bruce Yancy handle losing the use of his arm? After a moment, Pete asked, “What about the other fireman?”
“I haven’t heard.” Earl and the others from Medic Three had pulled in a few minutes after she had, but considering she still hadn’t seen any of them, she knew it was bad. Real bad. Most of the time when they arrived at the ER with a patient, the hospital’s staff took over, and the paramedics changed sheets on their gurney, restocked their supplies, and got back in service. Only when it was dire did the doctors enlist their help. “Please tell me you’ve caught the guy.”
A sigh came through the line. “I wish I could. Are you all right?”
The truth or a lie? The truth being hell no. But that would lead to choking tears, and this was not the time or place. “I’m hanging in there. Pete…what’s going on? Who’s shooting at us?”
“That’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question, isn’t it? We have every law enforcement officer in three counties looking for him.”
But would they find him before or after anyone else died? She knew better than to ask the question, though. Movement at the end of the hallway drew her attention. The three paramedics stepped out of the cubicle where they’d been working on the young firefighter. “Hang on a second,” she told Pete. “Here comes Earl.” She lowered the phone and waited.
Her partner spotted her and shuffled toward her, shoulders sagging, hands stuffed in his pockets. She knew without asking.
Earl met her gaze, his eyes damp. He shook his head.
Zoe took a raspy breath. Blew it out. And again lifted the phone to her ear.
“Pete? Jason didn’t make it.”
“You look like shit.” Sylvia had never been one to pull punches.
But at least she thrust a cup of coffee into Pete’s hands as he dragged into the station after a second long night at a shooting scene. He inhaled the aroma and sipped. “You, on the other hand, are beautiful.”
She blew a raspberry and then grew serious. “You find anything?”
He shuffled down the hallway to his office, Sylvia trailing behind. “They pinpointed where the shots came from. Mostly we were trying to cover the area with tarps to protect what we could from the rain. Now that it’s stopped and the sun’s coming up, they’re starting to do a more thorough search.” He sagged into his chair. “Thanks for manning the station all night.”
A sad smile crossed her face. “It almost felt like old times.” The smile faded. “I can’t believe Jason Dyer’s gone. He was such a sweet kid. Ted was the one who got him interested in firefighting, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know.” Sylvia’s son, Ted Bassi, had been a pillar of the Vance Township VFD prior to his tragic death last winter. “So you knew Jason?”
She took a seat opposite Pete. “He spent a lot of time at Ted and Rose’s house. He and Logan were great pals. Have you talked to Jason’s folks yet?”
“Last night.” Death notifications. One of the worst parts of his job—telling a parent his child won’t be coming home again. “They didn’t take it well.”
Sylvia stared into space, her eyes glazed. Pete had given her the same news less than a year ago.
He knew full well she was reliving that moment right now. “You should stop in and talk to them.”
“I intend to. As soon as Nancy gets here.” Sylvia checked her watch. “Which should be any time now.”
He sipped his coffee and shook his head. “It’s Saturday. She’s off today. So am I, for that matter.”
“Do you need me to stay?”
“Always.” He gave her a weary smile. “But no. We’ll manage. The Dyer kid’s mother needs you more than I do right now.”
“You have my number if—”
Pete waved her off. “We’ll be fine. Any word on Yancy?”
“Not since last night. They were prepping him for surgery. Have you heard anything?”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t suppose he’ll make it to the poker game tonight.” Sylvia managed a somber smile. “Pity. I always earn my week’s lunch allowance from him on Saturday nights.”
Pete rubbed his tired eyes. “I think the weekly poker game might be cancelled just this once. Half the gang will be on duty. Or, if we nail this guy, catching up on sleep.” He hoped they wouldn’t be dealing with a third night of shootings.
Sylvia fixed him with a stern gaze. “Have you talked to Zoe?”
The question carried a truckload of innuendo, but Pete wasn’t about to delve into the subject of their relationship.
Not now.
“Last night. She’s the one who told me the kid didn’t pull through.” Pete didn’t mention how many times he’d looked at his phone during the long night, nearly placing a call just to check on her. Make sure she was okay. Just to hear her voice…
He may not have spoken his thoughts, but somehow he suspected Sylvia read them. “Uh-huh. When are you two knuckleheads gonna quit this dance of yours and get together?”
“We are together.”
Sylvia raised a very doubtful eyebrow.
“We’re seeing each other.” Sort of. “Hey, I’m here, aren’t I? I didn’t take that job in Hawaii.”
“Yeah, well. Being here isn’t all there is to a relationship.”
Pete traced the rim of his mug with one finger. “It’s a good start. Even though I turned down that gig last month, Chuck keeps calling with other private security job openings. I can’t seem to get it through to him that I like my life here.”
The bells on the front door jangled, and Sylvia climbed to her feet with a groan. “I’ll see who that is. Then I’m heading home. Provided I can fight off the growing media encampment in the parking lot.”
“Tell them I’ll give them a statement at noon.”
