Stratagem

by Robin Caroll

  Grayson closed his eyes and silently prayed.

  “How smug will you be, Colton, when the police come and arrest you?” Pam’s voice trembled, but she kept going, moving out from behind Grayson. “When they put you on death row for three murders, if they don’t just kill you, you’ll be in a cell all by yourself. No one to bully. No one to listen to your rants. No one to care. Who would even come visit you, Colton?”

  “Aren’t you the sassy one now, Pammy?”

  How long would it take the police to get there? The weather would delay traffic, understandably, but this was ridiculous. “She’s got a point, Colton.” Grayson admired his assistant for standing up, but right now he knew Colton was at that unstable point that made him capable of anything. “Think about this. What kind of legacy are you going to leave? What will people think of when they hear your name?” Play to the ego.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Most people have children to carry on their name. You, Pam, and I don’t have that.” Put them in the same category. Make Colton relate to them personally again. “So our reputations will be all that remains from us. What are we leaving behind that people will remember us by?”

  “I’m not dying here. You two are.” Colton’s eyes narrowed.

  Another boom of thunder sounded.

  “But you’ll be in jail. No way will you walk away from this free and clear. You have to know that.”

  “Yes I will.” Colton’s words were as hard as his stare. “And I’m tired of dragging it out.” He waved the gun at Grayson. “Come on, get up.”

  Grayson struggled back to his feet. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Yes I do. You made this much harder than it had to be.” Colton motioned to Pam. “You too, Pammy.”

  She stood, visibly trembling.

  Colton must have noticed that too. “Sorry you got caught up in this. You shouldn’t have stayed late with him. If you’d gone with all the rest, you would just have to deal with losing your boss in the morning. Now, well…”

  Was that remorse creeping into his voice? Grayson took a step away from Pam, drawing Colton’s attention.

  Quick bursts of lightning sizzled across the sky, a rolling boom of thunder almost on top of it echoing in the night.

  “Look, if you take off now, leave, you’ll save yourself two more murders being on you. With just Anna Belle’s, you might not get the death sentence. You could have hope of actually getting out of prison before you die.” Grayson took another step away from Pam. “You could just run. I have some cash in my safe here. I’ll give it to you.” He took another step away.

  “It’s too late for that. The police will be here soon.”

  “Then go. Take the cash and run. Get away. Go where they’ll never find you. Start over somewhere. You’re a great sociologist, remember? You can do it.”

  “Stop psyching me, Grayson.”

  “I’m not. You can get away.”

  A clap of thunder vibrated the windows.

  Colton pointed the gun at Pam. “Time’s up, Pammy.” He leveled the gun at her. Closed one eye and tilted his head slightly.

  Boom!

  As fast as the lightning streaked, Grayson shoved Pam to the floor. It felt like a fist hit his chest, spinning him to the left. His left bicep burned immediately as he fell onto the love seat. He struggled to catch the breath that had been knocked out of him.

  Pop! Pop! Pop!

  “Grayson!” Pam’s scream pierced the storm that suddenly sounded louder than before. She knelt beside him. “Oh my gosh. You’re shot!”

  He glanced at his left arm. Sure enough, blood oozed across his shirt sleeve. Grayson felt dizzy, off-kilter.

  Brandon was beside them, pressing his jacket, somebody’s jacket, into Grayson’s arm where he’d been shot. “An ambulance is already on the way. Just be still. Hang on.” To Pam, he gave orders. “Keep this tight against the wound. We radioed for an ambulance.”

  “Brandon?” How did Brandon get inside the office? He struggled to sit up, braced against the love seat.

  Brandon gently pushed him into place. “It’s okay. You and Pam are safe. Danielle shot Colton.”

  “Good.” Pam helped hold the jacket on his arm, applying enough pressure that it started to sting.

  “He’s not dead.” Brandon offered.

  “Better.” Grayson tried to smile at Brandon, but his chest hurt. He winced and let out a little whimper. If he was shot in the arm, why did his chest hurt like blue blazes?

  “You jerk, had to be the hero, didn’t you?” Pam had tears in her eyes.

