by Heather Mace
The woman on the front stoop looked at him and then tried to glance around him.
He leaned to try and block her view into the house. “Gimme the package,” he opened the door a little more and held out his hand.
She tried to peer around him again. “Is Wade okay?”
“He’s in the hospital, but he’ll be home soon. That’s probably what the paperwork is about.”
The woman held up a Fed-Ex envelope in front of her.
Malcolm reached for it.
Jennifer nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of the gunshot echoing around the small room. She looked wide-eyed toward the door, fearing for a split second that Malcolm had killed the woman at the door.
“What?” Malcolm staggered back. His hand went to his abdomen and came up covered in blood. “What the…” he said weakly. He dropped to his knees.
The woman stepped inside the door, dropped the cardboard envelope with a gaping hole in it, and shot him in the chest.
Malcolm slumped to the floor.
Jennifer gasped. “Olivia?”
Livi reached down and took the keys from Malcolm Cole’s hand. She walked over to the daybed and dropped the key ring next to Jennifer.
Jen opened her mouth to speak.
Livi held her finger to her lips and whispered, “shhhh.” She turned and walked back out the door.
***
Martinez flinched at the sound of the first gunshot. Her heart went into her throat. She was certain that the cavalry would be too late for Jennifer Golden. All she could do now was prevent Malcolm Cole from escaping. She fumbled for her mobile phone and dialed Sherman’s number. Before the call connected, a second shot was fired.
“What’s going on,” Sherman asked frantically.
“Two shot’s fired from inside the house. Please advise Comal County.”
Sherman relayed the information to Glade who immediately got on his phone to call in the update. “Get the out of there,” Sherman demanded to Martinez.
“If Cole tries to escape, I can stop him.”
“Or he might just kill you, too.”
“I can hear sirens now,” she said, “all I have to do is delay him.” She saw movement and realized that someone was walking toward her. “Someone’s coming.” She shoved the phone into her pocket, stepped in front of the truck, and steadied her gun. “Police. Don’t move,” she said just as the figure stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight.
Livi froze, keeping her gun down at her side.
Martinez stepped forward cautiously with her gun pointed at Olivia Carrasco.
“Officer Martinez,” she said, clearly not expecting her to be there.
“Drop the weapon, Livi.”
“I can’t.” He shoulders slumped. “You hear those sirens? They’ll be here any minute now. I can’t go to prison.”
“Livi,” Martinez shook her head, “what have you done?”
“I killed Malcolm Cole.”
“Was he alone?”
Livi took a step toward her.
Martinez shouted, “not another step.” As the sirens grew louder, she was silently praying that she could stall Olivia long enough for the deputies to arrive. She said another prayer for herself, that she wouldn’t get shot in the chaos.
“The girl’s alright. I saved her.”
“Okay,” Martinez tried to sound calm, “you did what you had to do. Now, drop the gun.”
“I spent most of my life feeling trapped by one thing or another. I’d rather die than go to prison and be trapped again.”
“Livi, please don’t make me do this,” she pleaded.
“Suicide by cop? I would never do that to you Officer Martinez. I would never put that burden on anyone.” In one swift moved, she jerked the gun upward and shot herself in the head.
“Noooo,” Martinez screamed. She started to move forward and heard shouting behind her.
“On your knees!”
“Drop your weapon!”
“Down, now!”
Martinez tossed the gun away from her body, dropped to her knees and laced her fingers behind her head.
The cavalry had arrived. A moment too late.
15
Martinez sat in the interview room with her head in her hands. She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there, but she was still shaking. She had replayed the scene countless times in her head. It never ended any differently. The sight of Olivia lying dead just a few feet in front of her was burned permanently into her brain.
The door opened and Sherman walked into the room. He placed a paper cup full of coffee on the table next to her, and sat down across from her with his own cup. “Comal County makes much better coffee than we do.”
“It’s probably not that hard to do,” she said.
“They’re going to want to talk to you.” He fished into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He shook it back and forth. “But I already told them everything I heard.”
She shook her head, confused.
“You never turned off your phone. The conversation was a little muffled from inside your pocket, but I was able to make out most of it.”
She had a flash of memory. She had slid the phone into her pocket when Livi had come into view. While the conversation had been muffled for Sherman, the memory was a little muddled in her head.
“When I heard the gunshot, I didn’t know if you were dead or alive. Then there was a lot of shouting and everything went silent.”
“I’m sorry.”
“By the way, a friend named Judy Collier has been calling frantically. I let her know you were alright.”
Another wave of guilt flowed through her. “Thank you.”
He nodded. “They read you your rights?”
She nodded and said, “yes.”
“Do you want me to get a rep for you?”
“I don’t think I’m guilty of anything but stupidity. I’ll tell them whatever they want to know.”
“Tell me,” he said. “From what I got, it seemed you knew Olivia Carrasco. Care to shed some light on that?”
