“God. Damn.”
The woman realized what she’d done. She staggered back, about to collapse. She covered her eyes with her shaking hands. “Oh, Christ, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please don’t arrest me. My daughter needs me.”
“Ma’am, Lyla needs you to calm down,” Maureen said, blinking the tears from her eyes, her cheek hot and swelling on the outside, leaking blood on the inside. “Ma’am, Officer Cordts has taken Lyla to the ambulance. Once she is secured, you can go with her. But you have to let the professionals help her. And you have to calm down.” She turned her head and spat blood into the street. “I know that’s hard. Look at me. Look at me. If you can’t stay calm and in control of yourself, I can’t let you go in the ambulance with your daughter. That’s the deal.”
The ambulance hung a hard turn, bouncing up onto the sidewalk as the driver turned it around and slammed it to a stop. The EMTs cut the siren, left the lights flashing, and jumped out of the cab. They rushed to the back of the vehicle.
One of the medics flung open the doors, climbed inside, and started prepping the equipment. The other gently took Lyla from Cordts’s arms and climbed into the back of the ambulance with her. As he worked to secure Lyla in the gurney, he pulled off her crumpled wings and tossed them aside. They fluttered out of the van into the night air. Cordts snatched them in one hand before they landed in the street. He stood there holding them.
“Are you with me?” Maureen asked the woman as they stood together, watching the action. The woman, biting her bottom lip, tears pouring from her eyes, nodded. “Okay, come with me.” Maureen led her by the arm to the back of the ambulance.
An EMT helped the mother into the ambulance, talking to her quietly as he eased her onto the padded bench, careful to keep her where she could observe what was happening but couldn’t reach her daughter and interfere with her treatment. He belted her into the seat, continuing to talk to her, his voice quiet and calm.
A few feet away, Wilburn managed the father as best he could, trying to calm and restrain him as he fought to climb into the ambulance with his wife and daughter.
“We’ll get you there,” Wilburn said, as he set his hands firmly on the man’s arms, finally gaining the advantage and moving him away from the back of the ambulance. “We’ll get you there.”
“But I want to go, too,” the father yelled. “Where are you taking them?”
“There’s no room,” Wilburn said. “Let them work, your wife will be with them. There’s nothing you can do for her right this minute.”
The second medic jumped down from the back of the ambulance.
Maureen could hear the first medic calling out as he worked on the girl, “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.”
The mother screamed.
“Jenny! Jennifer!” the father yelled to her. “Go with her. I’ll be there. I’ll be there.”
“We’re taking her to the UMC,” the medic said to Maureen. He slammed the doors closed. Maureen grabbed him by the arm before he got away. He yanked free of her grip. “I gotta go, Officer. Now.”
“We have more vics here,” Maureen said. “At least one of them is pretty bad off. There are more of you coming, right?”
“Fucked if I know,” the medic said. He shook his head as if to erase that last sentence. “I mean, I’m sure there are. I know there are. We’ll come back if we have to. But right now, I have to go.”
He ran to the driver’s seat and climbed in the van. The sirens screamed to life, banshees freed from a grave.
The father yelped at the sound and lunged for the ambulance. This time Maureen helped hold him back, her hands on his shoulders. “Sir, sir? Look at me. Where is your car? Can you drive? Do you know where this hospital is? The new one, the UMC in Mid-City.”
She asked him about his car to get him thinking about something else. She wanted to give him something to do, to focus on. But the truth was if he couldn’t drive to the hospital, neither she nor any of the other cops could leave the scene to take him anywhere. The poor bastard was on his own from here. She wanted to, gently if she could, impress this upon him, but none of her questions registered. The man was growing more hysterical. Maureen caught herself wishing his wife had stayed behind to slap some sense into him. She could swing it, that’s for sure.
“Let him go,” Maureen said to Wilburn. “Just let him go.”
