by Laura Scott
“Huh?” Shayla’s smile faded as the words hit home. “Oh, yes. I better check on him.”
She pulled away to go inside the cabin. He stayed where he was for a moment, trying to understand the myriad emotions tumbling through him.
The way she’d kissed him had reminded him of better times. He savored the closeness and thought there was a good possibility that they’d be able to recapture the love they’d once shared.
He entered the cabin and made his way over to the doorway of Shayla and Brodie’s room. The boy’s sobs had quieted, but Shayla continued to rock him back and forth, whispering reassurances that he would be fine and that she would stay with him for the rest of the night.
Watching them, he wished he had the ability to hold Brodie close, to battle the nightmares the day’s gunfire had brought on.
Maybe someday...
Retreating from the doorway, he moved his box of notes back onto the table and then sat to work. Knowing his family would descend upon them tomorrow meant that he needed to get his thoughts together tonight.
He wanted to present a tight theory of his father’s case to his siblings. Unfortunately the threads were convoluted and tangled, which left him with holes in the overall picture.
Following up on Donte Parkerside’s untimely death was the most likely place to start. He’d paid a fee to get access to the police report that provided scant information. The victim had been seated on the front porch of his house when the occupants of a dark-colored sports car fired several shots at him. Parkerside had taken two bullets in the chest and was pronounced dead at the scene.
Three witnesses were interviewed. One claimed the car was black. Another said it was dark green. The third said it was blue. None of the witnesses could recall a license plate number or describe any of the occupants inside the vehicle.
The location of the drive-by shooting was only a couple of blocks from where Elliot had been shot. Which didn’t prove anything other than that Elliot and Parkerside both lived in the area. Not surprising since they’d clearly been hanging out together.
Another dead end, Mike thought with a sigh.
Scrolling down the report, his gaze snagged on the name of the officer who’d taken the report.
Rafe Scarletti.
Mike straightened in his seat, his pulse racing. The same cop who’d shot Curt Elliot had taken the report on Parkerside’s murder?
A coincidence? Maybe. Cops were assigned to specific districts so it wasn’t unusual that Scarletti would be working in the area the night of Parkerside’s drive-by shooting.
But Mike wasn’t buying it. He turned back to the report of the officer-involved shooting of Elliot. The time of Elliot’s death was roughly ten thirty at night. Not too far from the normal change between the evening and graveyard shifts.
Turning back to the drive-by shooting—the time of Parkerside’s death had been ten fifteen at night.
Goose bumps rippled over his skin.
Was Scarletti working for the Dark Knights?
Mike pulled up a new document on his computer screen and began a fresh timeline, starting with Lindsey Baker’s injury, then Elliot’s shooting, along with his father’s murder shortly thereafter. He ended the timeline with Parkerside’s death by an alleged drive-by shooter.
When finished, Mike created a second timeline that included all the most recent events. He started with the night he’d witnessed Duncan O’Hare meeting with Lane Walters, followed by the drive-by shooting attempt on Shayla and Brodie outside Duncan’s home. He ended with the most recent gunfire that had occurred at Hawk’s cabin.
Reviewing the dual timelines, he found it interesting that Peter Fresno’s name hadn’t come up, other than as Duncan’s partner. The antagonistic vibe he’d got from Fresno still bothered him. Maybe Duncan was working undercover, but Fresno wasn’t aware of his partner’s activities. If Fresno didn’t trust Duncan O’Hare, it would make sense that he’d be less than cooperative when being questioned.
Or maybe Fresno just didn’t like being partnered with the chief’s son.
And his search on Ryker Tillman, Duncan’s old buddy from the academy, hadn’t given him anything, either. The guy’s address and phone were unlisted and Mike made a note to ask Miles or Matt to find the cop’s contact information.
The parallels between the two timelines were obvious. The same tactic of a drive-by shooting used on Parkerside had been repeated with the attack on Shayla and Brodie. But after that, the two timelines diverged.
The black sports car had taken shots at Shayla and Brodie, not just once, but four times. He stared at his notes for a long moment. Why had the same tactic been used so often? Ridiculous for anyone to believe a random shooting had occurred four times in as many days.
It didn’t make any sense.
He began researching other drive-by shootings and found three more in roughly the same neighborhood where Elliot’s and Parkerside’s deaths had occurred.
Writing the names of those three victims down, he began to investigate each and every one.
When he finished, he stared at the results. Only one of the victims, a woman by the name of Angelica Corbin, had been investigated by Rafe Scarletti. The same cop and the same time frame of between ten and ten thirty at night. The other two had different officers’ names.
Digging deeper, he discovered that Angelica Corbin had been accused of harming a child under her care, but the child’s death had been ruled accidental. Corbin had been out on bail, only to be gunned down by a random shooter less than two weeks later.
Mike added her to the list of Dark Knights’ victims because she certainly fitted the pattern. He didn’t agree with the Dark Knights taking the law into their own hands, acting as judge and jury by outright killing people who were likely guilty of committing heinous crimes.
