“Thank you.” She slipped her arms into the too-long sleeves. They descended a steep set of wooden stairs and made their way to the firmly packed sand created by a receding tide.
“I know what you mean about the beach,” she said. “I try to walk or run every day, rain or shine. But I’m still wearing Marla’s mother’s clothes. I should go back and wait for you in the lobby. I wouldn’t want them to get wet.”
He grinned down at her. “We don’t need to get into the water.
She laughed. “Ah, but that’s the fun part.”
He liked hearing her laugh and wished the circumstances of their being together could be different. Wind coming off the ocean whipped around them. Michael pulled his arms in close to his side for warmth and jammed his hands into his pockets. “And as far as waiting in the lobby is concerned, there’s no way I’m letting you out of my sight.”
Carolyn stopped, slipped off his jacket and for a moment he thought she was going to refuse to walk with him.
“Here.” She held it out to him. “You need this more than I do. I have a sweater.”
“Keep it,” he insisted. “I’ll warm up once we get moving.
She rolled her eyes. “Take it or I’ll drop it in the sand.”
Michael didn’t know whether was the blast of cold air or the determination in her voice that made him take the jacket. He was glad for it, but couldn’t resist a parting shot. “Have it your way, but don’t blame me if you catch pneumonia.” Even he had to cringe at the remark, which sounded way more like his mother than a detective.
She seemed pleased with her victory and walked on ahead of him. Michael threw on the jacket and hurried after her. He pulled up beside her just as he heard a popping noise. A gunshot.
“Get down!” He grabbed Carolyn and dove to the ground. Pain seared through his right thigh. Michael drew his Glock and aimed it toward the dunes. He fully expected a barrage of gunfire. It never came.
Several minutes later, Carolyn pushed at his chest. “I think they’re gone,” She must have turned toward him just before he tackled her as they were now lying face to face.
He pushed up with his arms and started to roll off, then hesitated. “Are you okay?”
“I will be when you get off me.”
“Sorry.” He groaned and shifted to her side intent on shielding her from the shooter. He felt certain the shot had come from the bluff above them. Thankfully he’d gotten in the way of the bullet he suspected had been meant for her.
“Stay down.” Weapon drawn, he scanned the ridge, and a nearby parking lot. Michael doubted the shooter was still out there. One shot on the populated beach was likely all the shooter could afford without being spotted. He needed to call for back-up.
“You’re bleeding!” Carolyn gasped. She lifted her bloodied hand and wiped it on her slacks.
“It’s nothing.” Ignoring the pain in his leg, he got to his knees, retrieved his cell phone and called dispatch. “Shots fired. About sixty feet north of Pacific Beach Resort at the Fifth Avenue beach access. Better send an ambulance. I’ve been hit.”
The report was about all he could manage. Feeling lightheaded, he dropped back onto his side.
“You’re losing a lot of blood.” Carolyn ripped off her sweater and wrapped it around his leg, then twisted it to make a tourniquet. Not an easy task with stretchy fabric. He winced and leaned back using his elbows for support.
“Be still,” Carolyn ordered. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Carolyn’s hands shook as she let go of the make-shift tourniquet to let the EMTs take over. Low tide had allowed the ambulance driver access to the beach. The two first responders loaded Michael into the ambulance and made room for her to ride along. Michael had asked Marla, who’d responded to the call, to keep an eye on her, but Carolyn opted to keep her eyes on Michael. He hadn’t put up too much of an argument. The EMTs had given him something for pain and the furrow in his brow gradually diminished as he gave in to sleep.
At the hospital, the ER doctor checked him out and sent him to surgery to have the bullet removed. In a scene all too much like the one she’d endured two nights ago, Carolyn undressed and handed her bloodied clothes off to a CSI tech. Instead of a hospital gown, this time the nurse gave her a pair of scrubs and told her how to get to the surgical suite.
Detective Calhoun caught up to her in the elevator. “I’ll need to ask you a few questions.”
The adrenaline that had kept her going through the ordeal had worn thin. She managed a nod. “I don’t know what more I can tell you.”
He accompanied her to the waiting area and lowered his bulky frame into a chair about two inches too small for him. Taking out a small notebook he began by asking what the two of them were doing on the beach.
The interview didn’t last long and Detective Calhoun assured her that they had a number of officers at the hospital for their protection. The reassurances didn’t do a lot to allay her fears. Her mind kept drifting back to the threat she’d gotten at the hospital on Sunday morning. Someone wanted her dead. What she couldn’t understand was how that person had known that she’d be walking on the beach with Michael.
She thought back to the CD someone had placed on the seat of Michael’s car. Even though he’d been vigilant, he’d obviously been followed to Marla’s parent’s place and to the hotel. The coral colored outfit she’d borrowed from Marla’s mother wasn’t exactly camouflage material. She’d have been easy to pick out on the beach.
Waiting for Michael to come out of surgery gave her time to think about her options. As she’d told Michael, she wanted to go home. Legally, the police couldn’t force her to comply with their wishes to keep her in a safe house. She’d learned over the past few hours that a safe environment, for her at least, didn’t exist. Apparently her stalker or would-be killer planned to use whatever means necessary to accomplish his task.
