“Secretary inside the building said she heard the gunfire and called us right away. Says she didn’t see anyone.”
Jennie glanced at the five-story brick building on the other side of the street. At street level the structure housed a restaurant and an art gallery. Above that were apartments. The shooter would be long gone by now. One thing’s for certain, it wasn’t the psycho Dad had busted last night. He’d taken responsibility for the first two killings, but not Noreen Smith’s. He also claimed he hadn’t broken into Debra’s apartment. So they were definitely looking for a second killer—maybe more. Had the shooter tonight been the same person who’d broken into Debra’s home? Was it the same person who killed Noreen Smith?
Dad and the officer went into the Channel 22 building. Jennie could hardly stand it. She wished she could get out of the car and start asking questions. Jennie looked at the building across the street again. In a lighted window on the third floor, she saw two police officers talking.
“The shot must have been fired from there,” she murmured. “Whoever did it would have had a direct shot at anyone coming out the door.”
Her dad walked in front of the car, blocking her view. Jennie unlocked the door. He opened the driver’s side, but instead of getting in said, “We may have located the weapon and room the shooter used. The area’s been secured. Would you like to come with me to check it out?”
“Sure. But what about Rocky?”
“He’s in surgery right now. We won’t be able to see him for a while. Debra’s okay.”
Surgery. “How bad is it?” Jennie asked when she joined him on the street.
“I don’t know.”
“You mean he might not make it?”
“There’s always that chance.” He hugged her to him. “Hey, I know you’re concerned. So am I, but there really isn’t much we can do now except pray he pulls through.”
Jennie nodded. The lump in her throat made it impossible to speak. They crossed the street together, and Jennie offered up a silent prayer. She needed to pull herself together. Maybe she could even help track down the killer. Someone wanted Debra dead. But why?
The lobby of the brick building had been remodeled and still smelled of paint. It had a green marble floor that had been polished to a high-gloss shine.
A police officer greeted them as they entered and ushered them to a bank of three elevators. Dad introduced him as Sergeant Blake. The officer was tall, about Dad’s height, and well built. His thick upper body reminded Jennie of a weight lifter’s. Even without his bulletproof vest he’d have been big.
“What have we got?” Jason McGrady asked.
Blake scratched his blond head. “If the weapon hadn’t been left behind, and if the guy had hit his target, I’d have said it was a professional hit. The manager says he rented the room out this morning to an elderly man who said he wouldn’t be moving in until next week.”
“Name?”
“John Weed. Doesn’t sound like he’s the guy we’re after, but we’re having an officer check him out. According to the manager, this guy was pretty crippled up and half blind.”
“Could be a disguise.”
“That’s possible.”
“Is there a security guard in the building?”
“No. The building manager doesn’t lock the doors until eleven—that’s when the restaurant closes.” The officer held the elevator door open while Jennie and her father stepped out. “Whoever used the room had a key.”
Officer Blake led them to room 306. The door was open. The small one-bedroom apartment stood empty. It had been freshly painted and had a sterile feel to it. A faint sulphur smell hung in the air, attesting to the fact that a gun had recently been fired. An officer was working on the windowsill, dusting for fingerprints. A rifle lay on the beige carpet in front of the open window.
“Prints?” Dad asked.
“None so far.” Blake hitched up his trousers and stepped inside. “Probably wearing gloves.”
“Strange.” Dad hunkered down to examine the weapon. “This is where he left it?”
“Yeah. Nothing’s been moved.”
Dad rubbed his chin and straightened. “What do you make of it, Jennie?”
“What?” Jennie did a double take. “Me?”
He grinned. “No one else here named Jennie.”
“You actually want my opinion?” Jennie flushed as she caught Officer Blake’s quizzical expression. He didn’t comment.
“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” To Blake Dad said, “Jennie’s planning a career in law enforcement.”
