Page 67

He took a deep rattling breath as his eyes rolled back in his head.
“No!” Tate shouted. “Say his name. Say his name!”
Leon exhaled once and never took another breath.
Tate stood abruptly and then walked away from the body, struggling with rage and frustration. So close, and yet once again, the lead was gone. He heard a siren, then looked down the road toward the river and saw the police cruiser coming toward the house at a fast clip. Cameron was driving. He stopped just feet short of the body and then got out on the run.
“Who is…hey! Isn’t that Leon Mooney?”
A muscle jerked at the corner of Tate’s eye. He couldn’t look at the body without wanting to scream. This close, and they still didn’t have a name.
“Yes, it’s Mooney, but he’s not our killer. He’s a copycat. He said he was trying to outdo the Stormchaser. He saw the man cut Nola. He knew who it was, but he wouldn’t tell me, said that’s not how you play the game and died without telling.”
Two police cars came into view, lights flashing and sirens screaming, with an ambulance right behind them.
Jeff was already out of the cruiser and running toward the house to check on his mother.
“Beaudry took one in the shoulder,” Cameron said. “The ambulance is for him.”
Tate shoved a hand through his hair in frustration.
“I had to shoot him. He was aiming at Jeff’s mother when I took the shot.”
Cameron clapped him on the shoulder. “It is what it is, partner. You saved the kid’s mother, and that’s good enough.”
The ambulance pulled to a stop, and Cameron directed them to Beaudry as Tate began filling in the officers arriving on scene.
Hours later, they rode back into town in Beaudry’s cruiser with a deputy driving. He dropped them off at the trailer park, then headed back to the hospital to check on the chief.
Tate walked into the trailer with steps dragging, Cameron right behind him.
Wade took one look at the expressions on their faces and knew it wasn’t good.
“What happened?”
“It’s a long story. I need to change and wash up,” Tate said as he walked past his partner and headed straight for Nola, who was stirring something at the stove. He noticed she’d taken her hair out of the braid, and it moved with the motion of her body, like wind across water. Without explanation, he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face against the curve of her neck.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he said.
That he was upset was frightening enough, but the tremor in his voice made it worse. She hugged him back, even though the stitches pulled, and because she was afraid to ask what was wrong.
Wade frowned. “What happened, damn it?”
Cameron shrugged. “Well, we found Leon Mooney right where Jeff found the victim. He must have been lying in wait for the cops to arrive. He was trying to pull a copycat, wanting to outdo the Stormchaser. He took a shot at Jeff and shot Beaudry in the shoulder. Tate took off after him, then wound up having to shoot him to keep him from killing Jeff Wilson’s mother. The kicker was that Mooney knew who the Stormchaser was. He saw him attack Nola. He recognized him, but he died refusing to tell.”
Nola gasped.
Tate felt sick. They’d been so close to solving this mess, and he’d taken out their only real witness without knowing it, leaving the man to his killing spree and Nola still in danger.
“Don’t be like this,” Nola said. “You didn’t have a choice. He didn’t give you a choice. I know Jeff’s mother. She’s a sweet lady. Thank God you saved her. I’m sure Jeff is grateful. Now go clean up. I have just created a silk purse out of a sow’s ear here in this kitchen, and I expect high praise and kudos for my effort.”
“That’s for sure. I’m the official taster, and it’s amazing,” Wade said.
“Go,” Nola said. “Get cleaned up.”
Tate walked away, still frustrated and more than a little anxious. He was in the bathroom when his cell phone beeped. He recognized the number and got pissed all over again after he read the text.
When wrong is done and never acknowledged, it takes many wrongs to make it right.