by BJ Bourg
Tears welled up in her eyes again. “That’s terrible. I feel so bad for her. Please tell her I’m thinking about her.”
As I stared at Lily, I knew she had the same courage, perseverance, and compassion her dad had possessed. She was a survivor, for sure, and she would be just fine in time. She’d never forget about her brother and father, but she would go on and lead a productive life.
Someone nudged me from behind and I stepped out of line. “So, did you know Denny?” I asked.
“Everyone knew him. He was funny and kind.” She shook her head. “It’s not true what they’re saying about him. He didn’t do drugs. He didn’t even drink and I’ve never heard him use a curse word.”
“Where’d you hear about the drugs?”
“I heard one of the teachers tell another teacher in the office that the newspaper said he was found with drugs in his pocket.”
I grimaced. I hadn’t taken the time to read any of the articles and I wasn’t happy about the mention of drugs. While it was factually accurate—we had found drugs in his pocket—we still didn’t know the circumstances surrounding his murder and I didn’t want to paint him with a drug brush if he didn’t touch the stuff. As of right now, everyone who knew him swore he didn’t do drugs. Could it be they had all been fooled? I guess it was possible, but I wanted to believe they were right about Denny.
After speaking for a few more minutes with Lily, I slipped back into the line and made my way to the casket, where I knelt before it and bowed my head. “Denny,” I said softly, “I swear to you that I’ll bring down the person who executed you. I will never rest until it’s done.”
I stood and turned to walk down the aisle, but stopped when Uma rose from her pew and stepped into my path. Our eyes locked for a brief moment and then she broke down. She wrapped her arms around me and pressed her face to my neck, crying and begging me to catch the person who killed her son.
After telling her Dawn sent her love, I made the same promise I’d made to Denny, and I desperately hoped I could make good on it. When she let go of me, I walked down the aisle and out the door into the bright sunlight. It was a beautiful day to be buried, but Denny would never know it.
My phone rang in my pocket and I pulled it idly to my ear. “This is London.”
“It’s me,” said Daniel, my friend from the NOPD crime lab. “You’re going to owe me big time after this one.”
I grew instantly curious. “Let’s have it…”
“Firstly, my DNA team worked some magic on your pistol and the spent rifle casings. There was an attempt to wipe the pistol clean, but they found some touch DNA in the grooves on the pistol grip and on eight of the bullet cartridges.” He paused briefly, and I heard some papers rustling. “They developed a single profile on all of the samples, and the source of that deposit was a Caucasian male.”
“I need to get a sample of Zach Bailey’s DNA to you,” I said, then asked about the spent rifle casings. “Did you get a profile on those already?”
“Don’t go bragging about the turnaround time, because other departments will start expecting similar results, but, yes, I have what you need.” There was more rustling as he apparently flipped through the report. “Okay, so my team was able to extract touch DNA from one of the casings, and the profile is that of a Caucasian female.”
I nodded, then stopped dead. “Wait…did you say female?”
“Yep. You have two different shooters here, my friend.”
I sat stunned. What Caucasian female had a motive to kill Zach? There was none on my radar and I said as much.
“Thankfully, that’s your problem,” Daniel said. “Oh, and I was able to lift the serial number on that Beretta you sent up. It was tough, but I got it done.”
I pulled out a pen and a pocket notebook, still shocked at his revelation. “What’s the serial number?”
As Daniel read it out, I wrote it down.
“Did you run an ATF trace on it?”
“I did, and you’re not going to believe this.”
“Believe what?” I asked.
He read off the registration information and I cursed out loud when I heard it.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Positive.”
I thanked him and looked around the parking lot as I shoved my phone in my pocket. Cops were everywhere and I had to search the sea of heads for several minutes before I located Rachael talking to a few uniformed deputies. She was wearing dress slacks and a button-down shirt and her weapon was tucked into a leather paddle holster. I hollered until I got her attention and then waved her over.
“What’s up?” she asked when she reached me. “Did you just get here?”
“We have to find Murray and we have to go,” I said, walking briskly toward my truck. “Who’d you come here with?”
“Melvin.”
“If it’s okay with you, can you tell him you’re leaving with me?”
She nodded and picked up her cell phone, shot a text message to Melvin.
Once we reached my truck, I called Murray’s phone. “Can you meet me at your office within the hour?” I asked.
“I guess, but can it wait? I’m on my way to Denny’s funeral.”
When I told him it was about the case and it couldn’t wait, he didn’t hesitate. “I’m turning around now,” he said. “I’ll be there inside of thirty.”
CHAPTER 40
Little Rock, Arkansas
Bright lights caressed the outsides of Dawn’s eyelids and she lifted an arm to shield her face. When she did so, she slid off the side of the chair and yelped as she crashed to the hard floor. She sprang to her feet and glanced around, embarrassed and hoping no one had seen her. She wasn’t so lucky. Her dad and brother were bent over in laughter, pointing at her and saying they wished they’d had a video camera.
