by LAURA HARNER
“Sweetheart, I know you want to help, and I believe you when you say you're good with a gun—but we need to keep things calm until help arrives.”
“Save the spiel and the 'keep the civilian safe' routine. I've studied thousands of hours of these types of scenarios—I won't do anything stupid. Considering our location, it's a toss up whether Marcus or the cops show up here first. I doubt Kendrick will wait, so you tell me what you need for backup.”
Even in the dark, Patti could see the set of his jaw, the broad line of his shoulders, and the confident way he held the gun. She nodded once. “With only two of us, we can only monitor so much of the space. The doors and windows are locked. Head to the window near the back door. Stay out of range, just try to see into the backyard as best you can. Snap your fingers if you see him. I'll do the same out front. If he comes through a door with a weapon, I'll try to give him a warning, but I will shoot to kill. You understand me, RJ? Get the fuck out of the way if there's shooting. If something happens to me, don't you fucking hesitate. Aim right at his chest and kill the bastard.”
“Yeah. Got it.” He took a step closer, threaded his fingers into the hair on the back of her head and jerked her forward. After a hard press of his lips against hers, RJ said, “Stay safe.” Then he spun on his heel and headed toward the back door.
She only had a moment of regret for putting RJ in this situation, but if he was all the backup she was going to get, she had a feeling he was pretty damn good for a civilian. Moving quickly, she half-ran toward the front door, only to pull up short when the sound of a loud bang on the heavy wooden door froze her where she stood. There was another thud, as if someone was hitting the doorknob with a bat or log. The third crack broke the frame near the handle enough that a swift kick had the door swinging open. Okay, definitely not the cavalry.
Patti's gun was steady as she aimed toward the man framed in the doorway. If she hadn’t been certain of his intentions before, the gun in his hand made the situation deadly clear, now. “Don't move or I'll shoot,” she said, her voice and hands steady.
Time shifted to freeze frame mode as the man followed the sound of her voice, his body seeming to move in incremental shifts. First his head, then his shoulders, finally his hips and legs turned in her direction, his hands by his sides.
“Michelle? Oh my God, you’re alive! It's me, Frank.” His head swiveled around, as if he was expecting to see Annie somewhere in the room. “I'm not going to hurt you anymore. I'm just here for Annie. Just here for—”
“Sir, I repeat, do not move or I'll shoot. Drop your weapon and put your hands behind your head.”
“Bitch!” His voice rose to a near-scream. There was a sound of an engine and Kendrick was suddenly illuminated by a flash of headlights as a vehicle pulled into the drive. He glanced over his shoulder, then back in Patti's direction. “You always have to have the last fucking word. Not this time.” In a single motion, the man raised his arm, the silhouette of a gun clearly visible.
Patti pulled the trigger. Twice. Kendrick's arms jerked and his gun went flying as he crashed backward into the shattered door. Keeping her gun trained on him, she barked an order at RJ to stay where he was and she did the same. After the rapid fire of gunshots in such a confined space, she wasn't sure he would hear her, but she didn't want to risk either of them coming under friendly fire from whoever had just arrived.
Kendrick was splayed against the splintered remains of the front door. Still keeping her weapon aimed, Patti slowly approached the body. She heard Marcus as if he was very far away, calling her name, asking if everyone was okay. With a quick glance toward the outside, she saw, much to her relief, that Marcus stood in the entryway, his weapon also drawn and pointed.
“Was he alone? Are Annie and Grant okay?”
Patti nodded. “In the closet, master bedroom. The rest of the house was secured.”
“Walker, go make sure the kid and her dad are good, but keep them from coming out here. We don't want to contaminate the scene. Pollack, clear the rest of the house, confirm it's empty. “
After a long minute, the woman who was apparently named Pollack stepped back into the living room. “All clear, boss. Walker has the others in the bedroom.”
Marcus holstered his weapon, then turned and looked pointedly at hers. “You can lower your weapon, Patti. He's not going anywhere,” Marcus said. “You, too, RJ.”