  “What, exactly, happened?” Brandon asked Pam. “Nine-one-one had patched the call through to my cell so we could keep up with what was going on, but in the last minutes, all we heard was a gunshot and your scream.”

  “Colton was going to shoot me, pointed the gun at me and pulled the trigger. I thought I was done for.” Pam cut her tear-filled eyes to Grayson. “But when the gun went off—and let me tell you, it sounded like a cannon—anyway, when it went off, Grayson pushed me out of the way. I fell to the ground, but somehow or another, he got shot in the arm.”

  “My. Chest.” He might’ve been shot in the arm, but his chest hurt worse. Grayson reached to place his hand over the area that hurt, his pocket area. A long, narrow rip was there, but in the bottom of the pocket sat the necklace of Anna Belle’s that Monique had given him. He gave a shaky smile as he pulled it out.

  It had a bullet-sized indentation in it, but it wasn’t a hole.

  “What’s that?” Pam asked.

  “The bullet must have hit that and deflected into your arm. That’s probably why your chest stings like the dickens.” Brandon turned to speak with Danielle.

  “What is it?” Pam asked again.

  “It’s a Saint Jude medallion. Monique gave it to me this afternoon.”

  “Saint Jude?”

  “The patron saint of hope and impossible causes.” He smiled as he ran his thumb over the stainless steel. “It’s Anna Belle’s.”

  In her own, crazy, do-it-her-own-way manner, Anna Belle had just saved his life.

  TWENTY-NINE

  “He was lucky.” Dr. Shannon spoke in soothing tones to Brandon and Danielle in the hall of the University Medical Center New Orleans. “As you suspected, Detective, the bullet hit him in the upper left quadrant of his torso. The stainless steel medallion he had in his pocket deflected the bullet, and it tore through his left bicep, exiting straight through.” She shook her head. “If the bullet hadn’t been deflected, it would’ve hit his heart and most likely killed him.”

  Brandon nodded. Grayson had been right—Anna Belle had saved his life in a way.

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Danielle said.

  “He’ll need rest. We have him on antibiotics, just to make sure the wound doesn’t get infected. If he does well tonight, he should be able to be released tomorrow. Midmorning or so.”

  “Will he suffer any permanent damage to his arm?” Brandon asked.

  “I don’t anticipate any.” She gripped the chart to her chest. “He might feel stiffness when there’s a storm like the one we had earlier tonight hits, and if he’s left handed, he won’t be pitching in the majors, but he should have full range of motion. I don’t even expect him to need any physical therapy.”

  “Thank you. Is it okay for us to see him now?”

  The doctor nodded. “His friend is still in there with him, but she should probably go home to clean up and get some rest. A lot of rest. She looks like she needs it pretty badly.”

  “It’s been a long evening for them. I’ll see if we can get her sent home.”

  “That would be great, and you don’t stay too long either. He needs his rest too. I’ve signed off on giving him some mild pain medication to help him sleep tonight and have instructed the night nurse to encourage him to agree to take it.” The doctor turned and strode toward the nurses’ station.

  Brandon looked at his partner. “So, I’m thinking it’s proba
bly best if I, instead of you, ask Pam to go home.” The last time the two of them had interacted, it was clear they weren’t fans of each other.

  Danielle smirked. “Well, I did just shoot Colton, so that might’ve bought me a few good points, but yeah, you go ahead and ask.” She shrugged but continued to grin. “Just know I’m willing to force her to go if need be.”

  “I have no doubts.” He laughed, hoping she was only kidding, then sobered as he rapped on the hospital door room with his knuckles before walking in. “Grayson?” He did a gut check when he saw his friend lying in the bed, a big bandage around his left arm and an IV dripping into his right hand. Grayson looked almost as pale as the white sheets he laid on.

  “Hey, Brandon.” Grayson looked at Brandon’s partner. “Danielle.”

  Brandon nodded at Pam, not quite ready to see Grayson looking so unusually pale. Then again, considering what he’d been through, maybe he didn’t look quite so bad after all. “How’re you feeling?” he asked.

