by V. K. Powell
*
When Greer stepped into Sergeant Fluharty’s room, the smell of disinfectants and alcohol overwhelmed her—the supposedly sterile odor of a hospital that she’d come to despise after twelve years on the job. JJ, Breeze, Craig, Chief Bryant, and a man she didn’t know stood around the sergeant’s bed. Fluharty was pale, his eyes closed, and a bandage covered his left shoulder. An IV bag hung from a pole and a line of clear fluid trickled into his veins. A heart monitor beeped rhythmically in the morbid silence.
“Any update, Bessie?” the chief asked.
“He’s been patched up and given some pain medication, but he needs to rest. He might not wake up for a while.”
“Thanks.” Chief Bryant motioned for the officers to move to the side of the room out of Bessie’s hearing. He nodded toward the slender middle-aged man beside him. “This is Special Agent Rick Long with the SBI. He’ll be handling the case.” The chief introduced the detectives and indicated who had been present during the shootings. “You’ll have our full cooperation, Rick.” He pointed toward JJ. “Detective Johnston will be your liaison.”
“Thank you, Chief. I’ll try to make this as quick and painless as I can.” Agent Long placed his briefcase on a side table, opened it, and pulled out a handful of evidence bags. “First, I’ll need your service weapons. Place them in these bags just as they are.” He handed each officer an evidence container and retrieved the sergeant’s weapon from underneath the gurney. “Fill out a receipt including the make, model, and serial number of your gun. Keep a copy and place the other in the evidence bag.”
The officers all looked at the chief and he nodded his consent. “Has to be done, guys. You were the only people that we know were in that warehouse. We have to eliminate you first. Go to the supply room when you leave here and have a temporary weapon issued. You’ll get yours back as soon as possible.”
Agent Long secured their duty weapons in his briefcase and said, “Don’t talk to each other or anyone else about what happened this afternoon until I’ve conducted my interviews. Is that clear?” Everybody nodded. “I’m sure your Internal Affairs guys will be following up as well.”
The next few days would be hectic, and Greer needed to connect this incident to Paul’s overdose. Most sobering of all, the gunman had targeted Eva today. “I’d like to get back to work, if that’s okay, Chief.”
Bryant and Agent Long exchanged a glance before the chief responded. “You’re free to work on anything as long as it isn’t this case—and that includes the Saldana investigation. The SBI will be taking over since it probably led to what happened today.” Greer started to object but the chief stopped her. “And that goes for the rest of you.
“JJ, until Fred gets back on his feet you’re in charge of the squad and liaising with Agent Long. Contact your informants and follow up leads at the direction of the SBI, but no cowboy antics. We have to let them handle suspects or we’ll taint our case. Understood?”
He waited for each officer to acknowledge his instructions. “Now, everybody go home and get some rest. The scene has been cleared and there’s nothing that can’t wait until morning.”
Greer wasn’t sure she could abide by the chief’s order. Too much had happened during this investigation and now it had gotten personal—someone had killed a friend of hers, shot another, and targeted a third. She could be discreet but she couldn’t be idle. Greer stepped to the side of the bed and took Fluharty’s hand. “Sarge, you’ll be fine. The squad’s all here.”
The sergeant’s eyelids fluttered as he struggled to open his eyes. He rolled his head from side to side looking at each officer as if trying to recall him. His lids drooped, his gaze faltered until he found Greer. He pointed at her and moved his lips but made no sound.
“What, Sarge, do you remember something?” JJ asked.
He licked his lips and stared directly at Greer. “Why did you shoot me?”
Chapter Eleven
Everyone in the small exam room stared at Greer like she was public-enemy number one. Her stomach flip-flopped into a nauseous roil and her mouth dried. It took every ounce of her restraint not to deny Fluharty’s ludicrous accusation. The expressions on the faces of her coworkers varied from disbelief to outright hostility, but no one spoke. They would voice their suspicions in private, not in front of a stranger or civilian personnel.
JJ’s face wrinkled in distaste, his eyes full of questions, the most concern she’d seen from him since she started to review the Saldana case. She wanted to talk to him and straighten out all their differences, to have him on her side again. The look they exchanged told her that wouldn’t be happening any time soon.
The only person not regarding her like a suspect was Bessie. She stared at Fluharty as if he’d gone into cardiac arrest, then moved to his side and adjusted the IV drip. “He’s obviously too heavily sedated to know what he’s saying.”
Sergeant Fluharty’s arm dropped like a dead weight beside him on the bed and his eyes closed again. The room was eerily quiet. Greer resisted the urge to defend herself though everything inside her screamed to declare her innocence. Everyone would view an adamant denial in response to an incoherent question as an overreaction. Right now she needed to assume that the pain medication had affected the sergeant’s memory and not say anything.
Finally Chief Bryant spoke. “Don’t jump to conclusions. I want clear heads to prevail. The loss of a good man and the injury of one of our own has upset us all. Agent Long will talk to Fred when he’s feeling better.”
The squad members filed out of the room without speaking to Greer. She met Agent Long’s appraising stare as he closed his cell phone. If the sergeant’s outburst had affected him at all, he didn’t show it. From the few minutes she’d been in Rick Long’s presence, Greer already knew that he was professional, efficient, and direct. She hoped these admirable qualities would serve her well if the facts pointed toward her as a suspect.
