by Rebecca Deel
“Happened too fast.” Shane coughed. “Call Lisa. Don’t want her to hear from someone else.”
#
Rod waited for the speeding ambulance to pass, then eased his SUV to a stop beside the chief’s. He grabbed the crime-scene case as Ethan waved him over. He approached the twisted truck, his stomach twisting. Looked like the vehicle bounced off the guardrail and slammed into the rock face. “How’s Shane?”
Ethan’s eyes flickered, the only emotion Rod detected on his granite face. “Alive, for the moment.” He nodded at the contorted heap. “The perp shot out his tire.”
Rod blinked. Incredible shot. Too precise for joyriding kids. “Same truck?”
“Shane recognized it and tried to get close enough for a license plate number.”
“Can he identify the shooter?”
“No.” Ethan pointed to Hamilton Lane. “I figure they waited to ambush him right there and escaped through the Hamilton Creek subdivision. No vehicles came through the pass.”
He studied the thick woods and underbrush along both sides of the road. “How long after the crash did you get to the scene?”
“Less than a minute.”
Thirty seconds and the truck would have disappeared in the twists and turns of the subdivision. If he was lucky, he might find the shell casing.
Ethan pulled out his cell phone and headed for his vehicle. “I’ll be at the hospital. Call me when you get something.”
Rod watched until the SUV’s tail lights receded in the distance, then squared his shoulders and eyed the wreck. “Hernandez, glove up and search for the shell casing. Gage, you and Jordan block the road. I don’t need civilians driving through my crime scene.”
Rod cordoned off the area with crime scene tape and retrieved his camera. He photographed the crime scene from the edge of the perimeter to the truck. After measuring and recording distances, he produced a rough sketch. He’d finish it to scale later.
“Kelter, over here.”
Hernandez stood about thirty yards away on Hamilton Lane. Rod carried an evidence marker and knelt beside the patrolman. A shell casing gleamed in the sunlight. After marking and photographing it, he picked up the casing in his gloved hand and checked under the primer. Hard ball ammunition, 9 mm.
He dropped the casing into an evidence bag. “Good work. See if you can find anything else in this area we can use. We might catch a break if these guys littered.”
Back at Shane’s truck, Rod located a jack and tire iron and removed the driver’s side front tire. He slit open the tire with his tact knife. His flashlight beam swept over the black interior. Light ricocheted off a small metal object.
He reached inside. Holding the object between his thumb and forefinger, Rod moved into the sunlight. A bullet, warped by impact with the tire and subsequent bouncing around, with a slight mushroom shape at the tip.
#
“We recovered a 9 mm bullet in the front driver’s side tire and a shell casing about thirty feet away, near Hamilton Lane. You nailed the shooter’s location.”
Satisfaction bloomed in Ethan’s gut. He turned away from the noisy hospital corridor. “Can you get a print?”
“Maybe. Bullet’s warped. Since we only get one shot with the print, I’ll send the casing and bullet to the lab.”
“Chief Blackhawk?”
Ethan swiveled to the tall brunette hurrying through the hospital waiting room toward him. “Keep me posted. Good work, Detective.” He ended the call. “Lisa?”
She nodded, tears sliding from puffy eyes. “How is he?”
“Still in surgery.” He cupped Lisa’s elbow and guided her to a chair. “The doctor promised an update as soon as he finished.” Lisa’s whole body quaked as she sat. Ethan frowned. “Did you come by yourself?”
She hunched her shoulders, folded her arms across her middle, and started a slight rocking motion. “His brother and sister-in-law are driving from Memphis. I’m supposed to call as soon as I hear anything.” Lisa’s brown eyes looked huge in her pale face. “Do you think it will be much longer?”
“I’m not sure.” She needed a drink, something sweet to counter the shock she’d been dealing with on her own. He didn’t want to leave her alone in the waiting room in case the doctor returned with bad news.
“Lisa, what’s going on?”
Ethan looked into Serena Cahill’s concerned gaze as Lisa’s tenuous control broke. He motioned her over and stood. “Lisa, I’ll get you a drink if Serena doesn’t mind staying with you.”
