In the Line of Duty

by Carolyn Arnold

  Madison cleared her throat. “Can you run us through exactly where and how he was struck?” As she waited on Sam’s reply, she observed the pump read $22.10.

  Sam plucked the bullet from the pump, put it into an evidence bag, and then placed the bag into a collection case that was off to the side of the pump. “I can.” Her hands now free, she stood next to the pump, her left side to the road. “Officer Weir was facing the station, his arm slightly elevated as he held onto the hose.”

  Terry nodded. “So he was holding the hose across his body?”

  “Correct,” Sam responded. “The bullet hit him here—” she pointed at her torso under her left arm “—and traveled straight to his lungs.” She lowered her arm.

  “Have you determined the firing sequence?” Madison asked.

  “I’ll need to recreate the scene and factor in the trajectories of the fired bullets. That takes time.”

  But time wasn’t something they had a lot of, especially if someone out there was targeting cops…

  -

  Chapter 6

  THROUGH THE GAS STATION’S WINDOWS, Madison could see Gardener and his trainee speaking with a young woman who Madison assumed was Janet Hines. She was leaning against the counter, shaking her head, and gesturing toward the ceiling. She paused her flailing and laid one hand over her forehead, the other on her stomach.

  Terry grabbed the door for Madison just before she reached the handle. The door sensor buzzed, drilling an irritating tone right through Madison’s head. She shook it off, then acknowledged Training Officer Gardener and the trainee at his side, who really was visibly trembling, as her strides took her across the room.

  She held up her badge to the woman. “I’m Detective Knight, and this my partner, Detective Grant. You’re Janet Hines?”

  The woman sucked in her bottom lip and nodded. Her eyes were wet, and her gaze was filled with a mixture of shock and fear. She was flushed and blinking rapidly.

  Madison looked around for someplace Hines could sit, but there was nothing. “I need you to tell me everything you saw and heard.”

  Hines’s gaze slid past Madison toward Gardener and the rookie, who were now near the door. “I told them everything…”

  “Now I need you to tell me.” Madison held eye contact with the woman until she took a heaving breath and turned away. “Start at the beginning,” Madison prompted.

  “He— I knew him… He died, didn’t he?”

  Madison nodded slowly.

  Hines fanned herself. “I—” Her eyes rolled back in her head, and her legs crumpled as if she were a rag doll.

  Madison raced behind the counter, hoping to stabilize the woman’s fall, and caught her just in time. Terry helped lower Hines’s dead weight to the floor.

  “Call an ambulance,” Madison called out.

  “On it,” Gardener said.

  Madison and Terry positioned Hines in a seated position against the wall. Madison stepped back, and Terry put his hand to Hines’s neck.

  “She has a pulse,” he said, “and she’s breathing.”

  Seeing the cashier sitting there somehow made Barry’s death sink in even more. Madison took a few more deep breaths.

  Police training prepared one to detach, and to a point, she was able to do that or the job would have eaten her alive years ago. When she was a rookie, Officer Higgins had told her that everyone was an empty glass. Certain aspects of the job would cause water to pour in, and depending on the person, the glass would fill up at its own speed, some faster than others. But the point was that everyone’s glass would overflow eventually. It was just a matter of when. Investigating the murder of a close friend and colleague had the water coming into Madison’s glass at full speed.

  She looked out the window at the gas pumps, noticing the clear line of sight the cashier would have had. Then she turned to Gardener, who had finished up his call.

  “Tell me what she told you,” she said, making an exception to her rule about secondhand intel. She’d rather hear something than wait who knows how long for Hines. She stepped out from behind the counter while Terry stayed with their witness. “I need to know everything.”

  “We hadn’t finished taking her statement, but I can share what I have.” Gardener consulted the notepad in his hand, and Madison sensed it wasn’t because he had to, but rather because he was struggling to restrain his emotions. He cleared his throat. “Hines said that Weir got to the pumps at five-oh-five,” Gardener stated. “She said he prepaid fifty dollars.”

