Page 11

ELEVEN

W est dropped to the ground, rolled and searched for the shooter. Peanut was at his side, so he tucked his partner close, trying to shield her as he pulled his weapon. More gunfire rang out, and he realized Trisha was firing back.

Catching a glimpse at the darkly-clad figure near the corner of the apartment building, he took aim and fired, too. Instantly the shooter disappeared from his line of sight.

“Cover me,” he said, jumping up to his feet. “Peanut, stay!”

His K-9 partner obeyed his command. West sprinted across the muddy ground outside the apartment building in the direction the shooter had gone. He wanted to get this guy!

When he reached the building, he kept his back to the wall as he edged toward the corner where he’d last seen the gunman. Taking care to make himself as small a target as possible, he peeked around the corner.

No sign of the shooter.

What in the world? He quickly rounded the corner, scanning the area for hiding places. Then he heard the rumble of a car engine.

No! He raced toward the parking lot on the other side of the apartment building in time to see a black sedan, not a Ford but a Chevy, peeling out of the parking lot. He ran after it, determined to get a license plate number, but the plate holder was empty. As the Chevy sped away, he could see there was a cardboard temporary plate sign in the back window.

Yeah, that temporary plate number was likely fake. Swallowing a wave of frustration, he turned to head back to where he’d left Trisha and Peanut.

Trisha was kneeling beside Peanut, her weapon still in hand. “I’ve called for backup. PCPD should be here soon.”

“You’re okay?”

She nodded. “Peanut is, too.”

“Thanks. I don’t like this.” He knelt beside Peanut, taking a moment to soothe the animal. Peanut was accustomed to the sound of gunfire, but she’d already lost Kenyon, and he didn’t doubt that the K-9 would be sensitive to his possibly leaving her, too. He looked at Trish. “How did the kidnapper know we were going to be here?”

She shook her head. “I have no idea. This was a spur of the moment stop. We didn’t tell anyone our plan to drive over. However, this perp must know I’m a cop, and figures you are, too. Maybe he was hanging around nearby in case we did show up. Since he can’t find the safe house, he’s trying to anticipate our next moves.”

He nodded slowly. “That makes sense. The only part of this incident that’s reassuring is that the gunman must not know the location of the safe house. He decided to wait here to see if we came to him, instead.”

“I agree. I called Laurel. She’s fine. She mentioned seeing the patrol officers making rounds past the place, so she feels Gabriel is safe there.”

He blew out a breath. “Let’s get over to the SUV so I can put Peanut in the back. I feel too exposed out here.”

They headed to the vehicle, Trisha standing off to the side as he opened the back hatch. He petted Peanut for another minute, then closed the door. He turned to Trish. “The shooter took off in a black sedan, a Chevy this time.” He pulled out his phone. “I need to see if any black Chevy sedans have been reported stolen.” He considered using Cheyenne as a resource but decided against it. It was looking more as if this perp wasn’t one of the gun traffickers.

“Good idea.” She swept her gaze over the area as he made the call. The dispatcher quickly answered.

“This is Detective Cole. Have any black Chevy four-door sedans been reported stolen?”

“Just a moment.” He could hear the female dispatcher typing on the computer keyboard. “No, detective, there have not been any reports of a stolen vehicle matching that description.”

That figured. Maybe this guy recently stole the sedan and the owner hadn’t noticed yet. “Okay, I need a BOLO put out for a black Chevy sedan with a temporary plate note taped to the rear window. No rear license plate.”

“Absolutely.” He heard more key clicking. “I’m sure someone will spot it.”

He hoped and prayed that was the case. “Will you please call me ASAP if a report of a stolen vehicle with that description comes in? Thanks.” As he ended the call, screaming sirens from the PCPD police response filled the air.

The arrival of the officers helped ease his tension. “I’ll show you where the shooter was standing.” He gestured for one of the officers to follow him to the corner of the apartment building. “We need to search for shell casings.”

They split up, and it only took a minute for West to find one of the shell casings.

“A 9 mm,” the officer noted, without touching it.

