by Kylie Brant
Moments later, a shot sounded.
A frigid bolt of fear twisted through her. Cady’s knees pumped faster. The morning air sliced her lungs. She took cover behind the random stands of nude bushes as she approached the woods. In a crouched run, she dodged from one bunch to another as she drew closer.
She squinted, searching the shadowy woods for signs of the animal. She heard the dog’s whining, but it was another moment before she spotted him on the leaf-strewn ground, at the base of a fledgling oak. Her blood chilled.
An engine sounded in the distance. She heard the faint sound of spraying gravel. “Shooter’s in a vehicle heading east,” she called back to the deputy who was running toward her. And then she dropped to her knees. Hero whimpered. Tried to crawl toward her. “It’s all right. It’s all right.” She whispered the lie and wished it were true as she ran her free hand over the dog. Felt the wet, sticky substance that confirmed her worst fears. Reholstering her weapon, she pulled off her coat and struggled out of her shirt before redonning the jacket and zipping it up. Grabbing for her cell, she turned on the flashlight app, her breath catching at the sight of the wound. Blood oozed from his left rear flank. Gaping muscle was visible. Swiftly, she used the shirt to fashion a tourniquet and applied pressure to it.
The deputy jogged past her and was lost from sight. Multiple sirens wailed and were abruptly cut off. The sound was close. At her house, maybe. But she didn’t raise her gaze from the animal as she attempted to keep him from struggling to his feet. “It’s going to be okay, buddy. It’s okay.” She stroked the animal’s head, waiting for the deputy to return. She’d be unable to lift the animal without his help.
The dog nuzzled her knee, and her breathing stopped for a moment. “What’s this? Let go, boy. Drop it.” Hero wearily lay his head down and loosened his jaws enough for her to remove the scrap of fabric from his mouth. It was some sort of dark nylon.
A minute later, the deputy was making his way back toward her. “I think the dog might have ripped a piece from the shooter’s clothes. His jacket or pants.” She looked behind her, trying to approximate the exact spot where the contact could have been made. “Maybe there are more pieces.” And maybe—if they got supremely lucky—there’d be DNA.
The deputy slowed, taking a Maglite from his hip and turning its beam on the area. She looked over her shoulder to watch his progress. “Wait. Move the beam back to the right. Farther. There. What’s that on the ground? A branch?”
The man walked toward the object she’d pointed out. Crouched. “No, ma’am,” he said, rising and reaching for his radio. “It’s a rifle.”
Chapter 24
“We totally rocked it.” Grace nudged Dylan as they were filing out of history class.
He grinned. “We both know it was mostly you.”
“Not true.” She paused a minute before adding with a laugh, “But I do have good ideas.”
He couldn’t disagree. They’d pretty much done today’s work last night at her place, so they’d spent a lot of time talking today about things other than the assignment. Movies, sports—which he couldn’t believe she liked too—and music, which he knew nothing about.
She turned around to face him, walking backward despite the mob of people. “I’ve got a unique idea for our presentation too. One of us can dress up as a founding father, say Ben Franklin, and the other like one of the Supreme Court Justices . . .” He reached out to steady her when she nearly tripped over someone behind her. She stopped.
“Ehh, I don’t know.” He had no idea where he’d get a costume, for one thing. He’d almost been late for the bus this morning because he couldn’t even find a clean shirt and had to rummage through Colton’s drawers for something. And he didn’t want to look stupid. Just standing up in front of everyone was going to be bad enough. Then she flashed that dimple again, and his reluctance faded away. “Maybe. We’ll see.” Dylan couldn’t believe the words coming from his mouth.
“Great. Can you get together again after school? We should really get started. Two weeks isn’t that long to get the paper written.”
“Yeah.” The word was out of his mouth before he even thought about it. “Your mom won’t care?”
“No. Comes from being the only kid still at home.” Grace rolled her eyes. “She hovers, you know?”