She suspected that the person who had killed Adam Burke had staged the hotel room to make it look like Carolyn had killed him. Why do that? It was almost as if he wanted her to make her suffer and terrorize her before killing her.
“Mrs. Stedman?” A man wearing scrubs came out to the waiting room. He’d pulled a surgical mask down tucked against his chin.
Carolyn started to correct him, but decided not to. A family member was entitled to information while a friend might not be. “How is Michael?”
“He made it through the surgery just fine. We were able to retrieve the bullet. He’ll have to take it easy for a week or so, but there shouldn’t be any lasting effects.”
“Thank you. When can I see him?”
“Right now.” He stepped aside as she stood. “I’ll take you back.”
She followed the doctor through a day-surgery area and up to cubicle twelve.
“As long as there are no complications, he’ll be able to go home this afternoon.”
“Really?”
“Someone will need to drive him. He’ll be under sedation for a couple more hours and then will need pain meds. In a day or two we’ll get him set up with a physical therapist.”
“I can drive him home.” Once she’s said the words, she realized it wasn’t going to be that easy. Michael’s SUV was still in the hotel’s parking garage. She had to figure out how to get it or her own car to the hospital. A simpler solution would be to have Doug or Marla pick him up.
She stopped at the nurses’ station and asked to use a phone. Her bag, or rather the purse belonging to Marla’s mother along with the burner phone Michael had given her, had disappeared in all the confusion. A crime scene tech had no doubt picked it up off the beach.
She called Marla and gave her an update on Michael. “I was hoping you could take us back to Michael’s car at the hotel. I could drive him home.”
“Sounds good. I was planning to head over there anyway. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Good.” Carolyn paused. “I don’t suppose you found the shooter.”
“No trace.”
&
nbsp; “Did Michael tell you about the CD we found in his car?”
“Doug did. Creepy. I never did like that song.”
“Song?”
“The one on the CD. I’ll be Watching You, by Sting.”
Carolyn felt as though she’d been punched in the stomach. “No wonder he was so upset.”
“You didn’t see the message? I thought you found it.”
“I didn't get a good look at it.”
“And he didn’t want you to know. I can understand that. He is so going to kill me.”
“I won’t say anything.”
“Listen,” Marla said. “I have to go fill out a couple of reports. I’ll see you in a few.”
“Um, one more thing. I’m going to need a change of clothes. Your mother’s outfit is ruined and I can’t find the purse I borrowed. I’ll repay her, of course . . .”
“Don’t worry about it. My mother won’t even miss them.” She chuckled. “Okay, an outfit for you, what about Michael?”
“He’ll need something as well. The crime lab people took his clothes.”
“Not to worry. I’ll take care of it.”
Carolyn ended the call and stepped into Michael’s post-op cubicle. He was still asleep. She settled into a chair next to the bed. He looked peaceful and Carolyn wished he could stay that way. She owed him her life. Okay, maybe not her life, but if he hadn’t stepped in front of the bullet it would have hit her in the hip—about five inches higher than where it had hit him.
Had the shooter wanted to kill her or just put her out of commission? Another question arose. Had she been the intended target or had the bullet been for Michael?
She reached up and slipped her hand into his. “Thank you,” she whispered. It felt good to have someone care about her. She’d never had that. She wondered what might have happened between her and Michael if Adam Burke hadn’t been murdered or if she hadn’t been in that hotel room. Would they have connected outside of the singles Bible study? She’d never know.
Reality check. Carolyn released his hand. Michael had done what police officers do, serve and protect the public and catch bad guys. There had been nothing personal in the way he’d given up his jacket to keep her warm on the beach or held her close when she discovered that she hadn’t killed Burke.
“Carolyn,” Michael whispered as he reached for her.
“I’m right here.” She took his hand in hers again. He’d come to his senses once the sedatives wore off, but for now she would be his friend—and maybe a little more.
Michael awoke to see Carolyn in a pair of scrubs and sitting beside him, her hand in his and her head resting on the bed.
“Hey.” He nudged her. “Wake up sleepy head.”
“Mm.” She lifted her head and for a moment her sleepy gaze drifted over him. “Oh.” She jerked upright and pulled her hand out of his grasp. “You’re back.”
“I’m glad you’re here. I was afraid you’d try to go home.”
She tipped her head to one side. “I thought about it, but I couldn’t very well desert the man who took a bullet for me. Besides, someone had to watch out for you.”
“Right.” He looked down at his leg.
Carolyn smiled. “Not to worry. It’s still attached.”
“Humph, very funny.” His thigh hurt like the blazes, but he wouldn’t be taking anything for the pain—the stuff knocked him out and he needed a clear head. He had one murder to solve and another one to prevent.
“Could you get me a pair of scrubs?” he asked. “I’d like to get out of here.”
“Marla’s working on getting clothes for both of us. You’ll be happy to know that the doctor is planning to discharge you this afternoon. In fact, Marla will be here in a few minutes.”
He frowned, “Marla?”
“I asked her to pick us up since your Tahoe is still at the hotel. She can drop me off there and I’ll drive it to your place.”