She sighed, looked straight into her friend’s eyes, and lied. “She approached me, I guess a few weeks back, said she’d seen me at the Olmos crime scene. She said she had been at a friend’s house near the park and might have seen something, and could we talk sometime.”
Sherman nodded, encouraging her to continue.
“I suggested she come down to the station. She said unless her info was useful, she’d rather not make it official. She asked if I could meet her for dinner. At that point it seemed to me like it was a nothing more than a ruse to get a cop to go out with her. It happens, y’know.”
“I do,” he agreed.
“So, I almost didn’t go. But, I decided I had to do it on the outside chance that she had seen something useful.”
“What did you get from her?”
Martinez rolled her eyes. “Nondescript man, in nondescript hoodie, getting into an almost nondescript blue truck.”
“So, it was all bullshit?”
“That’s what I assumed.” She took the lid off of the coffee cup and had a long, soothing swallow. “Judy Collier is a PI. Used to be a cop. I asked her to look into Carrasco for me. Turns out she killed her husband.”
He nodded, not giving away whether this was news to him or not.
Martinez continued. “He abused her regularly. It was ruled as self-defense. But it got me wondering: A string of dead serial abusers, plus Carrasco’s history. Combine that with her admitted proximity to one of the crime scenes… So, when I had the chance to have dinner with her again, I went. But she was so vague, and came off as so timid, that I really had no idea if I was onto something or not. I figured I would discuss it with you the next time we talked. But then Jennifer Golden disappeared and all chaos broke loose.”
He nodded and sipped some more of his coffee. “How did you come to be at the crime scene t
onight?”
“Judy had been poking around, looking into Malcolm Cole, just out of curiosity, I guess. She called and told me that she had found a link between Cole and the guy that owned that property. I thought it might be something. It was my day off, so I drove out to take a look. As soon as I knew there was something going on there, I texted you and backed off. I think you know the rest.”
After a few moments of silence there was a knock at the door of the interview room. The door swung open and an older man, unfamiliar to Martinez leaned in and looked at Sherman. “That’s enough,” he told him. “We have what we need. You can take her to her car.” He closed the door.
Martinez looked up at the two-way mirror on the wall behind Detective Sherman. She looked sharply back at him. “You were questioning me?”
“I asked if you wanted representation, verified that you’d been read your rights.”
“I thought we were just having a conversation.”
“They thought they were more likely to hear the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, if you were talking to a friendly face.”
The repeated mention of the word truth jabbed at her gut. She decided it was best to let it go. Instead she asked, “Is Jennifer Golden really alright?”
“She’s pretty messed up, but she’s going to live. Detective Jones is waiting for clearance from the doctors, and the sheriff’s department, to talk to her. Come on, I’ll drive you home.”
***
For Jennifer, life had become a haze of questions from both law enforcement and medical personnel alike. They had all begun to blend into one long, painful interview. Can you feel this? Does this hurt? What do you remember? At times she felt dead inside. Other times she found herself crying hysterically and she had no idea what particular incident had triggered it.
After she had been examined from head to toe, and was wheeled to a waiting area for a CT scan, she heard Detective Jones outside speaking to one of the doctors. The doctor was insistent that it would be several hours before she could be questioned.
“Detective,” she croaked. She cleared her throat and was going to call out again, but he appeared in the doorway with the doctor hot on his heels. She motioned him to her.
“Miss Golden,” the doctor said, “it would be in your best interest to rest.”
“I’ll stay calm,” she assured him.
“Miss Golden…”
Jennifer cut him off. “Doctor, after what I’ve been through, it is in my best interest to see a familiar and trusted face.” She reached out for the detective.
The doctor shot a warning glance at Detective Jones.
Jones nodded. He took Jen’s hand.
She teared up and squeezed his big, warm hand gratefully. “I thought I was going to die tonight.”
“You’re a survivor, Jen.”
She nodded toward the door. “We’ll see. I still have the CAT scan.”
“It will be okay,” he assured her. “No matter the results they’re going to keep you here for a few days at the very least.”
Her lip quivered. “Is he…”
“They pronounced him dead at the scene. He can’t ever hurt you, or anyone else, ever again.”
“How did you find me,” Jen asked him.
“We got a warrant to track his phone.”
She dropped her chin and looked away. “Is it good or bad that I’m glad Mac’s dead?” She had spoken the question very quietly.
Jones gently cupped her chin and urged her to look at him. “I’m glad he’s dead, too.” After she nodded slightly he asked her, “Did you know the lady that shot him?”
Without breaking eye contact she said, “I don’t think so. It was dark, and I can only see out of my left eye, but she didn’t seem familiar.” She looked away for a few seconds, carefully choosing what to tell him. “She took the keys out of Mac’s pocket and brought them to me and then left. She didn’t say a word. Who is she?”
Detective Jones considered telling Jen that the lady who had rescued her had shot herself immediately after. But he knew that this was the kind of news that the doctor would not want her to hear before she’d been cleared. “When the swelling goes down, we’ll see if we can get a photo for you to look at.”