Jennie bit her lower lip, wishing she could come up with an intelligent response. “I’d guess it’s the same guy who broke into Debra’s place last night. He came to finish the job.”
“Motive?”
Jennie shrugged. “She’s a news anchor. Maybe she reported something bad about someone. Or maybe she knows something. Her house was ransacked. Could be the intruder from last night was looking for something. Um—evidence that might incriminate him, and he was afraid it would fall into the wrong hands.” In the back of her mind, Jennie continued to make the connection between Debra and Noreen, but the only thing that seemed to link them together was that they were both pro-life and that one once helped doctors perform abortions and the other had had one. She almost mentioned it, then changed her mind.
“Good observations,” Blake said. “Why do you think he’d leave the weapon in the middle of the room?”
She gazed at the rifle, trying to picture the man or woman leaving it on the floor. “Since there’s no security guard, the shooter could have smuggled the gun into the building. A lot of people come and go. But once the shot was fired, people would be looking for the source of the gunfire. Maybe he dropped it and didn’t have time to retrieve it.” Jennie frowned. “Or got scared. Maybe he doesn’t like guns and …”
“Why would you say that?” Blake asked.
Jennie stepped back and shrugged, feeling foolish. “Just an impression I got. I probably shouldn’t have said anything—I mean, there isn’t any evidence to suggest that.”
Dad rubbed the back of his neck. “A lot of what we do is based on impressions, Jennie. I’m surprised he left the gun behind. This obviously wasn’t a professional hit. The serial number may help us find out who bought it, but if it was purchased illegally, we’re back to square one.
“I’m heading over to the hospital to question Ms. Noble,” Dad told Blake. “Keep me posted. I’d like to know when you locate Mr. Weed.”
“Will do, Lieutenant.” Blake gave Jennie a warm smile. “Nice meeting you, Jennie.”
Within minutes they arrived at the hospital. “I’ve got to check on Rocky first,” Dad said. “You can go see Debra.”
“I want to go with you. I need to see if Rocky is okay. And … I want to hear his version of what happened.”
He hooked his arm around her neck and pulled her along. In the waiting room several reporters accosted them, wanting to know more about the late-breaking story. Dad gave his usual answer about it being an ongoing investigation, then squeezed through the crowd.
The emergency room was more chaotic than Jennie had ever seen it. Doctors, nurses, and other staff members wearing scrubs in an array of colors and prints bustled about. All of the dozen or so beds were occupied. They checked in at the nurses’ station.
“I’m sorry. Officer Rockwell is still in surgery. There’s a waiting room up there.”
“Thank you. I’m aware of that.” He flashed his badge and introduced himself. “I’m going to need to talk to him as soon as possible. Are you sure he isn’t out of surgery yet?”
“I don’t believe so. I’ll check.” After a brief phone conversation she hung up. “He’s in recovery but is still sedated. The nurse said she’d let you know the minute he’s alert enough to talk to you.”
Dad
pushed a hand through his hair. “What about Debra Noble?”
“Oh yes.” The receptionist smiled. “She’s in room 10.”
“Thanks.” Dad headed the direction she had pointed.
“Check with the nurse before you go in,” the woman called after him.
Dad stopped to talk with one of the staff members, and seconds later they were standing beside the bed.
Debra’s mascara-smudged eyes were closed. Her skin looked blanched and sallow against the white sheets. According to the nurse Dad had spoken with, Debra’s injury wasn’t serious. A bullet had grazed her right side.
“Ms. Noble.” The nurse who stood on the opposite side of the bed hooked a stethoscope around her neck. “Detective McGrady is here. He’d like a few words with you.”
Debra’s eyes drifted open. She smiled. “Detective. How nice of you to come.”
“I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“I suppose you want a blow-by-blow description.” Her gaze shifted to Jennie. “Hi, Jennie. What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“That’s sweet of you.”
Dad cleared his throat. “Do you have any idea who the shooter might be?”