They released him and stepped out of his way. He took off running up the middle of Washington Avenue after his daughter and his wife. His jester hat flopped and jingled as he ran right into the path of a second, oncoming ambulance that he somehow didn’t see coming, despite the flashing lights and the raging sirens. The ambulance driver swerved hard to avoid running the man down, clipping two parked cars as it maneuvered, scraping their doors and smashing their side mirrors to pieces. Broken glass scattered in the street. The ambulance screeched to a halt.
“That’s gonna cost the city,” Wilburn said.
Cordts held the little girl’s wings. “What do I do with these?”
Before she could answer Cordts, who did not look well, Maureen heard someone screaming, “What the fuck?” She turned. Shit. Susan. Maureen went to her.
Susan was livid, tears streaming down her cheeks. “The first one left. Now they crashed? Why is this taking so long? What is wrong with everybody?”
Maureen saw that the EMTs who’d arrived by bicycle continued working on the injured man. They had not paused or flinched at any of the crashing or screaming. That was until Susan grabbed the female EMT by the shoulder and started shaking her. “Why did they leave? Where are the rest of you? You’re letting him die. Call somebody.”
Maureen ran over. “Whoa, whoa.” She ripped Susan’s hands free of the EMT’s jacket.
“Officer,” the medic said. “I need to work in safety.”
“I got it,” Maureen replied. She turned to Susan. “Everything’s gonna be fine. There’s another ambulance here. Look.”
“You let them leave without him?” Susan said, punching Maureen in the shoulder. Hard. “You let them leave. What the fuck? What the fuck is that?”
“There was a little girl,” Maureen said, gritting her teeth. “She got shot, too.” She turned, fighting the urge to rub her shoulder, gesturing to the second EMS crew, who were unloading the gurney from their ambulance. “Look, another crew is here. They’ll take care of him.”
Susan’s face collapsed. “Oh my God. A little girl? Oh my God, is she okay?”
“She will be,” Maureen said. Why not say that? Maybe she really would be. Susan had sunk to her knees and had started weeping again.
“Cogs! Yo, Cogs!”
Maureen turned. It was Wilburn. “I need some help over here!”
He knelt beside an older woman who was seated on the curb. Her chin was on her chest. Her gray and black hair flopped in front of her face like a mop. The shoulder of the woman’s yellow leather coat glistened with what appeared to be blood. Wilburn was holding on to her other shoulder, trying to keep her from falling over into the gutter.
Goddamn it, Maureen thought. Another one?
The second ambulance crew approached, hauling their tackle box and gurney. Maureen tapped the female EMT on the shoulder. “Is he ready to move?”
“Definitely,” she said. “The sooner the better.”
“Pack it up,” Maureen said. “We need y’all on that other corner. Go help Officer Wilburn. Let the other crew take this guy to the ER.”
“Ten-four,” the EMT said. She radioed for more backup. “How many GSWs do we have?”
“Three and counting,” Maureen said. “Are there more of you on the way?”
“Are there more of you? We’re making do with what we got.” She turned to her partner. “Jewell, finish packing up and meet me at that corner.” She took off, headed for the next victim.
“Wait,” Susan said. “What’s happening? Why is she leaving?”
Maureen got down on one knee beside Susan. She had to keep her cool. Susan couldn’t a
ttack anyone else. She glanced at the man, who, thank God, continued breathing. “Let’s give the EMTs room to work. They’re here to take him to the hospital.”
She reached out, trying to help Susan to her feet. The woman pulled away, refusing to stand. Maureen didn’t want to fight this woman so the EMTs could access the victim. She did not want to have to handcuff her.
“I’m not leaving him,” Susan shouted. “I’m not leaving him lying here in the street.”
“Neither are we.” Maureen crouched beside Susan as the EMTs rolled up the stretcher. “See, Susan? The paramedics are here, and they’re going to take care of him. He needs their help. He needs to go to the hospital.” She draped her arm across the woman’s shoulders and stood. As Maureen had hoped, Susan stood with her.
To the EMT she said, “Double GSW, maybe a triple, under the right armpit along the rib cage and the back of the right thigh, from what I could see.”
“We’ll take it from here, Officer.”
The EMTs collapsed the stretcher to more easily load the man.
