“Copy that, Unit Thirty,” Sylvia said.
After another pause, he asked, “Is Zoe there?”
Sylvia gestured to the mic and moved out of her way.
Zoe slid her chair closer to the radio and hit the button. “I’m here.”
“Good. While Sylvia’s handling the BOLO, I want you to contact the EOC, state and county police, the fire department, and your gang at the EMS. I want police response on all emergency calls again. Tell them same protocol as last night.”
Zoe met Sylvia’s gaze and swallowed. “Got it.” She lowered her voice. “Hey, Pete?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful.”
She could almost hear his smile. “Copy that, Base. Unit Thirty out.”
Twenty-One
As the late afternoon sun filtered through the leafy canopy of Hector Livingston’s yard, Pete stretched out in the Edge’s front seat. Stakeouts in the country were damned boring. Thankfully, he didn’t have to do them very often. But he had to admit, he wouldn’t mind living in a place like this. He’d do a better job of upkeep, of course, but the soft whisper of the breeze through the leaves, the sense of privacy without losing the connection to nature—unlike that idiot who had built a fort-like fence around his place over in the new housing development—the cool shade in the heat of summer and the brilliant color of autumn…
Yeah, he could definitely see himself living here.
The pines growing next to the road softened the sounds of passing cars. Through his open window, Pete thought he heard a vehicle slowing down.
Hector’s blue pickup turned into the driveway and chugged up the slight grade toward Pete, an empty flatbed trailer bouncing and clanking along behind.
Hector pulled into the empty spot next to Pete, cut the engine, and stepped out. Pete climbed out of his SUV as well.
Hector eyed the Edge. “What’s the matter? Did the township muckety mucks take your police car away?”
“It’s in the shop.”
Hector grunted. “What’re you doing here?”
Pete nodded toward the trailer. “Where are your ATVs?”
Hector lifted his chin, glaring down his nose at Pete. “What ATVs?”
Pete couldn’t very well admit he’d seen the photo without confessing to prowling around Hector’s property, something the man would likely figure out if he had another well-hidden trail cam back there. But for now, Pete preferred to play his cards close to his vest. “I’ve heard you and Lucy have a pair of quads.”
Hector didn’t even blink. “Can’t imagine where you’d have heard that.”
Pete decided to change directions. “Where’s your daughter?”
Hector shook his head. “No idea. The girl’s of legal age. I don’t keep track of her.”
Pete didn’t buy that for a minute. He leaned back against the Edge, crossing one leg in front of the other, trying to look casual. “Must be hard. Having a beautiful daughter. Young guys must be lining up at your door wanting to take her out.”
“Not so much as you’d think.” Hector eyed Pete with the faintest hint of an amused smile.
From the man’s tone, Pete wondered if Hector meant the girl’s craziness kept the boys at bay, or if Hector and his gun collection scared all but the gutsiest away. “Still, you’re her father. I’m sure you do your best to protect her.”
All signs of amusement faded from Hector’s face, replaced with disgust. Or boredom. Reading this guy was a challenge. “That what you’re here for?” he asked. “To ask about my kid?”
Fine. So much for casual. Pete uncrossed his legs. “What I really want to know is where you were the last few nights.”
The smug smile was back. “You got a warrant?”
“I just want to talk.”
Hector shook his head and brushed past Pete and around the SUV. “No warrant, no talk.” He stopped in front of Pete’s vehicle and turned back to face him again. “And since you ain’t got a thing on either me or my daughter, I know damned well you don’t have a warrant. Get off my property.”
Pete watched as the man turned on his heel and started toward the house. “I hear you were involved in a traffic accident out on Oak Grove Road,” Pete called after him.
Hector froze.
Pete expected the man to face him. Expected a look that would tell Pete he had his man. Instead, Hector stood a little taller and continued ambling to his back door. His history with guns and the missing ATVs combined with his scuffle with several of the victims were cause enough to take him in. But Pete suspected Hector would gladly go to prison—even to his grave—to protect his daughter.
Pete slid behind the wheel and keyed the mic on his shoulder. “Vance Base, this is Unit Thirty.”
Sylvia’s voice came over the air. “Go, Unit Thirty.”
“Cancel the BOLO on Hector Livingston.” Pete glanced at the man climbing the back steps into the house. “And put one out on Lucy Livingston instead.”
Zoe sat alone at the police department’s front desk, having insisted that Sylvia go home two hours ago. The late nights were wearing on the older woman, and even though she argued, she eventually gave in.
The clock on the wall read a few minutes after one. Zoe stood and stretched, listening to a series of small pops in the shoulder she’d injured a couple of months ago.
Radio chatter was minimal at this hour, so she strolled down the hall and found Pete seated in the conference room, glaring at the whiteboard. He looked up when she entered, and she noticed the dark circles under his weary eyes.
“I thought you left with Sylvia,” he said.
Zoe slid into the chair next to him. “Didn’t we have this same conversation last night?”
A tired smile flickered across his face. “Anything new?”