Dylan wondered what it was like to have a mom who hovered. One who didn’t have to work and liked it when kids came over. But even more interesting, he wondered how Grace got her hair so shiny. Its color reminded him of the river otter’s coat he and Trevor had seen once at the creek. Dark brown with highlights that glinted under the overhead lights.
“Great! Meet you at the same door after school.” A warning bell rang. They had only a minute to get to their next class.
“Okay.” But she was already moving swiftly away. His next class was shop, and it was halfway across the building. Dylan spent the time trying to recall what his mom’s work schedule was. She usually went in at one, and the store closed at ten. But if she was on over the weekend, she didn’t work every weekday.
He’d borrow a cell from someone and call the store, ask if she was there. He broke into a trot when the tardy bell rang. He needed to get her schedule memorized if he wanted to have a life outside home and school. The thought felt novel. Foreign.
After yesterday, he could almost taste the freedom.
He could hear yelling as he rounded the corner to the shop room’s hallway. Dylan recognized the two kids pushing each other. One was in shop class with him. Benny. He was a real dick.
“Give me my backpack, you fucker!” the other kid yelled.
Drop that backpack, you little fuckers, or I’ll drown you both! The words arrowed across Dylan’s mind, as real as the ones shouted a few feet away from him. He froze, his head beginning to throb on cue. The shop teacher ran out of the classroom and down the hall, yelling at the kids who were now throwing punches.
But Dylan wasn’t in the hallway anymore. He was ten again, back in the woods running for his life. Tripping over rocks and logs, panic balled up in his chest until it felt like it was going to explode.
With Bruce Forrester gaining on him.
Chapter 25
“The weapon was an AR-10. Unless he used gloves and wiped down the weapon, we may get lucky and pull some prints from it,” Ryder was saying as Cady rejoined the group in his office’s conference room. It was just after noon, and she’d taken a call from the vet. Hero was out of surgery. The weight of worry she’d been carrying since one of the deputies had helped her transport him to town was only slightly relieved. Her assailant and the animal had both been running when the shot was fired, so it could have been far worse. The dog was stable, for now. But anxiety over his wound would continue to gnaw at her until she could check on him for herself. She slipped back into her chair at the table.
This summary was for her supervisor’s benefit. Allen had headed over after she’d reported the incident hours earlier. “We had several people in the area report that they heard shots fired, but only the neighbors directly north of Cady’s place had an approximate estimate of where they were coming from.” Ryder was in uniform but unshaven. “A motorist reported a speeding vehicle on the road in front of Cady’s neighboring property, a few miles east. He couldn’t give much of a description, other than it was a dark-colored pickup.”
Cady stilled. “Did he give any clue as to the make or model?”
“No. But from the shape, he thought it might be an older vehicle.” His gaze remained on her. “Does that sound familiar?”
Allen said, “Old-model green pickup. Wasn’t a similar truck driven in those last couple of homicides in the Forrester case?”
“We don’t have anything solid connecting him to those murders.” But if the ballistics from today matched those from the Matthis and Bahlman scenes, and if Forrester’s latents were pulled from the weapon, the evidence would be damning. It’d also effectively sideline Cady. She knew the protocol. If the shooter today was p
roven to be the subject of her warrant, it’d be handed off to someone else.
She’d ping-ponged between concern and rising fury all morning. She’d need time to shake free of emotion and start making sense of the avalanche of questions cascading through her mind. For once, she wouldn’t be impatient about the time it took for lab results. Until and unless they came up with inculpatory evidence pointing to Forrester, she’d remain on the man’s trail.
“My team gathered brass, all scattered near the evergreen where Cady thought the shots were being fired from. There were more bullets, badly damaged, dug out of the ground. We found some smaller pieces of fabric that look to match the bit Cady recovered from the dog. No noticeable bloodstains were discovered during the search.”
Which likely means retrieving DNA will be a bust, Cady mused. But a print could provide ID, as well, if its owner was in the IAFIS database.
To Allen, Ryder said, “Cady’s work and personal vehicles and all physical evidence will be transported to the Western Regional Crime Lab in Edneyville.”
