“Yeah, he should be here soon. Have you contained the scene?”
“We’d just finished looking for the shooter when you pulled up. The shots came from over here.” She turned, leading the way toward the trampled bush.
The officers inspected the scene and conferred quietly. Frequent glances danced from her to Rodriguez to the house and back to the bush.
One of the officers finally cleared his throat. “We’ll need to get statements from each of you.”
Thunder grumbled overhead.
Lana glanced upward, but couldn’t see anything other than darkness. A single raindrop splashed on her cheek. “How about we do a grid search before the rain washes away any evidence?”
“My thoughts exactly.” An older officer with a weathered face and silver beard waved over the rest of the responders. “We’re fighting the clock here. Fan out.”
Alex’s voice came from behind her. “Rodriguez, you got this? I need to talk to Milana for a minute.”
The tone of Alex’s voice, if not the use of her full first name, instantly put her on edge. She watched the officers follow Rodriguez away, waited until they were out of earshot, and turned to Alex. “Is Reilly okay?”
“He’s a little shaken up, but not hurt. I can’t say the same for you though, can I?”
“Reilly told you, didn’t he?”
“He confirmed it, but I already knew. I saw blood on the carpet. If Reilly had been hit, you would’ve demanded an ambulance. I knew it had to be you.”
“It just grazed me. It’s no big deal.”
Alex didn’t look convinced. “Where is it?”
“My right arm.”
Sirens approached. Probably the ambulance. Certainly less than a minute away.
Voice firm, Alex held her gaze with fierce eyes. “You’re gonna sit this one out. And you’re going to let the EMTs do their job.”
As much as she wanted to argue, the burning convinced her that she shouldn’t. “You’re right. I should have it looked at, but they take care of everyone else first.”
Alex’s face showed her displeasure. “Sometimes you drive me crazy, you know that?”
“Was anyone else hurt?”
“Some flying glass nailed Beckman, but I think that’s about it.”
“Don’t forget Reilly. His head hit the floor pretty hard when we went down. And I want the EMT’s to check his breathing, too.”
“Fine, first Reilly, then Beckman, then you. But if you think you’re gonna hang around out here, you’re crazy.”
“Really? You’re sidelining me? When you need me to help out–”
“What I need is for you to keep that wound clean. Don’t make me pull rank.” Alex didn’t wait for a reply before getting on the communicator. “Peters, Chow, we need your help out here. Beckman, relieve Chow in the camera room.”
The sirens stopped as the ambulance parked on the side of the road. Two EMTs jumped out. Alex waved them toward the house.
Wait, if Peters and Chow were coming out here and Alex was with her… “Who’s with Reilly?”
“Don’t worry. He’s locked in his room and I’m headed there now to cover him.” Putting a hand on her back, Alex gave her a gentle push. “Go inside. That’s an order.”
Lana and Alex reached the back door just as Peters and Chow stepped outside.
While Alex walked to the living room, Lana headed for the security room. She had to see the camera placement for herself. She watched over Beckman’s shoulder as Chow and Peters rounded the corner of the house. Seconds later, they walked off the screen and disappeared from sight.
The blind spot wasn’t huge, but it was obviously big enough.
Somehow the shooter had known about it.
The truth attacked her like a rabid dog. The camera hadn’t moved on its own.
It’d been manually repositioned or electronically adjusted. The former would be hard to do without being detected and the latter required access to this room.
No. There had to be some other explanation.
Maybe the adjustment controls had been bumped and whoever did it hadn’t noticed the different camera angle.
Or maybe the wind had shifted the camera. Would have to have been one heck of a wind, maybe hurricane force, but it could happen, right?
Right.
And it just happened to cover the exact area with bushes big enough to conceal a man with a rifle? Right outside the only window where someone accidentally forgot to close the curtains?
No way. There were too many variables involved for her to buy the idea that this hadn’t been intentional.
A sick feeling settled in her stomach.
One of them was a traitor. How could this happen?
She had to get out of this place before she emptied her stomach onto the floor. The dim light radiated as much heat as the noonday sun and she couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen.
The kitchen wasn’t much cooler than the security room, but at least the air didn’t feel as thick. She headed through the living room, nodded at the brown-haired EMT descending the stairs, and stepped outside.
The light mounted next to the door was turned off, the covered porch basked in darkness.
She sat on the top step, a cool breeze washing over her as she stared at the multicolored lights playing off the surrounding houses.
Curtains moved in almost every house within sight. Something told her the neighborhood hadn’t seen this much activity since the DEA took down the man who used to own this house.
All her remaining energy evaporated. It’d be so nice to lean her head against the railing next to her and close her eyes.
But she couldn’t.
She had to keep watch, make sure no one tried to use the confusion to launch a second attack. Unlikely, but always a possibility.
The chatter coming through her earpiece was a sore reminder of her uselessness.
Someone had found the escape route, the shell casings had been collected and tagged, and so far no fibers had turned up.