“Nope. Wayne’s sitting across the road from Hector’s driveway. At last report, Hector hadn’t left and Lucy hasn’t returned. Nate’s been keeping an eye on the Sullivan house. Snake’s staying put like a good boy. No word on Lucy. And no ambushes. Don’t suppose there will be now. He—or she—likes to strike at dusk.”
Pete’s eyebrows shrugged.
“What?” Zoe asked. “You think he’s gonna change his MO?”
Pete chuckled. “I love it when you talk cop.”
She gently swung a leg, kicking him under the table. “Why would you think he’d change now?”
“I just don’t want someone else getting killed because I let my guard down.”
She sensed there was more to it and held his gaze.
He sighed. “If Hector’s as much into the survivalist culture as it seems, he could have military equipment. Like night-vision goggles. He knows we’re being especially vigilant around dusk. And he knows we’re on to him.”
Zoe filled in the blanks and didn’t like it. “You really think Hector’s our guy?”
Pete pushed up from his chair and sauntered toward the whiteboard. “We’ve got him under surveillance and nothing has happened tonight. So far.”
“What about Lucy?”
He stared at the notes on the board. “I definitely want to talk to that girl.”
Zoe rose and moved to his side.
Part of the scrawl on the whiteboard was a timeline of events, locations, types of ambushes, and names of victims. Another part of the board listed Eli “Snake” Sullivan with notations about his connections to the victims. Then there was Hector and Lucy Livingston, and a list of names under them—Jason Dyer, Rick Brown, Snake, Curtis Knox. “Who’s Rick Brown?”
Pete rubbed the stubble on his upper lip. “One of Lucy’s ex-boyfriends.”
“I figured that much. I knew about the others, but never heard of him. Is he from around here?”
“Not according to Hector. Apparently the kid died in a motorcycle crash out in Ohio about six months ago.”
Zoe eyed Pete. “You don’t sound so sure.”
He shook his head. “Something about the name keeps bugging me. I swear I’ve heard it before, but I can’t place where.”
She rolled the name over in her mind. “Rick Brown. Doesn’t ring a bell for me. It’s kind of common though.”
Pete choked out a short laugh. “That’s what Hector said.”
“Still…” She pressed a finger next to the name on the board. “If he died in a motorcycle wreck, fire and EMS would have responded. What if Lucy blamed them somehow for his death? Maybe a mistake was made, or maybe she believes there was.”
Pete raised an eyebrow at Zoe. “But if it happened in Ohio, why take it out on our local guys?”
She fixed him with her best duh look. “She’s crazy. Loco Lucy. Remember? She thinks I’m in love with Curtis. Why wouldn’t she take out her grudge on any ol’ emergency responder who was handy?”
Pete turned deliberately to face her and folded his arms. “She thinks you’re in love with Curtis?”
Zoe’s cheeks warmed. “I told you that earlier.”
“No, you most certainly did not. You told me she came to the garage and pushed you around because she thought Curtis was in love with you, but not the other way around.”
Zoe offered him a sheepish grin. “Yeah, well. She deserves the nickname Loco Lucy for a reason.”
“Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“In love with Curtis.” One side of Pete’s mouth slanted upward.
Zoe slugged him in the arm. “No.”
He made an exaggerated pained face and rubbed the spot. “Ow. Medic!”
“I didn’t hit you that hard, you wimp.” But she reached over to touch it anyway. “And Curtis isn’t in love with me either. Everyone knows my heart is spoken for.”
“Oh? Anyone I know?”
She made a fist again, and he lifted both hands in surrender, laughing. Closing the distance between them, she leaned against him, suddenly drained from the last four days. He wrapped her in both arms and pressed his cheek to her hair. Their closeness…the safety of his embrace…felt more right than anything she’d ever known. She opened her mouth, but the words—I love you—stuck.
“You might be on to something,” he said. “About Lucy possibly blaming the rescue team in Ohio for Brown’s death. I need to do some digging into that motorcycle crash.”
Zoe eased free of the clinch. “But not tonight.”
His hopeful look suggested he had something other than rest on his mind.
“You need to go home and get some sleep,” she said.
“I’m not that tired.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re exhausted. So am I. And I have to be on duty tomorrow night.” She realized the time. “I mean tonight.”
“Tonight?” He frowned. “You aren’t on duty again until Tuesday.”
“We’re pulling extra shifts so B crew can attend Barry’s viewing and funeral. Earl and I are covering tomorrow—tonight.”
A strange look crossed Pete’s face. “You’re right. I’ll drop you off at Rose’s.” Lowering his voice, he added, “We both need to be on the top of our game.”
Pete dragged back into the station well before his eight o’clock shift began. Sleep?
He might have dozed on and off for an hour. Tops. He’d be able to sleep when he cleared this case.
Zoe was on duty tonight.
Granted, he didn’t want anyone else to fall victim to this shooter. Not another firefighter. Not another paramedic. Not another cop. Not a civilian either, although so far all the targets had worn uniforms. But the idea of Zoe being in the line of fire set his every nerve on edge.
He dumped an extra scoop of Maxwell House into his Mr. Coffee before hitting the power button and sinking into his office chair. Pulling out his cell phone he punched in Baronick’s number.
The detective’s “Morning, Pete” sounded drowsy.
“Did I wake you?”