Yet in a way he could understand the motivation behind the murders. It couldn’t be easy to work in law enforcement, putting your life on the line to put the bad guys behind bars only to have them released onto the street a short time later. But that was the way the system worked. The balance of justice offered everyone the fair treatment of being considered innocent until proved guilty.
What made him the most upset was that the Dark Knights hadn’t only taken down criminals. That was bad enough. But they’d crossed the line. The power they held must have gone to their heads because they hadn’t balked at killing an innocent man.
His father.
And now they were going even further by trying to kill an innocent woman and her child.
The type of people they’d claimed to be vindicating by their actions. Their intention of making the streets safe for the public to go out after dark had been shoved to the wayside.
Now their goal appeared to be to keep their activities a secret at all costs.
At midnight, Mike couldn’t keep his eyes open, so he locked up the cabin and stretched out on the sofa.
Just before sleep claimed him, he felt a deep certainty that he would soon know the truth about his father’s murder.
Bringing badly needed justice and closure to the Callahan clan.
* * *
Shayla woke early the next morning with a crick in her neck. She’d fallen asleep next to Brodie, and thankfully he hadn’t experienced any more nightmares.
Stretching out her neck muscles with a low groan, she washed up in the bathroom, then headed into the kitchen to make coffee. When the coffee was finished, she filled a mug and took a grateful sip. She carried it to the table and pushed aside a pile of papers to make room.
The computer screen flashed, revealing a document on the page. Leaning forward, she was stunned to see the timeline of recent events involving her and Brodie laid out in an objective format.
It felt creepy to read every detail about what had transpired, including the date, time and location.
“Good
morning.”
Mike’s voice startled her. Hot coffee sloshed over the rim of her mug, burning her hand. Feeling guilty, as if she’d infringed on his privacy, she turned toward him. He was sitting on the sofa, rubbing his hands over his face.
“Oh, I, uh, didn’t see you there.” Why on earth had he slept on the couch? She hastily rose. “Would you like some coffee?”
“That would be wonderful.” Mike joined her in the kitchen, leaning his hip against the counter as he accepted the mug from her hands. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He looked so attractive standing there, it was hard to focus. “I can make breakfast if you need to keep working.”
“What did you think of the timeline?” he asked.
She stared at him. “I don’t know how to answer that. It was strange to read about it as if it happened to someone else.”
He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I can see that. But it helps me to have it down in factual black-and-white terms.”
“That makes sense.” She took another sip of her coffee. “I changed my mind,” she said, abruptly changing the subject.
“About what?”
She drew in a deep breath and looked him directly in the eye. “About going to visit my dad. It’s too risky. I wouldn’t be able to stand knowing I somehow brought danger to the hospital.”
“I see.” Mike’s gaze was difficult to read.
“After the phone call last night, I decided not to go,” she added, feeling the need to explain herself.
There was a long pause before he nodded. “Okay, that’s fine.”
“Good.” She smiled in relief. “Matt brought eggs, so I’ll get started. Brodie likes scrambled eggs and toast.”
“Brodie seems to like all food,” Mike said dryly. “I thought most kids, like my niece Abby, were very picky eaters.”
“I hear that a lot from his teachers at his pre-K program,” she admitted, pulling the eggs and the milk out of the fridge. “I count my blessings that I don’t have to worry about him not eating enough nutritious food.”
Mike grinned. One of the disposable phones on the counter began to vibrate. He scooped it up before she could. “Hello?”
She couldn’t hear who was on the other side of the line, but figured it had to be Matt as he was the only one who would have had the number.
“You can head up here anytime,” Mike confirmed. “But you might want to bring food for lunch. We don’t have enough here to feed everyone.”
For some reason she was nervous about seeing the rest of Mike’s siblings. She’d met them before, but having Brodie, she knew it was only a matter of time before they figured out the boy was Mike’s son.
They were all Christians and she couldn’t help but wonder if they would look down at her for being a single mother. For having a child outside marriage. She had no idea if they knew Mike had proposed the morning after their one night together, before he’d known about Brodie, and that she’d accepted.
Their six-day engagement had to be the shortest one in history.
She stared down at her ringless left hand, remembering how he’d promised to buy her an engagement ring.
“Mommy?” Brodie’s voice from the bedroom doorway had her turning to him.
“Good morning. Let’s go to the bathroom. Breakfast will be ready soon, okay?”
“I’ll take over,” Mike said, disconnecting from the call. “Matt and the rest of the gang will be heading out shortly. Maddy and Noah have a few errands to do first, but they’ve promised to bring lunch.”
“Sounds good,” she said, ignoring the knots in her stomach at the prospect of seeing all his siblings at the same time in one place. “Come on, Brodie.”
She made sure Brodie washed up and brushed his teeth before going out to the kitchen for breakfast. Her son eagerly scrambled up onto his chair as Mike finished the eggs and buttered the toast.
“Wait, Brodie,” she said as Mike set their plates on the table. “We have to pray first.”
Brodie let out a sigh, but allowed her to hold his hand. When he readily reached for Mike’s hand, too, she smiled.