Patti's gaze went to RJ for the first time since the shooting and saw his arms were extended, the gun gripped in a two-handed hold, his gaze steady, focused on the unmoving body of Franklin Kendrick.
“Both of you, put your weapons on the table and let's move you over here.” He guided her away from the body, toward the kitchen. “Graeme is maybe fifteen minutes behind me, and the local sheriff should be here in a few. Hang on…”
Marcus's next words were directed to his radio. “Jo, the scene is clear. Kendrick's not going to be a problem anymore. You might want to give Cade or Carter a call and see if one of them can meet us on scene. I think we might need a little legal advice. Yeah, multiple gunshots while he was in the act of aiming his weapon.”
“Two gunshots,” Patti automatically corrected. “I fired my weapon twice.”
Marcus stepped over and studied the body. “This was more than two bullets, Patti. You need to think before the cops arrive. Play the scene over in your head, you want to get your statement right the first time.”
The sound of shaky laughter drew her attention to RJ. He'd placed the gun down and now gripped the counter as if the heavy granite was the only thing holding him upright.
“I…fired…” He cleared his throat. “I fired two shots as well.” Then RJ's shoulders started to spasm in a telltale motion and he half-sobbed, half-gagged, before losing the undigested remains of his spaghetti dinner in the sink.
As Patti started to move toward him, he raised a hand and shook his head, clearly not wanting her to come any closer. Before she could say anything, the sound of approaching sirens seemed to surround the cabin. This was going to be a very long night.
Chapter Nineteen
Back at work a day early from her vacation, Patti sat at the duty desk in the cavernous lobby of the main ranger operations building and wondered what in the hell she was thinking. The sixty-year-old cinder block construction was, in her opinion, a lesson in how the NPS preservation mission could go horribly wrong. Sure, there was a good reason to ensure there were prime examples of the post World War II Mission 66 re-building program in national parks. Especially the visitor's centers. A generation of Americans identified family vacations with the “modern” style of the boxy buildings placed prominently in many of the nation's parks and battlefields.
The Grand Canyon example wasn't prime, and nowadays, it was more than a mile away from where the new visitor center had been located several years ago. Currently, the space beyond the lobby was divided into a warren of offices and cubicles, with inadequate lighting, climate control, and wiring so old you ran your computer at your own risk. And don't get her started on the frequency of calls to the IT department to report network failures.
In truth, Patti rarely spent much time in the headquarters building. Although she'd worked at the park for years, she'd held several positions, ranging from law enforcement to EMT, and none of which required her to fill an entry-level position waiting at a counter for the random lost tourist to wander inside. Unfortunately, according to the freshly printed work schedule, she would be sitting here for the foreseeable future.
The variety of jobs she’d held seemed to be causing some consternation between the Sedona sheriff and prosecutor and her immediate supervisors. Always on the lookout for a cause, after twenty-four hours of bureaucratic vacillation, the labor union, and several special interest groups started to contact her, willing to intervene on her behalf. The crazy thing was, they all seemed to agree that she had pulled her weapon and fired in a clear case of self-defense, but until all of the big dogs quit their public posturing, she was as
signed to sit at a desk largely out of the public eye.
One of the problems with spending all this time indoors was that it left her with nothing to do and too much time for thinking. Not that she didn't normally think…but she never had this much uninterrupted time to think about the sorry fucking state of her life.
Just as the pity party was set to take off, the glass front doors opened and Patti heaved a quiet sigh before plastering a smile to her face. Regardless of her spirits, she was the consummate professional. The visitors to a national park were sacrosanct and she'd never forgive herself if her own foul mood diminished anyone's special day at the park.
“Hey, Red, why so blue?” The familiar voice brushed back the threads of her depression.
“Gabe? What the…heck? Oh, honey, it's so good to see you.” She ran from behind the desk and he scooped her into his arms and spun her around before setting her back on her feet. Behind her a door snicked quietly closed. She glanced over and saw Marjorie Whitehorse grinning at her.
