Randy Nichols, whose sister Tracy was the youngest member of Zoe’s crew, stayed behind. He handed her a cup of coffee and motioned for her to have a seat on the bench in front of the window.
“Actually, I want to dig through the files,” she said.
He propped a hip on the corner of the desk. “I thought you looked like you were after something more than just giving us the latest on Curtis’s condition.”
“You thought right.” Zoe crossed to the pair of metal filing cabinets where they stored the run reports. “Do you know anything about a traffic accident on Oak Grove Road about a month ago?”
Randy slid from the desk into its chair. “Oak Grove Road? No. Was it on this shift?”
“No.” She set her cup on top of the cabinet and opened the drawer containing the most recent reports. “Curtis and Barry took the call, so it was B crew.”
“Was it a bad one?”
“Curtis said they hadn’t thought it would amount to much.”
“But?” Randy raised an eyebrow at her.
“I don’t know.” Zoe thought of Lucy’s interruption. “Someone came in before he could tell us the rest. But he hinted it might have something to do with what’s been happening.”
Randy tapped some keys on the computer keyboard. “Do you have a patient’s name?”
“Sorry. I’ve told you all I know.”
“Huh. You don’t have much to work with. Then again, Oak Grove Road? Not exactly a lot of traffic out there.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” She shuffled through the papers, searching for dates from last month.
Randy rolled the chair back and stood. “I’ll go in the back and ask the other guys if they remember hearing anything.”
“Thanks.”
The latest dates in the drawer Zoe opened went back three weeks. Curtis had said a month or less, so she started pulling each call sheet to check the call’s location. She’d made it through a half dozen records when the front door crashed open.
Lucy stormed in, fists clenched at her sides.
Zoe let the report she was scanning drop back into its folder and closed the drawer with a metallic clunk. “Hey, Lucy.” She glanced toward the door to the back and wished Randy hadn’t left. “I thought you were spending the day with Curtis.”
The girl marched across the office toward Zoe. “He made me leave.”
Taking an involuntary step back, Zoe bumped into the filing cabinet, rattling it and the coffee cup on top. “I’m sure he must be tired and wanted to rest.”
Lucy stopped inches in front of Zoe, glowering up at her. “He’s not tired. I’m just not the one he wants to be with anymore.”
The admission startled Zoe. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
Well, she was right about that.
“You wanted him to break up with me,” Lucy hissed.
Zoe opened her mouth, but Lucy shoved her before Zoe had a chance to say anything.
She staggered into the filing cabinet again, harder this time. The cup tipped, slopping hot coffee on her shoulder before crashing to the floor and exploding into shards.
Zoe ignored the bite of the burn and shoved Lucy back. “Back off,” she told the girl while tamping down her own rising anger. Lucy was shorter and thinner, and in a catfight, Zoe knew she’d be able to take down the crazy little bitch, but somehow she didn’t think beating the crap out of Curtis’s ex would do much to help him.
Besides, heavy footsteps from the back told Zoe help was on the way.
Zoe’s retaliation seemed to stun Lucy, but it didn’t cool her down. She raised fists as if ready to come out of her corner swinging.
Randy and the other five C crew members appeared in the doorway. Randy rushed forward, snatching Lucy from behind and pinning her arms. “What on earth is going on here?”
Zoe rubbed her stinging shoulder. “I wish I knew.” She took a step toward the restrained hellcat, glass crunching underfoot. “What is your problem, Lucy?”
The girl squirmed against Randy’s grip, but he had a foot of height and close to a hundred pounds on her. Angry tears brimmed in her eyes. “Curtis broke up with me because of you.”
Randy shot Zoe a questioning look over Lucy’s head.
“Me?” Zoe choked. “I don’t think so.”
“You’ve got the hots for him. And he’s in love with you too.”
“I—what?”
“So he dumped me for you—you whore.”
Zoe flinched. The last time someone had called her that was in high school. Both she and the other girl had been expelled for the resulting fight. The other medics must have sensed the potential for fisticuffs. They all piled into the office, taking positions to block or tackle as needed.
The potential scene flashed through Zoe’s mind. Pete being summoned to a brawl at the Mon County EMS garage. Finding Zoe and Lucy tussling on the floor. He would side with Zoe, of course, and toss Crazy Lucy in jail. On the other hand, he was a little busy trying to solve a couple of murders and didn’t need the added aggravation.
Zoe inhaled a calming breath. Blew it out slowly. “All right…look. Curtis isn’t interested in me, and I’m definitely not interested in him.”
“Liar,” the girl snapped. “I’m not blind. I can see how he looks at you. And how you hate when I’m around.”
She had that much right. Only her reasons were way off base.
Randy must have given Lucy’s arms a squeeze because she let out a whiny yelp. “Let go of me, you Neanderthal.”
He started walking her toward the still-open front door. “I’ll let you go once you’re off EMS property.”
She stagger-stepped until she realized she was out-muscled. “Fine. I’m leaving.” She squirmed. “Now let me go.”
He released her, but stood firm, letting her know the only direction available at the moment was out.