  “Like I’ve been shot.” Grayson tried to laugh but winced and grabbed his chest.

  Pam shook her head and thumped Grayson’s uninjured arm. “Millions of people out of work in the United States, and you want to be a comedian on top of everything else.”

  Brandon looked at Pam, really looked at her. Dr. Shannon was right—the young woman definitely needed to clean up and get some rest. She had dark circles spreading under her eyes. Her normally shiny hair had become clumpy in the weather and laid limp on her shoulders. “Pam, I’m supposed to tell you, straight from the doctor, that you need to go home and get some rest. We’re even postponing taking your statement until tomorrow.”

  Pam opened her mouth, to protest, he was sure, but Grayson interrupted. “See, I told you. Go. Home. Take a shower, get some sleep, and eat something already.”

  “I’m fine.” But she looked anything but.

  “You definitely need a shower,” Grayson said. “I know I would give my left arm—pun intended—to be able to take a hot shower right now.”

  “There’s that attempt at humor again,” Pam said.

  “I don’t think going home was a suggestion,” Brandon said. “Not from the doctor anyway. I’m officially here to kick you out until tomorrow.”

  “You can’t make me—”

  Danielle straightened beside him. “Yes, we can. It’s doctor’s orders that Grayson gets rest so that he can heal. The patient needs sleep, which means you have to go.”

  “Like you care what Grayson needs?” Fire blazed in Pam’s eyes as she stared down Danielle.

  Thankfully, his partner didn’t become confrontational in the moment. She actually softened her voice, although her tone was just as firm. “We have to take Grayson’s statement. We’ll have to take yours as well, but we can’t take them together.” Danielle crossed her arms over her chest and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “If you’d rather give your statement now, I’m happy to take it. We can go to the waiting room or cafeteria right now. Your choice.”

  “Or,” Brandon interjected, “we can take it tomorrow morning after you’ve rested and eaten and feel a little better. You can come into the station, say about nine, and give your statement.” He softened his tone. “I’ll even buy you one of the nastiest cups of coffee you’ll ever taste.”

  Danielle snickered. “Only if he makes it.” She winked at Pam. “He makes the most horrible coffee.”

  Pam stood, her gaze darting between Brandon and Danielle, as if she was not only confused by Danielle’s obvious attempt at camaraderie but also torn as to whether she should leave Grayson alone with them.

  Grayson solved the dilemma. “I’m fine. Go. I’m going to tell them what they need to know, then I’m going to buzz a nurse to kick them out, give me that pain medicine that Dr. Shannon was kind enough to order, and get some shut-eye.”

  “Okay. But I’ll see you in the morning. I can come before I go to the police station.”

  “Don’t you dare wake me up that early.” Grayson winked at her. “I need my beauty rest, you know.”

  She nodded, hesitated, then bent down and planted a peck on his forehead. “But I’m leaving my phone number with the nurses’ station in case you need anything and instructing the nurses to call if there’s any change whatsoever with your condition.” She looked at Brandon. “I’ll see you at nine.”

  Grayson chuckled, then groaned and pushed his hand against his chest after she left. “Just wait until she remembers she can’t give her number to the nurses because her phone got shot.” He winced. “It’s been a bad week for cell phones for Pam and me. Must be some kind of record.”

  “Yeah.” Brandon sat in the chair Pam had just left, pushing it a little farther from the bed. “We can wait to take your statement tomorrow too.”

  “I’m fine. Really.” Grayson let out a slow breath as Danielle pulled up the chair from the corner. “I owe both of you a big thanks for saving my skin tonight. We both would’ve been burnt toast if you hadn’t shown up when you did. Talk about perfect timing.”

  Brandon shook his head. “Perfect timing? We were about five minutes later than we should have been because of the storm.” He nodded at his partner. “It’s amazing we made it at all, what with this one driving like a crazy woman.”

  She rolled her eyes at Grayson. “Don’t listen to him. He knows not what he’s talking about. I drove better than he could have.”

  “Speaking of crazy, how’s Colton?”

