Acceptable Risk

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Acceptable Risk Page 12

by Lynette Eason

“Gotta get out of here,” the man behind her muttered. “Gotta get out of here.”

  “Calm down,” she whispered.

  “What? What’d you say?”

  “Please. Calm down.” If he jerked or twitched or fell, she was dead. Don’t think about that. Just breathe. “I’ll help you.” Sarah continued to focus on breathing while dark spots danced in front of her eyes. Her captor kept her between himself and the officers he could see. “What’s . . . ,” Sarah wheezed, “. . . your name?”

  “Shut up. Oh man, this is crazy. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  “Please, tell me your name.”

  “Sam! My name’s Sam, now shut it. I need to think. Why can’t I think?”

  His panicked breaths echoed in her ear and his grip slipped a fraction. Just enough to let her drag in a lungful of much-needed air before his hold tightened again.

  Escape scenarios zipped through her mind. Unfortunately, all of them ended with her dead.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTEEN

  As soon as Gavin saw the officers had their weapons trained on the man called Sam, he put his own weapon away. He didn’t need them worried about him and his gun too.

  Sarah had told him to go to the woman, make sure she was okay, but he couldn’t leave. A glance back told him the wounded woman was still breathing. Barely.

  Right now, he was just inside the door, trying to avoid being a target should someone decide to start shooting, but close enough to keep Sarah in his sight. However . . .

  He raced to the front door and threw it open. At least the paramedics could come in and take care of the woman. He knelt next to her to check her pulse. Slow and thready. Faint. And the blood flow had slowed. He bolted back to the door onto the deck—and Sarah—and stepped outside onto the wood.

  “You!”

  Gavin turned. Two officers had entered the doorway Gavin had broken through. Both cops held their weapons steady and trained on Gavin.

  “I’m one of the good guys. My ID is in my back pocket.”

  “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

  Gavin held his hands in the air, only slightly comforted that the cops had the man holding Sarah surrounded. “There’s a woman in here who’s been shot but is still alive. She needs help now or she’s going to die!” If she hadn’t already. “Let the paramedics in.”

  “Check it out, Pete. I’ve got this guy covered.” Pete slipped behind the cop holding his weapon on Gavin and into the house. “On your knees, now!”

  Gavin went to his knees, keeping his hands where the officer could see them. His position allowed him a good view through the deck spindles, and he kept his gaze on the man holding Sarah. Think, think!

  Gavin noted another officer coming up on Sarah and her captor’s flank and taking cover behind a tree. “Give it up, Sam,” Gavin called. “Look around. You’re surrounded and not going anywhere. Why don’t you make this easier on yourself and just let her go?”

  “Dude,” the officer who had his weapon trained on Gavin said, “shut up and let us work. Stay down and be quiet.”

  “Of course.” Unless it meant rescuing Sarah. Paramedics were already working on Brianne’s friend, so that was one worry off his plate. “The guy’s name is Sam,” he said. “He claims he didn’t shoot the two women inside. He was burglarizing the place and panicked.”

  “Good to know. I’ll pass that on to the negotiator. Now stay put.”

  Sarah’s attacker swiveled, pulling her with him, the gun never wavering from her temple. “I don’t want to hurt her, but I will. I’m not going to prison! I don’t know why I’m doing this. Why am I doing this? Ahh!” He glanced at Gavin, who still knelt on the deck floor. “Tell them to get back! Tell them!” Sweat poured down from the man’s temples.

  “I’m not a cop,” he said. “But things will go a lot easier for you if you just put the gun down and let Sarah go.” He used her name hoping it would make her a real person to him. “Her name’s Sarah. She has a brother and a dad who want her to come home without another bullet hole.”

  “Shut up! Shut up! I was just doing a favor for someone. This wasn’t supposed to happen! Why is this happening?”

  Gavin noticed the guy’s eyes. Thought about the pinpoint pupils he’d noticed earlier in the initial confrontation. Sweating. Agitated. It wasn’t withdrawal, he was on something.