Grumbling, Dawn dusted off her bottom and scanned the private waiting room. It looked like the clock on the wall showed ten o’clock in the morning, but that couldn’t be right. She shook her head and checked it again—still ten. “Did I really sleep that long?”
“Yep.” Darby grinned like he used to when he’d fart in the car as a young boy. “And you snored the entire time.”
“I don’t snore!” Dawn felt her face redden. Her fear of snoring had been the only reason she never allowed herself to fall asleep next to London. She had come close a few times after they’d had sex and she had been extremely tired, but she’d forced herself to get up and leave. The only time she’d slept over was before they started dating, but she had slept in his room and he had crashed on the coach. Even then she had worried he might hear her snoring from the next room, and the mere thought of it had mortified her. While no one had ever told her she snored, she was worried she’d take after her mom, whose mouth would droop open and she’d make the most god-awful sounds while she slept.
Her dad nodded his head. “I’m sorry, rat, but you snore like your mom.”
Dawn winced inwardly, but then suddenly realized their mood was different—upbeat. She glanced toward the door. “What’s going on? Has there been news?”
“Doctor Ginger came in an hour ago and said the fever broke and your mom’s starting to feel better.” Evan cocked his head to the side. “It’s still too early to tell if the treatment is taking, but she said those are good signs.”
“Why didn’t you guys wake me up?”
“We couldn’t visit her yet and it was the first real sleep you’ve gotten in days, so we just left you alone,” Evan said.
“Besides,” Darby added, “we didn’t want the show to end.”
Dawn grunted, but smiled. For the first time since they’d arrived at the hospital, she felt a real sense of optimism. From what she’d read online about the treatment, the most dangerous time period of the whole process was during the few days following the initial application. She’d read how several patients had died during trials and the program had almost been shut down, but the results were so promising that many people were willing to ri
sk an accelerated death to have a real shot at life. The word “cure” had been thrown about the article, but the reporter had interviewed specialists who warned it was way too early to start hailing it as such.
Within a few minutes, a nurse came into the waiting room and escorted them to her mother’s room. Dawn felt a huge sense of relief when she stepped inside and saw her mom propped up on a pillow with a tray of food in front of her.
“How’re you feeling?” Dawn asked.
“Much better than earlier.” Her mom’s smile was brave, but then it faded to a frown. She reached out and gently touched Dawn’s face and Dawn nearly gasped out loud when she felt how cold her mom’s hand felt. “I’m so sorry for what I told you this morning.”
Dawn was confused. “Wait…this morning?”
“Yeah, when I told you to let me die.” She shook her head. “I should’ve never put that kind of pressure on you.”
Dawn started to tell her that the conversation had taken place three days ago, but then realized it might cause her mom to think something was wrong. So, instead, she just smiled and said it was okay, making a mental note to ask someone about it later.
They were allowed to visit for about thirty minutes and then the nurse suggested they let Priscilla rest for a time. When they were back out in the hallway, Dawn requested a conference with Doctor Ginger.
“I’ll page her and have her meet you in the waiting room,” the nurse said, pleasant as always.
“She’s lucky I’m not single,” Darby said as they walked down the hallway. “I’d be all over—”
“Don’t say something that you don’t want Heidi to find out about later,” Dawn warned. “Because I will tell her.”
Darby’s mouth clamped shut and he lowered his head as though she’d wounded him. “Is this about the snoring comment? Because I was only joking.”
“No, it’s about keeping you from saying things that’ll get you in trouble.”
They didn’t have to wait long for Doctor Ginger to join them, and Dawn noticed immediately that the doctor’s face was beaming and there was a bounce in her step.
“Good news,” she said. “Your mom is now stable. She made it through the danger zone, and now it’s only a matter of time before we know if the treatment is going to be effective.”
Dawn asked about the confusion and Doctor Ginger said it was normal.
“When can she go home?” Evan asked.
“We want to keep her here overnight for observation, but”—she smiled—“if her condition continues to improve, she can go home tomorrow.”
Darby slapped Evan’s back and let out a holler, and they then embraced.
“I understand there will be follow-up visits. When will she have to come back?” Dawn asked.
“We’d like to see her back here in a week. Depending on how she’s progressing at that point, we’ll either see her again in one or two weeks.” She took a breath and exhaled, crossing her fingers. “Once we reach the one-month mark, we’ll know if she’s in remission.”
Dawn nearly sank to the floor in relief, but quickly regained her composure. She had to remind herself that there was still the chance the treatment didn’t take effect and her mom might go right back to fighting for her life. But, for now, she’d just revel in this moment and enjoy every second she had with her mom.
CHAPTER 41
Drug Task Force Building, Mathport, LA
Once Rachael and I were seated across from Murray, he spread his hands on the desktop. “Okay…what’s so important that it couldn’t wait?”
I flipped through the pages on my pocket notebook until I found the page that had the serial number I’d received from Daniel. “The crime lab was able to lift this serial number from the murder weapon we recovered in Zach’s car.”
Murray studied the number. “Did they run a trace on it?”
“Yeah…it came back registered to the sheriff’s office.”