Serena nodded, then sat beside the sobbing woman and slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Tell me what happened.”
When Ethan returned from the cafeteria with a tall, steaming cup of sweetened herbal tea, he paused in the waiting room doorway. The two women huddled together, hands clasped. Serena’s voice carried across the room.
“This hospital has an amazing surgical team, Lisa. They did a fabulous job working with Madison. You love Shane. Be strong for him, for Graham and Shelby. You don’t need to worry about the shooter. Ethan will hunt down the men who did this. He won’t rest until they’re behind bars.”
Ethan crossed the room and handed Lisa the tea. “Drink this. It’ll help.” His gaze shifted to Serena. He smiled at her. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Her cheeks flushed pink.
Before she could respond, a man in scrubs walked through the doorway. “Chief Blackhawk.”
Ethan helped Lisa rise. “This is Lisa Stone, Shane’s girlfriend.”
The man smiled and held out his hand. “Dr. Gladstone. Shane’s in recovery. A nurse will take you to him in a few minutes.”
“He’ll be all right?” Lisa asked.
Gladstone grinned. “He’s asking for you and a cheeseburger. What’s that tell you?” He glanced at Ethan. “We removed his spleen and stitched the cut on his arm. Other than a few broken ribs, he has bruises and minor cuts. Your quick thinking saved his life, Chief.”
While Lisa peppered the doctor with questions about Shane’s treatment and hospital stay, Ethan stepped in front of Serena, his body blocking her from their view. He studied her face. Why had she come to the hospital? Did she sustain an injury from last night she hadn’t told him about? “You all right?”
She nodded. “I stopped by to see Mr. Miller.”
He cupped her chin in his hand. With a gentle touch, he rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip. “And this?”
Serena smiled. “Healing.”
His hand dropped to his side. “Thanks for staying with Lisa.”
“She needed a friend. Hospital waiting rooms are horrible places to be alone.”
“Personal experience?”
A wry smile curved her lips. “Close enough.”
What did that mean? Had a family member or friend of hers been hospitalized? He opened his mouth to pursue the subject, but his cell phone rang. He glanced at the readout and frowned. Mayor Parks.
“Bad news?” Concern glimmered in her eyes.
“I’m not sure, but I have to answer this.”
Serena stepped back. “I’ll check on Lisa, then. I’ll see you later.”
He nodded once, swiveled and headed for the corridor. “Blackhawk.”
“Henry Parks here. We need to talk.”
#
“Chief, Mayor Parks is here to see you.”
Ethan tore his attention from the crime scene pictures. “Send him back.” He slipped the photos into a folder and stood.
Henry Parks strode into the office and extended his hand. “Good to see you again, Chief Blackhawk. Sorry I wasn’t here to welcome you to Otter Creek sooner, but I’ve been out of town on a business trip.”
Ethan’s lips curved into a faint smile. What kind of business required taking the family along to the Bahamas? “No problem.” He waved to the chairs in front of his desk. “Coffee or a soft drink?”
Parks shook his head and sat. “I won’t stay long. I came for an update on the break-ins and to offer the resources of my office.
“The investigation’s ongoing.” Ethan leaned against his desk.
“And?”
“And I’ll let you know the outcome.”
Parks frowned. “We must not have made ourselves clear during your interview. I expect reports on all investigations.”
Ethan stilled. “You expect reports? What about the town council?”
A scowl marred the mayor’s expression. “I misspoke. We expect updates on noteworthy investigations.”
He folded his arms across his chest. Translation: Parks and his council cronies wanted the inside track on information which might embarrass them or their enemies. “After the case closes, I’ll report my findings.”
Parks stared at Ethan, his gaze fixed, face flushed. “That’s not good enough, Chief.” He rose and buttoned his suit coat over his protruding belly. “Might be wise to remember you’re still on probation until July 1.” He wrenched open the door and stalked through the squad room.