West knew the perp had used a handgun. “That doesn’t narrow the type of weapon by much, but maybe we’ll get a match in the system.” Shell casings and bullets were entered into a forensic database.

“Why were you and Officer McCord here?” the officer asked.

“This is the last known address of her ex-husband, Bryan Little, who is a person of interest.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “The manager wasn’t much help, but he did mention a guy had shown up shortly after Little had left, looking for him. Makes me wonder if Little stole something that didn’t belong to him and this perp wants it back.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Trisha said, coming up to stand beside them. “I never imagined Bryan would do anything illegal, especially after being married to a cop, but based on everything that’s happened, that’s the only theory that makes sense.”

West frowned. “His actions are not a reflection on you, Trish.”

“Aren’t they?” Her gaze clung to his for a heartbeat before she looked away. “It doesn’t feel good knowing a man I married would commit a crime.”

“That’s his failure, Trish. Not yours.” He longed to pull her into his arms to comfort and reassure her, but this wasn’t the time or place. She wouldn’t want to appear weak in front of her fellow officers. “Besides, you’re better off without him.”

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Yes, I am.”

Their gazes locked and held. He wanted to tell her how glad he was that she wasn’t married, but the words stuck in his throat.

“I found another shell casing,” the officer interrupted them. “It’s wedged in the ground as if someone stepped on it.”

“Could have been me,” West admitted. “Or the perp himself. I chased him, but he escaped in a black Chevy sedan with no license plate, just a temporary sign taped to the back window. I’ve already requested a BOLO for the vehicle.”

“Sounds good. I’ll get this evidence tagged and bagged. Is there anything else you can tell me about this guy?”

He thought for a moment. “Nothing other than he’s roughly the same height and weight as the masked kidnapper reported yesterday by Officer McCord, brown hair and no visible tattoos or piercings.” He glanced at Trisha as he spoke. “Is that your impression, too?”

“Yes. Although I honestly didn’t get a good look at him, either. Dressed in black, and the same ski mask.” She frowned. “I have to wonder why that ski mask isn’t getting more attention from the general public. It’s not January with wind chills of minus twenty degrees. It’s April. Chilly in the morning but above freezing during the day. Most of the time,” she amended.

“That’s a good question,” West agreed. “Maybe Captain Ross needs to do a news conference, stressing the importance to the public that if they see something, they should say something.”

“Can’t hurt.” Trisha sighed. “I really wish we could grab this guy.”

“Me, too.” He reached out to touch her arm. “Let’s get out of here and head back to the police station. I don’t want to miss the autopsies.”

She turned and fell into step beside him. “It feels like we’ve been working this case for weeks rather than a couple of days. And that we’re getting nowhere fast.”

“I hear you.” He shared her concern, not liking that her son was still in danger. Trisha wasn’t used to the investigating side of things, but he was. He offered a reassuring smile. “Trust me, the gunman will make a mistake. They always do.”

She nodded, without saying anything more. As they headed back to the SUV, where Peanut was patiently waiting, their hands brushed. When her fingers tangled with his, he was in no hurry to let them go.

At the SUV, he opened the car door for her. She caught him completely off guard by giving him a quick hug and a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Thanks,” she whispered, before sliding into the passenger seat.

He stood frozen for a moment, before he managed to close her door. Then he slid in behind the wheel, his cheek still tingling from her kiss.

Trouble. He was in deep trouble. It took all his willpower and concentration not to pull over to the side of the road and sweep her into his arms for a proper kiss.

And as he drove, he couldn’t help but think that kissing Trisha was inevitable. That it was bound to happen.

The same way the sun rose in the sky every day.

The bigger question was what in the world he was going to do about the fact that one kiss would never be enough.

Trisha was hyperaware of West sitting beside her. There seemed to be a tension between them now, and she silently lectured herself for giving in to the impulse to kiss his cheek. He’d just been so kind and supportive. She’d reacted without thinking about it.

In some corner of her mind, she’d thought they could be friends. Maybe spend some time together. She liked and respected him, as more than just colleagues.