  From his vantage point of still being sprawled on the deck a mere ten feet away from Sarah and the gunman, Gavin could see two officers to the side of the house communicating with one another once again. He’d give anything to have an earpiece to hear what they were planning.

  Something tapped his shoe and he jerked. Looked back to see the officer motioning him inside. He scooted back until he was inside. The cop still held his gun on him.

  “My name’s Gavin Black. I’m with Black Ops Security. The woman being held hostage is one of my clients because I dropped my guard.” Stupid, stupid. He should have checked the closet.

  “ID?”

  Gavin carefully removed his wallet and tossed it to the man, who caught it midair. He gave it a quick once-over. “Military, huh?”

  “Yeah. Three tours in the Middle East.”

  “Special Forces, I’m assuming.”

  “Part of the time, yeah.”

  The officer hesitated, glanced at his partner, who was supervising the paramedics loading the woman on the gurney. “All right. Let’s get you out of here.”

  Gavin shook his head. “I’ll let you guys do your job, but I’m not going anywhere until I know Sarah’s safe.” Right now, he still had a view of the weapon and Sarah. “Is SWAT here?” he asked.

  “Yeah. We actually have a guy with us who’s a fill-in sniper on the SWAT team when they need someone. He’s the one on the roof.”

  Gavin let his gaze scan the tops of the nearby houses and finally spotted an officer on top of the house next door, a rifle to his shoulder.

  Gavin swung his attention back to Sarah and found her attacker had turned, allowing Sarah to see him. Her gaze locked on Gavin’s. The terror in her eyes seared him, but the hint of steel mixed with it encouraged him. She’d be okay. She had to be. God, don’t let him pull that trigger. On purpose or by accident. Please.

  The man shifted once more, trying to see where the officers were. He spotted the nearest one and removed the weapon from Sarah to point it at the cop. “I said get back!”

  Sarah slammed the back of her head against his chin.

  Her captor jerked, stumbled away from her, even as he turned his weapon back toward her.

  He fired as Sarah dove for the ground.

  Gavin let out a harsh cry and shot to his feet and out onto the deck, ignoring the shout of the officer behind him.

  The rifle on the roof popped and the gunman went down just as Gavin vaulted over the side toward Sarah—who was scrambling to get out of the way.

  He bolted toward her while the officer behind him yelled at him to get down. The others raced for the gunman. Gavin dropped to his knees beside Sarah while two officers cuffed the bleeding man.

  “Are you okay?” Gavin demanded, looking for a bullet wound—another one—and finding nothing new. The shot had missed her.

  “My ears are ringing,” she said, “and my side hurts, but we’re both alive, so I’m pretty much okay with that.” She shuddered, looked at the officer. “You can stop pointing that at him. He’s a good guy.”

  The officer didn’t lower his weapon until his partner gave the all clear. Gavin pulled Sarah into a loose hug.

  “Did you find Brianne?” she asked.

  He shuddered. “I did. At least I assume it’s her.”

  “And?”

  “She’s dead,” he murmured. “Gunshot to the head.”

  “I was afraid of that.” Sarah bit her lip and looked away, blinking hard. “I’ll take a look and make sure.”

  “No, you don’t want to see that.”

  “I need to. I can tell you if it’s her or not. If it’s not, th
en we need to find her.” Sarah pushed away from him, and he followed her into the house and down the hall. She took one look and gasped. “That’s her.”

  Gavin took her back into his arms, relieved that she let him.

  “We were too late,” she mumbled against his chest. “Too late.”

  “We tried.”

  “Did he kill them?”

  “I don’t know. The ME will have to do her job and the cops will do theirs before we’ll know that.”

  “Of course.” She swallowed. “Thank you for not leaving me,” she said, her voice soft, barely there. “Knowing you were there, behind him, behind us, kept me from losing it.”

  He leaned back and she looked up at him. He brushed strands of hair from her eyes. “Something’s going on, Sarah. Something . . . weird.”

  “I know.”

  “And somehow we’ve landed right in the middle of it.”

  “Yeah, I think I’ve kind of figured that out.”