Debra’s gaze drifted back to Dad. “I have no idea who shot at us. I didn’t see anyone. I heard a shot, and Rocky threw himself against me. Knocked me to the ground.” She winced. “He saved my life.” Tears filled her eyes. She used the corner of the sheet to wipe them away, leaving a black mascara stain. “How is he?”
Dad rested his arms on the railing. “He’s out of surgery—that’s all I know.”
Her blue eyes pooled again. “I’ve never known anyone who would risk their own life to save mine. It’s unbelievable.”
Jennie glanced at her father. She knew a lot of people willing to risk their lives for others. Dad was one of them. She was another—and Gram—and J.B. It was something you did out of love, duty, honor.
“Rockwell’s a good man,” Dad said.
“It’s a God thing, isn’t it?” Debra asked. “I mean, this concept of sacrificing one’s life.”
Dad looked uncomfortable. “My mother says it’s evidence of God in us. I suspect she’s right about that.”
Debra sighed. “I think they’re going to let me go home. Can I stay at your house again?”
“Of course,” Dad said. “It might be a good idea if you stayed out of the limelight for a few days.”
“Sure. As soon as I get cleaned up and give the station my story. I’ve got some vacation time coming.”
“We’ll wait for you to be discharged and give you a ride home.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that. Is there anything new I can tell people about the investigation?”
Dad heaved a heavy sigh. “I wish there were, Ms. Noble.”
Jennie looked up when she heard the tap of the receptionist’s heels on the linoleum floor. “Detective McGrady, Officer Rockwell is awake and in his room. He’s asking to speak with you.”
20
Seeing Rocky so pale and helpless shook Jennie to the core. Rocky had taken a bullet in the back. It had torn through his stomach, then come out the other side and hit Debra. Besides his IV, which transported fluids and antibiotics into his veins, a tube protruded from his nose and went into a bottle that sat on top of a suction machine. A small green tube draped around his head, the two prongs providing oxygen directed into his nostrils.
She stood beside her father, praying with all her heart that Rocky would recover.
“Hey.” Rocky tried to smile.
“Hey yourself, buddy.” Dad leaned close to him. “Can you tell me anything about what happened out there?”
“Right … before the … shooting …” Rocky winced, then went on. “I spotted a guy … in the building. Window open. Brown coat. Saw reflection. Gunshot.”
“Take it easy, Rocky. We found the weapon and the room he used. Did you see his face?”
Rocky shook his head. “Debra?”
“She’s okay.” Dad took hold of his hand. “You did good. Real good.” To Jennie he said, “We’d better go, princess.”
Jennie bit her bottom lip. “In a minute.” When Dad stepped back, she moved to Rocky’s side. He held his hand up and she grabbed it.
“Don’t look so worried, kid.”
“You’re not going to die on me, are you?”
“Not a chance, McGrady.” He squeezed her hand. “Not a chance.”
A nurse came over to check on him and urged Jennie and her father to leave. Jennie complied, promising to visit the next day.
Dad wrapped an arm around her as the elevator carried them down to the main floor.
Jennie turned and put her arms around him. “I don’t think I could stand it if Rocky died.”
“He won’t. You heard him.” Dad’s voice seemed strained. “There … there isn’t anything going on between you two, is there? Something I should know about?”
“Dad …” Jennie moved away from him. “He’s my friend.” Jennie set her jaw, determined not to cry. Why did people always think that? Rocky meant a lot to her. She didn’t understand why the bond between them was so strong. It just was. She didn’t like thinking or talking about it. Sometimes she did wonder what it would be like if she were older or Rocky were younger, but that wasn’t the case.
“I’m sorry, princess. It’s just that when I left, you were only eleven. Now I come back and you’ve turned into a beautiful young woman. And you’ve got all these guys swarming around you. I’m not ready for you to be interested in a serious relationship—especially not with someone as old as Rockwell. He’s a great guy, but—”
“Dad,” Jennie sighed, “you don’t need to worry.”
