by Chris Culver
I kicked Kushnir’s hand to dislodge his firearm. Then I kicked the gun so he couldn’t reach it. He was alive, but Sasquatch had shot him in the back twice with an M4 carbine. The muscles of his back wouldn’t have even slowed the rounds down before they reached his lungs. He coughed, splattering blood in the night air. He was dead in all but name.
I ran to Sasquatch. He had taken a round to his rib cage. Blood dribbled down his chin. I pressed a hand to his wound to stop the bleeding. His blood trickled through my fingers and down my wrist.
“I saved your life, Joe,” he said, almost smiling. “I heard him talking.”
“Don’t speak,” I said, pulling my T-shirt over my head. I pressed the fabric hard against his rib cage, hoping that would help stanch the blood flow. He licked his lips. As I held the shirt, I checked his neck for a pulse. It felt weak and thready. Unless we got him to a doctor, he would die. “You’re a hero, Preston. If you make it out of this, I’ll tell everybody.”
He closed his eyes and swallowed. “And I’ll tell everybody you showed me your boobs.”
I was wearing a bra, but I didn’t want to quibble with him. A moment later, people shouted behind me. Our backup had finally arrived.
“I’m here, and I need help.”
Officers Dave Skelton, Bill Wharton, and Louise Ortega sprinted through the woods toward me. Skelton carried a first-aid kit, and he knelt beside Sasquatch. Before becoming a police officer, he had been an EMT, so he knew what to do. I stood and backed off.
“One shooter is dead, but the second shooter escaped,” I said. “I can’t find Nicole Bryant. She’s hurt. I need an air ambulance.”
Ortega sprinted toward the road while Skelton and Wharton started emergency medical treatment on Sasquatch. I wasn’t any use there, so I ran, hoping I’d find Nicole Bryant somewhere. Even I knew it was pointless. The woods were dark, and I was just running in circles. Every time I stopped, though, my mind flashed to a mental image of Nicole dying on the ground.
As time passed, more officers arrived. I didn’t know where I was going or what I was doing, but I couldn’t force my body to stop moving. I kept running and running. The world around me disappeared except for a ten- or fifteen-foot tunnel in front of me.
And then I felt a pair of arms grab my shoulders. I almost fell, but somehow I stayed on my feet.
“Easy, Joe,” came Harry’s soft-spoken voice. Trisha was right beside him. She handed me a navy St. Augustine County Sheriff’s Department shirt. For a second, I stared at it, unsure why she would hand me a T-shirt. Then I looked down and realized that I wasn’t wearing one.
“Where’s your shirt, honey?” asked Trisha. I closed my eyes and forced my mind to focus.
“On the ground somewhere. I took it off and used it to keep pressure on Preston’s gunshot. Then I tried to find Nicole.”
The world returned to focus as I spoke. I threw on the T-shirt and noticed that there were a dozen officers searching the woods.
“Nicole was somewhere to the south,” I said. “Sasquatch let her off to follow a guy named Kurt Wilkinson. He had a shotgun, but I don’t think she knew. I was on the phone with her when the bad guy shot her. She identified herself and ordered him to drop his weapon. He shot her instead. He didn’t even warn her. She was just doing her job.”
I didn’t realize I was crying until I tasted my tears as they pooled in the corner of my lips. Trisha put a hand on my shoulder.
“It’s okay,” she said. “You did everything you could.”
“We’ve got to find her,” I said. “She’s here somewhere.”
“We already have found her,” said Harry, his voice soft. “She probably died instantly. Sasquatch is still alive, and that’s because of you. A helicopter is taking him to a hospital in St. Louis right now. You saved his life.”
My legs felt weak, and my head felt light, but I didn’t let myself fall. Every muscle in my body felt tense. My body screamed at me to run, but I had nowhere to go.
“You need to call the Highway Patrol. We need helicopters, and we need officers to go door to door for Kurt Wilkinson. He’s armed and dangerous.”
