Deadly Target (Detective Sarah Spillman Mystery Series Book 6) Page 6

  “Diane.” Spats leaned in and gave her a little hug.

  Diane was joined by Hunter, Sarah’s younger brother. His blue eyes held fear.

  He nodded at Ernie and Spats. “Hey, guys.”

  “Thanks for coming,” Diane said, her normally strong voice shaky. “Did Chief Follett tell you Sarah’s in surgery?”

  “Yes,” Ernie nodded.

  “I’m just … stunned.” Diane bit her lip to keep her emotions in check.

  “So are we,” Ernie said, “but you know Sarah’s a fighter, so I’m sure she’ll pull through.”

  “I … haven’t told the boys yet,” she said. “Tim and Max love their Aunt Sarah, and they’ll be crushed if …” Her voice trailed off. “Aaron’s home with them now. I told him not to say anything until I had an update.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Spats said.

  Ernie glanced at the couple who were sitting with Harry.

  “Oh, you remember our parents.” Diane turned around. “Gail and Kent.”

  Harry and the couple stood up. Ernie and Spats both gave Gail a short embrace. Both detectives had met Sarah’s parents at a police function a few years back, when Sarah received a Police Merit Award for solving the murder of a teenager in West Denver. Harry and Kent shook hands with Ernie and Spats. Harry didn’t say a word, but Kent stared at the detectives, his expression stony.

  “What do you know about her shooting?” he asked in a strained voice.

  Ernie frowned. “It’s too early to tell. We had two other shootings around the same time, and we’re not sure if they’re all related.”

  “That’s awful,” Gail said. She wasn’t quite as tall as Diane, with short gray hair and blue eyes that she dabbed with a tissue.

  Kent pinched his nose and sighed. “I’ve always known police work can be dangerous; your hope is it doesn’t hit this close to home.”

  “It’ll be all right.” Harry nodded curtly. “Sarah will be fine.” The tone was hesitant, said with strained confidence.

  Gail stifled a ragged sob, and Hunter took her arm, then he and Harry sat down with her. She worked nervously at the tissue in her hand. Ernie looked on, feeling helpless.

  “Can I get you anything?” Spats asked Diane. He looked to Sarah’s parents. “Coffee, maybe, or a soda?”

  “That’s nice of you to offer,” Diane said. “Mom. Dad. Anything to drink?”

  They shook their heads. Kent finally sat down, and Ernie and Spats stood to the side, and everyone was quiet. The crushing silence was broken only by occasional voices from hospital staff down the hall. Ernie looked up at a muted TV in the corner. A news channel was on, but the reporters didn’t seem to be talking about the shootings. Follett finally made eye contact with the detectives and nodded his head for them to follow him. They went outside and stood in the cool evening.

  “Fill me in on your investigations,” Follett said.

  Ernie and Spats alternated the narrative and gave him the details. When they finished, Follett was grim.

  “Any other shootings after the man at the gym?” he asked.

  “No,” Ernie said.

  Follett rubbed his chin. “No clear motives so far?”

  “None,” Spats said.

  Follett glanced through the door. “It’s routine, but Rizzo talked to Harry, and he looks to be in the clear. He was on the phone with one of his co-workers as he drove home, and then he went into the house. I’m sure you can check his phone records for the time and verify the call with the co-worker.” They could see Harry sitting beside Sarah’s parents. He had his elbows on his knees, and he stared at the floor, not moving. “I believe him,” Follett said. “I don’t buy that he’d be behind something like this.”

  “I don’t either,” Ernie said.

  “Everyone was shot at long range, correct?” Follett asked.

  Spats nodded. “It looks that way. We’re gathering a lot of information right now, and then we’ll have to see if these shootings are connected.”

  Follett’s eyes narrowed. “How would Sarah be connected to those other two? Any preliminary indication?”

  Ernie shook his head. “Not so far.”

  Follett glanced at his watch. “You two should go home and get some sleep. There’s really nothing you can do here, and it’s going to be a long few days, I would think.”