“I’d like to talk to you,” Agent Long said to her. “If that’s okay.” He looked at the chief, who gave him a resigned nod.
“Now wait a minute.” Bessie crossed to Greer’s side. “If you’re planning to interrogate my niece based on the ranting of a drugged man, you might want to think again. That doesn’t sound very reliable to me.”
Greer’s shoulders tensed. This wasn’t headed in a good direction. “Bessie, it’s all right. Let me handle it.” She nodded toward the door but Bessie wasn’t going quietly.
“I won’t have anybody railroad her. Do you understand me, Sam? Tell this SBI man that Greer isn’t capable of something like this.”
Chief Bryant had seen Bessie riled before and tried to calm her. “He’s doing his job, Bessie. Greer will be fine. Let’s go wait outside.” He nudged her toward the exit.
“Stop pushing me, Sam. If he’s doing his job, why isn’t he questioning the rest of the guys too?”
Agent Long, to his credit, tried to reassure Bessie. “I won’t allow any railroading on this investigation. Detective Ellis needs to address a few things tonight.” His voice was calm, his words sincere.
Bessie looked at Greer, and she visually pleaded with her to leave. “I’ll see you outside in a few minutes. Check on Eva.”
“All right, but I’m holding you,” she jabbed her finger at Rick Long and then Chief Bryant, “and you accountable.”
Long waited for the chief and Bessie to leave the room before he turned back to Greer. “She’s quite a champion to have in your corner.”
“She certainly is. Now what can I help you with, Agent Long?”
He moved two chairs together next to a small side table and motioned for her to sit. “Look, Detective, I know Sergeant Fluharty’s medicated, but if what he said is possibly true, I have to ask you a few simple questions right now. You do understand that.”
“Of course. Do what you have to.”
Agent Long recited Greer’s Miranda warnings, even though it was unnecessary since she wasn’t in custody. He was probably being overly c
autious, just in case. “Do you understand your rights as I’ve explained them to you?”
“I do.” Unlike the administrative investigation that Internal Affairs would conduct, Greer had the option of not answering Long’s questions. But she would only look more like a suspect. The sooner she got her side on record the better.
“Tell me about the shooting. I’ll be taping your statement.” He placed the small recorder on the table between them, dictated the time, date, location, and those present, and motioned for her to begin.
She started with Eva’s anonymous call and her decision to cover the meeting, based on a hunch it might be connected to the Saldana case. She covered the briefing in which each officer received his assignment. As she laid out the plan, she could see it in her head as clearly as if she was looking at the sergeant’s drawing on the old chalkboard. Her position was directly across from Sergeant Fluharty’s, with JJ and Craig opposite each other. She recounted the incident from the time they assumed their posts, being certain to cover every detail she could recall.
Long let her continue uninterrupted. When she finished, he remained silent for several minutes, reviewing notes he’d scribbled on his pad. “Who made the actual position assignments at the briefing?”
“Sergeant Fluharty.”
“Even though it was essentially your operation?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t it usually standard operating procedure for the officer in charge to make the assignments and brief the squad?”
“Usually.” Fluharty had assumed the lead role because the squad was already upset about the review of the Saldana case. He thought they’d follow his lead more easily. She wasn’t about to tell Rick Long the internal issues of her squad. But if somebody else did, it could look bad for her. She could only hope that her fellow detectives would hold to the thin blue line of confidentiality on that particular issue.
“Why did he deviate on this occasion?”
“You need to ask the sergeant that question. I was reviewing the original file.”
Agent Long seemed to consider her answer, then jotted more notes on his legal pad. “So you were positioned directly across from the sergeant?”
“Yes.” Greer had already been down this road in her head. Neither JJ nor Craig would’ve had a line of sight in the sergeant’s direction. She was the only one, aside from the real shooter, who could’ve made the shot that injured him. But the one that killed Tom appeared to have come from the opposite direction. Something wasn’t adding up.
“You came out of the service bay with your weapon drawn?”
“Yes.”
“Any chance you fired unintentionally as you ran toward Ms. Saldana and Mr. Merritt?”
“None.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I’m not a rookie, Agent Long. I don’t run with my finger on the trigger. I scanned the room for the shooter, but couldn’t find him. I wouldn’t have fired indiscriminately without acquiring a target. You’ll be able to verify that my weapon wasn’t fired.”
The SBI agent visually scanned her body and his gaze lingered near her feet. “Do you carry a throw-down?”
“No.”
“Do you mind if I check?”
The question rankled but she would’ve asked it if she’d been investigating this case. “Help yourself.” If she had used a throw-down, she would’ve gotten rid of it ASAP. That was crooked cop 101.
Agent Long patted Greer’s body in the usual places a gun might be concealed and concluded at her ankles. “Thanks. I realize this is unpleasant for you.”
“I want to know who killed my friend and shot the sergeant. If that means inconveniencing me a little, so be it. Anything else?”
“Actually—” A light tap sounded at the door and an SBI criminalist entered the room. “I’d like to swab your hands for a GSR test.”