“We’re already on it,” said Harry. “We need you to calm down and come with us. We think you’re in shock, so we’re going to—”
“I’m fine,” I said, interrupting him. My fingers trembled, so I balled them into fists at my sides. “I was disoriented at first, but I’m better now. Okay?”
“The paramedics need to check you out anyway,” said Harry. “I understand that you want to find Wilkinson, but you’re no good to anybody if you’re hurt.”
I couldn’t keep still. My breath felt short, and my skin felt warm.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m just a little hot.”
“This isn’t a suggestion,” said Harry, following along as I plodded through the woods. “Talk to the paramedics. That’s an order. If you refuse, I’ll put you in handcuffs. Please don’t make me do that.”
I said nothing, but I kept walking. Then, I hit a tree. It was like it had just jumped in front of me. I put my forehead against the bark and wheezed. Then, I bunched my hand into a fist and punched it hard enough that pain shot through my knuckle and up my forearm. Strong arms grabbed me as an angry, frightened sob erupted from my throat.
“Nicole was only working the night shift because of her kids. She needed the money to help put them through school.”
Neither of them said anything, but Trisha put a hand on my upper arm.
“This is so fucking wrong,” I said. “She was just trying to help her family.”
“You did your best to take care of her,” said Trisha, smiling and leading me away. “Let us take care of you now.”
“I’m fine,” I said, trying to push away from them both. They both held onto me. There were a dozen or more emergency response vehicles with their lights on at the edge of the woods. I hadn’t even known they were there.
“You’re not fine,” said Trisha. “Let us take care of you.”
She squeezed my arm hard. I wanted to fight her and thrash my arms. I wanted to scream at her and tell her to leave me alone. She was just trying to help, though. I nodded and let them take me to the edge of the woods.
“You’ll be okay,” said Harry. “We’ve got you.”
They led me to an ambulance, where a pair of paramedics checked my blood pressure and flashed a light in my eyes. They even gave me a bottle of water. More than anything else, that cold liquid calmed my racing heart. I may have lost it for a little while, but I was okay. I’d survive.
The ambulance’s air conditioning cooled me off and allowed my mind to focus. While they tended to someone else, I slipped out and found Harry at the edge of the woods talking to a trooper from the Highway Patrol. Both looked at me as I approached.
“How are you feeling, Joe?” asked Harry.
“Better. Thank you,” I said, drawing in a deep breath and trying to sound confident even though my legs felt weak. “Kurt Wilkinson and Stephan Kushnir covered a train car in tarps. They planned to kill somebody.”
“Who?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “But we need to find out before Wilkinson finishes the job.”
32
I stayed at the crime scene for another three or four hours and led four different investigators through what had happened. All the while, I couldn’t stop thinking about Nicole Bryant’s family. Nicole didn’t have superpowers, and she couldn’t shake off fatal wounds, but she still risked and lost her life to protect other people. She died a hero in every sense of the word. Someone needed to tell them what had happened and why.
After hours of interviews and prodding by the medical staff, I turned my firearm over to a detective with the Highway Patrol and drove home. Harry and a minister from the local Methodist church had already stopped by Nicole’s house to inform her family that she had died, so I’d go by in a couple of days when things had settled some. It was the least I could do.
Tonight was on
e of those nights in which I most needed someone, but nobody came to the porch as my truck pulled into the driveway. Judging by the already brightening skyline, sunrise was about an hour away. I stripped off my clothes, showered with water so hot it turned my skin red and raw, and then slipped into the softest pajamas I owned. As I went to bed afterwards, I hugged my pillow and prayed the nightmares wouldn’t be too bad.
With no one to wake me up, I slept until almost eleven the next morning. The sun poured through my windows, striking me in the face. My head hurt, and my body ached. Sleep had been a welcome respite, but the moment I opened my eyes, a weight pressed down on me again. I had been so self-absorbed at the crime scene I hadn’t even asked about Sasquatch. I hoped he was alive.
As I swung my legs over the bed, birds sang outside my window. I liked wildlife, but today, I needed silence. I closed my eyes and took two deep breaths before standing and getting dressed. Half an hour after waking up, I left my house and drove downtown.
