Zoe opened her mouth to point out tow truck drivers weren’t usually first on the scene, but decided against it. She had no clue what was in the shooter’s mind. Gabe might be right. “We all have to be careful out there.”
Gabe nodded. “That’s for sure.”
The door from outside scraped open, and Pete strolled in. Bud glanced up. “Hey, Chief.”
Gabe straightened and thumped the counter with his fist. “Guess I better get back to work.”
“That would be a nice change,” Bud said. “Park her Chevy over by the fence.”
“You got it, boss.” Gabe ambled away.
Bud looked at Zoe. “We’ve got a full house with that ambulance holding top priority. Probably won’t have your truck done until late Tuesday, early Wednesday, depending on what we find when we get in there.” He separated the carbonless copies of the work order and slid the pink one across the counter to her. “I’ll call you.”
She stared at the paper.
Late Tuesday or early Wednesday? She pictured riding Windstar to and from work.
Pete leaned one forearm on the counter next to her. “Bud, you’re the biggest thief in Monongahela County.”
The garage owner gave Pete a gap-toothed smile. “And you can’t even arrest me. Drives you crazy, don’t it?” Bud executed a perfect one-eighty in his wheelchair and rolled away.
Both Pete and Zoe stepped back from the window and faced each other. For the first time, she noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the pallor of his skin. “You look like you haven’t slept in a month.”
He rubbed the space between his brows. “More like two. What time’s the autopsy? Nine?”
“Yeah.” She checked her phone. 8:35. “I forgot. I need to call Franklin and let him know I won’t be there.”
Pete rested a gentle hand on the small of her back, walking her toward the door. “You can call him from the car. Tell him we’ll be late, but we’re on our way.”
She glanced down at her uniform as they stepped outside. So much for stopping at Rose’s house and changing. “Okay. But I need to call Patsy too and see if she can make sure everything’s okay at the barn. I was planning to stop on my way—” Another forgotten plan for the day surfaced. “Oh, crap.”
“What?” Pete opened the Explorer’s passenger door for her.
“Patsy and I were supposed to go riding this morning.”
“I’m sure she’ll understand.”
He was right. She would. She always did. That was the problem. Zoe tried to remember the last time she and Patsy had gone trail riding together and couldn’t. For a moment, Zoe considered telling Pete to drop her off at the farm. Forget the autopsy. Forget that Yancy and Curtis were hospitalized. Forget the upcoming funeral for Barry.
Forget everything. Leave her cell phone behind, pack a lunch, and ride off into the woods.
“Zoe?” Pete roused her from her daydream.
She blinked. He was still holding the door for her. With a wistful sigh, she climbed in and dialed Patsy to cancel their horseback date.
By the time they reached Brunswick, the sky had cleared to a beautiful blue. The trees and grass still glistened from last night’s rain, a few splashes of gold and orange leaves even more vivid against the green. Pete shot a glance at Zoe, whose face was turned away from him, and wondered if she wished she hadn’t cancelled her riding plans.
The dashboard clock read 9:34 as he pulled into the underground lot at the hospital and parked outside the entrance marked Authorized Personnel Only. No other signage labeled it as the morgue. Zoe didn’t wait for him. She stepped out of the SUV and approached the glass doors, hesitating long enough for Pete to catch up.
He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “You’ll be fine,” he whispered into her ear.
For a moment, she leaned against him. A simple gesture of accepting his support. But it sent a fire through him. He longed to take her in his arms and never let go. To shield her from all her fears and doubts. To protect her from the maniac out there gunning down her coworkers and friends. But she steeled herself and pushed away.
Side by side, they stepped forward. The doors swished open, and they entered the hallway to the morgue.
The outer office was empty. A window between it and the autopsy suite revealed Wayne Baronick and Franklin Marshall observing the forensic pathologist and a tech work on the body.
Zoe grabbed two sets of disposable scrubs from a cart in the corner and handed him one. They suited up in silence before stepping into the other room.