  Caden paced the small area just outside Sam Wilmont’s hospital room. The man had come through the ninety-minute surgery to remove the bullet and bone fragments with no complications. Now Caden just needed him to wake up. The SWAT member who’d pulled the trigger had had to aim for the shoulder since he couldn’t get a good bead on Wilmont’s head. With Sarah’s timely headbutt, the risky shot had worked, and that’s all that mattered to Caden at the moment.

  As much as he would like to get his hands around the man’s throat, he wanted to talk to him more. He needed answers and he needed them yesterday. But he’d have to play it cool if he wanted to stay anywhere near this case. Wilmont’s actions had connected Sarah to the case, which made things awkward for him and for the other detectives. It had been all he could do to convince his supervisor that he could exercise self-control and be objective. He wouldn’t be surprised if they asked him to step away.

  Detective Caroline Attwood and her partner Elliott Bancroft were the official lead investigators, but Caden was hoping they’d at least fill him in on whatever they learned. Elliott approached, with Caroline following a few steps behind him.

  Caden shook Elliott’s proffered hand. “Thanks for letting me be here.”

  “Your sister is the victim?”

  “Along with two other women. One is still in surgery, the other is in the morgue downstairs.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” Caroline said.

  “We—as in my family—are hoping Brianne Davis’s friend, Michelle Nelson, will be able to tell us what happened in that house.”

  “You think Wilmont’s good for the shootings?”

  “He was in the house with a gun. Then he pulled that gun on my sister and held her hostage. Until someone proves differently, he’s good for them.”

  “All right, then. Brianne’s family is here. As is the family of Mrs. Nelson. We’ve asked them to stay and answer questions. They’re desperate for answers, as you can imagine.”

  “Of course.”

  “We’ll keep you updated.”

  “I’d appreciate that.” He paused. “Do you mind if I talk to Brianne’s family? I’ve already talked to her father once, but I’d like to express my condolences and ask him a few more questions if he’s up to it.”

  “Fine with me,” Elliott said. Caroline nodded.

  “Thanks.” Caden was grateful for two detectives who didn’t mind keeping him in the loop. It allowed him to breathe a little easier, knowing he wasn’t going to have to fight tooth and nail for information.

  Sarah was on the second floor getting checked out, and Gavin had opted to stay with her while Caden waited for Wilmont to wake up. He shook his head, finding it unbelievable that Sarah would once again be involved in a hostage situation. She’d certainly defied all the odds in a very short span of time.

  “What’s the background on this guy?” Caden asked. He knew the detectives would have done their homework before coming—or on the way.

  “Wilmont has a record, but nothing like this,” Elliott said. “Up to now, he’s been small time. Shoplifting, car theft, but not carjacking, petty theft, vandalism, et cetera. He’s never hurt or threatened to hurt anyone.” He paused. “And it’s interesting. Over the last year, he appeared to clean up his act, got a job at the VA hospital as an orderly. He hasn’t missed a day since he started and has gotten good reviews from his supervisors and patients.”

  “So, this was a big leap.”

  “Huge.”

  “Another thing,” Caroline said. “They also found pills in his pocket that matched the pills in the house, so he may have been high when all of this went down.”

  “Sounds like the pills may have been too big of a temptation for a former addict to resist,” Caden said.

  Elliott raised a brow. “Looks like that might have been the case. How’d he get a job at a hospital, of all places?”

  Caden shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s possible someone did someone a favor and got him hired. Who knows? Have you talked to Sarah yet?”

  “No.” Caroline glanced at her phone and tapped the screen, sending a caller to voice mail. “The doctor was with her, so we decided to come check on Wilmont.”

  “I talked to her briefly when they first brought her in. She started going step by step through what happened at the house, so I recorded it with her permission. I can send it to you if you want it.”

  “Absolutely.” Elliott gave Caden his number, and Caden sent the man the file.

  “If you need anything more than that,” Caden said, tucking his phone back into the clip on his belt, “I know she’ll be happy to cooperate.”

  “Good. We’ll have a few more questions after we listen.”

