The Gamble and the Grave (Veronica Barry Book 4)

by Sophia Martin

  Satisfied with her plans, Veronica found parking outside the campus. She’d go get the permit as soon as she was done talking to Gerry today—she was already cutting it close and she couldn’t afford to take the time to get the permit now.

  Veronica hurried out of her car and jogged the distance from the sidewalk where she’d parked onto campus and toward the track. Part of her internet search had included studying the campus map, so she knew which way to go. As she went to cross the street that bisected the campus, a muscle in her ankle spasmed.

  With a grimace Veronica jerked to a stop, leaning to massage her ankle. She heard a revving noise. Looking around, Veronica saw a large gray SUV speeding toward her. She gasped and stepped back just before the car would have hit her. Panting, she clutched her purse against her chest and leaned against a lamp post. Those idiots could have killed her.

  They barreled away without slowing, however. Catching her breath, Veronica chalked it up to college kids who were probably high, or at the very least late for a class or something. She wished eighteen year olds would somehow suddenly acquire the maturity of adults as easily as they acquired their legal rights when they had their birthday. Consciously regulating her breathing, Veronica pushed herself to cross the street and made her way to the track. Her ankle wasn’t hurting anymore.

  When she got within sight of the track she spotted a man in shorts stretching. It was a brisk day—no hotter than fifty degrees—and the man’s bare legs gave Veronica a sympathetic shiver. She grinned and increased her pace. She had her opening.

  “Hey!” she called. “Aren’t you half frozen?”

  Gerry—for she recognized him, in fact—stood up and smiled. “It’s a cold one,” he said. “I’ll be running in a minute, though.”

  “Oh yeah? Are you on some kind of track team?” Veronica asked, approaching the fence that surrounded the track and resting her arms on it.

  Gerry shook his head. “Naw. I just come out here myself.”

  “Wait a sec,” Veronica said with a frown. “I recognize you.”

  Gerry frowned a bit, though his smile didn’t fade completely. “Oh?”

  “Yeah,” Veronica said, nodding. “I saw a painting… by Miguel Santiago? He mentioned that his subject ran the track here.”

  “Oh, you know Miguel Santiago?” Gerry said. “Nice guy.”

  “Have you seen the painting?” Veronica asked.

  Gerry ambled over. “I went by his gallery a month or so ago and had a look at it. You recognized me? I didn’t think the face was very distinct.”

  “Well, it’s more what you said about just coming out to run by yourself. Miguel told me about that—he’s very inspired by your dedication. When you said that it just clicked in my head.”

  “Gotcha,” Gerry said.

  Veronica’s ankle twinged again and she made a face, shifting her weight. A loud crack split the air and a hole appeared in Gerry’s throat.

  His eyes widened. Veronica stared, not comprehending, as blood began to spurt in red jets from his neck, splattering her arm and the ground to his side. His body crumpled.

  Another crack rent the otherwise placid day and the fence just inches to the left of her exploded in splinters.

  Gerry lay on the ground, convulsing, blood gushing from the wound in his throat.

  Someone is shooting at me.

  The realization simultaneously turned Veronica’s legs to jelly and flooded her with energy. She bolted toward the building to the left, her legs pumping, the pain in her ankle gone. She was vaguely aware that some people on a path on the other side of the track had stopped and were gesturing.

  Cover. She needed cover.

  Crack. A bullet hit the dirt some distance ahead of her. Veronica made a whimpering noise and threw herself toward the large building—it was a gym. She hit the glass double doors with all her weight and then realized she had to pull to open them. She lunged through and tripped, sprawling in the entry. Two attendants behind a counter came around, crying out with surprise.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  “Whoa, easy, there!”

  Veronica sobbed into the floor.

  Someone took her gently by the arms and helped her roll over and sit up. “Hey, ma’am, are you alright?”

  “Call—” she gasped, tears streaming from her eyes. “Call—call 911. Shooter. There’s a shooter.”

