“Anything standing out yet?” Madison asked, knowing it might be too early to know if a tip they were provided would even factor in to solving the case.
“A few have commented on hearing the gunfire and seeing Officer Weir go down.” He paused, his voice shaky. “Someone said she heard tires squealing afterward, like a car was peeling away.”
Madison looked at Terry, then back to the officer. “There are tire marks on the road indicating that did likely happen.” Madison scanned the patrons of the shop. There were a few people crying, but most of them wore weary expressions as if they were in shock.
Wait until the adrenaline wears off, when what you saw really sinks in.
“Anyone speak to the manager yet?” she asked the officer.
He shook his head. “We were leaving that for you.”
Madison and Terry thanked him and then headed for the blonde behind a register. Madison held up her badge. “We need to speak to the manager on duty.”
“That would be Kayla. One second.” The blonde stepped back and ran straight into a twentysomething redhead. The latter put her hands on the cashier’s shoulders to offset their collision.
The blonde walked away and the redhead came to the counter. “I’m Kayla Ferguson. Please follow me.” She led them to a small office in the back. The place was barely big enough to accommodate a desk and a chair, let alone the three of them.
Terry closed the door, and Madison made the formal introductions. Partway through them, Kayla’s eyes filled with tears, and she looked from Madison to Terry.
“What did you see?” Madison asked, sensing that the woman must have personally witnessed something.
“I was just on a break…” She pinched the tip of her nose, not like she was about to sneeze but as if trying to prevent it from dripping. “I was sitting at a table right beside the window, looking out, mostly in a daze.” She blinked rapidly, and a tear fell down a cheek. “I tend to daydream.”
“What did you see, Kayla?” Madison pressed gently.
“I saw all of it.” Kayla’s statement was released on one breath as if in an effort to get it out, to move on.
“Tell us what you saw,” Terry said, his voice soft and calming.
“Well, I didn’t see the cop pull into the station. At least I wasn’t really paying attention at that point. But I did see this black car show up and stop. No one was in front of it, and it was some ways back from the stoplight. It was green, and I remembered thinking he didn’t know how to drive. But then I saw a flash of light.”
From Kayla’s perspective, even though she was facing the driver’s side, it was quite conceivable that she’d seen the flash as the burst of gunpowder would have bloomed above the height of the car’s roof.
Kayla went on. “I hardly had a chance to wonder what it was when I heard pop, pop, pop, pop.”
Madison straightened up and leaned forward. “Four shots?”
“Uh-huh.”
Winston had said that one hit Weir, one hit the cruiser, and one was stuck in the pump… Even Hines mentioned only three shots. “Are you sure?”
Kayla nodded. “Positive.”
Terry walked to a corner of the room, putting his phone to an ear. Madison heard him sharing what Kayla was telling them. He was likely talking to Cynthia to let her know they were missing a bullet.
“The shots happened so close together, but it was like everything was in slow motion, too.” Kayla’s eyes glazed over. “I saw the cop go down.”
“Was there any pause between the shots?” Madison wanted to ensure they weren’t looking for a 9mm automatic pistol—one trigger squeeze and a spray of bullets.
“Yeah, I think there was a pause. But not much of one.”
“Do you know at what point the cop fell? After which bullet?” Madison clarified.
Kayla pinched her eyes shut. “The third.”
Terry hung up his phone and shook his head at Madison, indicating that a fourth bullet hadn’t been found yet.
“After you saw the cop get shot,” Madison said, although she hated referring to Weir by the label, “what happened?”
“I was under the table by that point,” Kayla said, “but I couldn’t stop watching. Why is that? Why do people need to watch horrible things as they unfold?”
“It’s usually because of shock,” Madison explained.
“I mean, I didn’t really know what was going on. Or why.”
“Did you hear anyone yelling anything?” Terry asked.
Kayla gave his question consideration and shook her head a few seconds later. “No, I don’t think so.”
“You’re sure?” Madison inquired, wondering if Hines had lied to them or if Kayla just hadn’t heard the yell from inside the coffee shop. The latter was entirely possible.
“I’m sure.”
“Did you happen to notice if there were other vehicles at station?” Terry asked.
Kayla averted eye contact and wrung her hands. “I did.”
“Can you tell us anything about the car? The person?” Madison pressured, hoping for a lead they could use to track down the missing vehicle from pump two.
It was the same thing with every murder investigation: the delicate dance, the questioning, the following of evidence, the piecing together of the clues. But somehow, when it came to hunting down those responsible for killing a fellow cop, it almost felt tedious. She wanted to rush it along even more than she usually did. The pursuit of justice that she lived for was starting to feel like a dangling carrot she’d never reach.
“It was a newer car,” Kayla began. “A Chevy SS. I only know because my ex-boyfriend used to have one.”
“What color?” Madison asked.
“Cherry red.”
“Did you also notice the make or model of the shooter’s car?”
“Uh-huh. I don’t know the model, but it was a BMW.”
