Jon's Downright Ridiculous Shooting Case

by A J Sherwood

“Dude, you could see his crush from space,” Borrowman stated bluntly, a quick grin at Donovan to show he teased. “You I found harder to peg, but I gave it even odds you were interested. I gotta ask, who made the first move?”

  I raised my hand the same moment Donovan pointed at me.

  “Really?” Borrowman sighed, head falling back for a moment. “Damn. Good thing I didn’t bet on it, I would have said the other way ’round. Oh well. So Bane, you staying with your boyfriend while we figure this out?”

  I really liked the words ‘your boyfriend’ and maybe smiled in a slightly demented way. “Duh.”

  “Figured. Just checking in case I need to reach you.” Waving me in closer, he requested, “Walk me through this. Where were you, where was the shooter?”

  “I was in the kitchen,” I answered, bending at the waist to duck under the crime scene tape. The area was cordoned off so that no one could use the sidewalk, the tape ending at the curb. Someone had cleaned up all of the glass shards and put plywood over the windows, but only black plastic blocked the door. That did not seem adequate protection to keep thieves out. I’d have to do something about that today. “I was cooking, actually, and the first shot broke the front window and sent glass everywhere.”

  “So the first shot took you unawares,” Borrowman noted down in his pad, pen scratching across the paper. “Get anywhere near you?”

  “I don’t think so.” I had to cast back, really think about that. Slowly, I repeated the sentiment, “No, I don’t think it did. I didn’t feel any shots go high, actually. It all seemed to impact against the bottom of the bar.”

  “That’s been our finding so far.” Borrowman pushed his sunglasses back up to rest properly on the bridge of his nose. “We haven’t found any bullets higher than the bar, and believe me, we looked. So you heard the window shatter, and the first shot, then what?”

  I felt sure he had my statement half memorized at this point, but he also wanted to see if my perception of it had changed. Rattled people didn’t always remember everything and, conversely, sometimes their memory changed after a few days. People actually made the worst witnesses ever. “I ducked behind the bar. There’s a lot of wood there, it’s a pretty sturdy piece. I figured it offered the best protection.”

  “You didn’t return fire.” It wasn’t a question.

  Shaking my head, I responded, “I couldn’t. The gun was in my car. I’d left it in the glove compartment.”

  “You normally do that?”

  “Not normally, no. But I’d gone grocery shopping after work and put it in the glove compartment for safe keeping. I’d just carried groceries in, put them away, then thought I’d better start dinner before doing anything else. I guess the gun temporarily slipped my mind.” I was fairly sure I’d have remembered it about the time I got ready for bed, as I always put the gun in the gun safe in my closet at the end of the night. But the point was moot now. “Anyway, I couldn’t reach it. The hallway leading to the back lot is a straight shot from the front. I would have been a duck in a shooting galley if I’d gone for it.”

  Borrowman assured me, “It was a smart choice, I wouldn’t have risked it either. So you went for your phone instead. Why call Donovan?”

  “I was a hundred percent sure that my neighbors had already called the cops,” I explained. “Especially the lady who owns the bookstore, she’s quick to report any trouble. I wasn’t worried about that. No offense to you guys, I know you have my back, but honestly? Donovan’s my response team. If there’s trouble, I want him.”

  “That, and he understands that if he doesn’t call me, he’s in for it,” Donovan pitched in, tone not at all joking.

  Proving that he really was a friend, Borrowman didn’t even try to argue that point. “Okay, so you called the boyfriend. He gets here faster than our uniforms, and what did you see, Havili?”

  “Shooter was across the street, standing in that narrow alley,” Donovan answered, pointing to the two-foot access between the donut shop and the bookstore. “Stood about five-and-a-half feet, jeans and an oversized hoodie. Never did see the face but I got the impression female.”

  “Why?” Borrowman pressed, not challenging, but needing an answer.

  “Hips,” Donovan answered instantly, no hesitation or uncertainty. “She had definite hips to her, and it was obvious when she ran. She screamed once, too, when I shot out the back window of the truck. The voice was too high to be a man’s. Only a guy who hasn’t hit puberty yet could reach that high.”