Marshall and Baronick turned toward them. “You’re late,” the coroner said.
“I had car trouble,” Zoe said.
Baronick glanced from her to Pete and back. He grinned. “Nothing like having the Chief of Police as your personal chauffeur.”
Pete aimed a scorching look at the detective.
Zoe ignored the comment and asked Marshall, “What do you want me to do?”
Without looking up from his work, Doc Abercrombie called over his shoulder, “You’re just in time to run the gut.”
Pete noticed the color fade from Zoe’s cheeks. He had a feeling he’d missed an inside joke and would have to ask her about it later.
His suspicions were confirmed when Marshall snickered. “I’m going to give you a pass this time.” The coroner grew serious. “You’ve had a rough couple of days.”
Pete motioned toward the body on the table. “Have you found anything?”
“So far I can tell you there’s only one gunshot wound. Unlike the first victim, the shot wasn’t through and through. The bullet entered here.” Marshall thumbed the area at the base of his own left ribcage. “It shattered the tenth rib. We’re still examining the abdominal tissues and organs, but x-rays show fragments all through the right lower quadrant. I’m willing to bet we find the bullet caused massive organ trauma before hitting the ilium and fragmenting.”
“Fragments,” Baronick echoed. “Anything that looks like it might be big enough to be identifiable?”
Marshall shrugged. “Doubtful. I’ll let you know as soon as we have anything more.”
Pete thanked him, and the coroner headed back to the table.
“As much as I appreciate the company, there’s no sense in all of us hanging out here.” Baronick nudged Zoe. “Especially if you aren’t gonna jump in there and give us a show.”
She shot him a dirty look.
As much as Pete detested agreeing with the smug detective, this time he had to. “You stick around and collect any evidence they find and get it to the lab. I’ll head upstairs and see if Yancy’s up to answering questions.” He touched Zoe’s arm. “You with me or do you want to stay here?”
She snorted. “What do you think?” She spun on her heel, stripping out of the scrubs as she headed for the door.
“I’m hurt,” Baronick called after her.
Pete chuckled. “I may not have much of a way with women, but I can tell you this much. There are better options than a date at an autopsy.”
Eleven
Zoe was relieved to have escaped the smells of autopsy, but seeing big, tough Bruce Yancy wearing a hospital gown and attached to monitors, IVs, and oxygen didn’t strike her as a huge improvement. The head of his bed was raised, but he slumped more than sat. An unopened plastic cup of juice and a full container of green Jell-O with a spoon stuck in it occupied the bedside tray in front of him. A haggard young woman wearing a stained and wrinkled t-shirt perched on the edge of a chair next to the bed.
“Hey, Yance,” Pete said, striding toward the patient. “How are you feeling?”
Yancy seemed to have difficulty finding and focusing on his visitors. When he did, he made a sour face. “How the hell do you think I feel?” His voice sounded mushy. He attempted to hoist his right arm, which was in a brace and strapped to his body. “That son of a
bitch blew out my humerus.”
The young woman touched Yancy’s shoulder. “Take it easy, Dad.”
Pete extended a hand toward her, which she took. “You must be Nicole. Pete Adams.”
Zoe introduced herself too. She’d heard Yancy talk about his only child, although the impression he’d created didn’t quite match the pale, disheveled woman in front of her. Spending a night in a hospital chair wasn’t conducive to restful sleep.
Yancy’s eyes wavered and settled on Zoe. With his left hand, he pointed a shaky finger at her. “That there’s my angel,” he slurred.
She glanced at a quizzical Pete and then took note of an IV line leading to a morphine pump. She smiled to herself. Yancy was stoned.
He continued to point at her. “She saved me last night,” he told his daughter. To Zoe he said, “I owe you my life.”
She met the daughter’s questioning gaze and shook her head. “I was in the ambulance that brought him in is all.”
Pete stepped forward. “You up to answering some questions?”