“I want to go,” Susan said. Her breath was dense with beer. “I want to go with him.”
Maureen glanced at the EMT, who gave the subtlest shake of the head, telling her they didn’t want the drunk, hysterical girlfriend along. “If she’s not family,” the EMT said. “I’m sorry.”
“What did he say?” Susan asked.
“He will go straight into surgery,” Maureen told Susan. “Let the doctors work. Now and at the hospital. They’ll only whisk him away from you at the emergency room. We’ll make sure you get to him. He’ll be okay.” One lie after another. “He’s holding up well.”
The EMTs were already wheeling the man back to the ambulance. Maureen felt Susan tense up, as if preparing to chase the gurney. Please God, Maureen thought, do not make me tackle this poor woman in the middle of the street. Susan didn’t move.
Maureen put her arm around Susan again and guided her in the direction of the bar. Susan turned and watched the rolling stretcher over her shoulder. “Oh my God. This is awful.”
“That’s your boyfriend?” Maureen asked, careful to keep her references in the present tense.
Susan nodded.
“And what’s his name?” His name would make him feel even more alive.
“Cordell.”
“He’s going to be fine,” Maureen said. “I’ve seen much, much worse. Cordell’s in good hands.” All of that, she thought, was true. For now.
6
Maureen led Susan up onto the sidewalk and to a long wooden bench outside the bar. The three drunk men sitting there sharing a joint quickly popped to their feet and moved away. The scent and smoke of the weed lingered. Maureen eased Susan onto the bench.
Susan leaned back against the building, her head hitting the wall with a thump, her bloody hands twitching in her lap. She was going into shock. She’d need medical attention soon, Maureen thought. The more time that passed, the worse this woman was going to feel. Getting useful information from her about the shooting would soon become impossible. Still, the woman needed a break. She deserved a chance to clean the blood off her skin and catch her breath.
“Susan, I want you to stay right here,” Maureen said. “Breathe. Take slow, deep breaths. That’s what you have to do right now.” She thought of Cordell and Lyla. If they died, she’d be investigating homicides tonight. The longer she went without hearing about them, the better. “That’s the trick, Susan. Keep breathing.”
Maureen peered inside the packed bar.
Right inside the door, three skinny girls in gold tights and rainbow tutus draped themselves over the jukebox, hunting for more dance music. They were twenty-one, maybe. The bartender had returned to work back behind the bar with her two male cohorts, the three of them passing cans of beer and mixed drinks and draft beers in plastic cups over the bar as fast as they could pour them. Maureen watched the three of them work for a few seconds, catching her own breath. She thought of herself and Wilburn and Cordts as they worked the night’s crime scene. They were not quite that smooth-moving a team. Not yet.
There wasn’t a single useful witness in that bar. Maureen needed Susan to talk to her before the EMTs took her away.
Groaning, Susan lowered her head between her knees, her back shaking with the force of her weeping into her bloody hands. Maureen sighed and returned to the bench, sitting beside Susan and rubbing her back. This was, she thought, the part of the job she did the worst. Attending to the victims.
She spotted Wilburn standing not far away, his former charge in the yellow coat turned over to the care of EMS. He was lighting a cigarette in a pocket of darkness.
She called to him and waved him over.
“How’s your vic holding up?” Maureen asked.
“Not too bad,” Wilburn said. “Best shape of the three, I think. Winged in the shoulder. May have even been shrapnel that got her. The shooter did hit that car and at least one house while he was letting loose.”
“I thought she’d be worse,” Maureen said. “I saw the blood pouring down her coat.”
Wilburn shook his head. “Wine. Someone else dumped a whole go-cup of red wine on her diving for cover.” He shrugged. “The guy in the street, the one you had, he got the worst of it by far. You ask me, he was the target. Sure wasn’t that little girl.”
“We gotta get after the evidence,” Maureen said. “People are trashing the scene.”
Wilburn wiped his hand down his face. Maureen shared his apprehension. They were looking at a big job. They wouldn’t get much help with it.