  “So when you got here, where did you park?”

  “There.” Donovan pointed to the fire-only parking spot in front of the dry cleaners. “Only clear spot. As soon as I had the truck in park, I pulled my own gun and shot at her. I wasn’t aiming to kill, I wanted her subdued. But my arrival spooked her, I think, she ducked into the alley pretty quickly when I got out. My bullet hit the brick. I chased after her, just to the other side.” Donovan grimaced, the memory of it still frustrating to him. “It was too narrow for me to run at full speed in there. She got ahead of me, and by the time I reached the other side, she’d gotten half into the truck. I tried to force her out again by shooting towards the passenger side window, but all she did was scream and duck. She floored it at that point.”

  “And you didn’t fire another shot?”

  Donovan shook his head. “Didn’t seem a good idea—there were too many pedestrians, and shooting at a moving vehicle is a little risky. Too risky under the circumstances. I chose instead to memorize the plate number. Wish now I hadn’t and tried for a tire.”

  “I actually prefer that you get license plate numbers,” Borrowman assured him dryly. “So you got the number and then, what? Ran for Bane?”

  “Basically, yeah. It scared me he hadn’t already come out on his own. I was afraid he was hurt.” Donovan’s even tone grew a little rough around the edges, his meridian line sparking an ashen color in remembered fear.

  Instinctively, I reached for him, tangling his fingers with mine. He latched on, hand a little cold even in this heat. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wasn’t sure if it was safe to come out yet.”

  He turned a quick smile at me. “Believe me, babe, I prefer for you to keep your head down until I give you the all clear. You were smart. I didn’t say my fear was rational.” He took in a breath and continued his account, back to that perfectly even tone of voice. “So yeah, I started calling for him as soon as I hit this side of the street again, and by the time I cleared the door, he was standing up. There was glass everywhere, but no blood. I checked him for shock, holstered my weapon, but didn’t have the time to do much else, as the cops arrived at that point.”

  Borrowman and I had worked together almost since my first day at Psy. Because of that, I knew how to read him better than most people. He wore a pensive expression now, the meridian line around his head whirling in a visual hum of noise as he thought. I poked him in the shoulder. “Out with it.”

  “I don’t think she actually meant to hurt you.” Borrowman put his notebook away in a pocket, not looking at either of us as he turned his head back and forth from the shooter’s position to my bullet-ridden house. “You had no idea she was there. She was about twenty feet away from you, had all the time in the world to line up the shot, but didn’t come anywhere close to hitting you. And she kept shooting, emptied a full clip into your kitchen bar, to keep you down. At no point did she try to approach you, get a better angle for another shot, nothing. She only stopped when Havili arrived. This whole thing smacks of a scare tactic.”

  My eyes roved around the front of my place, taking in all the damage once again. Some scare tactic. “But why? I don’t get it.”

  “I don’t either, I’m just saying what the evidence looks like.” Borrowman rocked back and forth on his heels, humming a noncommittal sound under his breath. “You really can’t think of anyone who would do this?”

  “No,” I admitted. I could actually think of several people who would love to put a bullet in me, but an
yone who had that kind of opening to take a shot at me would have made sure it hit. I carefully didn’t say that. “What about the truck? Is that a dead end?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Got some prints off the steering wheel and gear shaft. Got some footage of her abandoning the truck near a gas station. We might be able to make the girl, but both footage and prints are processing right now. I won’t have an answer to that for a few days.”

  What TV mysteries never really showed was how much time the law took to get something done. There were just so many cases, so much evidence to process, and not enough time or professionals to handle it all at once. I had no doubt Borrowman had leaned on the techs to process things faster for my sake, as it shouldn’t have been a few days, but a few weeks. I could say with complete honesty, “I appreciate the speed. It’s okay if it takes a while, though.”

  Borrowman gave me a lecherous waggle of the brows. “Yeah, I bet.”

  “Shut up,” I responded with a laugh. “Be professional. So can I go in and get some stuff now?”