“Yeah.” Yancy looked at his daughter. “Nicole, why don’t you go down and get yourself something to eat?”
“I’m fine, Dad.”
“Go. You’ve been sittin’ there all night.” He nodded at Pete and Zoe. “They’ll make sure I don’t escape.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.” But she stood and stretched before moving around the foot of the bed. She stopped next to Zoe. “Can I give you my cell number? We’re waiting for the doctor to come in, and you know darned well he’ll show up the minute I leave the floor.”
“Sure.” Zoe pulled out her phone and punched in the number Nicole gave her.
With a worried glance at her father, Nicole left.
Yancy watched her go. His eyes steadied. “She won’t let me turn on the news or call anyone. How’s Jason?” From his expression, he already knew.
Pete shook his head. “He didn’t make it.”
Yancy took a deep ragged breath. Blew it out. And blinked away tears. “Goddamn it. That boy never did nothin’ to nobody. Best worker I had. Never complained. Always wantin’ to help.”
Pete grabbed a second chair, dragged it closer to the bed, and sat. “So help me catch the bastard.”
“I’d love to. But I don’t know what I can tell you.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“No. One second we were rolling up to the fire, climbing down from the truck, then boom boom.” Yancy took a couple of labored breaths.
Zoe reached for the pink pitcher on his tray. “Can I pour you some water?”
“No.”
She poured a glass anyway and set it on the side of the tray closest to his one functioning arm.
“Next thing I knew I was on my knees, my arm burnin’ like a son of a bitch. Blood all over me.” Yancy took another moist breath. “And Jason was on the ground. Not moving. I knew it was bad. I tried to get to him, but the SOB shot at me again. Backed me off.”
“Three shots?” Pete jotted in his notebook. “You heard three shots?”
Yancy appeared to contemplate the question. “I guess. No. Four. Two real close together. Then two more. The one that pinned me down and another one. I think the other boys started to get out of the truck and he was shootin’ at them.”
Baronick had mentioned the other firefighters too. Pete thumbed through his notes. “What were the names of the other guys on the truck with you?”
“Stu Wilkins and Dex Alvarez. I guess they stayed in the truck. Sure wish Jason had.”
Zoe gingerly took a seat at the foot of Yancy’s bed. “Maybe one of them saw something.”
Pete met her gaze, but before he had a chance to say anything else, a tall dark-haired man in a white lab coat breezed into the room, a binder in his hands.
He introduced himself as Yancy’s doctor. Zoe sent a quick text to Nicole as Pete shook hands with the physician.
Pete tucked his notebook into his pocket and turned back to Yancy. “I’ll stop back later if I have any more questions.” The two men shook left-handed. “Call me if there’s anything I can do.”
“The only thing I want you to do is catch that son of a bitch.”
Zoe and Pete passed Nicole in the hallway.
Yancy’s daughter threw up her hands in exasperation as she breezed by them. “I knew I wouldn’t have a chance to eat. Never fails.”
At the elevator, Pete jabbed the down button. Something was going on inside his head.
Zoe faced him, folding her arms. “You think one of the other guys on the fire truck might have seen something?”
His faraway gaze settled on her. His mouth was stretched into a thin line. “I hope so.”
“I get the feeling you heard more in that conversation with Yancy than I did.”
Pete’s jaw tightened. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shook his head slowly. “I’m still sorting it out. But I’ll let you know when I do.”
Pete dropped Zoe off at Rose’s front door with a promise he’d go home and get some sleep.
As soon as he checked in at the station.
On the short drive up the hill, he called Baronick. “Anything new with the autopsy?”
Instead of answering, the detective asked, “Where are you now?”
“Dillard, heading back to my office. I’m supposed to give the press a statement in…” He checked the clock on the dashboard. “Ten minutes ago. Why?”
“I’m five minutes out. Meet you there.”
The line went dead in Pete’s ear.