I saw realization slowly spread across his face. “Son of a bitch! This Beretta has to belong to a SWAT member, because the only Berettas the sheriff bought were assigned to all team members.”
“Exactly.” I stabbed the notepad with my index finger. “I need to know if you assigned this pistol to any of your operators and—if you did—we need to find out if they can explain how it ended up in Zach’s car.”
“Damn, this ain’t good, London.”
“Did any of them report their pistol stolen?” I asked.
“None of my operators did.” Murray grunted. “Whoever it belongs to, they’d better have a damn good explanation for how it ended up in that drug dealer’s hands.”
“You didn’t assign any weapons to the members of Alpha Entry Team, did you?” Rachael asked.
Murray shook his head. “That would’ve been Buster. I only assign weapons to Bravo Team.”
Rachael turned to me. “We need to get Alpha Team’s records, too.”
“I can get them,” Murray offered. “They’ll be filed in the same place as mine over in property management.”
“Can you get copies without raising any eyebrows?” I asked. “I don’t want anyone knowing about this until we figure out who it belongs to.”
“Yeah…I’m always making copies of transfer sheets and invoices.”
Something occurred to me and I sank back into my chair, wondering if we were on the right track. Could it be that Daniel had made a mistake?
“What is it?” Rachael asked, recognizing the look on my face.
“Denny was killed with round-nose bullets.” I smashed the magazine release button on my Beretta and pulled it out, held it for Rachael and Murray to see. “We only carry hollow-point bullets. If Zach somehow got his hands on one of our pistols, Denny would’ve been shot with hollow-points.”
Murray was thoughtful. “We had training the Friday night before the murder…”
“And?” I asked when he allowed his voice to trail off.
“Some of the team members have been known to leave the range with full-metal-jacket bullets still loaded in their magazines,” he said. “I’m constantly preaching to them to put their duty rounds back in their weapons, but not everyone listens. If Zach got his hands on one of their pistols right after our training Friday night, there’s a good chance it was still loaded with practice rounds.”
I drummed my fingers on the desk. “I find it hard to believe any cop would go five days without noticing his pistol missing.”
“You think a cop’s involved?” Rachael asked.
“At this point, I don’t know what to think.” I stood and nodded at Murray. “Can you call me as soon as you get those files?”
“Sure thing.”
“Oh, and keep this under wraps,” I warned. “We don’t know who’s involved yet, so we don’t want to tip off the wrong person.”
He nodded his understanding and stood to walk us out, stopping in the doorway. “London, there’s one more thing.”
I turned to face him. “What’s that?”
“Buster’s been trying to call me all night and he’s already called six times this morning. Did you tell him I told you about Denny?”
“No.”
He nodded. “Thanks.”
When Rachael and I were seated in my truck, I headed south toward Seasville.
“What’re we doing next?” she asked.
“I want to meet with Zachariah again and try to convince him to put me in touch with Zach.”
“What about this white female whose DNA is on the rifle casing?” Rachael asked. “Who the hell could that be?”
I shook my head, at a complete loss. “That certainly throws a wrench into my theory that Buster took the shot at Zach. Maybe Zachariah can shed some light on who might want Zach dead.”
“I might have an idea,” Rachael said slowly. “But it’s a long shot and it’s only a hunch.”
I glanced sideways at her. “What is it?”
“I need to check on one thing before I say anything about it,” she said. “I don�
�t want to cast aspersions on anyone until I know for sure what I’m talking about.”
I was curious, but her jaw was set and it looked like she was determined to keep her mouth shut until she had satisfied her own curiosities.
“Will it put you in danger?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Not even a little. It’s a small thing and I need two or three hours to find out.”
“Okay. Where do I need to drop you off?”
“Bring me home so I can get my car and then I’ll take it from there. I’ll call you sometime after lunch and we can meet back up.”
I studied her smooth, tanned face and a troubling thought crept into my mind. She was a Caucasian female and she owned a sniper rifle. But what would her motivation be for making an attempt on Zach’s life? Could she be that close to Uma?
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You’re looking at me all weird-like.”
“It wasn’t you, was it?”
“Me what?” she asked, her mouth suddenly open in shock. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“Did you shoot Garland?”
She laughed. “No, I didn’t shoot anyone. Thanks to you, I learned about bullet drop two days before the shooting. So, if it would’ve been me, I would’ve hit Zach right between the eyes.”
Since I’d seen her shoot, I couldn’t argue.
CHAPTER 42
“Why, hello, Detective Carter,” Zachariah said when I banged on his door an hour later. He seemed fidgety and there was perspiration on his forehead. “I was just about to call you.”
Sure you were, I thought, but said, “Well, you go first then, and I’ll tell you why I’m here afterward.”
He stepped back and waved for me to enter, then shut the heavy door behind us. “Please, come into my office.”
I followed him to his office and, once we were seated at the desk, he fidgeted with his phone and pulled up a voicemail. “I received this not long ago,” he said. Setting the phone on the desktop between us, he leaned back and stared at it while it played.