  Ernie gestured inside. “Let me say goodbye to them first.”

  Spats nodded agreement, and they walked back into the waiting area. They gave their condolences to the family again, then Ernie looked at Harry. He was still staring at the floor. He sensed something and looked up.

  “Hey Ernie, Spats.” He could barely find his voice. He stood up and moved with them to the other side of the room.

  “Harry, I don’t know what to say,” Ernie murmured.

  “I don’t, either.” Harry hiked his shoulders. “Sarah seemed so invulnerable.”

  Spats touched his arm. “She’s the strongest woman I know. She’ll make it through this.”

  “I hope so,” Harry whispered.

  No one said anything for a moment. Follett moved away, his eyes on the TV in the corner.

  Harry looked at Ernie, then to Spats. “You guys were talking about me. I know you have to check, but I didn’t have anything to do with this.”

  “Of course not,” Spats said.

  Ernie shook his head slowly. “Parts of this job can suck.”

  Harry let out a bitter laugh. “Maybe, but I know you all love it. Sarah does, too.”

  “We’re going to find whoever did this,” Ernie said emphatically.

  “Count on it,” Spats agreed.

  Harry had balled fists at his sides. “If you don’t, I will.” His eyes blazed.

  This was a side of Harry that Ernie had never witnessed. He and Spats would have to ask Harry more questions about Sarah and her shooting, but now clearly wasn’t the time.

  “How about we catch up with you tomorrow?” Ernie asked.

  “Yeah. You can come by the house, look at Sarah’s laptop, and anything else you might think is important.” Harry shook Spats’ hand, then Ernie’s.

  “Someone will keep you posted,” Ernie said.

  “Right.” Spats gave him an encouraging smile.

  Harry looked at both of them. “I left work a little after five, and I was on the phone with Jim Wallace as I drove home. You can call the office and talk to him.”

  “Thanks,” Ernie said. Harry had taken the awkwardness out of having to ask him for his alibi, although Ernie was quite certain Harry had had nothing to do Sarah’s shooting.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Harry said.

  He went back to Sarah’s family, and Ernie and Spats left.

  Chapter Eleven

  I feel like I’m swimming, my arms pulling, my legs kicking, but I’m not getting anywhere. The water seems thick, almost like Jell-O. I hear voices, but I’m not sure I recognize them. Is it a man? Harry? And maybe Diane? Someone’s telling me to hang on, that things are good, that it’s not fair that I go now.

  Hunter is there, too. He’s such a kind person, and I adore him. I don’t see him as often as I should. Is it too late now? Between his job and mine, there never seems to be enough time. He’s saying something, but I can’t tell what.

  I can hear my dad, he’s telling me that it’ll all be okay, that I should fight. He’s a stoic man, not one to say much about feelings. But he sounds sad. My mother is crying, just crying.

  And there’s Uncle Brad. But wait – Uncle Brad’s dead. He died when I was eight years old. Why is he here? He looks the same as he always did, the last time I saw him, in shorts and a black shirt. Smiling at me.

  Harry. Oh Harry, I was walking home. I don’t know what happened. I was thinking about you. I was going to see you! And then something hit me. I don’t know what it was, but it jolted me, and it really hurt.

  Voices continue to call to me, telling me don’t leave, please don’t leave. But where am I? And where would I be going? Som
eone says I love you.

  I love you, too.

  The darkness envelops me again.

  “It’s taken care of.”

  “Just like we discussed?” The voice on the phone was deep and authoritative, not one to be crossed.

  The man sat on the edge of the bed, his phone to his ear, a bottle of water in his other hand. That was all he would allow himself now, nothing to dull his senses.

  “Everything went off without a problem,” he said. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  “I live well because I worry.” The voice on the phone wasted no time. “You’re sure no one saw you?”

  “Absolutely. I dropped the car off where I rented it, after hours, and it was wiped clean. By the time they find it and process it, this will be over.”

  “Where did you get it?”

  “It’s a rental, and I’ve ensured that it can’t be traced back to me. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Fine. I’ll wire the money to your account.”