The Jeep had gotten the worst of it. But her car had also taken a couple of bullets before she’d dove for cover. Which meant she’d have no vehicle at all for the foreseeable future.
“The east side of the house sustained serious damage,” Ryder continued. “The gate and a portion of the fence are toast.”
“We’ll go through Cady’s assignments since she’s been stationed in Asheville. See if we can come up with anyone who might have had cause to be involved.” Allen looked at her. “You’ve covered a lot of ground on your current warrants since you were assigned them a few days ago. Anyone you talk to stand out as a suspect in this?”
She shook her head slowly. “Not really. I sent a request to the warden at Craggy Correctional for an interview with Stephen Tillis a couple of days ago but haven’t heard back yet. We spoke to Weber, who flipped on Forrester five years ago. He stated he hasn’t seen or heard from either him or Eric Loomer since then. Loomer’s uncle made a similar claim about his nephew. The two men I interviewed on Sunday in Madison County said the same. And the million-dollar question is how the shooter discovered where I live. Hero started going crazy at about three in the morning. The intruder may have been casing the property then. When I let the dog out this morning, he immediately raised the alarm.” And had been shot for his efforts. Cady tamped down the surge of anger at the memory. “Obviously it’s someone skilled with weapons. That tree he took cover behind was a hundred, hundred fifty yards from me.”
“One hundred forty-one, to be exact.” Ryder’s tone was grim.
She thought for a minute. “I don’t have a view of the front of the property from my bedroom window. If the security lights came on after I went to bed, I wouldn’t have noticed.” But she bet the shooter had. A spear of fury arrowed through her. He would have known she’d be a sitting duck heading to her vehicle in the morning.
“Your dog lived up to his name, at any rate.”
She managed a smile at her supervisor’s words. “He did. As I was trying to get a clear shot, he sailed over the fence and was chasing the punk down.” For the first time, the full implication of Ryder’s earlier words hit Cady. Her gaze shifted to him. “The house is still livable, right?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. It’ll take new Sheetrock, windows, carpet . . . I’m guessing it will be weeks to get the work all done.”
Weeks. The word slammed into her with the force of a blow. She’d have to move. Her landlady, Dorothy Blong, had a number of other rental properties. Maybe another would be available. Cady needed to stay in the area to keep an eye on her mom’s condition while in Alma’s care.
As if reading her thoughts, her supervisor said, “Obviously you need a new place to live. That’s first on the list. But today’s attempt on your life means we also call in a USMS countersurveillance team to keep an eye on your new home. You’ll be partnered on every aspect of the case that takes you outside the courthouse.”
Cady accepted the news with a mental sigh. It wasn’t unexpected.
“And,” her supervisor continued with a glint in his eye, “you’ll wear a vest at all times. If your new living quarters don’t have decent security, we’ll have to see to that too.” With a look at the clock on the wall, he stood. “I don’t want you back at the office today.”
She didn’t argue. Cady had a number of things to tend to, starting with packing a bag and finding a place to stay. A motel might serve for the night, but she’d need a place she could take Hero to when he was released from the vet.
Allen stood. “We’ll pull your files this afternoon, and I’ll contact you if someone pops.”
As he left the room, Cady’s mind flashed to Larry Loomer. He said he’d taught Eric to shoot. She wondered now just how skilled the two men were.
Ryder interrupted her thoughts by asking, “How’s Hero?”
“Holding his own.” She released a long breath. “He’ll stay at least overnight. Maybe longer. I need to stop by today before the office closes. The bullet hit him on his left rear flank, but the vet didn’t think it would impact his ability to walk once it’s healed.” She’d never had a pet before. Was still taken aback at how one could wind around her heart and settle so seamlessly into her life.
Ryder had shoved away from the desk as she spoke. Then he was in front of her, grabbing her hand and pulling her up and into his arms. Cady stood stiff and still for a moment before allowing herself to melt, just a little, returning his hug. “It’s been a helluva day.”