  “And he got as far as twenty-two ten,” Madison stated, remembering the amount on the pump.

  “That’s right,” Gardener began. “Hines described a black sedan, said it pulled up, and she heard three pops. She said she hit the floor after the first one.”

  “Huh.” Madison glanced at Terry. “Either she’s got good instincts or she was ready for the gunfire.”

  “Do you think she was involved?” Terry asked incredulously.

  “It’s really too early to conclude that she wasn’t,” Madison responded.

  “My name’s Caldwell,” the trainee spoke up, easing his way into the conversation. “I ran a background on…” Caldwell looked at Gardener, his nerves seemingly getting the better of him. It was probably his first time dealing with the loss of an officer—possibly the loss of anyone. At least it looked like his shaking had stopped.

  “Nothing of interest got our attention in her records,” Gardener said. “She’s single. No criminal charges.”

  Madison nodded, taking in the information being given her, but was still determined to check Hines’s record for herself. She might even request a deeper history that would provide her a full family background. Before that step, she’d speak with Hines directly. Of course, that meant she’d need to come around…

  “Now the sarge mentioned that she heard the perp call out, ‘Die, cop’?” Terry asked.

  “That’s right. Just before he opened fire,” Gardener said.

  “She identified it as a man’s voice?” Madison asked.

  “She did.”

  “Any characteristics to it? An accent? A lisp?”

  Gardener shook his head. “She said nothing stood out to her.”

  Madison paced a few steps and stopped about a foot in front of Gardener. “The driver spun his tires when he drove off. Did Hines say anything about hearing tires squeal after the shooting stopped?”

  “Not that she noted.”

  Madison’s mind drifted, thinking over all she knew. A smooth stop wouldn’t have alerted Barry. But then calling out before the shooter opened fire took away that element of surprise. And squealing away ensured that the perp drew attention to what he had done. Or was it more likely that it had been his instinctual fear kicking in and he didn’t want to get caught?

  “Uh, Maddy…” Terry said.

  “Yeah, what is it?”

  Terry pointed to the monitor. She went behind the counter, careful of Hines, but stopped in her steps at the sound of an approaching ambulance.

  Seconds later, two paramedics were sweeping into the store, the door buzzing again. One of them had a flat board under his arm along with a medical bag.

  Officer Gardener directed them behind the counter. The equipped paramedic acknowledged them with a bob of his head. Madison and Terry got out of his way. The other paramedic stopped in front of Gardener and shook his hand, then Caldwell’s, before moving on to Madison’s and Terry’s.

  “My name’s John Price. I’m sorry to hear about Officer Weir,” he said as he shook Madison’s hand, but his statement was clearly meant for all of them. News traveled fast, especially when it involved a fallen cop. Part of it had to do with the fact that their jobs tended to intersect with other emergency responders—paramedics, doctors, firefighters.

  “I knew Barry for six years,” Price continued. “We’d have b
eers together sometimes. He and Joni even came over with the girls for barbecues on a few occasions.”

  “Sorry for your loss, too,” Madison said. The strength she had mustered to focus on the investigation was slipping away fast.

  Price gave her a quick nod and then joined his colleague, who was taking Hines’s vitals. He had a hand on her wrist to check her pulse, and it seemed he was satisfied as he quickly went into his case for a stethoscope and put it to her chest.

  “Anything you need from me,” Price added, “I’m stationed with Fire Station 2.”

  The other EMT was listening to Hines’s breathing when she let out a moan and her eyes fluttered open.

  “Hello. Do you know where you are?” Price asked her.

  “I…” Her eyes flitted backward.

  “Come on, stay with me.”

  Price put a blood pressure sleeve on her arm, and the store was silent except for the sound of the blood pressure pump and the hiss of air as the cuff deflated.