  “Sounds like my sister has a lot to be thankful for.” Caden swallowed the sudden surge of emotion and turned when Wilmont’s door opened.

  The nurse exited and looked at the three of them. “He’s groggy, but awake.”

  Elliott nodded to Caden. “Let’s see what this guy has to say for himself.”

  They were going to let him listen in? It was more than he’d hoped for. “Thank you.” He followed them into the room. Wilmont lay on the bed, looking rough, his pale cheeks discernible from the white pillow only by the freckles that dotted his nose. His red hair spiked in all directions and his eyes were closed.

  “Hey, Sam,” Caroline said. “Can you wake up a minute?”

  “Go ’way,” he muttered.

  “Wake up. Now!” Caroline gave his foot a hard nudge.

  Wilmont grunted, but he blinked and pried his eyes open before they fell shut again.

  “Sam, we’re not going away,” Elliott said. “You might as well wake up and tell us why you shot those two ladies.”

  The man frowned and shook his head, even though his eyes remained closed. “What are you talking about? I didn’t shoot anyone.”

  “The doors were locked from the inside,” Caden said to Elliott. “Gavin had to break in to get to Mrs. Nelson.”

  Elliott gave a short nod. “Come on, why’d you shoot them?”

  A flush crept into Wilmont’s cheeks. And finally, his eyes opened a crack. “I’m telling you, I didn’t shoot anyone.”

  “You had a gun. You took a hostage.”

  “What? I didn’t. I . . . I was just . . . I . . . where am I? What’s going on?” He licked his lips. “Water? Please?”

  Caden took the cup from the tray and held it to Wilmont’s lips.

  The man took a long draw and sighed. “Thanks.”

  “Why’d you take the gun?” Caden asked. He shot a look at the two detectives and stepped back. “Sorry. Forgot my place.”

  Elliott allowed a small smile to curve his lips, then turned his attention back to Wilmont. “Well? Answer the man. Why’d you take the gun?”

  “What gun? I didn’t take a gun. I was . . . I was . . .” He licked his lips and squinted. “What was I doing again? Why am I here?”

  The detectives exchanged a glance.

  Caden rubbed a hand down his jaw. “You don�
��t remember what happened?”

  “I remember going to the house and then . . .” He shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s a blank.” Fear flashed in his eyes.

  Something wasn’t right. The guy wasn’t faking.

  “You took a gun and shot two people,” Elliott said.

  That pulled him fully out from under the anesthesia. His eyes widened and he gasped. Choked. “Wha—? No! No way. I wouldn’t. I didn’t!”

  “Let’s get a doctor in here,” Elliott said. “We may have to question him after the doctor checks him.”

  Caden stepped into the hall and found the nurse, made the request for the doctor to put in an appearance, and returned to the room.

  “He wants to continue,” Elliott said.

  Caden wasn’t sure that was smart, but didn’t buck the detectives.

  “We had him checked for gunshot residue,” Elliott said to Caden. “But I haven’t heard the results yet.”

  “All right,” Caroline said, “let’s say I believe you and you didn’t shoot those two ladies.” Her expression said she believed anything but. “Then what were you doing at the house and why were you hiding in the closet?”

  Wilmont lifted a hand to his right temple and squinted. “Um. The house. Oh yeah. I remember the house. I was there to deliver some drugs.”

  “Do tell,” Elliott said.

  A flush darkened Wilmont’s cheeks, and he blinked, his eyes clearing a bit. “Not like that. The lady, Brianne, had left her pain pills at the hospital. Max found them and asked me to bring them to her.”

  “Max?”

  “The old guy at the hospital. He does a lot of cleaning around the place. Her address was right there on the pill bottle, so Max asked me to take them to her.”

  “What happened when you got there?”

  “I . . .” He blinked. “I don’t know.” His eyes darted from one detective to the other and finally landed on Caden. “Why can’t I remember?” He took a deep breath and his lashes fluttered, but he kept his eyes open.

  “Did you take anything before you went?” Caden asked.

  “Wha—no.”

  His eyes shifted and Caden pounced. “I think you did. You were on something. What was it?”

 

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