Madison’s heart was beating fast. “So after the shots fired, is that when this car left?”
“Yeah. And I don’t blame them. They left from the south exit and headed west.”
Pump two was located closer to that exit and away from the shooter, so it made sense that the driver would leave that way.
“Did you happen to notice if the driver was a man or woman?”
Kayla shook her head. “No, sorry. The streetlights and the station lights were on, but it was still too dark to see from here. And I hadn’t really even noticed them until I saw the car leaving.”
“Back to the shooter’s car,” Terry said, shifting the conversation. “Did you get a look at the people inside?”
“The windows had a really dark tint. Oh! Wait a minute.” Kayla pressed a couple of fingertips to her temple as if a headache were setting in. “The driver’s window was cracked slightly, and he—or she—was smoking a cigarette. I remember seeing the amber glow. I almost forgot about that. I saw that before…well, you know.”
“Assume we don’t,” Madison said.
The manager swallowed and nodded. “As soon as he stopped the car. Just before the gunfire.”
Madison’s stomach swirled. Kayla’s recounting indicated a driver who was calm enough to smoke a cigarette while his passenger shot a cop. The driver likely had a criminal history. He didn’t care who saw them because he feared no one. He wasn’t worried about the person from pump two identifying him as he was cocky enough to believe that would never happen. The blatant lack of discretion was the mentality of gangs. But was this a one-off or was something bigger going on? She wondered how Guns and Drugs and the gangs unit were making out with their informants.
Madison clenched her jaw, trying to control the stewing emotion.
Terry flicked a glance at her and continued taking the lead. “And after the shots were fired, what happened?”
“That other car left, and then the BMW screeched aw
ay.” Kayla sounded confident and sure.
“In which direction?” he asked.
“South.”
That was consistent with what Cynthia had said the tire marks indicated.
Terry nodded. “Did they keep going that way or turn to follow the Chevy SS?”
“Kept going south.”
So the shooter wasn’t interested in the people in the Chevy. It was, however, also possible that the driver was hopped up on adrenaline or drugs and hadn’t even noticed it. It was also entirely possible that the subjects weren’t concerned about eyewitnesses.
“Thanks for all your help, Kayla,” Terry said. His hand was already on the doorknob, clearly anxious to get this new information to the rest of the team.
Madison held up a finger to her partner. “One last question,” she said to the manager.
“Sure.”
“Was the driver smoking the entire time?” Maybe the driver flicked the butt, and they’d get a lead through DNA.
Kayla closed her eyes for a few seconds. “Yeah, I think so.”
Madison nodded. They might not have a cigarette butt to find, but they were still walking away with more information than they had come in with: the missing car was a Chevy SS and the driver left the station and headed west, the shooter’s car was a BMW and the driver was a smoker.
-
Chapter 8
MADISON CALLED STANFORD TO LET him and Sovereign know about the possibility that four bullets had been fired as she and Terry hurried back across the four lanes of traffic to the gas station.
They found Sam still next to Weir’s cruiser.
“Have you found the fourth bullet yet?” Madison asked.
Sam shook her head and gestured to Cynthia and Mark, who were combing the west edge of the property near a wood fence. “No bullet yet, and there are no holes to indicate one had traveled through the fence.”
What if there wasn’t one to find? Or what if it traveled and hit an innocent civilian or the person from pump two? Even if shot, a person’s adrenaline could keep them moving depending on where they were struck. Madison knew of a man who had taken a bullet to the heart and kept coming at the officer. Sadly, it took the officer firing another round to stop the threat.
She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Winston. She filled him in on the fact that they were looking for a black BMW and a cherry-red Chevy SS, and from there she got to the real reason for her call. “I need you to contact the hospitals and clinics in Stiles, see if anyone’s come in with a single GSW this morning.”
“They’re always reported,” Winston stated.
Always… That word left a lot of room for disappointment.
“How are the warrants coming along for the security tapes from the gas station and the video from the city?” she asked.
“The DA just got in within the hour, Knight. He’s sorting it all out now.”
Amos Buchanan didn’t seem the type to busy his hands doing something an ADA could take care of, but a high-profile case like this probably had his personal interest from a political standpoint.
“Keep me updated.” Now she was telling him to communicate with her? Their roles had truly reversed. Usually she would run forward in a case without discussing each step in the investigation with him. It was the main source of their contention.
“Will do,” he said and then hung up abruptly.
She held her phone toward Terry. “The DA’s working on the warrants for the security footage.”
“Buchanan himself?” Terry asked incredulously.
“Yep.”
Terry pointed to her phone. “You asked Winston to have the hospitals watch for gunshot wounds? You think that the missing bullet found its way into the person at pump two?”
She nodded. “Either that or their vehicle.” She turned toward Jennifer, who was searching the ground near pump three. “Was there any blood found around pump two?”
Cynthia joined them and answered before Jennifer had the chance. “We looked there immediately after I got off the phone with you.”