  She managed to focus her eyes on the young woman who’d helped her sit. She was a blonde, and her eyes looked wide and panicked at Veronica’s words.

  “Shooter on campus!” the blonde exclaimed to the other attendance. Veronica turned and looked at him—he was an African American youth. They both wore dark red polos.

  The young man rushed behind the desk and made a call. “Shooter on campus,” he said into the phone. He paused and then looked at Veronica. “Near here?”

  “Out by the track,” Veronica said. “Someone was hit. They need an ambulance.”

  The young man relayed this.

  Veronica began shuddering uncontrollably.

  “I think she’s going into shock,” the girl said.

  ~~~

  As soon as she got ahold of herself again, Veronica sent Daniel and Miguel texts with a line about the shooting and a warning that they might be in danger. At first, she was only going to send Daniel a text in case he got wind of her involvement in the shooting via the law enforcement grapevine. Then, the more she thought about it, the more she worried that if someone had tried to kill her, they would try to kill Daniel and Miguel, too.

  The campus police had her sit in a side room of the gym, wrapped in a blanket due to her shock. The young man who worked at the gym brought her a coffee in a foam cup, but after that no one came into the room for some time.

  Miguel responded with several texts asking her what happened and how she was, but Daniel didn’t reply at all. Veronica sent another text after ten minutes, but already she was starting to worry. After fifteen minutes she tried to call his phone, but went right to his voicemail. She told herself he must have turned his cell off and not received the first text, but that didn’t stop her from imagining worst case scenarios and how some officer would come in and break the news to her.

  Twenty-five minutes after she sent the first texts she heard Daniel’s voice outside the room. She jumped up, the blanket falling unheeded to the floor, and yanked open the door.

  Daniel stood a few feet away, talking to a campus police officer.

  “Oh my god, I was so worried!” Veronica said, crossing to him.

  Wrapping her into a hug, he said, “I was worried about you. I got here as fast as I could.”

  “Why didn’t you answer my text?”

  “As soon as I got it, I jumped in the car. I called the Roseville PD to find out what was going on, and after that I turned my phone off—I was already speeding, I just didn’t need any other distractions.”

  Veronica hit his arm half-heartedly. “You could have let me know you were okay first!”

  “Sorry,” he said with a grin. Then he pulled her close and kissed her deeply. Veronica felt all the muscles in her back loosen—she hadn’t even noticed how tight they were—as she relaxed into his embrace. “Are you okay?” he asked as he pulled just an inch or two away.

  She nodded.

  His arms tightened again and he held her tightly. “God. If they’d hurt you…”

  He released her as a dark-haired man in a long navy trench coat approached. Daniel smiled as he saw him. “Gene Cohen, it’s been a while.”

  The dark-haired man smiled back and extended a hand, which Daniel shook. “Well, Detective Seong. I didn’t expect to run into you here. Horning in on my crime scene?”

  Daniel’s smile broadened. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Veronica, here, is my significant other.”

  Detective Cohen nodded. “I see. I was just coming to talk to you, Miss…” He checked a phone. “Miss Barry, is that correct?”

  “Yes,” Veronica said.

  “I underst
and you were the one to report the shots fired?” Cohen asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And you knew the victim?”

  Daniel glanced at her then. Veronica squeezed his arm. “Sort of,” she said. “Not well at all.”

  “Alright,” Cohen said. “Let’s go sit down. Detective Seong can sit with you but I’ll be asking him to refrain from speaking while I take your statement.”

  “Did they catch anyone?” Veronica asked.

  “I’m afraid not,” Cohen said. “I’m hoping you can tell me something to aid us in doing that.”

  Veronica shuddered. “Let’s get to it.”

  ~~~

  It was three hours since the shooting. She’d given Cohen a statement and had to repeat it twice , once to his partner and once to a uniformed officer. Daniel assured her there was nothing unusual in this, especially since each person interviewing her asked somewhat different questions.