  “Sure. And honestly, we’re almost done with the place; I can give it back to you tomorrow if you want to start repairs. We’ve got all we can get.”

  That sounded good to me and I nodded. I loved being with Donovan, but his place made me nervous. There was a lot that I couldn’t touch or go near without risking appliances. I would feel better in my own space, even with the threat of a shooter.

  A quick glance at Donovan showed that he did not feel the same way about it. From his stance, he likely felt that being here with my shooter still on the loose was a bad idea. For his sake, I said, “It’ll likely take me a solid week to get all of the windows replaced. The danger might be passed by then.”

  He still didn’t like it but bit back the argument I could see brewing in him. We’d have to talk about this later.

  I followed Borrowman inside and then up the stairs so I could pack a very large bag.

  Our next stop was my mother’s office. I checked the morgue first but didn’t find her there, nor was she at her desk, so I tried upstairs next. I didn’t see her so much as hear her, her voice rising in volume, drowning out the multiple keyboards, voices, and general hum of commotion in the bullpen. Everyone seemed hyper-aware of the yelling coming out of the captain’s office, and although their hands moved as they worked, they kept shooting glances in that direction.

  “—what do you mean you don’t know?!” Mom demanded. “My son gets shot at by some crazy person and you let him go off without any protection?”

  “Lauren, I didn’t say that—” Poor Olivia sounded ready to tear her hair out.

  “Then where the hell is he?!”

  I cleared the door to the captain’s office quickly, using the door jamb to catch and stop myself. My mother had both hands planted on the desk, leaning forward, red hair nearly standing on end with her anger. Psychics’ energy sometimes flared like that, when their emotions couldn’t be contained inside their own skin, although few of us could actually see it. The sight nearly made me flinch, as a rampaging dragon had nothing on my mother when she reached that level. “Mom.”

  Whirling, she spotted me and then lunged, wrapping both arms so tightly around my waist that it cut off all air and blood flow. I hugged her in return, starkly reminded of how short she really was when I easily put my chin on top of her head. “I’m alright. Breathe, Mom.”

  Her arms impossibly tightened around me. “What the hell were you thinking? When something like that happens, you come home, you understand me?”

  Not on a cold day in hell would I ever do that. But I had survival instincts. I didn’t say that. “Donovan had me, I was perfectly safe. Didn’t Skylar pass on the message?”

  “She did,” Mom allowed, finally pulling back enough to look up at my face. “But I had no way of reaching you and no one could tell me where you went after Donovan took off with you. Donovan, really, I thought we were friends.”

  “Sorry,” he apologized, genuinely contrite. “I only had Skylar’s number. So much happened, my first priority was getting him safe and out of sight, so I took him home with me.”

  “We’re swapping numbers after this,” she informed him tartly.

  Donovan had survival instincts too. “Yes ma’am.”

  I had this feeling I owed Olivia chocolate again. Maybe a dozen roses. Over my mother’s head, I mouthed, ‘I’ll take her.’

  Olivia shooed me out with both hands, expression relieved as she flopped back into her chair.

  “Come on, Mom, I haven’t had lunch yet.” With one arm still around her shoulders, I steered her out of the office. “Come eat with me, I’ll tell you all about it, and where the investigation stands now. And yesterday wasn’t a complete disaster, something good came out of it too.”

  She paused, dragging me to a halt, glaring up at me. “I find it hard to believe that anything good could have possibly happened yesterday. You’re just trying to sidetrack me.”

  Well, yes. Again, I knew better than to say that. I grasped Donovan’s hand instead and lifted it to my mouth, planting a kiss on the back, then arched a pointed eyebrow at her.

  “No!” she denied in rising delight, eyes going wide, mouth spreading into a happy grin. “Really? Donovan, you sly dog.”

  He kept my hand in his even as he returned her smile. “It’s not what you’re thinking. He actually asked me.”

  She smacked me with an open palm against my shoulder. “And you said you didn’t want to!”

  Thanks a lot, Mom. “I did not. I said it wasn’t a good idea, I never said I didn’t want him.”