The station’s parking lot was filled to capacity with vehicles bearing logos from various local stations and newspapers, forcing him to park on the township offices side of the building. He cut the engine and placed calls to the rest of his officers, summoning them to come in for a briefing.
By the time he reached the station’s front door, reporters had piled out of their trucks and cars and hovered, blocking his path.
Pete held up one hand. “I know I’m late with my statement. I need to meet with my men to get updated and then I’ll be out to speak with you in one hour.”
The crowd responded with an impatient rumble, but backed away, except for one dark-haired kid in a rumpled white shirt and even more wrinkled khakis. “Do you think we have a serial killer in the area? Do you have any suspects yet?” The kid continued to bark questions as Pete pressed through the front door.
Minutes later, Baronick ambled into the conference room. Pete had already started a pot of coffee and updated the whiteboard with what he’d learned from Yancy.
The detective slapped a folder down on the table. “You look like you should be next in line for an autopsy. Go get some sleep.”
Pete grunted. Putting his reading glasses on, he opened the file. “How about the short version.”
“Nothing earth shattering. You heard the bulk of it when you were there. Doc removed a half dozen fragments from the kid’s abdomen. I dropped them off at the lab, but I can tell you there’s not enough to help us identify the gun. Did you get to talk to Yancy?”
The bells on the front door jangled. “Yeah. Let’s wait until everyone is here.”
Five minutes later, Baronick, Nate Williamson, Kevin, Seth, and two part-time officers whom Pete had called in gathered around the table with somber faces, open notebooks, and cups of coffee.
Baronick went over the autopsy findings again with the men.
Pete studied the whiteboard. “Kevin, did you find anything more about Snake Sullivan?”
“I’ve been trying to track him down since you called me about him yesterday.” The young officer skimmed through his notes. “No one’s seen or heard from him. And no one knows where he was between seven fifteen and eight thirty Thursday night.”
Baronick drummed a pen against the table. “You can’t possibly still think he’s involved in this.”
It was a question he’d been asking himself over and over. “Do I think he’s smart enough to pull it off? No. Do I think he’s hiding something? Oh yeah. And until we can positively say he wasn’t involved, I’m not clearing him of anything.”
“I did find out one thing,” Kevin added. “That ATV he claimed to have sold? The DCNR has no transfer of title recorded for it.”
Pete scrawled on the whiteboard: Snake’s ATV and three question marks. Something else to ask the kid whenever they found him.
“So what about Bruce Yancy?” Baronick asked. “You talked to him this morning, right? How is he?”
Pete turned his back on the board. “They have him loaded with pain meds right now, but he’s not doing bad, all things considered.”
“He’s alive,” Seth said. “That’s pretty huge at the moment.”
“True.” Pete went on to tell about Yancy’s report on the shooting, including the four shots fired. “Who questioned the other men on that first truck?”
Seth raised a hand. “I did. Dexter Alvarez and Stuart Wilkins. They said there were four shots too. Wilkins was pretty shaken up. I think he probably hit the floor when the shots rang out. Claims he didn’t see a thing. Alvarez, though, spotted the muzzle flash and was able to help us pinpoint the shooter’s location.”
Baronick tapped his phone with the pen. “Which enabled us to find the tire marks from his quad. Because of the rain and mud, we couldn’t get a clean cast of the tread, but the measurements match the one he used when he shot the paramedics.”
“What about spent shells?” Pete asked.
“None. He’s still policing his brass.” Baronick set the pen down on the table. “So we have four shots.” He held up one finger. “The first one hits Yancy in the arm. Through and through.” Baronick held up two fingers. “The second one hits Jason Dyer and fragments inside his body.” The detective raised two more fingers. “Shots three and four were misses.” He closed his hand into a fist. “So our guys with the metal detectors could potentially find a couple of bullets out there in the mud. And with a little luck, they’ll be intact enough to ID a weapon.”
With a Vengeance Page 10