With a growl, Lucy slouched her way to the door, but paused and turned back toward Zoe, shaking a finger at her. “This isn’t over. Curtis is mine, and I will win him back. You just watch your step.” Her jaw set, she blew out of the office.
“What the hell was that all about?” Randy asked.
“She’s nuts.” Zoe tugged her damp shirt away from her skin, pumping a little cool air against the burn.
“I got that much. Are you okay?”
“I think so.” She glanced at the mess on the floor. “Looks like we’re down one mug.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He directed two of the guys to clean up the mess. “You,” he said to Zoe, “go have a seat in the back. I’m gonna get something and then I’ll be right there to take a look at that burn.”
“But—”
He extended one arm with a finger pointing at the doorway to the lounge. “Go.”
No longer in a fighting mood, Zoe acquiesced.
After collapsing onto the lumpy couch, she stretched the neck of her t-shirt over her shoulder, craning her neck to get a look at the damage from the hot coffee. Her skin was pink rather than angry red with no sign of blistering. A little aloe should do the trick.
A few minutes passed before Randy joined her, carrying another cup in one hand, a file folder and a box of gauze squares in the other, and a bottle of saline clamped under one arm. He offered her the cup first. “I thought you might want a refill on the coffee. Try not to wear it this time.”
She made a face at him. “Ha, ha.” But she accepted the mug.
He took a seat next to her, eyeing her shoulder. “Doesn’t look so bad.”
“No.” Zoe sipped the hot brew. “And I don’t need all that.” She nodded toward the saline and the bandaging he’d set on the couch between them.
“I guess not.” He held up the folder and removed a sheet of paper. “But you may want to see this.”
She s
et the mug on the end table and reached for the report. “What is it?”
“You were talking about the run out on Oak Grove Road. It didn’t strike a chord with me until your little scuffle with Loco Lucy.”
Zoe was glad she’d already swallowed the coffee. Otherwise she’d have choked on it. “Loco Lucy?”
Randy shrugged. “It’s what some of the guys call her.”
“How did I not know this?”
“You don’t hang out with us at the bar.” He tapped the paper. “Anyhow, I remembered hearing about a call and thought it might be the one you were asking about, so I pulled the report.”
Zoe scanned the nearly indecipherable scrawl on the page. Dated three weeks ago, it indicated Barry and Curtis had been on the crew responding to a vehicular collision on Oak Grove Road. Vance Township VFD had also responded, although the report didn’t name which firefighters had been at the call. Nothing unusual there. Two cars had been involved in the accident. Only minor injuries noted, with no one requiring transportation to the hospital, and the ambulance returned to the garage.
Disappointed, she said, “This doesn’t tell me much.”
“No, it doesn’t. It was a very forgettable call. On paper.”
“What do you mean?”
Randy removed another sheet of paper from the folder. “One of my guys stopped in that day after they’d gotten back. I remember he mentioned Curtis was acting jittery. When asked about it, Curtis dodged the questions, and Barry just waved them off, saying it was nothing. But he got the impression that it was definitely not nothing.”
She reached for the second paper. “What’s this?”
Randy handed it to her. “The reason Loco Lucy’s appearance reminded me about the call.”
The second sheet of paper was one of the release forms they required patients who refused transportation to sign. Considering what Randy had said, she expected to see Lucy’s signature at the bottom.
Zoe was close.
The signature on the form belonged to Hector Livingston, Lucy’s father.
Eighteen
The gray clouds grew darker as the wind hissed through the leaves overhead. Pete could smell the approaching rain on the breeze. Rain that would obliterate the tire tracks he and Nate were following. He picked up the pace.
“Any idea where this trail leads?” Nate asked.
Pete dug the crumpled map from his pocket and handed it to his officer. “Unfortunately this one branches off a couple of times. Hard to tell which trail our guy took.”
Nate kept stride for stride with Pete while studying the map. “He was on an all-terrain vehicle. Didn’t necessarily need to stay on the trail.”
Yeah, there was that too.
They broke into a rolling open expanse of grassland dotted with scrub trees. The wind, unbroken by the wooded cover, had shifted. Coming from the north, it carried a chill and threatened to snatch Pete’s ball cap from his head. He tugged it down tighter.
No way were they going to beat the rain. He pulled out his phone. Knowing there was no one at his station manning the radio on a Sunday morning, he punched in the non-emergency number for the county EOC. When they answered, he stopped walking and gestured for Nate to do the same. He needed to catch his breath, and stopping to look at the map was a good excuse. “Send officers in the area out to Gayle Road and T920 where the double-track trails intersect. Tell them to look for quad tracks consistent with our shooter. He may have used one of those trails to escape.”
“Ten-four, Chief Adams.”
Stuffing the phone back in his pocket, he started off again.
“We can rest a bit longer if you need to,” Nate said.
Pete noticed his officer wasn’t breathing hard at all. “I’m fine. Let’s move.”