“Longest thirteen minutes of my life was between your call and pulling into your drive this morning.”
“That tops my list too.” When his fingers rose to toy with the zipper of her jacket, she slapped them away. “That’s a good way to lose a hand.”
“I have a spare.”
She stifled a laugh. “I need to grab another shirt before I do anything else.” She hadn’t had time after using hers to bandage Hero.
They stepped apart, but he stayed her with a hand on her arm. “Here’s why you should stay with me.” Her rejection of the idea must have shown in her expression, because he raised a hand. “Hear me out. I have no close neighbors on my cul-de-sac. Big fenced-in backyard where both dogs can be outside. Decent security, including alarms and video cameras. And when Hero is released from the vet, you’re going to want someone who can check up on him a few times a day.”
“You don’t have the time for that,” Cady scoffed.
“Nope. But my mom would love to be asked. She’s never happier than when she’s fussing over someone or something.”
The simple logic of his words didn’t silence the unease skittering through her. “I can always find a motel until he’s released. Who knows, my landlady might have something available.”
“She might.” She wasn’t fooled by his agreeable tone or amiable expression. They were both tools that had wedged holes in her resolve in the past. “We can swing by the vet, and then I’ll follow you to your place so you can pack.”
Damn. How could she have forgotten, even for a moment, that she no longer had a vehicle? The USMS had several for marshals’ use, and they sometimes traded with each other when one better fit the need of the investigation. There were probably a couple of extras. She had no idea which one might be assigned, but she hoped like hell it wasn’t a soccer-mom minivan. “I’ve sucked up enough of your day. I can get a Lyft.”
“No, you can’t. Because you aren’t going back to your place without backup.”
She opened her mouth to protest. Closed it again. She’d better get used to it. She was going to have company until today’s shooter was jailed.
“Fine. Vet first. Then home.” She turned toward the door.
“Food first. Vet, then home,” he countered.
As they walked out the door, her cell rang. Pulling it out of her pocket, she checked the caller ID. Frowned. Madison County sheriff’s office. Answering it, she continued walking down the hall and toward th
e facility’s entrance. “Maddix.”
“Marshal, this is Sheriff Jon Crawley. We haven’t met, but it’s my understanding you were here last weekend.”
Mystified, she replied, “That’s right. I spoke with Lieutenant Goldman on Sunday.”
“Well, he and I have been doing a little investigating, and it’s come to our attention that one of our longtime jailers has been snooping around in our most sensitive computer files. And she may also have accessed your contact information.”
Chapter 26
“The cleaning staff reported Suzanne Fielding’s presence in Goldman’s office when the deputy had stepped out for a few minutes.” Sheriff Jon Crawley’s drooping white mustache matched his bushy brows that were currently knitted together above his dark eyes. “It seemed apparent she was checking the phone’s caller ID log and making note of the numbers. We’ve had a problem with the office computers for months, which we suspected was due to unauthorized access of our most secure files. It’s taken a while for our IT person to set up a firewall and an accompanying alert when there’s a hacking attempt. Monday, we traced the breach to the computer used by the jailer.”
Cady felt Ryder tense beside her. “And what’s in your most secure files?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“Ongoing multiagency investigations. Bruce Forrester is the subject of one of them. But let me backtrack a bit.” The sheriff settled his bulk a bit more comfortably in his massive leather desk chair. “When we nailed Fielding for accessing those files, a lot of pieces clicked into place. For one, she was disciplined seven years ago for breach of protocol while Forrester was jailed here.”
Cady’s gut clenched. “For placing Forrester and Byrd in the same cell?”
Crawley looked surprised. “You got it. Standard procedure is to keep child sexual offenders in solitary occupation because of the heightened threat of violence against them. We had a big influx of inmates that night, but it wouldn’t have necessitated doubling up occupancy with Byrd. That was a major strike against Fielding. But . . .” He lifted a beefy shoulder. “Up until that point, she’d been employed ten years with us with no complaints. She was suspended without pay for a week, and that was the end of it.”