When I got to the station, I found a Cadillac sedan parked in the loading zone out front. Police officers parked there all the time when they had to run into the station for something quick, but it was rare to see a civilian with gall enough to park in a spot that even law enforcement officers tried to avoid for over five minutes at a time.
Trisha was at the front desk, talking on the phone when I walked inside. She smiled, but she was directing officers toward a car accident out by the interstate, limiting her ability to talk. I mouthed hello to her before taking the steps upstairs to my boss’s office. The county had yet to appropriate funding to renovate the entire second floor of our station, so Harry was the only person with an office up there. He liked the solitude and the quiet. Today, voices carried up and down the hallway.
I followed the sound and found Councilman Rogers, Detective Delgado, and Harry outside his office, talking. All three men turned as I walked toward them. Councilman Rogers held out his hand for me to shake.
“Detective Court,” he said, smiling as he took my hand and covered it with both of his own. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
I glanced at Harry with my eyebrows raised before looking to Rogers.
“What have you heard?”
“That you closed your case,” he said. “You got ’em. This Kushnir fellow and his friend Kurt Wilkinson. They killed that naked girl you found out at Ross Kelly Farms. I hope you understand that there are no hard feelings between us. Sometimes I let the emotion of the situation get to me.”
I looked to Harry again, my brow furrowed. Then I looked at Rogers again.
“Why do you think Wilkinson and Kushnir killed Laura Rojas?”
Rogers looked to Detective Delgado.
“You think it’s a coincidence that these two roll into town right after your victim goes down?” asked Delgado. “I don’t. They killed Laura Rojas, and then they killed her boyfriend, Aldon McKenzie. Jennifer McKenzie probably got in the way, so they killed her, too.”
“That’s a good theory, I guess,” I said, nodding, “but what evidence do you have?”
“Evidence is for trials, and there won’t be one,” said Rogers before Delgado could respond. “Kushnir died last night, and Wilkinson died this morning in a shootout with the State Highway Patrol. We have everything we need to close these cases. You don’t need to harass anyone else, Detective.”
“I’m not harassing anyone,” I said. “I’ve been working a homicide, and I’ve been following the evidence. Back me up, Harry.”
“Sheriff Grainger won’t be with us too much longer. He’s retiring with full honors,” said Rogers, smiling as he put a hand on Delgado’s shoulder. “As soon as we can swear him in, Detective Delgado will be your new boss.”
Delgado’s smile held more than a hint of malice.
“I hope that’s not a problem for you, Detective,” he said. “You weren’t gunning for the job, were you?”
“No. I’m happy being a detective,” I said, glancing from Harry and then to Councilman Rogers. I took a step back to give myself some space. “Let’s back up a minute. Can you give me any reason to close my investigation of Laura Rojas? Other than that it upsets your clients.”
Rogers’s smile turned into a glower before returning to a malevolent grin.
“I’m a county councilman, and I don’t have clients. I have constituents.”
“No matter what you call them, they still pay your mortgage,” I said, looking to Harry. “Step in here, please. You may be retiring, but you’re still the sheriff. Act like it.”
He looked down and scratched his brow. “At Councilman Rogers’s suggestion, I’m using my stored personal leave to take a vacation until my retirement. You should direct your questions to my successor.”
“Sheriff Grainger’s going on a cruise,” said Rogers, smiling and raising his eyebrows. “It was a little gift from St. Augustine County to commemorate his years of honorable service.”
“Well, congratulations, Harry,” I said. “A retirement and a cruise. You’re making off like a bandit.”
“I understand that you’re upset about Officer Bryant’s death, Detective, so I’ll cut you some slack,” said Rogers. “In the future, though, you would be wise to avoid speaking to your superiors with that insubordinate tone.”
“Harry’s on leave pending his retirement, so I wasn’t talking to my superior in an insubordinate tone,” I said. “You’re a civilian, so you’re not my superior officer, either. Detective Delgado, as superior as he thinks he is, still holds the same rank I do and does not supervise me. By definition, Councilman, I’m not insubordinate, although I appreciate your advice.”