  Hines’s eyes opened again, and this time it looked like they were going to stay open. “I have a headache.” She went to reach for her forehead, but Price stopped her.

  “Just move slowly,” he told her.

  Madison, Terry, Gardener, and Caldwell watched them work on Hines for about fifteen minutes. Hines’s eyes were open, and she seemed aware. They got her to her feet, but she was still holding on to the counter for balance.

  “Your vitals look fine now. You just had a mild syncope,” the first paramedic said.

  “You passed out,” Price clarified. “It’s up to you if you’d like to go into the hospital.”

  “No, I think I’ll be fine…”

  Price must have noticed her grip on the counter. “Actually, why don’t you just come with us? It will be quick.”

  Not that anything at the hospital was ever quick, Madison thought. She’d lose her eyewitness for at least a couple more hours.

  The paramedics helped Hines out to the ambulance and loaded her up in the back.

  “Gardener, call in and have someone stay on Hines,” Madison directed.

  Gardener made the request over his radio as the back of the ambulance was shut. A minute later, they pulled out of the lot, Madison’s witness in tow.

  She looked over at Terry to find him back behind the register, gesturing for her to join him.

  “What is it?” She moved up next to Terry, and he pointed at the screen.

  Right. That’s where they had been before the EMTs showed up…

  On the monitor was a snapshot of the pumps labeled one through eight. Next to each was a time stamp noting the last time it was used.

  Pump seven, which was where Weir had been, remained active, although frozen at $22.10. The sale was listed as prepaid for fifty at five-oh-five this morning.

  “Look at pump two,” Terry said. “The last completed sale was at five-oh-seven. Whoever was there was here when Weir was shot,” Terry punched home.

  Madison looked out to the lot, her gaze on pump two. No one was there. Only Stiles PD employees were on the property. “So where are they now?” She turned to Gardener, about to ask if Hines had said anything about another customer, when a woman was escorted toward the door by an officer.

  “Probably the manager,” Terry said. “The sarge said they’d be here at seven.”

  She looked at the clock on the store’s wall. 7:20.

  So much for showing up on time.

  The woman was probably in her early twenties with shoulder-length brown hair that she wore down. Bangs framed her face. She walked at a brisk pace and rolled her eyes when the officer opened the door for her.

  “This is Melody Ford. She’s the manager.” The officer made the introduction and left.

  The woman looked around the store. “Where’s Janet?”

  Madison approached her, and Officers Gardener and Caldwell excused themselves. “I’m Detective Knight, and this is my partner, Detective Grant.”

  The woman’s eyes traced over to Terry, then back to Madison. “Where is Janet?”

  “She fainted and is being taken to the hospital to be checked out,” Terry answered.

  Ford’s balance faltered, but she kept upright. “So she’s okay?”

  “I’m sure she will be.” Terry sounded convincing.

  Ford released a drawn-out exhale, the air pushing up her bangs. “I got a call from my boss, who received a call from a sergeant. A cop was shot here?”

  “And killed,” Madison stated coolly.

  Ford’s face paled. “Oh.”

  Madison wasted no time. “We’ll need the camera footage from the past several hours, and we have a question about a sale.”

  “I knew about the surveillance, but the sale?” Her gaze bounced between Madison and Terry, disclosing her confusion.

  “It looks like someone was at pump two at the time of the shooting, but as you can see…” Madison gestured to the lot. “No one’s there.”

  Ford’s gaze landed on Terry, who was still behind the register.

  “We’ll need to know what method of payment they used.” Terry stepped to the side to let Ford in front of the register.

  She clicked some buttons on the keyboard and moved a mouse around. “It looks like they prepaid cash.”

  “For how much?” Terry asked.

  “Twenty dollars.”

  “Did they pump that full amount?”

  Ford shook her head. “Fifteen seventy-five.”

  “Did they get their change?” Madison inquired.

  Ford consulted the screen. “It doesn’t look like it.”