“Not even a drop?” Madison asked.
Her friend shook her head. “Nothing. If there was a fourth bullet and it struck the person from pump two, there’s nothing here to confirm it. It’s possible it entered the vehicle itself.”
Madison nodded as Mark, the only man on Cynthia’s team, came over, shaking his head. “There’s nothing to indicate a bullet went that way—” he pointed back toward the fence on the west side of the property “—or that way.” This time he stabbed a finger toward the north.
“Sadly, I think we’ve got everything the scene has to offer in terms of evidence,” Cynthia said.
Heat blanketed Madison’s earlobes and her chest tightened. “You owe it to—”
Cynthia held up her hand to stave off Madison. “I know, Maddy.”
“Yeah,” Madison said on a sigh. “I know you know.” She didn’t verbalize the apology, but it was no doubt clear in her voice.
Cynthia’s entire team was now standing around, and Madison wished they’d get back to processing the evidence. And that Sam would get to the lab to examine the bullets closer and, hopefully, get them the gun manufacturer.
“There’s also some tough news you’re probably not aware of…” Cynthia’s voice tapered off at the end, tinged with sadness.
Madison slid her eyes from Jennifer to Cynthia. Based on the sorrow in her friend’s gaze, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the tough news. Hadn’t there already been enough of that?
“We found this on Barry’s passenger seat.” Cynthia directed Mark to go to the evidence box, which was still near pump eight. He jogged back to them with a bag in his hand and passed it to Madison.
She peered into the bag to find a card with roses on the front and the words, To a special wife.
“What’s on the inside?” Madison asked, trembling. Barry was talking from beyond the grave…
“His handwriting. He wrote that he loved her and thanked her for being such a good mother to their girls. He went on to say that Emily was going to have the best birthday ever.”
Madison glanced at Terry, then back to Cynthia. “When’s her—”
“Tomorrow,” Cynthia interrupted.
How could Madison not have known that when she claimed to know Barry and his family?
The six of them passed odd glances at each other in silence, all seemingly lost in their own thoughts. Or at least Madison was…
Barry figured things were going great and then boom! One second here, the next…
She swallowed the emotion.
“Emily… Is she the youngest?” Terry asked.
“Yeah.” Madison’s heart was breaking for the girl.
“I wonder what he meant when saying Emily was going to have the best birthday ever,” Terry added.
Cynthia shrugged. “Don’t know. I’m thinking he probably found the perfect gift for her. What that meant for Emily specifically, I wouldn’t know.”
“All right, well, we can’t just stand around here feeling sad. We’ve got a killer to catch.” Madison lifted her chin. What she really meant was that she couldn’t handle dwelling on Barry’s death any longer. All cops serve to protect their communities. They expect that if they go down in the line of duty, it will be during a confrontation with a perp. But Barry was simply pumping gas. It was tragic and senseless.
“You’re right.” Cynthia turned to her team. “Let’s get back to it. Do another sweep of the area. Sam, why don’t you get a ride back to the lab now and start analyzing those bullets?”
“Wait,” Madison said, and the three stopped in their steps. “Sam, I know I asked this already and you said you were working on it, but do you know which of the bullets struck Barry?” They hadn’t yet shared with Sam that Kayla had testified to it being the third bullet.
&
nbsp; “The bullets were fired from the street and at the appropriate level for someone sitting in a sedan. Based on where Weir was standing, and taking the blood pattern into effect—” Sam shifted her eyes to Jennifer, silently crediting her colleague with this conclusion “—the location of the bullet in the pump indicates Weir was already down, otherwise it would have hit him in the head. The round lodged in the cruiser’s C-pillar. That’s the panel between the rear door and the back window, and it was at the same height as where Weir was struck under the arm. I’d say that the first bullet hit the car, the second Weir, the third the pump. But now that you’ve brought up the possibility of a fourth bullet, it’s harder to say for sure since I can’t exactly triangulate without knowing what happened to said fourth bullet.”
“The eyewitness from the Bean Counter said that she saw Weir go down after the third shot,” Madison said. “But she also said that the rounds were fired in quick succession.”
Sam frowned. “Not sure what to say to that right now.”
Madison turned to Cynthia and didn’t care if she sounded repetitive. “It would be really helpful to know the gun type we’re looking for.”
Cynthia nudged her head toward Sam to have Madison look at her for the answer.
“I should know that soon.”
-
Chapter 9
PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE, just not one Madison possessed. Even “expedited” warrants weren’t coming fast enough for her liking.
She and Terry were in a department sedan heading north on Highbury Street. “Hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to stop by Troy’s for a second and pick up Hershey. I’d like to take him to the kennel.” Madison took the first turn necessary to go to Troy’s house.
Who knew what their schedule would be for the next while? She’d periodically board Hershey at Canine Country Retreat Boarding while she was working so he could play with other dogs and not be alone during the day. Hopefully, they’d have space for him on this short of notice.
In the Line of Duty Page 5