  “The doctor says his surgery went fine and he’ll be able to walk,” Danielle told him. “The bullets hit him in the knee, shattering the kneecap. They did a replacement and repaired most of the damage, but he’ll always walk with a limp.”

  “Heard you’ll be okay but not eligible for pitching.” Brandon nodded at his arm. “Does this mean you won’t have to give me strokes the next time we play golf?”

  “Not hardly.” Grayson looked at Danielle. “Thank you. All kidding aside, I’m very grateful to you.”

  “It’s my job.” But the tips of her ears reddened.

  “You could’ve hesitated, but you didn’t. Your quick thinking and reaction saved two lives tonight, and I will forever be grateful to you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Her voice wobbled, and Brandon recognized the emotional lump she tried to swallow down.

  They stared at each other for a moment, Grayson and Danielle, before he looked over at Brandon. “Now, what do you need to know?”

  On to business. Brandon pulled out his Field Notes notebook and flipped to the next blank page. “We heard a lot on the call. Pretty clever of Pam to dial in to 911.”

  Grayson nodded. “I didn’t even know she’d done it. She’s pretty clever.”

  “What tipped you off that it was Colton?” Danielle asked.

  “Loan papers he tried to trick me into signing by making me believe they were our insurance policy renewal forms. From there, it was the St. Andrews ball marker that—”

  “A what?” Brandon asked.

  “Colton and I went to play St. Andrews golf course in Scotland together a couple of years ago. We bought matching ball marker tools with magnetic ball markers. I found one stuck to the lamp in Anna Belle’s room at the rental house. I wondered at first if it was mine and she took it for sentimental reasons.” Grayson paused. “I was obviously wrong.”

  Brandon ached for what still had to be hurting his friend.

  Grayson let out a breath. “Anyway, when I got back to the office, I realized that my marker was still there but Colton’s was missing.”

  “You found a clue and didn’t tell us?” Danielle asked.

  “Yeah. About that. I’m sorry.”

  Brandon nodded. “So between the loan and the ball marker, you figured it out?”

  “That and knowing that Colton was a gambler. I mean, we all knew he liked to go to Vegas, and he always bet on every game. I didn’t realize how bad he’d gotten. I didn’t realize it was an addiction until now. But when I started piecing everything
together … He was the one who got the Deets contract but had been so adamant that I create the game, despite mine and Anna Belle’s relationship…. All the little things started falling into place, I guess.”

  Brandon nodded. Much like they had for him and Danielle as the evidence came in. “I have to admit, it seems a little strange that you’d confront him with Pam there and all.”

  “Oh, I tried to get her to leave, but as you just saw, she kind of has a mind of her own.” Grayson shook his head. “When Colton showed up, I think both of us realized something was off with him. Something bad. She tried to leave, but he wouldn’t let her. That’s when he pulled the gun.”

  Grayson shifted in the bed, then frowned and readjusted. “I don’t mind telling you, that was one of the scariest moments in my life, to look down the barrel of a gun and know the person holding it had totally taken leave of his senses.”

  “Is that your professional opinion?” Danielle winked.

  Grayson grinned back. “Yep.” He sobered. “Addicts are a little crazy. They’re desperate, and the worse off they are, the crazier they become. They’ll let nothing stand in the way of feeding their addiction, whether that’s alcohol or drugs or, like in this case, gambling. Colton wouldn’t let reason and logic stop him. All that mattered was getting the high from gambling. He needed money to pay off prior gambling debts, not because that’s what is logical but because that would allow him more credit so he could gamble again. It’s never about the debts or consequences, only about being able to feed the high.”

  “He was running out of time too.” Brandon remembered the seriousness of Big Al’s threats. “His desperation would have been at an all-time high.”

  Grayson nodded. “Which would have forced him not to wait for the loan or for me to be arrested, despite his best efforts. He needed to get enough to pay that debt so he could gamble again. He probably already had a reservation to Vegas made.”

  Brandon shook his head. “We’ll check. That’s just crazy.”

  “That’s addiction. It’s all-consuming, and as you know all too well, life-threatening.”