Great. It didn’t sound likely that they were going to find anything to help them track the man who’d shot at them. Worse than the shooter getting away with attempted murder was the reality that he was free to try again.
Eight
“Deputy Tanner?” A smooth voice drifted from behind her.
Lana started, a gasp lodging in her throat.
She swiveled, catching a glimpse of a navy uniform and a nylon bag. Only an EMT. Of course. After all, he’d come from inside the house and knew her name. What had she expected? That the shooter would return and politely ask permission to kill her brother?
Now if she could find the strength to stand, she’d be good to go. “Uh, yeah, give me a minute.”
“Let me help.” He came down the steps and extended a hand.
She glanced up at him. Inky black eyes glittered at her from a face that had the tanned look of a Mediterranean. Spiky coal black hair blended in with the night around them.
Taking his hand, she slowly rose. “Thanks. It’s been a long day.”
“Getting shot doesn’t help matters, huh?” He nodded toward the ambulance. “Best lighting is in there.”
She followed a few steps behind him, climbed in the back, and sat on the gurney.
The snap of his latex gloves seemed loud in the enclosed space. He picked up his scissors and turned to her. “Must be the right arm.”
“How’d you guess?”
“You gave me your left hand when I helped you up.”
Duh. Of course that would’ve tipped him off. Man, she was more tired than she thought.
“I’ll need to cut the sleeve off. This is gonna hurt.”
As opposed to the level of comfort she’d been enjoying. Great. “Go for it.”
Cutting all the way around her arm, he gently peeled the fabric back from the wound. Her whole body tensed and a wave of nausea threatened to drown her.
The EMT watched her intently. Probably to make sure she didn’t pass out o
r throw up or something. No doubt those dark eyes had seen everything, but he remained quiet as he pulled the sleeve over her hand and tossed it in a small bin. He examined her arm closely before leaning back.
“Looks like just a scratch. They probably won’t even keep you overnight.”
“Whoa. You’re taking me to the hospital?”
“Standard procedure for gunshot–”
“You said it was just a scratch.”
“A deep scratch.” His eyes held hers for a few moments. “You need to have a doctor look this over. Might need a few stitches, maybe a tetanus shot.”
Going to the hospital would amplify Reilly’s feelings of guilt. She’d purposely downplayed the injury to keep that from happening.
More importantly, she couldn’t protect him if she was nowhere near him.
Forget it. She stayed with Reilly.
“My tetanus is current. Do what you can right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Look, I get it. No one likes going to the hospital. But sometimes–”
“If I hadn’t been here, someone would be dead right now. I’m staying.”
He pulled off his gloves, tossed them into the bin, and crossed his arms over his chest. Not a word passed his compressed lips.
Did he really think he could bully her into submission?
“If you won’t patch me up, I’ll grab a first aid kit and have someone else help me. It won’t be half as good as what you could do, but I’m not going to the hospital.”
Silence spread between them. A twitch moved his jaw. “Then maybe you should do that.”
“Fine.” She pushed off the gurney and headed toward the rear doors.
His voice stopped her after only two steps. “Wait.”
Turning back to him, she said nothing. He studied her, resignation lingering in his eyes. “You win. But if you experience any excessive pain, redness, or swelling, you drop whatever you’re doing and head to the ER. Got it?”
“Of course.”
A small smile tweaked the corners of his mouth. “You know why I hate working on cops? Stubborn. Every single one of you.”
“Comes with the badge, I guess.”
Picking up a bottle of clear liquid, he set it on the stretcher and reached for some gauze. “This is gonna sting like heck.”
The gauze touched her arm. Tears burned her eyes and blurred her vision. She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out.
If he’d picked up a hacksaw and gone to work on her arm, she doubted it could’ve hurt any worse.
The ambulance tilted and she closed her eyes against the sudden lightheadedness.
“You okay?”
Opening her eyes, she found that his hands had stilled as he watched her face with concern. “You weren’t kidding about that stuff.”
“The hospital could’ve given you something for the pain.”
“I’ll live.”
“I’m about done. Let me know if you need to take a break.” He worked efficiently and didn’t fill the silence with mindless chatter.
After the day she’d had, she was grateful for the silence.
Another minute of misery passed before he set the antiseptic aside. With a light touch, he pressed some cotton against her skin. While he bandaged the wound, her eyes wandered to the name stitched on his uniform. Dimitrios.
Something about him put her at ease. In fact, she felt more relaxed with him than she did when seeing her own doctor back home. Weird.
Maybe it had something to do with the fading adrenaline.
A voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “How’s it going?”
She whipped her head around to find the brown-haired man she’d passed earlier standing outside the ambulance doors. The EMT uniform identified him as Dimitrios’ partner.
“We’re done.” Dimitrios glanced at her as he started cleaning up. “Change the bandage daily for the next five days. And remember, if it doesn’t look or feel right, get to a doctor. You might need antibiotics.”
She climbed out of the ambulance and turned to face him as he stepped down behind her. “Thank you.”
“No problem. You watch that arm and don’t do anything to stress it, okay?” He gave her a tight smile and headed for the driver’s side of the ambulance.