“I’m not comfortable with that. Those tests aren’t dependable. I’m sure you’ve read the studies. I handle my weapon every day and fire it at least once a month.” The FBI had discontinued gunshot-residue tests several years ago because of unreliability. Handling a weapon, even a clean one, could result in trace amounts of GSR transfer.
“I’ll take that into consideration. It’s just for a preliminary finding.”
“Then why didn’t you test everybody else before they left?”
“Sergeant Fluharty didn’t accuse one of them of shooting him. He accused you.”
Long was right and she hated it. If she refused, she’d look guilty and he could probably convince a judge to give him a warrant to compel her cooperation. On the other hand, if the test was positive, it could be damning. Sometimes she hated the nuances of the law, but they kept cops and lawyers in business. She reluctantly extended her arms and the lab tech swabbed the thumb and forefinger area of both hands.
“One last question, Detective Ellis. Did you shoot Tom Merritt or Sergeant Fluharty?”
Greer met his stare. “No, sir, I did not.”
“Very well, that’s all I have for now. I’ll follow up later if necessary.”
Greer checked on Sergeant Fluharty and exited the room. When she stepped outside, Eva and Bessie were still in the waiting area. Eva was resting her head on Bessie’s shoulder and looked as though she’d been crying.
“Are you okay?” she asked Eva. They both stood as she approached and put on what Greer considered their strong faces.
Eva wiped her eyes. “Fine, and you? What was all that about?”
Bessie didn’t waste any time getting her two cents in. “It’s about blaming somebody for this mess. But it won’t be my girl. Not if I have anything to say about it.”
“Jeez, Bessie, defensive much? The man is just doing his job. I’d do the same thing if I was in his shoes.” Her aunt’s protectiveness warmed Greer, and for the first time since Clare’s death, she missed the closeness they used to share. “But I do love how you look after me.”
Eva stared at her in disbelief. “They actually think you might have something to do with Tom’s death and Fluharty’s shooting? You risked your life to save me and Tom.”
“Exactly,” Bessie said.
“Look, we’re all exhausted. Let’s get out of here.” She placed a hand on the small of Eva’s back, looped her arm though Bessie’s, and guided them toward the door. “Walk us out?”
Bessie accompanied Eva and Greer to the exit and turned to her. “Don’t worry about what Fluharty said in there. He’s out of it. Go home and get some rest.”
“I’ll try. I’d like to invite Eva to stay at the house for a few days, until things settle down, if it’s okay with you.”
“Of course it is, honey. She’s always welcome. Besides, we have to take care of each other.” Bessie gave them both a parting hug. “I’ll be late tonight. I’m meeting with the evening shift before I come home. There should be enough leftover lasagna for dinner.”
“Thanks.” The drive back to the motel and the few minutes it took Eva to throw some clothes into an overnight bag were too quiet—none of her usual questions or speculation about the case. Maybe Bessie should’ve checked her out for a delayed reaction to the violence before they left the hospital.
As they got back in the car, Greer asked, “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Fine.” But the silence continued until they arrived at the house.
When Straw Dog and Frisky jumped enthusiastically for their homecoming greetings, Greer seized the opportunity to divert Eva’s attention from the day’s events. “Would you feed these guys while I scrounge through the fridge for that lasagna Bessie mentioned?”
“Sure.” Eva followed Greer’s instructions and busied herself preparing the dogs’ food. The more she interacted with the two bundles of energy, the more animated she became. “They’re amazing creatures, aren’t they?”
“They’re little food and emotion absorbers. It’s uncanny the way they pick up on feelings and do their best to comfort. Do you have pets?”
Eva sh
ook her head. “I travel too much. I couldn’t put them through the trauma of having the one they love leave constantly for long periods of time. I know how that feels.”
Eva looked sad and far away. Were they still talking about pets? Maybe the past had desensitized her to the effects her life of constant rambling had on those around her. “How do you know about being left?”
Eva drew a couple of deep breaths as if she might not answer. “My father was a journalist. He volunteered for any assignment that took him somewhere new. I was too young to understand that his leaving had nothing to do with me, so it felt very personal. Mother tried to compensate for his absence, but I could tell it affected her.”
“I’m sorry.” Why would Eva follow in a profession that had obviously caused her so much pain? “My wise and nosy aunt would say that staying put doesn’t ensure loyalty or love. So I guess the opposite is also true.”
“Maybe, but I worry that I’m like him, constantly on the move, not committing to anything but my job. The personal life I want doesn’t seem possible.”
“You can always change your mind. Just because you’ve done things one way doesn’t mean you have to continue if it doesn’t work for you.” She stroked Frisky and Straw Dog lovingly on the head. “These guys will be the ones leaving me pretty soon. Bessie takes them in, nurses them back to health, and finds them a good home. It’s hard to see them go.”
“Bessie’s very sweet—what she said about taking care of each other.”
“My aunt is a caretaker, in case you hadn’t noticed. She believes we were put on this earth to help one another. If she finds an opportunity to do that, she makes it her mission. She’d probably adopt the needy population of New Hope and move them onto this land if she could—make them her extended family.”