  Madison had been hoping for a credit card, as that would’ve made it a lot easier to track the person down, but whoever had been at pump two would have at least come into the station to prepay. “Do you have cameras in here or just outside?”

  “Both.” Ford pointed to a corner in the ceiling across from her where there was a small black dome. She started to turn around, but Madison noticed it before Ford pointed out the second one mounted behind the counter.

  “We’ll need that footage, too.”

  “And you will have it,” Ford said. “After I receive the signed warrant.”

  Rage surged through Madison. The proper channel dictated a signed warrant, but if the information was volunteered, that made for an exception. “You’re not going to budge on that, are you?”

  Ford’s cheeks flushed. “I can’t or I’ll lose my job. Rico, the owner, told me to get the warrant first. Do you have one?” Her tone took on a hopeful pitch.

  If I did, would I be trying to pressure you into handing the footage over?

  “A police officer is dead, Miss Ford. That footage outside could have captured his killer,” Madison said with heat. “And the cameras inside could provide a lead on the person from pump two.”

  “Yes, I know—” She rolled her hand “—the situation. It’s just that this is a good job. The economy, as you know, might be on the upswing, but it’s still not—”

  “A wife and three daughters will be burying their father and you’re…” Madison sensed Terry’s eyes on her. She took a deep breath. “Well, you can be certain we’ll be back with a warrant, and in the meantime, you tell Rico that the business is closed until this investigation is wrapped up.”

  “Un-until…” Ford stammered. “How long? What should I tell—”

  “It will take as long as it takes.”

  “I’m sorry for the officer’s family.” Ford took in Madison and Terry, too. “All his family.”

  Madison had to leave before her emotions betrayed her. There was nothing more this woman could do or say to help them until the warrant came through. And someone from the DA’s office wouldn’t be in until eight.

  They were still looking at the better part of an hour, and things never moved that fast.
And she certainly didn’t have time to just sit around waiting for the answers to come to her. She had made a promise. Her eyes caught the Hershey’s wrapper on a candy rack. She grabbed the chocolate bar and went to give Ford a couple of bucks.

  Ford waved her hand. “It’s the least I can do.”

  Madison lowered her head in thanks. “Come on, Detective Grant,” she said, using Terry’s surname due to their company.

  Ford’s brow wrinkled. “And what about me?”

  “You just stay put.” Madison made eye contact with Gardener, silently indicating for him and Caldwell to stay with her. Looking back at Ford, she said, “Get the video footage ready to roll because there will be a warrant. And soon.”

  -

  Chapter 7

  MADISON STEPPED OUTSIDE. The sun was fully out now, and the streetlights had gone out. She unwrapped the chocolate bar and took a few huge bites. Her stomach was in knots, but to her, a Hershey’s bar was what a cigarette was to a smoker—a stress reliever.

  She looked over the gas station property. Cynthia had finished up taking photographs on the road, but yellow evidence markers speckled the pavement. More were laid out around Barry’s cruiser, but the hose was now out of its tank.

  Samantha was writing on another evidence bag, and then she placed it into a container. Hopefully, she’d be heading back to the lab soon. Land and groove impressions could do more than lead them to a type of weapon; it could lead them to a specific weapon. Of course, they’d have to find the weapon to make the match. In the meantime, though, striations were as unique as fingerprints, and if the gun used in this shooting had been used before, they might lead them to the firearm and the killer.

  Terry came up beside Madison, rubbing the back of his neck, something he often did when there were more questions than answers.

  “Let’s get over to the Bean Counter,” she said.

  They crossed the street into the coffee shop’s busy parking lot. Madison tossed her now-empty candy bar wrapper in a trash bin outside the shop’s door as she and Terry entered. A few officers looked their way. Their notepads were in hand as they questioned people.

  One of them raised a finger to excuse himself and walked over to Madison and Terry. “Detectives? We’re working our way through the customers to take their statements. It’s slow going.”