“It can wait,” Wilburn said. “What’re we gonna find? A few casings? They’re not going anywhere. You know how these shootings go, there’s never much left behind but the victims.”
Maureen pointed across the street. “There’s a crime camera right there.”
“Twenty bucks says that piece of shit doesn’t work.”
“All the more reason the bullet casings are important,” Maureen said. “We’ll get serious shit, Mardi Gras or not, if we don’t recover them. Maybe that crime camera doesn’t work, but I promise you this bar has video over the front door, and that corner store has video. Maybe some of these houses around here. The clock is ticking on us. We need to leave everyone who’s not a witness to the medics.”
“The casings’ll keep,” Wilburn said. “I’m not sure we’ve found all the victims yet. And while the bullet casings help the DA, they don’t help us catch who did this tonight. That’s our main concern right now. He might not be done shooting people, and someone’s gonna be coming after him for this right here. We don’t know who did this yet, but somebody in the neighborhood does.”
“Well, I don’t hear any more screaming,” Maureen said. “And I don’t see anyone else who looks shot.” Most of the people caught up in the panic were gone, she noticed. The intersection had largely cleared. Their chances of finding another witness in addition to Susan and the lady in the coat were shrinking.
“The shots seem so random,” Maureen said. “The victims, too. That man, the little girl, and the woman, they weren’t standing anywhere near one another. There could be bullets through windows. We’re gonna have to check the whole block. Could be someone lying dead in their living room. We’re gonna need more cops.”
“There aren’t a whole lot more available,” Wilburn said.
“Where’s Cordts?” Maureen said. “Let’s put him to work. It’ll do him good.”
“Between you and me,” Wilburn said, “he’s somewhere up Baronne Street, puking his guts up in the dark.”
“Seriously?” Maureen said. “We’ve worked worse scenes than this. No fatalities, even. I never figured him for squeamish.”
“It’s not the blood that gets him,” Wilburn said. “He found the kid. Held her in his arms.” He paused, as if weighing how much more to say. He looked away from Maureen. “He’ll be fine. Probably. We’re all exhausted already.”
“What do you know about the little girl? How bad of
f was she?”
“Bullet through the calf,” Wilburn said. “Cordts said it went clean through. She was conscious when she went in the ambulance, I know that much.”
“Christ, she looked dead from where I stood,” Maureen said.
“Nah. Tough little thing, that girl.”
Maureen knew Wilburn was holding back on her about Cordts, though she didn’t know why. She hadn’t been worried about Cordts until that look away from Wilburn. Whatever his deal, whatever his secret, Cordts needed to be on the scene, working.
“Wilburn, listen to me. You know this investigation is on us. Me, you, Cordts, and maybe a couple other cops we can rustle up off the route. Everyone else is busy tonight, all night. We gotta figure out this one before that next one. They’re contagious. You said it yourself. There are more little girls out here on the streets tonight, a lot more. They need our protection. They need us to do our jobs.”
“The detective will be out here eventually,” Wilburn said, looking around.
He was anxious to ditch this case, Maureen realized. Why?
“Maybe we should wait for him,” Wilburn said.
“Yeah, he’ll be here eventually,” Maureen said. “But who knows when that is?” A single detective was on duty back at the station, working six-to-six. “Have you heard from Sarge?”
“Hardin’s on his way,” Wilburn said. “But he’s coming from all the way up at where the parade turns at Napoleon.”
“So it’ll be a while,” Maureen said. “Okay. No detective. No duty sergeant. This mess is ours exclusively for now.” It was frustrating, and intimidating, she thought, but pretty damn exciting, too. She couldn’t lose this chance to do some really good work. “Raise Cordts on the radio. Call him on his cell. Whatever you think is best, but get him back here. We need him.”
She turned to Susan, set her hand on the woman’s shoulder. “We’re going to start the investigation with her. This woman is a real live witness. She was inches away. Susan? This is Officer Wilburn. He’s gonna stay here with you for a minute while I talk to some folks inside the bar.”
The Devil's Muse Page 4