Okay, now that her arm had been taken care of, she could see how everyone–
“Milana Tanner? Seriously? I don’t believe it!”
Her hand went to her gun and she spun to find an unfamiliar man coming toward her.
Lights from the police cars gave her a clear view: mid thirties, about 5’10” with short, curly blond hair. His smile reached all the way up to his gray-blue eyes. “So is Reilly here, too?”
The gun was aimed at him so quickly that he blinked.
Smile faltering, he held up his hands and took a step back. “Wha–what’s going on?”
“Who are you?”
“You don’t remember me?” He shook his head. “Course you don’t. It’s been years and with the surgery and all–”
“Answer the question.”
“Branden Flint. I was in Reilly’s class uh, sophomore year, I think. Wait, no it was the end of our sophomore year and the whole junior year.”
Her gun never wavered as she examined his face closely. “You don’t look anything like Branden.”
“I was in a bad car accident ten years ago and I went through so many surgeries that I didn’t even recognize myself.” Turning his head a little, he showed her some faint scarring along his jaw line. “They did a pretty good job of not leaving scars, except for this one.”
She scrutinized his face, watching for some shift or twitch to indicate he was lying, but saw nothing. Still, the story sounded fishy.
But he clearly didn’t have a rifle. His jacket and jeans weren’t bulky enough to hide one.
That didn’t mean he hadn’t ditched it somewhere before circling back.
“Prove it.”
“I’ve got ID.” He reached toward his pocket.
“Don’t do it.”
He froze. “I’m just going for my wallet.”
“ID’s can be faked.”
He swallowed hard, his eyes flicking from the gun to her face and back again. “Uh, exactly how do you want me to prove it then?”
“Tell me something only Branden would know.”
“Uh, okay, I, uh, asked you to homecoming, just like most of Reilly’s friends. ‘Course you turned us all down and went with that senior, then knocked him flat on his face when he tried to kiss you. We were all a little scared of you after that.”
That senior had been thinking of more than a kiss and years of martial arts training had come in handy that night.
The story wasn’t conclusive proof, but it helped. How would a sniper know about that?
Besides, there was something familiar about his eyes. The Branden she’d known had been a little shorter and much scrawnier, but she thought the eyes were the same.
“Why are you here?” Her voice contained a hard edge, betraying none of her thoughts.
“I’m, uh, I’m a reporter. I monitor the police calls and move on anything that sounds interesting.” His eyes had stopped moving and were glued to her gun. “Uh, do you think you could put that thing away? Guns make me nervous.”
“You have nothing to be nervous about if you’re telling the truth.”
Time for a little test. She thought quickly, trying to come up with the right question. “Your dad was a car salesman, right?”
He licked his lips, his eyes never leaving her hands. “I think your memory’s going. Dad was a major. He was pretty mad at me when I decided to pursue journalism rather than join the Army.”
Too easy. She needed to think of something harder, something that wouldn’t be on public record. A memory flashed into her head. “Remember that day when we went to the beach and I found a pet? What was it, what did I name it, and what did you call him?”
Not even her parents would know the answer to the last ques
tion. It was the perfect test, something that only Branden or Reilly would know.
He didn’t even have to think. “A kitten. You called him Driftwood. Woody for short. I said you should call him Drifter because he was so small he’d probably drift away in the wind.”
So. It really was Branden.
She relaxed her stance, but didn’t holster her weapon. The sniper could still be nearby.
He let out a shaky breath. “I finally passed the test, huh?”
“Yeah, sorry about all that. I guess I’m a little on edge.”
“What’re you doing here?”
If he monitored police scanners, he probably already had a pretty good idea. Still, she wouldn’t confirm it, especially not to a reporter. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”
His look told her she’d given the expected answer. “Can you at least tell me what happened? The dispatcher said there were shots fired. Were you hit?” He looked pointedly at the bandage on her shoulder.
“I can’t tell you that either.”
Like he didn’t already know the answer. The bandage left little room for speculation.
She glanced around before lowering her voice. “But if you were ever our friend, you’ll forget you heard anything about this. You don’t know I’m here and you don’t know where to find me, understood?”
“I always had a bad memory.” He stared at her for a long moment. “I’ve wondered how you guys were doing, but wasn’t sure where to find you anymore. I wish we’d kept in touch.”
“Lana? Everything okay?” Alex’s voice came through her earpiece.
She pressed the button and spoke into her collar. “Yeah, it’s fine.”
Branden studied her closely but she offered no explanation.
“I need to get back. It was good to see you.”
“What, that’s it?” A hand lightly caught her uninjured arm before she could walk away. “I stumble across you guys again and all I get is ‘it’s good to see you’?”
“Sorry. This isn’t a good time.”
“Obviously. Maybe we can get together later. Grab coffee or something.”
Sounded like fun, but she didn’t see any way of making it work. “I don’t think–”
“Come on. It’s just coffee. You can even pick where and when.”
Deadly Alliances Page 10