He didn’t look convinced. The elevator doors swished open. Jennie went to get Debra while Dad headed to the parking lot to get the car. He’d meet them out front.
Jennie didn’t say much on the way home, just listened to Debra and Dad discuss Rocky’s condition and who might want her dead. Dad asked her if there was anyone in particular she could think of who might want to hurt her.
“Not specifically. Being a reporter, I sometimes get emails or letters from people objecting to something I’ve said or a subject we’ve covered, but I can’t think of anything that would cause someone to want to kill me.”
“Do you have any connection at all with the woman who was murdered the other day—Noreen Smith?” Dad asked.
“When I first saw her picture, I thought she looked vaguely familiar, but I haven’t been able to place her. I may have seen her at one of the crisis pregnancy centers. I understand she volunteers there.” Debra tipped her head back against the seat. “If you don’t mind, I’d just as soon not answer any more questions.”
“Of course, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I know you’re just trying to do your job. Maybe I’ll be able to think more clearly tomorrow. The pain medication they gave me seems to have turned my brain to mush.”
Once they arrived home, Jennie left Debra in Mom and Dad’s care and went to bed. She fell asleep asking God for answers and for Rocky’s recovery.
“Do you always have to wait this long?” Jennie asked. She and her mother had been sitting in the doctor’s office for an hour. As part of her project on fetal development, she wanted to include the importance of routine doctor visits. She also wanted to see firsthand what the doctor did during those visits and maybe listen to the heartbeat.
“Not always. It shouldn’t be much longer.” Mom set down a tattered copy of Better Homes and Gardens and picked up a stale issue of House Beautiful. “Dr. Ellison had a delivery this morning, so he’s running behind.
“Hmm.” Mom glanced at her watch. “In a way that’s good. Your dad may make it after all.”
Dad had called the doctor’s offi
ce fifteen minutes earlier to see if Mom and Jennie were still there. He promised to meet them there as soon as he could.
“Susan McGrady,” the nurse called. Jennie followed them through the reception area into a wide hallway, where Mom handed Jennie her purse, slipped off her shoes, and stepped on the scale.
“Hey, good job, Mom. You’re up another five pounds.”
Mom grinned and patted her belly. “Making up for lost time. I hope it slows down, though. I’ll be a blimp if I keep gaining at this rate.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” the nurse said. “You’ll do fine.” Once they were in the exam room, Susan introduced Jennie to the nurse and explained why she’d come. “Jennie, this is Marie Olson, Dr. Ellison’s nurse.”
“Hi, Jennie. Welcome. A fetal development project, huh? That’s quite an undertaking. I have a booklet on prenatal care and a textbook on obstetric nursing that you can use for research.” She pulled a blood pressure cuff out of a wire basket mounted on the wall. “Oh, and I’ll bet Dr. Ellison would let you watch him deliver a baby if you’d like.”
“Really?” Jennie sat on the edge of her chair. “That would be so cool. Mom says I can be with her when the baby is born, but my project is due before that.”
“We’ll ask him, okay?”
Jennie watched and made notes while Marie took Mom’s blood pressure, pulse, and temperature and recorded them. To listen to the baby’s heartbeat, Marie used a machine called a Doppler, which magnified the sounds in Mom’s stomach. “I’m picking up a strong heartbeat.” She looked at Jennie, then to Susan. “Can you hear it?”
Mom smiled. “Sure can.”
Jennie had a hard time distinguishing between sounds but thought she picked up a faint, rapid beat. Her mouth stretched into a wide grin as she imagined what the baby would look like. According to her research, a twelve-week fetus would be pretty well formed. It would have discernible toes and fingers. A picture Jennie had seen showed one sucking its thumb. It was so cute.
After measuring Mom’s stomach with a calibrator, she said, “You can get dressed. We won’t need to do a pelvic exam today, Susan, but the doctor would like to talk with you.”
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