Officers and civilian workers darted glances from the mayor to Ethan as the politician left. His gaze swept the silent workers. With a nod, he stepped into his office and resumed his seat, aware of the open stares. He sifted through the crime scene pics again, spreading them across his desk. Wonder how a three-month stint as police chief would look on his resume?
CHAPTER EIGHT
“What smells so good?”
Her brother’s voice rumbled in Serena’s ear. She dodged the muscular arm reaching over her shoulder. “If you’d waited two minutes, you could have had breakfast in bed.”
Josh moved in for a close-up examination of her face. “Who are you? What did you do with my sister? She wouldn’t bring me breakfast in a fox-hole unless I bribed her with chocolate.” He grinned.
Serena put the muffins back in the bowl and wrapped her arms around him. The scent of soap and Josh mingled with the aroma of blueberries. “You scared us, Josh.”
One arm tightened across her back. The other held his cane. “I know, squirt. But I’m a solider and I’m good at my job. Trust me.” He stepped to the side, sniffing. “Blueberry muffins?” He made a production of licking his lips. Only Jewel, her Westie, topped his performance. “I dreamed about these. Hope they taste as good as I remember.”
She loaded a plate with muffins and handed it to him. “I’ll bring you coffee.”
“Make tea for yourself and come sit with me.”
Might as well. No work this morning. She filled a mug with water, dropped in a vanilla rooibos tea bag and slammed the microwave door. Another family canceled on her. At least the Browns were going on vacation in Florida. They promised to contact her when they returned in two weeks.
When the microwave dinged, she poured a mug of coffee, grabbed her tea and carried them to the dining room. Josh’s half-empty plate unleashed a smile.
He lifted the mug to his lips and paused, inhaling. “No surprises?”
“Home Runs blend, no additives.” Flavored coffee ranked at the top of Josh’s hate list.
He eyed her, then sipped. A grin crossed his face. “You haven’t lost your touch, sis. So, what’s going on around here?”
“Big city crime spree.”
“How’d you get involved? Meg said you’re a witness.”
Serena pinched a bite of muffin from Josh’s supply. “I walked in on one of the robberies.” The morsel she chewed boasted as much flavor as a rice cake. “I found one of my customers after the thieves beat him.” She shivered. “While calling for an ambulance, I heard a noise upstairs and realized the robber was still in the house.”
“What happened?”
“Police scared him off.”
Josh frowned. “You said they beat the guy and the robber—one—was still in the house. Was it one or two?”
She smiled, not surprised her brother caught the discrepancy. “Both. Ethan says two men entered the house and beat up Miller. Then, one left the other to search the house while the first guy waited in the truck.”
“Who’s Ethan?”
“The new police chief.”
He cocked his head. “And you know him well enough to call him by his first name?”
Sipping the tea gave her a chance to stall. How much should she tell him? How much was there to tell? They were friends. She hoped to be more than that one day, but stressing over what to tell him didn’t make sense. She opted for the truth. “We’re friends.”
“Did the cops catch the men?”
The muffin in Serena’s stomach grew to the size of a boulder. “No, but they have a description of the truck. They’re looking for it.”
“What about you? You said the robber was still in the house. Did you see him?”
The tea in her stomach threatened to make a second appearance. “I gave the police a good description of him.”
“Did he see you?” He studied her face, then sat back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “Don’t answer that. Your expression tells me he did. Does the chief think you’re in any danger? Are the men hanging around here or was this a random act?”
“I don’t think it’s random. They’ve broken into four houses so far, one of them Pam’s place.”
Josh finished his coffee and pushed the mug aside. “Serena, this whole situation belongs on some episode of the Twilight Zone. I don’t like you being involved. Do Mom and Dad know all this?”
“Most of it.”
He scowled.
“I know. I’m skating on thin ice with Mom, but it will work out fine.” In a few years. The guy she’d seen was big, but Serena feared more her mother’s response when she found out how much information she’d withheld.
“Look, sis, I’ll be gone some with physical therapy sessions, but I want to know if you notice anything weird. I can rearrange my appointments. I’ll help if you let me.”