  “And now it’s a good idea?” she riposted, nearly bouncing in glee.

  “Probably not,” I allowed with a quick wink at Donovan. “But he’s irresistible. When it all goes wrong, I’m blaming him.”

  “Nice, so that’s your game plan, babe?” Donovan mock-growled at me. Actually, he seemed pleased and amused by this.

  I shrugged innocently, batting my big blues at him.

  “Well, this is cause for celebration.” Mom pulled us back into motion, heading for the back door. “Jon, where did you park?”

  “Out back. Want lasagna?”

  “Yes,” Mom declared firmly.

  I figured that would be the case. Lasagna was my mother’s comfort food. She ate it at least once a week. She was still rattled, still unhappy that I’d been put in such danger, but very relieved at the same time. It didn’t even take a psychic to know why. After five years, I was back to dating, and with someone that she could actually trust this time. I just hoped that she would be content with me having a boyfriend and wouldn’t corner Donovan at some point and push him into being my anchor as well. We were so not ready for that level, and honestly, I felt like we needed to date for a while before we even considered going there.

  But that was only a possible argument for another time. I’d fight that battle when I got to it.

  15

  I spent the rest of the day talking to my insurance company and getting repairs scheduled. The window guys assured me that I had standard industrial-sized windows—go me—and that they could have them installed by Saturday. I thought a three day turn around sounded amazing.

  The door actually had a bullet hole in the frame so it had to be replaced completely. I took Donovan shopping with me, choosing a new door that didn’t have a completely open glass look to it, something with more character and sturdiness. I rather liked the idea that the entire front of my house couldn’t be seen through.

  Donovan seconded me on this.

  The insurance company agreed to pay for windows, repairs on the bar, and two new couches, as mine were rather riddled with holes. It didn’t quite cover all the costs, but close enough that my budget only took a small hit, so I considered myself fortunate.

  Night two of staying at my boyfriend’s house ended with us once again in separate beds. Which was sweet and all, but if he didn’t make a move soon, I’d jump him. I might still be a little emotionally rattled but I’d
also been celibate for over five years. Celibacy + hot boyfriend = horny. Very easy math.

  We went out for breakfast Thursday morning, ate leisurely, then went back to Donovan’s house without any fanfare, a policeman still tailing us. I understood I could only have the protection another twenty-four hours, just from shortage of manpower, and chose to enjoy it while it lasted.

  As we came up to the front door, I saw a vase of flowers sitting on the porch, a sprightly collection of daisies, carnations, and baby’s breath. Picking up the small card from its holder, I read aloud, “‘Thanks for ducking this time! From everyone at Psy.’ Seriously, they think they’re so funny—” I paused as a sense of foreboding seeped into my mind. I’d missed something, something important, and I wasn’t sure why that vase of flowers reminded me—oh shit. Flowers. The creepy guy at the flower shop. In all of the madness and confusion, I’d forgotten about it completely. Turning, I caught Donovan’s arm. “Call Borrowman.”

  He obediently took his phone out of his pocket but questioned me as he did so. “Why? Did you remember something?”

  “Yeah, I need to double check something with him.”

  Donovan dialed in the number, then hit speaker and held it out so that I could talk into it. The phone rang twice before it clicked. “Hello?”

  “Borrowman, it’s Jon. Look, I forgot completely what with the shooting, but did you talk to Sho about the suspect for the Marsha Brown case?”

  “Damn, I forgot to talk to you about that. Yes, I did. I didn’t get much of a chance to look things over, though, before your situation went down. I’m heading back to the station now, I’ll take a better look at what he dug up. I assume if I can get a warrant for this creep, you want to help with the interview?”

  “Borrowman, I saw this man with my own eyes.” I carefully avoided looking at Donovan as I said this, as for some reason my boyfriend of two days currently seemed unhappy with me. “I know for a fact he’s a serial killer.”

  “So even if he didn’t do in Marsha Brown, find a way to get a warrant,” Borrowman translated without effort. “Got it. Alright, I’ll work on that while waiting on your labs and will be in touch.”