But that was asking for trouble. It would be better if they parted ways, never to hang out together again. Sure, she’d see him around the police station, but that would have to be enough.

Work pals, nothing more.

“Do you think Renee’s stepbrother, Nick Cutter, could be our shooter?” She decided the best way to ease the tension was to get back to the case.

“That’s a strong possibility,” he admitted. “However, stealing Renee’s car by helping himself to the keys is easy, compared to boosting a car without them.”

“Yeah, it’s rare for people to leave their keys in the car.” Part of her training had been to learn some of the tricks car jackers pulled. “Was there a vehicle registered to Nick?”

“No. But you make a good point. He could have purchased something used from a private party. Maybe the temporary plate in the rear window wasn’t fake.”

Trisha appreciated the way West treated her like an equal. As if her thoughts and opinions mattered. “That makes sense. Renee could have lied about not speaking with Nick. He probably abandoned the ride after she warned him of our interest.”

“Yeah, but then why bother to report the vehicle as stolen in the first place?” West asked with a scowl.

“She might not have realized her spare key was missing until after she made that call.” She shrugged. “I don’t know what else to think. Other than to try to find a connection between Nick Cutter and Bryan.”

He nodded. “We should check the gym membership. Maybe they met there at one point.”

That possibility lightened her mood. She had never been in the line of fire as much as she had over the past few days. Thankfully, her instincts had kicked in enough that she could avoid being hit while returning fire.

But once the immediate threat had passed, she couldn’t help thinking about Gabriel and what would happen to him if she was killed in the line of duty, like Kenyon had been.

She made a mental note to discuss Gabriel’s future with her sister, Raina. She had already planned to have Raina step in as Gabriel’s guardian, but now Raina was taking care of Kenyon’s twin boys.

A baby might push her sister over the edge. Then again, knowing her sister, Raina would insist she’d be fine. And would absolutely step up to take of her son if needed.

It wasn’t smart to dwell too much on the what-if scenarios. She was good at her job and intended to be around for a long time. Besides, recent gun trafficking aside, this area of the state didn’t see the high rates of crime like other cities did. Plains City wasn’t Chicago, New York or Los Angeles.

Kenyon Graves was the first officer their department had lost in the past three years. And that was under extenuating circumstances.

She pushed those depressing thoughts aside as West pulled into the precinct parking lot. He released Peanut from the back hatch and joined her as they headed inside.

The Plains City Police Department was in the center of the city, a four-story building in which the ATF had the entire top floor. What Trisha liked the most was that there were plenty of restaurants and coffee shops within walking distance.

After passing through the front desk, they headed up to the second floor where most of the cubicles were located, along with the large conference room.

“I only have a few minutes before I need to leave for the autopsies,” West said. “If you don’t mind, I’d like you to wait here. It shouldn’t take too long.”

“Not a problem.” She glanced at Peanut. “Are you taking her with you?”

West hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, she’ll be fine. Give me, say, fifteen to thirty minutes, okay?”

“Sure thing.” She stepped to the side as West and Peanut retraced their steps down to the main floor. The medical examiner’s office building was only a few blocks away.

She caught sight of a beautiful woman with shoulder-length brown hair and big brown eyes coming out of the conference room with her K-9, a springer spaniel, at her side, along with a small carry-on suitcase. The woman’s concerned features had Trisha walking over.

“I’m Officer Trisha McCord. You must be on the new task force,” she said by way of introduction.

“Yes, Lucy Lopez.” The woman’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m from Fargo, North Dakota, and am about to head home. My daughter...” Her voice trailed off as she flushed. “Never mind. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I have a six-month-old named Gabriel,” Trisha offered, sensing Lucy was struggling with something. “My husband left me when I discovered I was pregnant. I know how difficult it is to juggle work responsibilities while being a mom.”

“Yes, exactly.” Lucy’s gaze warmed. “I’ve never been married and it’s not easy. My daughter, Annalise, is four years old, but she has some anxiety issues.” Lucy bit her lip. “I’m honored to be included in this task force but hate leaving her for long periods of time. My mother watches her for me, so that’s helpful. Still...” Her voice trailed off.