  She and Daniel were sitting without talking as a uniformed officer entered and gave each of them a quick smile. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Barry,” he said. He looked about as old as the gym attendants, with freckles and buzzed red hair. “The detectives say you can go, though we ask that you remain in the Sacramento area for the next week or so, as someone may want to follow up with you.”

  “Sure,” Veronica said, eager to get on the road home.

  “We have all your correct contact information?” he verified.

  “Yes,” Veronica said. “Oh, I was wondering. My friend, Gerry Wallace, the one who was shot?”

  The officer’s face slackened. “I’m very sorry, ma’am. We got the official word from the hospital about an hour ago. He didn’t make it.”

  It felt like being hit in the chest. Veronica blinked rapidly as tears sprang to her eyes. Daniel reached out and took her hand.

  “On behalf of the Roseville Police Department, I am sorry for your loss,” the officer said—there was a rote quality to the statement, and Veronica suppressed a shiver as she wondered how many times he’d said it before. “We would like to thank you for your continued cooperation in the investigation.”

  Veronica blinked some more, though it did nothing to stop the tears from spilling onto her cheeks. She let Daniel’s hand go to wipe her eyes. “Sure,” she said. “I’ll just sit here a minute. Then I’ll go home.”

  The officer nodded. “Okay. Have a safe drive.”

  He exited.

  Veronica stared at the speckled gray tabletop. How could any of this be possible?

  “Well, Simeon,” she murmured, “I guess that means your future has changed.”

  An awful thought crossed her mind.

  If the shooter had been aiming for her—and she was convinced he or she was—then her meeting with Gerry had brought on his death.

  “Hey. That’s not what you were hoping for, was it? You didn’t know I was going to come see him?” Veronica said aloud.

  No one answered, and Daniel just gazed at her for a moment. Then he cleared his throat and she met his eyes. “That can’t be right,” he said. “You don’t really think Simeon wanted to kill Gerry.”

  With a shake of her head, Veronica took a deep breath, trying to get her emotions under control. “As awful as his future looked, he couldn’t have wanted his father to die murdered,” she agreed.

  “It wasn’t your fault either, Ronnie. You know that, right? You couldn’t have known what would happen when you came out here to meet him.”

  “Well, I am psychic,” Veronica said with more force than she’d intended. “You might expect me to have a clue about this kind of thing. I mean, someone could have warned me.”

  Daniel grimaced. “Yeah, I admit I’m kind of pissed at your retinue about that, too.”

  Veronica stared down at her legs. “I think—I think they did intervene, in a way. I got this pain in one ankle, right before a car drove through the street where I was crossing. It made me hesitate and—I think they might have been trying to hit me and—and when I hesitated they missed.”

  “You didn’t tell anyone questioning you about that.”

  “And say what, ‘You know, officer, I was almost hit by a car, too, but my spirit “retinue” gave me a twinge in my ankle and stopped me from crossing the street.’”

  “No,” Daniel said. “I mean you didn’t mention the part about a car trying to hit you. That part’s pretty important.”

  “Well—oh, I suppose you’re right. I’ll have to track down the officer I gave my statement to and add that bit, I guess.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Anyway, I got that ankle pain again. Right before the first gunshot, and that’s the one that hit Gerry. I think if I hadn’t shifted because of the ankle pain, that bullet would have hit me.”

  Daniel’s face drained of color. He reached out and took her hand again.

  “God,” Veronica said with a shudder. She forced herself to take several deep breaths, wishing the sobs that threatened to overcome her would back off. Poor Gerry. If he’d never come over to talk to her—if he hadn’t been friendly—he’d still be alive.

  She’d had three hours to think about who wanted to kill her, and she’d had to conclude that the only person with any reason to was Thad Bayer. It felt surreal to entertain that idea, though. Thad Bayer, talk show host, political pundit—wanted to kill her? But it was the only thing that made sense.

  Turning her eyes to meet Daniel’s, she said, “What do we do now? The three of us are in danger.”