This was how it should be. All of them together, praying before their meal.
Was she wrong to dream of this for their future? She bowed her head, telling herself to leave it in God’s hands.
“Dear Lord, we ask that You bless this food we are about to eat. We thank You for keeping us and our families safe in Your care. We ask that You please guide us on Your chosen path today. Amen.”
“Amen,” she and Brodie said at the same time.
“Dig in,” Mike said to Brodie.
The little boy grinned and picked up his spoon to eat his scrambled eggs.
When they’d finished eating, Shayla busied herself with cleanup duties. Brodie played on the living room floor with his plastic cars, one eye on the cartoons on the television set. She’d just finished putting away the last of the dishes when Matt’s SUV pulled up to the front of the cabin.
Through the window she saw three of Mike’s brothers get out of the vehicle. Matt opened the back latch and Duchess jumped out. The Callahans all came toward the cabin. Her stomach did a little flip-flop as she dried her hands on a dish towel and went over to open the door.
“Come in,” she invited.
“Thanks.” Matt and Duchess came in first, followed by Mitch, who was about Mike’s size but with blond hair. Marc followed, his expression serious as he nodded at her.
“Shayla, you remember my brothers—Marc, Mitch and, of course, Matt.”
“Of course. Nice to see you again.” She twisted the towel nervously in her hand. “That’s my son, Brodie.”
Marc and Mitch glanced at the boy, their gazes curious. Duchess went over to lick Brodie, sending him into a fit of giggles. The knots in Shayla’s stomach tightened, but none of the brothers asked the obvious question about Brodie’s father.
“Hey, is that my file folder?” Marc asked, pulling a black folder out of the box. “I’ve been looking all over for it!”
“Those are my blueprints, too,” Mitch exclaimed. “Where did you get them?”
Mike raised his hands in a show of surrender. “Okay. Look, I know what I did was wrong and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken your notes and blueprints without your knowledge. But let’s look on the bright side. The fact that I borrowed them is the only reason we have everything right here at our fingertips.”
Marc lightly punched Mike on the shoulder. “You have some nerve, bro.”
“Doesn’t he?” Mitch echoed with a scowl. “The only reason I’m not punching you is because you helped me out of a jam last summer. Consider us even.”
Marc grimaced. “I guess you’ve helped us all out at one point or another. I take that punch back.”
“You can’t take it back,” Mike protested, making a show of rubbing his shoulder. “Now that we’ve all agreed to move beyond this, let’s get to work.”
The four men sat at the table, Duchess stretched out on the floor at Matt’s feet. Shayla made another pot of coffee for them, then decided it would be best to get Brodie out of their hair for a while.
“Would you like to play on the swing set?” she asked.
“Yeah!” Brodie readily abandoned his plastic cars. “I wanna swing!”
“Put the cars away first,” she instructed him. “You don’t want them to get broken, do you?”
Brodie looked as if he might argue but then nodded and gathered them into a small pile that he placed in the corner of the sofa.
“Good boy,” she said, taking him by the hand. Duchess lifted her head, watching them, but didn’t move from her position beside Matt. The Callahan brothers were in deep conversation as they pored over Mike’s timelines, and didn’t seem to notice as she led Brodie outside.
The sun wasn’t very high in the sky at mi
dmorning, but still warm on her skin. She pushed Brodie on his swing, then watched as he went down the slide over and over again.
“Swing again,” he said, pulling on the chain.
Knowing there wasn’t anything she could do to help the men inside, she obliged him by lifting him into her arms. Before she could set him on the seat of the swing, she felt someone come up behind her.
Expecting another Callahan sibling, she turned. When she saw the stranger with a gun in his hand, she froze.
“What—” she began but stopped when he shoved the nose of the gun firmly into her side.
“Don’t say a word,” he warned. “Or I’ll shoot you both right here and take my chances.”
She tightened her grip on Brodie, hoping and praying that Mike or someone else from the house would look out the window.
But they didn’t.
“This way.” The stranger with the gun urged her toward the path she’d gone down the night before.
She tried to drag her feet, but the gunman’s response was to poke her harder with the weapon. She thought she heard Duchess growl, but the sound quickly faded away. The path wound through the trees and came out in another clearing where a dark sports car was parked. She could see there was a man in the driver’s seat.
Two men against one woman and a three-year-old child. She was a little surprised neither one of them was Peter Fresno.
“Get in.”
She didn’t want to get in. She didn’t want to go anywhere with these men. But disobeying wasn’t an option. Not with the gun digging into her side.
No! Help us! Dear Lord, keep us safe!
FIFTEEN
“Rafe Scarletti, huh?” Marc said thoughtfully. “That’s good detective work, bro. I don’t think Scarletti has ever been flagged on our list.”
“Your list?” Mike echoed in confusion. Then it hit him. “The FBI’s list? The feds have been investigating the Dark Knights?”
Marc gave a brief nod. “Internal Affairs asked for our support.”
Mike was dumbfounded by the news. “Local police departments never ask for help from the feds.”