“You’ll drive?” With the sedative and pain pills still on board, he was having trouble tracking.
“Of course. The doctor said you couldn’t drive for a few days.”
Michael opened his mouth to contradict her when the curtain opened.
“She’s right about that.” The doctor who’d stopped by to see him just prior to surgery ducked in. “You’ll need to rest that leg for at least a week, preferably two.”
“Seriously? I thought it was just a flesh wound.”
“Just?” He shook his head. “I dug a bullet out of your quads. You need to give those muscles time to heal. It’s as simple as that.”
Michael ran a hand down his face. He didn’t have time for this. “How long?”
“As long as it takes. You’ll be fine as long as you don’t run any marathons. Once the stitches are out, in about a week, you can start physical therapy. Until then, rest, pain pills, ice, elevate. The nurse will give you written instructions. I’ve discharged you so, once the nurse brings in your papers, you’re free to go.”
Michael nodded and reached out to shake the surgeon’s outstretched hand. “Thanks.”
Marla, still in uniform, stepped in to the cubicle as the doctor walked out. “You two ready to go?” She held up a shopping bag and withdrew several articles of clothing which she handed to Carolyn. “I snagged these from my closet for you, but I had to stop at the thrift store to get these.” She held up a pair of sweat pants with a draw string and a t-shirt for Michael”
“A thrift store?” Michael wrinkled his nose. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not above shopping there, but I usually wash the stuff first.”
“Sorry, best I could do.”
Carolyn rose from her chair and went to give Marla a hug. “Thanks for coming. And for bringing these.”
Carolyn excused herself to change. When she’d gone, Michael turned to Marla. “What’s happening with the investigation?”
She shrugged. “As you might have guessed, we found no sign of the shooter. A couple of neighbors said they heard the shot but no one reported seeing anyone with a weapon. By the way, what were you two doing out on the beach?”
“Big mistake as it turns out. I wanted to clear my head and I nearly got us killed.”
“Hey, you couldn’t have known the shooter was out there.”
She was right, but he still blamed himself.
Carolyn entered the room having exchanged her scrubs for a pair of jeans and a long sleeved flannel shirt over a while t-shirt. She set the folded scrubs on a chair. As she straightened, her gaze came up to meet Michael’s. “We all need to talk about what happened and what we’re going to do about it. I feel like I should be off somewhere by myself so I don’t put anyone else in danger.”
“That’s crazy.” Marla said the words he was thinking.
“Marla’s right,” Michael said. “I may not be able to act as your body guard, but someone will. I’ll talk to our supervisor. See if we can’t get you round the clock protection.”
“I’m volunteering.” Marla said. “I can at least stay with you at night.”
“Thank you.”
“Listen, I have a plan,” Marla said. “We can’t go back to Carolyn’s right now. I drove by there on my way and reporters are still hovering around outside. We can’t go back to my parents’ house and not my place.” She shifted her gaze from Michael to Carolyn. “I have a theory about that. See, I don’t think we were followed per se. I think our culprit lives in the area. Pretty much anyone who saw that video knew I was with Carolyn. It would be easy enough to figure out where I would go. I grew up in that house. Since I didn’t take Carolyn home or to my place it figures I’d take her out there.”
“None of that matters now.” Michael tipped his head back. “You said you had a plan.”
Marla nodded. “It’s ingenious. Carolyn has access to the loft above the Lakeside Gallery. It’s set up for artists who need a place to crash for a few days while they work.”
“That place is right on the highway.”
“Yes. In plain sight. That may
be the safest place right now.”
“I’ve stayed there before.” Carolyn said. “Sometimes if I’m heavy into a project I don’t want to take the time to go home so I sleep, eat and work there.”
Michael shook his head. “And just how do we get her inside?”
“There’s a back entrance off the alley. We can get into the apartment without anyone seeing us.”
“I don’t know. There’s a good chance we’ll be followed when we leave the hospital. There’s no doubt in my mind that our guy knows we’re here.”
“That’s why I’m taking you to your place, Michael.”
He frowned. “I don’t see…”
“You will.”
“Okay, Mr. Stedman.” A male nurse bustled in putting an end to their conversation. “I have your discharge papers here.” He turned and gave the girls a wink. “I take it you’re here to give our patient a ride home?”
Marla nodded.
“Lucky guy.” The nurse raised an eyebrow and grinned. “So why don’t you ladies wait outside while I help Michael get dressed. Or better yet, get your car and meet me at the front entrance. I’ll need to bring him down in a wheel chair.”
“I can walk.” Michael said through gritted teeth.
“No, you can’t.”
Carolyn didn’t want to leave Michael alone and sensed he didn’t want her to go. Marla pulled on her arm. “Come on.”
“Thanks for bringing the clothes. Scrubs are comfy, but I’d much rather wear normal clothes.”
“You’re welcome.” She dug into the shopping bag again and brought out a mop of brown hair.
“A wig?”
Marla nodded and dragged her into a nearby rest room. “I can’t take you out there without some kind of a disguise. The press is all over this shooting. And you are still in the limelight.”
Deadly Deception (An Artisan Mystery Book 1) Page 6