  “Perfect.”

  The man ended the call, then pocketed his phone. He got up and went into the bathroom. He washed his face, got out a makeup kit, and soon transformed himself into someone older, with fairer skin and wrinkles. Tinted contacts changed the color of his eyes, and a light-colored wig and mustache completed the disguise. He wiped down the room of fingerprints, careful even with surfaces he knew he hadn’t touched. He’d left nothing in the trash cans, but he double-checked them. Then he donned a cap, left the room, walked to the stairs with his head low, and continued out to the parking lot. He kept his head down as he went to another rented car. He got in, backed out, and drove away from the hotel.

  It was almost midnight when Ernie pulled his Camry into the garage and shut off the engine. He felt a sudden wave of exhaustion, and it seemed to take inordinate effort to push the garage door remote. The motor hummed, and the door rattled closed. He sat in the car for a minute and stared at the dashboard. So many things were running through his mind. Some thoughts about Cody Sheen and the murdered man in the BMW. Then his mind flashed back to the first time that he’d seen Sarah. She’d transferred from the juvenile division, and she had come to Homicide with a chip on her shoulder, something to prove. He’d heard she was good, smart, but he was the seasoned homicide detective, and she had things to learn. And learn she did. She soon surpassed him, taking the lead on investigations. After seeing how she conducted herself, he was fine with that. She deserved all the accolades, though her people skills could use some fine-tuning.

  However, he quickly realized that underneath that cool exterior was a very thoughtful woman. Sarah would always go the extra mile. She cared about what happened to the crime victims, and the victims’ families. He’d quickly developed a rapport with her, and after several years, he looked at her almost like a little sister. She would’ve hated that he thought that, but it was true. And he knew Spats felt similarly.

  Ernie gripped the steering wheel hard and closed his eyes as a slow anger built from his core out, a hot feeling that made him seethe. He would find whoever had tried to murder Sarah if it was the last thing he did. He stewed for a minute, then managed to calm himself down before he went in to his family. It would all be okay. With that thought in his mind, he pushed himself out of the car and plodded into the house.

  It was dark, and his wife, Liz, and his two daughters were already in bed. He flicked on the kitchen light, went to the refrigerator, and pulled out a Budweiser Light. He took a gulp, then pressed the cold bottle to his forehead. He could smell something sweet in the air, then saw a covered pan of brownies on the counter.

  “What’s going on?”

  Ernie almost dropped the bottle. He spun around to see Liz standing in the doorway, in pink pajama bottoms and yellow T-shirt, her blond hair in disarray.

  “I’m sorry if I woke you,” he said.

  She shook her head. “You didn’t. I couldn’t sleep tonight. For some reason, I had you on my mind, like something might have happened to you.”

  He set the beer bottle on the counter. Sadness and anger overwhelmed him. She stared at him for a moment.

  “What’s wrong?”

  It took him a moment to answer. “Sarah was shot tonight. She’s in the hospital.”

  “Oh no!” She stood still for just a moment, then rushed over and hugged him, not saying anything. But she felt him tense up, and so she stepped back and looked at him. “Ernie, what happened?”

  “We don’t have a lot of details.” He shook his head slowly. “I’ve also got two other victims who were shot tonight. They both died.” He told her about his evening, sparing her too many details.

  “That’s terrible. What a night. Are the shootings somehow connected?”

  He shrugged. “We don’t know yet. It’s too early.”

  “Is there anything you need? Have you eaten? Do you want dinner? And the girls made brownies.”

  “Liz …” He pressed fingers to his eyes and sighed.

  She was used to Ernie’s gruffness, used to his not telling her a lot. She also realized he’d probably need some time to unwind. She took his hand and squeezed it.

  “Well, then, why don’t you just come to bed? I know you’ll have an early day tomorrow.” She gave his hand a gentle tug and tried to coax him to follow her.

  He shook his head. “Nah … I won’t be able to sleep. With Sarah in the hospital …”

  She stopped and let go of his hand. Something crossed her face, and he could tell he’d somehow hurt her.