He calculated they’d hiked about a half mile before they came to the first split. The tracks veered right at the Y, following the trail at a slight downgrade into another patch of trees. A minute later the pitter-patter of rain in the tree canopy pushed Pete into a jog. At least the cover of leaves and branches bought them a little time.
The next half mile felt like ten. Damn, he needed to get into shape. Another trail from the right joined theirs and brought with it multiple sets of new tracks.
“Our shooter wasn’t the only one out here,” Nate said.
Pete noticed his officer still wasn’t winded.
They trudged on, the pace slowing from a jog to a long-striding walk. Even with the additional tracks, Pete hoped they’d be able to pick out the one set they were interested in.
Overhead, the light pitter-patter grew into a steady whisper. Drops worked their way through the leaves, pelting his hat and shoulders.
A hundred or so yards ahead, the trees gave way again to rolling grasslands blanketed with a gray haze. The tread-mark mishmash in the dirt dissolved into a glistening sheen of mud, melting discernable prints into generic grooves along the trail.
“Damn it,” Pete said.
Nate stood at his side looking at the blank ribbon of slop stretching from their feet into the foggy distance. “I’m not sure if this guy is good or just lucky.”
“Both.” And while Snake Sullivan might have luck on his side, Pete still didn’t believe the kid had the smarts to be classified as good. Nor did Pete believe the tracks they’d been following doubled back at some point. Which meant not only was the gunman still out there, but Pete didn’t have a clue who or where.
Or if there really was only one shooter.
“What do you know about Hector Livingston?”
Having begged a ride home from Randy, Zoe stood at the kitchen counter, removing clean plates and silverware from the dishwasher, while Allison poured glasses of iced tea and Rose gathered the fixings for sandwiches.
Seated at the table, Sylvia pondered Zoe’s question. “Hector’s something of a recluse. He wasn’t always that way. I remember back when his wife was still alive, he was just your average Joe. A little quiet, but in a shy kind of way. Not like now.”
Zoe thought of her first visit to Curtis two days ago and the effect Hector had had on his crazy daughter, reining her in with a few words. “What do you mean? Like now?”
Sylvia appeared to consider her words carefully. “Well, now he seems a little…off. In the head. You know?”
Maybe Loco Lucy’s insanity was inherited. “When they came into Curtis’s room at the hospital, Lucy was the one who was ‘off.’ Hector stood back and watched. And then pretty much ordered her to behave. Which she did. I can’t imagine anyone else being able to quiet her down with only a few words.”
Allison carried a pair of glasses of iced tea to the table. Zoe noticed the dark scowl on the girl’s face and thought of what she’d said about young Jason Dyer having had a relationship with Lucy.
“Do you think she’s scared of him?” Rose asked. “Good heavens, you don’t think he beats her, do you?”
Sylvia shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“I don’t either.” Careful not to step on one of the two orange tabbies circling at her feet, Zoe set plates and forks at each of their places. “Lucy didn’t seem scared or intimidated. She seemed to revert to a little kid being scolded.”
Sylvia leaned back in her chair. “That sounds about right. Mind you, I rarely see Hector anymore, but I remember he adored his daughter when she was small. And then after his wife became ill and passed, Lucy was all he had left. It was the two of them against the world.”
Rose moved the platter with baked ham, cheese, lettuce, and tomato to the center of the table. “Maybe I’m thinking of someone else, but I seem to recall Hector being on the fire department.”
“Oh, yes.” Sylvia came forward again, reaching for her glass of tea. “That’s mostly how I knew him. He was several years older than Ted, but they were both on the Vance Township Fire Department.”
Allison jumped to the cabinet where they kept the cat food. “I’ll get it.”
“Thanks.” Zoe slipped into her seat. “How long ago was that?”
“You mean Hector on the fire department?” Sylvia sipped her tea, her brow furrowed in thought. “Had to be eighteen…nineteen years ago. Ted was a junior firefighter, and I don’t believe their time on the department overlapped more than a couple of years, if that. Hector quit when his wife passed. He pretty much dropped out of everything.”
“Why all the questions about him?” Rose asked, while glowering in the direction of the dishwasher.
Zoe shared Curtis’s interrupted story about the mysterious call to Oak Grove Road and his secretive reaction when Lucy burst in. “When the only accident report I could find named Hector as one of the victims, I got curious.”
Allison poured fresh dry food into bowls already half full. Jade and Merlin dived in as though they’d been famished. “Maybe Lucy doesn’t know about her dad being in the accident.”
Zoe glanced at the teen, whose voice had been uncharacteristically low.
Rose continued to frown. “Or maybe she does know, and it’s a sore subject.”
Zoe ran a finger around the rim of her glass. “But what could any of it have to do with Barry and Yancy getting shot?”
“And Jason,” Allison added.
And Curtis, Zoe thought.
Sylvia slowly straightened in her chair, like a balloon being filled with air, and her eyes shifted.
Before Zoe could ask what was wrong, Rose poked her arm. “You closed the dishwasher.”
“Yeah?” Zoe asked, wondering what it had to do with the shootings.
With a Vengeance Page 16