“Okay,” Jen was confused.
“I, um,’ Jones raised his eyebrows, “called your brother.”
Jennifer closed her eyes and shook her head. “Well unless you were offering to interview him on the news, I’m sure he could care less about what has happened. He’s an insecure, vile, attention whore.”
After talking to the guy, Jones was not entirely shocked to hear Jen’s perspective. “He’s a real piece of work, I’ll give you that. Is there someone else you’d like me to call?”
“Our parents are dead. And Mac alienated all of my friends as soon as we got together. I don’t suppose you’d want to give me a ride home from the hospital when they let me out,” she joked.
“I’d be pleased if you would allow me to do so.”
After getting a clear CT scan, and given pain medication, Jen slept the rest of the night. She was vaguely aware of various people in scrubs stopping by to check her vitals from time to time, but the pain medicine did its job.
In the morning, she felt somewhat less exhausted, but knew that she would need several more doses of pain medication and a few more nights of sleep to feel truly rested. She spent most of her day talking to Comal County deputies about her ordeal. They didn’t answer any of her questions. They simply asked, and asked, and asked.
Hours later, she asked them to give her a break. She had a nap after what passed for lunch. And when she awoke, Detective Jones was sitting quietly in a chair next to her hospital bed. There was another man in the chair next to him.
“Good afternoon, Jen,” Jones said.
She painfully pulled herself into a more upright position. She noticed that Jones winced as he watched her struggle. “More questions, I guess.”
“This,” he motioned to his associate, “is Detective Benjamin Glade.”
The name seemed familiar, but his face was new to her.
Jones stood up and pulled a piece of paper out of his breast pocket. “Here’s the photo we talked about yesterday.” He handed it to her.
She tried to take a steadying breath and looked at what must have been Livi’s license photo. She held it up to her left side and studied it with her less injured eye. “That’s definitely the woman that saved my life.” While she’d sworn to keep Nora and Olivia’s secret, she knew that there was no point in denying she had seen her. There had been so much noise and commotion after Livi left the house that Jen knew the cops had been outside waiting for her.
“She isn’t familiar to you at all?”
Jen stared at the picture for a few seconds longer and shook her head. “No,” she handed the photo back to Jones. “Who is she?” She asked what seemed like the next logical question.
Jones looked at Glade who nodded almost imperceptibly. “Olivia Carrasco. We’re looking into a connection between her and Cole. So far we haven’t found one.”
“She’s not a cop?”
“No, Jen.” He took a deep breath. “Immediately after shooting Cole, she walked into the yard, confessed what she had done to an off duty SAPD officer,” he paused to make sure he used the right words, “and then took her own life.”
“What?” Jennifer sat straight up. Her eyes teared immediately.
Glade raised an eyebrow at her reaction. Jones looked at him and shrugged.
“Why?” She asked at an even greater volume.
Jones placed a hand on her shoulder. “You didn’t know her?”
Jen realized that her reaction must be confusing them. It was confusing her as well. She’d hardly known Livi. They had agreed on almost nothing. But the woman had absolutely saved her life. “Why would a stranger rescue me and then kill herself?”
A nurse rushed i
nto the room. “Everything okay in here?”
The three of them turned to look at her. Glade spoke up. “Ms. Golden just got some upsetting news.”
“Your blood pressure shot up.” The nurse shouldered her way past Detective Jones and looked at the read out on the machine. She took a moment to glare at the detectives. “Take nice, slow, easy breaths,” she said to Jennifer.
Jennifer did as she was told. Her stomach was doing flips. Her mind was churning. But somehow she got her blood pressure to settle down. Why was the only word she could focus on.
“Don’t let this happen again, gentlemen.” The nurse stared at each of the men for a full second. Both of the well-trained, armed men shrunk under her gaze.
“I’m sorry to upset you, Jen,” Jones said. “We’re as confused as you are.”
“Why would somebody do that?” She leaned back on her pillows and stared into the distance.
16
Detective Jones and his fiancée showed up at the hospital in New Braunfels the day that Jennifer was released from the hospital. She was taken to their car in a wheel chair. One of her nurses had gotten a set of scrubs for her to wear home because her clothing had either been largely destroyed, or taken into evidence.
She was sent home with instructions to make arrangements to see an eye doctor, a neurologist, a physical therapist, and a psychiatrist. All Jennifer wanted to see was her bed. As they had weaned her medication levels down, she had gotten less and less sleep in the hospital.
Recovery was exhausting.
Detective, and soon to be Mrs. Jones, helped her settle in. They offered to run to the grocery store for her since Jen hadn’t been cleared to drive. As pathetic as she felt, she was about to take them up on their offer when her doorbell rang. Her neighbor from across the street had made her a casserole and a plate of chocolate chip cookies.
Prior to that moment, their deepest connection had been pleasant greetings at the mailboxes. At that moment, Jennifer realized just how thoroughly Malcolm had been able to isolate her. Tears flowed freely out of her good eye as she thanked the lady.