  “I already called and talked to the chief earlier today about the stuff we got in Reno, and I got us a reservation at a hotel,” Daniel said.

  “You did?”

  “Yeah. When you took a bathroom break. And I told Cohen about it, and he agrees it’s a good idea. He wanted to see about putting in you protective custody, but I assured him I’d keep you safe. He is going to have some officers pick up Miguel—he should be in the hotel by now. I’m taking you over there as soon as you’re done telling the officer about the car.”

  Veronica frowned and withdrew her hand from his. “You decided all of this without a word to me?”

  Crossing his arms, Daniel gave her a short nod. “I did. You said it yourself. The three of us are in danger.”

  “You could have said something about this hotel.”

  “You were in shock. I didn’t want to stress you out,” Daniel said.

  That was patronizing. Veronica frowned. She’d had trouble with Daniel not trusting her to handle things when they first got together—could he be going back to that attitude?

  “I was in shock for the first hour, maybe,” Veronica said. “You just didn’t want me to argue with you about going to the hotel.”

  “Well, if avoiding an argument with you was really my goal, I failed to achieve it.”

  “Guess you should have gone with talking to me about your plans instead of making secret calls while my back was turned!”

  “I didn’t ‘make secret calls while your back was turned’!”

  “Oh? What would you call waiting until I went to the bathroom to call for the reservation?”

  “Doing my job.”

  It wasn’t that Veronica disagreed with the need to be safe, but she did feel a strong need to go home and cuddle with her cats. Everything felt so out of control. She couldn’t stand the way she felt like a leaf rushing down a river, with no say as to which way she was headed.

  “This isn’t about your job,” she said. “I’m your girlfriend, not one of your collars. You can’t just tell me where to go like I don’t have a say in my own life.”

  “Ronnie, I do have to take you to a safe place. It wouldn’t matter if I’d only just met you, I’d still have to do it. Someone tried to kill you today.”

  Veronica made a huffing noise and blinked her eyes against threatening tears. She still couldn’t believe it. But did this attempt on her life mean she didn’t have any say over where she would go? How she would handle her own safety? Since when did Daniel make these de
cisions for her? Without even consulting her?

  He continued, “Look, I wasn’t sure at first. But I thought about it. I’m going to have to bring Cohen and his partner in on my investigation, too, you know. Because it’s relevant to what happened. You got targeted by this shooter, most likely, because of what we uncovered in Reno. You are a person of interest, if not to say an actual witness, in an investigation into the alleged repeated sexual assaults perpetrated by a big name celebrity. Things would have gotten complicated for you even without the attempt on your life, but now, I have to take all possible precautions because you’re in serious danger and because of the case.”

  There was a muddled quality to what he said—like he was coming at the issue sideways, somehow. Veronica frowned, trying to put her finger on what felt off, but all she could come up with was, “None of that excuses the fact that you are springing this on me an hour after making all the arrangements.”

  Daniel let out a long breath. “Okay. I’m sorry about that. I should have let you know what I was planning. But I was still sorting out the details in my head—I didn’t want to have to bring Cohen in on the Bayer case, especially when it’s so new and I haven’t even talked to Jen Padilla in San Jose yet. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I have to tell him about Bayer and Ariana and the rest of it—otherwise Cohen’s going to waste a lot of time looking for a school shooter when what we’re really dealing with is a failed witness assassination.”

  Veronica gave him a long stare. She wasn’t going to fall for the misdirection of his issue with bringing Cohen in on the Bayer case—he made a choice not to tell her he was going to make her go to a hotel. That was the issue here.

  “Anyway, I was trying to figure out how to avoid telling Cohen about Bayer. I was also trying to decide if there was any way around taking you to a hotel. I didn’t say anything about it for a while, because I wasn’t sure about it. But there really isn’t a way around it. We have to play this thing as safe as possible. So I’m sorry to spring it on you, but I still have to take you there.”