  “I know she’s your partner,” Liz said, “but you have to take care of yourself.” Then she glanced away so he wouldn’t see the tears beginning. “You’ve been gone all day, and when you get home, you’re not really here.” She paused and took a breath, then looked directly at him. “You spend more time with her than you do with us.”

  He stared at her. “Not a good time, Liz.”

  She held up a hand. “It’s never a good time, Ernie. Sometimes it just can’t be helped.” She started out of the kitchen, then stopped and turned around. “I was just trying to help.”

  He ran a hand over his face. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

  She hesitated, then left the room. Ernie swore under his breath, took the beer, and went into the living room. He sat down in a leather chair, his chair. He took another sip of the beer and set it on an end table. He rarely drank a full beer anymore; he liked the taste of it, but he just wasn’t interested in drinking that much. He turned on the TV, muted the sound, and found a national news channel. Nothing on the shootings here, but more on violence in Chicago. Then his phone rang.

  “It’s Harry.”

  Ernie sat up straight.

  “Sarah’s out of surgery and in recovery. Things went well, but it was touch-and-go for a bit. The bullet nicked her jugular vein, so they need a vascular surgeon to repair that. Sarah’s lucky. If the bullet had hit more of that vein, she could’ve bled out at the scene.”

  “Thank God that didn’t happen.”

  “Yeah. Her collarbone was shattered, so an orthopedic surgeon had to get pieces of bone out and repair the collarbone. She’s lost a lot of blood, and she’ll have rehab. Right now, they have her doped up on pain meds.”

  “That’s the best news.”

  “She’ll have to take it easy for a while, but she should be okay.” Harry’s voice was full of relief.

  “I’ll drop by sometime tomorrow to see her.”

  “If she’s awake, she’d like that.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “No problem.” Harry ended the call.

  At least the night could end on a positive note. Ernie called Spats, but it went to voice mail. He left a message about Sarah, knowing that Harry had probably called Spats, too. The TV flickered, and Ernie just sat and stared at it, still not able to unwind. He wasn’t sure how long he was there before he became aware of a light tapping on the front door. He got up, walked into the hall, and peeked in the peephole. Spats stood
on the porch. Ernie opened the door.

  “I saw the light in the window, figured you’d be up,” Spats said in a low voice. “You heard about Sarah?”

  Ernie nodded. “Yeah, Harry called me.”

  “Me, too.” Spats smiled. “It’s good news.”

  “The best. The waiting to hear how serious her injuries were was the hardest part. She’s going to have a helluva recovery, though.”

  “Yeah.”

  Ernie stepped aside to let Spats in. They went into the living room and Spats sat on the couch while Ernie sank into his chair again. Ernie held up his beer bottle.

  “You want one? Or there’s brownies in the kitchen.”

  Spats shook his head and stared at the floor for a minute. The quiet was soothing. Then he looked up at Ernie.

  “I couldn’t go home just yet,” Spats said. “I told Trissa about Sarah earlier, and I know she’s going to be worried about me. I get it, but I’m just not ready to talk to her yet.” He motioned with a finger to his head. “My mind’s a jumble right now. I can’t believe someone shot Sarah.”

  “I feel the same way,” Ernie said.

  Spats ran a hand over his face. “You know, I have nightmares about this sometimes.”

  “What?”

  “That one of us gets shot. Sometimes me.”

  Ernie nodded slowly. He hated to put words to his thoughts, things he rarely talked about. But he sensed something in Spats. “Yeah, I have, too. Sometimes Liz has to wake me up from them.” And he thought about Liz, about their conversation, and wondered whether she was asleep yet. He gnawed his lip. “I can’t think what it would be like for Liz and the girls.”

  “I know,” Spats whispered. “I love Trissa and I … don’t want to orphan my kids.”

  Ernie didn’t say anything. What could he? Families of cops never knew what would happen when their loved one walked out the door. But it was part of the job. They sat in silence for a long time.