“Hey, Patti, I was just coming to relieve you for lunch, but if you want the afternoon, it's okay by me.”
She glanced at Gabe, and he nodded. “I've got some time, I was on my way to the club from the lake house, thought I'd stop by.” She laughed, delighted at the outrageous lie—since the lake in question was three hours south.
“Sure, Marj, thanks. See you tomorrow.” Before anyone could come chasing after her to tell her differently, Patti snatched her flat hat from the coat rack near the door and hustled Gabe outside. Twenty minutes later they sat at a small table, enjoying the most spectacular view on earth.
After placing their order, Gabe took one of Patti's hands, tugging slightly as he forced her to look up at him.
“As good as the view is”—Gabe jerked his head toward the window, but his gaze never left her face—“it’s not why I drove all this way. I want to know how you're doing, Red. You’re pale with dark circles under your eyes. I’m betting you’re not sleeping. Tell me what's going on?”
“Sheesh, who said doctors don't still make house calls? Are you treating Annie? Is she okay?” Patti asked. It wasn't only a ruse to take the focus from her; she really needed to know how the little girl was coping. In the aftermath of the shooting, Patti had heard the child's hysterical screams coming from the bedroom, but had been unable to go to her. Patti had been invited downtown to answer questions before Kendrick's body had even been removed. It had been daylight before she was free to leave, but by then Grant and Annie had been packed up and whisked away by Enwright's people.
Gabe dropped her hand, picked up his glass of iced tea, and then leaned back in his chair. Waiting. She was usually so much better at that game than he was. Unable to meet his gaze, she tried tapping her fingers on her glass, then restlessly fiddled with the spoon. Finally, she looked up and smiled.
“You win. Bastard,” Patti whispered, her voice full of affection.
“Well, yes, but you already knew that. I'll answer your question, once you answer mine, honey.”
Patti nodded. Fair was fair, and Gabe had driven all the way up from Phoenix to check on her. “You’re right, I'm not sleeping well. I've had some nightmares, my appetite is sketchy at best. The situation at work is weird because no one can decide if they should treat this as an officer involved shooting—with all the accompanying support and counseling or like an accident I was involved in while on vacation. Meaning, they hope my insurance covers it.” Patti wound to a stop.
Neither of them spoke, and she knew Gabe was letting her process her feelings about the shooting. Patti stared into the amber depths of her glass of tea. With a sigh, she tried to put her feelings into words that would make sense.
“Mostly, I don't care what work decides. I don’t care what the prosecutor decides. I did the right thing. I know that. Sitting at a desk instead of heading into the canyon is killing me. Not talking to Grant or RJ is killing me. Leaving Annie without so much as a goodbye hug is killing me. And I think maybe staying in this job is killing me, too.”
The sting of tears was an unwelcome surprise. She wasn't a crier. Never had been. So why was this mess leaving her teetering on the edge of a sobbing breakdown?
Before Gabe could reply, the server interrupted the moment by setting their sandwiches on the table, refilling their drinks, then hurrying off to the next table.
“This looks delicious,” Gabe said. “Let's eat.”
Patti raised a brow. “Eat? You force me to bare my soul? Admit things I didn't even know I felt? And now you want to eat?”
“Yep. Doctor's orders,” he said, then took a bite of his sandwich.
Tempted to throw her food at her infuriating friend, Patti took a giant bite of her sandwich in order to block the scream threatening to escape. Glaring at Gabe, she chewed then swallowed, barely tasting the smoked brisket. He said nothing, just kept eating, a half-smile curving the corner of his mouth as he chewed. She took another bite. Then another. At some point, she realized she was no longer looking at Gabe but focused entirely on her plate.
“Damn, this is good,” she mumbled around another mouthful.