“I understand,” Trisha assured her. “I’m sorry to hear about your daughter’s anxiety problems. That must be difficult.”

“I’ve reached out to a man named Micah Landon who trains anxiety dogs.” Her brown eyes brightened. “I love my K-9 partner, Piper, but Annalise having her own therapy dog would be good for her, too.”

“Absolutely.” Trisha placed a reassuring hand on her arm. “I truly wish you all the best. And I will keep you and Annalise in my prayers.”

“Thanks so much.” Lucy smiled. “It’s always reassuring to talk to other single moms working in law enforcement, and I will gladly take all the prayers I can get. Come, Piper.” Lucy turned and headed to the elevator.

Trisha sent up a silent prayer for Lucy, then headed for the closest cubicle. She may as well begin searching for a connection between Nick Cutter and her ex-husband.

After logging on, she found Nick Cutter on social medial and began scanning his photos. Bryan had taken himself off social media, but if he and Nick Cutter knew each other, Bryan might appear in some of Nick’s pictures. Especially if Nick hadn’t tagged him.

“What brings you in on your day off?” Captain Ross asked.

She smiled wryly at his comment. Investigating with West didn’t feel like a day off. “You may not have heard that West and I were targeted by gunfire at the apartment building where my ex used to live. Worse, the shooter got away.”

“Gunfire?” Ross scowled. “I had heard the report come in, but I didn’t realize you and West were the ones involved. What can I do to help?”

“We issued a BOLO for the vehicle the shooter used to escape. And we’re trying to find a nexus between our current suspect, Nick Cutter, and my ex.” She paused, then added, “Oh, yeah. West found a couple of shell casings, too. At this point all we can do is wait for something to pop from the scant bit of evidence that’s been collected to date.”

“I’ll make sure the lab puts a rush on that,” Ross said. The lab was housed on the third floor of the building. “I was hoping you’d be in the safe house.”

“Former police officer Laurel Newton is staying there with my son. I couldn’t just sit by while West did all the legwork on this case. Besides, I know my ex better than anyone.” Even as she said the words, she realized that wasn’t exactly true.

She didn’t know the man who’d turned criminal. The fact that the shooter may have staked out the apartment building only confirmed that Bryan had gotten wrapped up in something bad.

She just wished she knew what this was about. And where the key was that someone wanted badly enough to kill for.

“I understand.” Ross turned to answer his mobile phone. “Yeah, I’ll be right there.” He headed back to his office without saying anything more.

Trisha went back to her search, which was painstakingly slow work. She knew she’d recognize Bryan when she saw him, but he was not in a single photograph on Nick Cutter’s profile page.

Another dead end.

She tried to come up with another avenue to search when she heard footsteps behind her, along with the telltale click of dog paws on linoleum.

She turned to see West and Peanut crossing toward her. West’s expression was serious, so she jumped up from her seat, mentally preparing herself for bad news. “How did it go?”

“Doc confirmed cause of death as gunshot wounds to the head for both Petey Pawners and Greg Zillow,” he said somberly. “I need you to come with me, though.”

“Okay, what’s going on?” She searched his gaze. “You look upset.”

“Not upset, just concerned.” He took her hand in his. “Let’s go.”

She accompanied him outside to his K-9 SUV. After he placed Peanut in the back, she reached for his arm. “Spill it, West. What is this about?”

He cupped her shoulders with his broad hands. “The ME has a John Doe that we believe is your ex-husband, Bryan Little. She would like you to confirm his identity since his fingerprints aren’t in the system.”

Bryan was dead? She had suspected that, but hearing about a John Doe matching his description was a shock. She leaned against West, her mind whirling. Bryan had walked away, had refused to be a part of her son’s life.

But forever was a long time. She’d always wondered if Bryan would change his mind at some point. Would decide to meet Gabriel when he was older.

Now, her son would never know his father.