“A statement? Telling them what exactly?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Sylvia snorted. “Right. Keep me posted.”
“About the case or about my job situation?”
She shot a dirty look at him. “You aren’t going anywhere unless you take Zoe with you.”
“There’s a thought.”
Sylvia shambled into the hall. Over her shoulder, she called, “It’s that detective from county.”
“I’ll meet him in the conference room in two minutes.” Two minutes should be enough to sneak a quick call to Zoe. To make sure she hadn’t responded to any last minute runs. Damn it, he had to catch this guy. Otherwise he was going to be sorely tempted to assign her an armed escort every time she climbed into an ambulance.
Baronick’s voice boomed from outside Pete’s office door. “Tell him I don’t have two minutes to wait.”
“Stuff it, bub,” Sylvia said.
She’d never warmed up to Baronick. Pete doubted she ever would.
The detective appeared in the doorway. From the dark circles shadowing his eyes, he hadn’t slept in the last forty-eight hours either. “I wanted to touch base with you before I head back to Brunswick.”
Pete motioned to the chair Sylvia had occupied, but Baronick shook his head. “If I sit, I’ll fall asleep.”
“Should make for an interesting drive. You plan on standing the whole way?”
“No, but I’ll open the windows and crank up the air conditioning.” Baronick scrolled though the notes in his phone. “The state fire marshal arrived at the Loomis place a little bit ago, but we all know we’re dealing with arson.”
“I’ll talk to him later.”
“Our guy knows the area.” Pete drained his mug and thunked it down on the desk. “He knows how to get into remote areas, where to hide, how to slip out unseen.”
Baronick grunted. “And he pays attention to the weather channel. Guess you can give up on Snake and the Livingston chick.”
“Looks that way. Except Eli ‘Snake’ Sullivan is still AWOL. Once again, he has no alibi.”
“He also has no motive. Whoever’s doing this isn’t going after individuals. He’s gunning for emergency personnel as a whole.” A strange look crossed the detective’s eyes. “When’s Zoe on duty again?”
Pete held Baronick’s gaze, knowing the detective carried a not-so-secret torch for her. “Her shift ends…” Pete checked his watch. Five minutes to eight. “Right about now. And she’ll be off duty until Tuesday at four.”
The faint smile that crossed Baronick’s face might have been a smirk if he weren’t so exhausted. “That gives us a little over three days to catch this asshole.”
“Let’s not wait that long. I don’t want to give this guy a chance to go gunning for any more of our fire or ambulance personnel.”
Baronick nodded and turned to leave. “I’m going to the Dyer kid’s autopsy, if I can stay awake. I bet Zoe’ll be there.”
Pete tamped down a quick rush of jealousy. Zoe had no interest in the detective. They both knew that. Baronick was egging him for sport. “Possibly.”
Baronick took two steps out the door and then backed up. “You mentioned our shooter aiming for fire and ambulance personnel. Be careful out there, Pete. He might just include law enforcement in his vendetta.”
Ten
“I’ve never been so glad to see eight a.m. come around,” Earl said, digging his car keys from his pocket.
Zoe stood at the door between the EMS office and the ambulance bay. “Me too.” However, she wasn’t looking forward to the day ahead. Earl would go home to his wife and kids and spend his Saturday off enjoying family time.
Zoe, on the other hand, planned to make a quick stop at the Vance Township Police Department, followed by another quick stop at Rose’s to get washed up. Then she’d go by the barn to make sure nothing required her attention. And finally on to the morgue in Brunswick for the young firefighter’s autopsy at nine. She’d be late, but so be it. Afterward, she intended to look in on Yancy.
Tony charged into the office from the back of the station carrying a clipboard. “Hey. You two still okay with pulling an extra shift on Monday so B crew can take off and be at the funeral home for Barry?”
“Yeah,” Earl said somberly. “Absolutely.”
Zoe nodded. “Count on it.”
“Good.” Tony jotted on the notepad clipped to the board. “We’ll take turns going to visitation both Monday and Tuesday as emergency calls allow. The funeral’s Wednesday morning. We’ll all go as a group, in uniform.”
“Let’s just hope the cops will have caught the guy by then,” Earl said, voicing what Zoe had been thinking.
“Amen to that.” Tony set the clipboard on the edge of the desk. “Enjoy your weekend.”
The clouds, which had dumped so much rain on them last night, appeared to be breaking up. Patches of blue peeked through in spots. With a little luck, it might turn out to be a gorgeous autumn day. Zoe and Earl crossed Main Street to the parking lot cattycorner from the garage.
“See you Monday,” Earl said without any enthusiasm.
“Give Olivia and the kids a hug for me.”
A smile lit his face as he chirped open his minivan’s front door. “You bet.”
Zoe climbed into the Chevy’s cab, tossed her purse on the passenger side of the bench seat, and turned the key.
Click.
“Come on, baby,” she cooed.
Click. Click. Click.
“Come on. Start.”
Click. Click. Click. Click.