She grasped his hand and squeezed. “Thanks.” She hoped that wouldn’t be necessary. Josh should concentrate on regaining his mobility and strength. So far, the thieves had left her alone. She slid trembling hands under the table. If she flew under the radar, would they ignore her or parachute in when she least expected an appearance?
#
“This is too much. Otter Creek used to be safe. Now, I can’t even go visit my grandchildren without somebody stealing my truck.”
Ethan rose and walked to his doorway. Another problem? Who said small towns didn’t have crime?
Rod murmured something to the bearded man leaning on his desk.
“Don’t tell me to calm down, mister.” He shook a beefy finger in the detective’s face. “I want to know who took my truck. Only somebody lower than a snake’s belly steals a man’s work truck.”
Ethan stepped into the squad room. “Anything I can help with, Detective?”
“Yes, sir. This is Robert Lawrence. He’s reporting a stolen truck.”
The grizzled mountain man looked Ethan over. “Who are you?”
Ethan held out his hand. “Ethan Blackhawk. I’m the police chief.”
Lawrence peered at Ethan, ignoring the outstretched hand. “Blackhawk? Ain’t that an Indian name?”
Ethan let his hand drop to his side. “Yes, sir. I’m part Cherokee.” Rod jumped to his feet, as if ready to aid in his defense. He motioned for Rod to relax. This old guy couldn’t hurt him. He outweighed Lawrence by 70 pounds and towered over him a foot.
“You any good at tracking?”
“Yes, sir, I am.” A cold knot formed in Ethan’s stomach. Would his heritage be an issue in Otter Creek? The town council hadn’t shown any signs of prejudice. Did they represent the town’s feeling?
Lawrence’s eyes narrowed. “Learn that from your tribe?”
“The U.S. Army.” Ethan squashed a grin at Rod’s sudden coughing fit. “Mr. Lawrence, why don’t you step into my office? Would you like some coffee?”
Lawrence nodded. “I reckon I would.” He looked at Rod, who still covered his laughter with fake coughs. “You might want to have that checked, son. Them coughs get out of control this time of
year. Might lead to pneumonia.”
Rod straightened, his expression deadpan. “Yes, sir, I’ll do that.” After Lawrence sat in one of the chairs in Ethan’s office, the detective hurried to the other side of the large squad room and poured mugs of coffee for all three of them.
He handed Ethan a mug. “I’m sorry, Chief.”
“I’ve heard worse.” Ethan studied the dark brew. “Did you make fresh coffee this afternoon?”
Rod grinned. “Nope.”
“A tough guy like Lawrence won’t mind drinking coffee that’s a little strong.”
“Strong enough to peel paint off a barn.”
Back at his desk, Ethan grabbed a yellow legal pad and pen. “What kind of truck was stolen, Mr. Lawrence?”
“A dark blue 1998 Ford F-250.” Lawrence sipped his coffee, appearing unfazed by the strength of the black brew swirling in his cup.
“License plate number?”
The old man leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over an ample stomach. He rattled off the number, then described his prized possession in detail.
Ethan glanced at Rod who nodded. “Mr. Lawrence, we’re already looking for your truck.”
Lawrence looked startled. “How can that be? I just now reported it missing.”
“Your truck was used in a theft and assault Thursday.”
“Now hold on.” He paled beneath his tan. “I don’t know nothing about no robbery. I got back into town an hour ago.”
Ethan stared at the rattled mountain man. “Why don’t we talk about that, Mr. Lawrence.”
#
Ethan knocked and peered around the hospital room door. He smiled. “You look a lot better than the last time I saw you.”
Shane O’Malley waved him inside. “Glad to be alive. Doc Gladstone said you’re the reason I’m still here.”
Lisa clasped Shane’s hand. “How can we thank you, Chief Blackhawk?”
“Call me Ethan and invite me to your wedding.” He dragged a chair to Shane’s bedside and sat. “Can you answer a few questions?”
“Sure.” Shane brought Lisa’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “Why don’t you take a break, sweetheart? You haven’t left my room in hours.”