When the waiter returned with a giant portion of the restaurant’s famous seven-layer chocolate cake, along with two forks and two cups of coffee, Patti couldn't decide if she wanted to kiss the server or Gabe, so she focused on the decadent treat instead. When she'd down a full third, she dropped her fork onto the plate with a clatter.
“Ugh…I ate too much.” She picked up her coffee and sipped the strong brew. With a deep satisfied breath she sat back and met Gabe's gaze across the table. “Thank you.”
“Just returning the favor, Red. It wasn't that long ago that we sat in that bar over there”—he jerked his thumb over his shoulder—“and you pulled me out of the bottle. You saved my life that night and set me on the path back to Diane and Uriah. I won't ever forget.”
With a quick nod of acknowledgement, Patti swallowed hard, then got to the truth of what was breaking her heart. “I don't think it's going to happen for us, Gabe. Uriah and Di…they wanted you. They loved you and just needed you to see the truth. I think maybe…” Patti stopped to clear her throat. There wasn't another person alive she would say this to, but maybe if she said it out loud, she'd be able to move on with her life.
“RJ always craved a normal life. He grew up dirt poor and pretty ashamed of his background. His dad mostly followed the lettuce crop, picking up other odd jobs, while his mom cleaned motel rooms and houses. He always wanted something more…normal. Something he could brag about at the office. You know, the wife, kids, and picket fence. He never believed a long-term ménage was possible. Even a permanent relationship with another man was too far outside his comfort zone. I'd really hoped that, after all this time, our reunion might give us the fresh start we needed. But here Grant already had a daughter. That was something we hadn’t expected. And RJ?” She smiled at the many memories of RJ and Annie.
“Last weekend, I think RJ finally came to terms with his feelings for Grant. And Grant and Annie both love him so very much. I think…a threesome lifestyle can be hard. You know that better than most. I would rather the three of them be happy together, make their family. That poor girl has been through just too much in her short life to add any more drama.”
Gabe picked up his coffee and watched her over the rim while he sipped. His eyes were narrow, sharp lines fanning back from the corners. He would tell her what he was thinking soon enough, but she felt the need to brace herself, because she could sense the storm brewing within her old friend. It didn't really matter what he said—she'd made the right decision for everybody. It was time for Grant and RJ to move on together—and for Patti to accept it herself.
Without a word, Gabe set the cup down on the table and signaled for the check. He reached for his wallet and slid his credit card into the leather folder as soon as their waiter arrived.
The suspense was killing her. “Aren't you going to say anything?”
“Me? No, it so
unds like your mind is made up. Far be it from me to try to change your decision. You ready?” Patti blinked, feeling like she must have missed something.
“Uhm…wait! You never answered my question about Annie.”
“Oh, sorry. Since I'm her physician, there's only so much I can tell to non-family members, but she's reacting as you might expect after two traumatic events occurring so close together. Grant is doing his best, but, as you can imagine, it's a bit of a struggle by himself. I think he's pretty well exhausted, too.”
“What? What happened? Why isn't RJ with them? Oh my God, is he okay?”
“RJ? I think the phrase 'as well as can be expected' applies to him as well. I saw him, briefly, yesterday. Enwright Security is working to arrange some post event counseling; however, he's not sure how much longer he's going to remain in the valley.” Gabe stood to accept the folder, signed the check, and returned his credit card to his wallet.
Pushing her chair back, Patti stood and moved close enough to whisper into Gabe's ear. “You are a goddamn sonofabitch.”
Nodding, he said. “I am. Now do you want to take a walk along the rim and discuss how you're going to fix this? Or would like to go back to your house alone and lick those wounds?”
Chapter Twenty
Grant pulled his daughter into his lap, smoothed the strawberry blonde curls, then kissed the tears from Annie's cheeks while he waited for his racing heart to slow. God, the screams that woke him each night were horrible and he could only imagine the scenes playing out in her sleep. Never waking fully, Annie's small body released the tension, relaxing against his chest, and given their experiences this last week, he knew she'd drifted back into a deeper sleep.