It may have required some tinkering to get the truck started lately, but not usually this much. Zoe watched Earl drive away as Gabe the mechanic’s words echoed in her ears. Except one of these days it isn’t gonna. Sooner than later, most likely. You’re gonna need a new starter.
She sat and stared at the dashboard. Tried again. Still nothing but a click. Crap.
She slammed the steering wheel. “I don’t have time for this,” she told the truck.
It responded with passive-aggressive silence.
Several more attempts yielded the same results. With a defeated sigh, Zoe pulled her cell phone from her pocket and punched in the number for Bud Kramer’s Garage. Did the fact that she kept his number saved in her contact list hint that Pete’s advice to buy a new vehicle might have some validity?
Standing outside her truck, she thought she heard Bud chuckle gleefully as he told her a flatbed would be there in fifteen minutes.
So much for her plans for the morning. She pulled up Franklin Marshall’s number on her phone, but before she could punch the send button, “I Fought the Law” started playing. “Good morning, Pete.”
“Hi.” He sounded drained. “So you made it through the rest of your shift okay?”
Zoe leaned against the Chevy’s fender, breathing in the rain-washed breeze. “Yeah. It was a quiet night. Except for…”
“Yeah. Have you heard any news on Yancy?”
“No.” And she now had no way to get to the hospital to visit him. “I’ll call later. Maybe he’ll be in a room and able to talk.”
There was a pause. “I thought you’d stop in to see him after the autopsy.”
She cringed. If she told him she wouldn’t be attending it, she’d have to explain why, which would be followed by a round of I-told-you-so’s. But she wasn’t about to lie to Pete either. “I’m not going to the autopsy.”
Another pause. “Have you fulfilled your commitment already?”
“No. This would have been number six.”
“And you’re skipping it because…?”
A litany of excuses played through her mind. She couldn’t deal with an autopsy on a kid. She had to give a riding lesson. She’d already decided against a career in the Coroner’s Office. With a defeated sigh, she said, “Because my truck won’t start.”
The third silence from Pete’s end of the call was followed by his deep, rumbling laugh. A sound she rarely heard. But liked.
“Don’t you dare say ‘I told you so.’”
“I wouldn’t think of it.” The laughter evolved into almost a giggle, and Zoe pictured Pete wiping tears from his eyes. “Where are you?” he asked.
“Waiting for one of Bud’s guys to come get me with the flatbed.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
Good question. “I guess I’ll call Rose to come get me.”
“Forget it. I’m on my way.”
He hung up before Zoe had a chance to argue. She stared at the phone’s screen pronouncing the call ended. And smiled.
Gabe Weber was behind the wheel of the big flatbed when it pulled into the parking lot a few minutes later.
“That was quick,” Zoe said as he climbed down. “Not that I’m complaining.”
Gabe gave her a broad grin.
“I aim to please.” He planted his fists on his hips and eyed the Chevy as if it were an insolent child. “You again.”
Defensive of her truck, she protested, “In all fairness, this is the first time it’s needed to be towed.”
“True. I apologize. Up until now, she’s always managed to limp in under her own power.” Gabe gave Zoe a teasing grin. “What seems to be the problem today?”
She
slouched. “I guess that starter you warned me about finally quit altogether.”
The mechanic tsk-tsked. “I told you so.”
She had a feeling she was going to get sick of hearing that.
Without any further heckling, Gabe headed to the cab of his flatbed. Zoe stood back and watched him maneuver the big truck into position in front of the Chevy, blocking one lane of Main Street. Small town that Phillipsburg was, the disruption in traffic amounted to an occasional car needing to wait for oncoming vehicles before going around. Minutes later, Gabe secured the pickup aboard the flatbed and motioned for Zoe to climb in. “Unless you wanna walk,” he said.
Bud’s place was less than a quarter mile away, but she opted to ride. With the luck she was having, she’d probably get hit by a car while crossing the road.
Gabe parked in front of the garage’s second bay and left the diesel engine idling. Zoe slid down from the passenger side and followed the mechanic inside.
Medic Two still sat where she’d last seen it. She patted its hood on her way past, offering comfort to an old friend.
Bud Kramer wheeled his chair over to the cashier’s window. “Long time no see.”
Zoe forced a sour smile. “I couldn’t wait to give you more of my money.”
He chortled with the same glee she’d heard over the phone.
Gabe leaned on the counter next to Zoe. “It’s the starter, boss. Spotted it when she was in before.”
Bud scribbled on a form. “Do you happen to know if we’ve got the part in stock, Gabe?”
“I checked. We don’t.”
Bud nodded. “I’ll call the auto parts store.”
Zoe envisioned more dollar signs. And an emptier bank account.
He glanced up from the work order. “How’s Yancy?”
She really needed to call and get an answer to that question. “I haven’t heard anything this morning.”
Bud shook his head. “It’s damned scary. Stuff like that just don’t happen around here.”
“Yeah,” Gabe agreed. “Some nut out there shooting at anyone driving something with a flashing light on top. You never know who’s gonna be next. Maybe even a tow truck driver.”