He narrowed his gaze. “You are clever, aren’t you, young lady? Things are going to change around here. We might not have room for clever young ladies in our department too much longer.”
“Fine,” I said, raising my eyebrows. “Until you fire me, though, I have work to do.”
“The Laura Rojas case,” said Delgado, lowering his chin.
“Yes,” I said, nodding. “I’m working the Laura Rojas case. Though I appreciate your theory about Kushnir and Wilkinson, I’d like to see evidence before I believe it.”
“All right,” said Roger. “I’m not an unreasonable man. I think that’s a fine idea. Find evidence and close this case to your satisfaction.”
“Thank you for your permission to do my job,” I said. “I appreciate it.”
He smiled that malevolent grin once more and put a hand on Delgado’s shoulder again. “Sheriff Delgado and I have projects to discuss. The county cleared funds to renovate this old place, and we’re talking about the future. And let me tell you, Detective Court, the future is looking up. St. Augustine’s going to become the new Branson. We’ll be an Orlando in the Midwest. I can see it now.”
“How nice,” I said. “I look forward to seeing what your brain trust comes up with for the building.”
The smile slipped off his face. “I told you when we met before that you ought to smile more often. Men like women who smile occasionally. Might make for a more pleasant workplace.”
“One of my colleagues died last night,” I said. “Another is in the hospital. I don’t even know whether he’s alive. You’ll forgive me, but I don’t have a lot to smile about at the moment. Our soon-to-be sheriff should take heed and wipe the smirk off his face. He lost a colleague, too.”
Delgado’s lips tightened to a thin line.
“As you were, Detective,” he said. “I’m sure you have better things to do than sit and chat with us.”
“Yeah, I do,” I said. I turned around and started toward the stairs. A pair of heavy footsteps followed as Delgado and Councilman Rogers continued speaking in hushed tones. As I reached the landing between the first and second floors, I turned and looked at Harry. “Something you want to tell me?”
“Sorry,” he said. “Things happened fast last night.”
“Seems like it,” I said, crossing my arms. “So you’re out and Delgado’s in. You war
ned me, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Your timing sucks, though.”
Harry leaned against the handrail and crossed his arms. “Nicole is dead. Preston is in the hospital. The doctors saved his life, but he lost a lung. He can’t work in the field.”
The anger I had felt earlier swelled until it made my skin feel hot.
“That doesn’t excuse you quitting,” I said. “You may not like the job, but you’re a decent sheriff. Delgado will be a disaster.”
“Councilman Rogers came to my office this morning with a letter signed by every county councilman. If I didn’t quit, they planned to call an emergency meeting, where they’d hold a vote of no-confidence in my abilities as sheriff. They were going to fire me for getting Nicole Bryant killed and for allowing Preston to get shot. I’d lose my health insurance, my life insurance, and possibly my pension.”
“You had nothing to do with Nicole’s death or Sasquatch’s injury.”
“You think I don’t know that?” asked Harry. He sighed disgustedly. “The County Council runs St. Augustine, and they take their marching orders from the people who pay their salaries. That’s how it is, that’s how it’s always been, and that’s how it’ll be. You’d better get used to it because that’s the world you live in.”
I looked down. My hot anger had transformed into something cold and sharp.
“Do you even remember when you lost your balls?” I asked. “This is bullshit, and you know it. The guy I used to work with wasn’t a coward.”
“That’s unfair, Joe,” he said. “You walk a mile in my shoes, you’ll find the world’s a much bigger place than you realize.”
“I know how much the world sucks, boss,” I said. “I just wish you’d try to change it instead of running from it. Enjoy your cruise. You’ve earned it.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but I turned and walked away before he could get a word out. I hurried to the first floor before anyone could stop me and then signed out a marked cruiser. Harry was my friend, and I cared about him, but this wasn’t him talking. I’d apologize in time, but I had shit to do. Today was about Laura Rojas, Aldon McKenzie, and Jennifer McKenzie. Today was about the dead. Tomorrow, I’d worry about the future.