“Ha. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Catching me sleeping on the job. Sorry to disappoint.”
“Give me an update on Livingston.”
“His truck hasn’t moved. No one in. No one out.”
Pete checked his watch. “I’ll be out to relieve you within the hour.”
“Bring coffee.”
Pete ended the call and placed the next one to Nate, who reported Snake hadn’t gone anywhere either.
Apparently all the township bad guys had gotten a good night’s sleep even if the police chief had not.
Pete left his phone on his desk and rose.
After a stretch and a yawn, he shuffled back to the gurgling coffeemaker to pour a cup. Inhaling the steam, he returned to his desk and thumbed the computer’s power button, sipping the hot brew while the machine booted up.
Hector Livingston knew he was under surveillance. Of that Pete had no doubt. The man had wisely opted to lay low all last evening and all night. Was it a coincidence that no ambush had been set yesterday?
Pete hated coincidences.
Snake hadn’t been smart enough to arrange any of the recent incidents. But Hector? Hell yeah. Hector was smart—scary smart. He owned a quad. Two of them, as a matter of fact. He carried a grudge against all the victims. And he was an avid hunter known to be skilled with a high-powered rifle.
How had he known who would be on duty? Or did it matter? Was it sheer luck that all of his victims happened to be on the emergencies he’d set up and called in?
Lucy might have known.
As Curtis’s fiancée—or ex-fiancée—Lucy would have been aware of his and Dickson’s schedule. But she wouldn’t have known which team on the crew would respond to the call.
Would she?
Pete jotted a note to look into the girl’s connections with the county dispatchers. Hell, she’d probably dated one of them.
Pete’s train of thought returned to his computer, which was taking too damned long to load.
Where was Lucy? If she was helping her father with this sick game of revenge, she might be out there somewhere, setting up the next fake accident scene. Maybe Hector had called her to warn her about the police being on to them—and sitting at the foot of his driveway. Maybe she was hiding out, waiting for the police to look the other way before springing the next trap.
Only there was no way on earth Pete was looking the other way.
The computer was finally ready. He typed in his password and logged on to the internet.
Ohio was a big state, and Pete had no idea where in it Rick Brown had lived or died. Hoping he’d get lucky, he typed Rick Brown and motorcycle into Google’s search box, only to pull up an extensive list of sites about a man who was well known for restoring bikes. Not the man Pete was looking for.
He pulled up a people finder site and tried again. The number of Rick and Richard Browns it found was longer than even Pete had expected. And none of the ones listed in Ohio seemed right. Staring at the screen, he thought back to what Hector had said. The kid wasn’t from around here and had died in a motorcycle crash in Ohio. And Hector hadn’t claimed to be sure about even that much. Plus, simply because Brown died in Ohio didn’t mean he’d lived there.
As Pete scrolled down the list of faces and locations, his phone vibrated on the desk. Baronick’s name and number lit up the screen.
Pete hit the answer call button. “What is it?”
“Livingston just pulled out of his driveway in his truck, pulling a trailer.” Baronick’s voice was tight. “He’s headed south on Route 15.”
Pete logged off the computer as he leapt from his chair. “Stay with him. I’m on my way.”
Twenty-Two
Zoe parked Rose’s silver Ford Taurus in front of the Bassi house after a morning of barn chores and climbed out as Allison stepped onto the front porch luggi
ng a backpack.
“Ready for your first day back at school?” Zoe asked, coming around the car.
“Absolutely.” The tension on the girl’s face belied the confidence in her voice.
Zoe longed to hug her, but a pair of teens were approaching from several houses down the street, heading for the same bus stop as Allison. Embarrassing her wouldn’t be the best way to start the new school year. Instead, Zoe leaned closer as they passed on the sidewalk. “Remember what you told me. You’re stronger now.”
Allison grinned. “I am woman, hear me roar.”
“Exactly.”
She nodded in appreciation and strolled away, calling out to the other teens.
Zoe found Rose sitting over a cup of coffee in the kitchen. Tossing her friend’s car keys onto the counter, Zoe grabbed a clean mug, filled it from the pot, and slid into the chair across from her. “You okay?”
Rose rolled her eyes. “Jet lag’s a bitch.”
“You’ve been back—what? Four days? Aren’t you over it yet?”
“If you want to keep living in my house, you should shut up.” Rose took a long hit from her mug. “Which reminds me. One of your cats threw up a hairball outside my bedroom door last night. Don’t ask me how I found it.”
Zoe winced. “Sorry.”
Rose mumbled something Zoe couldn’t make out and decided she shouldn’t ask her to repeat it.
“How was Allison this morning?” Zoe asked.
The strain on Rose’s face matched what Zoe had seen minutes earlier on the girl’s. “She’s putting up a brave front and insisting she’ll be fine.” Rose stared into her cup. “I’m not sure who she’s trying to convince, me or herself.”
Zoe rested a hand on her friend’s arm.
“This thing with Jason isn’t helping anything. Another loss of someone she cared about.” Rose shook her head sadly. “It’s almost too much to take.”
Zoe thought about her late-night talk with Pete. “Did you know a guy by the name of Rick Brown?”
With a Vengeance Page 19
