by Mary Burton
Standing to the side of the door, she held her gun close as she reached out and pounded on the door. “Tim Taylor!”
In all the years working in the forensic field she had never fired her weapon outside of a firing range. And though she was trained for moments like this, no amount of practice could really prepare her.
Silence echoed from the room. One. Two. Three.
“Amber! Amber, it’s Georgia!”
“Georgia!” Amber screamed. “Help me! I’ve shot Tim.”
She reached for the door handle and turned it, allowing the door to swing open as she waited for any kind of return fire. Over the sound of her own pounding heart she heard Amber’s weeping, desperate and frightened.
She drew in a breath as she adjusted her hold on the gun and turned to go into the room. Blue lights behind her flashed as Jake and Rick pulled up in their unmarked car. Both men were out of the car in seconds, guns drawn.
Jake paused and looked at her, unvarnished fear burning in his gaze as it swept over her. Signaling for her to stay, he moved past her into the motel room as several marked cars pulled into the lot.
As Amber cried in the middle of the room, she held a gun in her hand that now pointed at the ground. Her face had paled to a bloodless white and when she raised her gaze, it was filled with fear. Tim lay on the floor, facedown, his arms splayed out.
“Put the gun down,” Jake ordered. “Put the gun down!”
Amber glanced at the gun as if she forgot she were holding it and slowly released her grip and the gun fell to the floor.
Jake quickly picked it up and checked the chamber for a round. “What happened here?”
“He started talking about the woods almost immediately,” Amber said softly. “He said he killed Bethany and Mike and was going to kill me just like he killed Marlowe. I grabbed the gun. It went off.”
“Tim confessed to killing Dalton Marlowe?” Jake asked.
“Yes.” She pressed her hand to the darkening bruise on her cheek. “I freaked out and he came at me. I told him to stop. I told him I didn’t want to shoot him.”
Jake turned Tim over and they all saw the bright red bloom of blood in the center of his chest. The bullet had exited out his back.
Pressing fingers to the man’s neck, Jake shook his head. “There’s a heartbeat, but barely.”
Rick reached for his cell and punched in numbers. “This is Detective Rick Morgan. I need an ambulance.”
As he rattled off the address, Georgia holstered her gun and stood ready as Jake grabbed a towel from the bathroom and moved to Tim’s chest and pressed it firmly onto the wound.
“He’s really alive?” Amber asked.
“Barely,” Rick said.
Georgia knelt beside Jake. “What can I do?”
“Help me press this towel onto his chest.”
Tim’s face had turned a deathly white and she feared it would be only minutes at most before he bled out.
Amber hovered over Tim, her expression blank. “He’s alive?”
Jake, not answering this time, tipped Tim’s head back and opened his airway. “Very shallow breathing.” He checked his pulse again. “Faint heartbeat.”
The towel had turned a blood-soaked red as Georgia continued to apply pressure. A faint gurgling sound echoed from Tim’s mouth. At least one of the lungs had been hit. Blood would also be pooling inside the body and lungs. He was drowning.
In the distance an ambulance wailed, growing closer and closer with each minute. Amber lowered her face to her hands and began to weep. “I didn’t want to shoot him, but he wouldn’t stop. Why didn’t he stop?”
“Where did you get the gun?” Jake asked.
“It was Tim’s. He brought it.”
“How did you get the gun from him?”
“I don’t really know. He said he was going to rape me first and then track down Mrs. Reed. I didn’t fight him, and I waited until he set the gun down to undo my blouse. It distracted him long enough for me to grab the gun and shoot. I just wanted him to stop.” She looked down at the near lifeless body. “I didn’t mean to hurt him. I just wanted him to stop.”
Red lights of the ambulance flashed on the walls of the motel room, casting an eerie glow. The rescue crews rattled a gurney carrying equipment through the open door, unpacking as they went.
“I need this room cleared,” a paramedic ordered.
Rick took Amber by the arm as Jake spoke to the paramedic, who nodded and said he’d take over.
As the paramedic took Georgia’s place, she rose, her hands now red with blood. Jake grabbed a small towel from the bathroom and wiped her hands and his own clean as they moved outside.
Georgia moved past Tim as one member of the rescue crew started an IV and the other swapped the towel for a pad of clean gauze.
She stepped outside. The chill touched her sweat-soaked skin and along with the adrenaline dump sent a shiver through her body.
“Are you all right?” Jake asked.
“I’m fine. Do what you need to do.”
He hugged her and then she moved toward her car where she kept a clean blanket along with MREs, a change of clothes, and shoes in the trunk. She raised the lid and pulled out a blanket, which she wrapped around her shoulders.
Turning, she saw Rick speaking to a limp Amber. The woman looked devastated. Jake along with Georgia moved closer, needing to hear and better understand her story.
“Why did you call Georgia?” Jake asked.
Amber smoothed her hands over her head. “I don’t know. She’s the closest person I have to a friend since I came back to Nashville. And I knew Tim might be trouble. I thought she could help.”
“Why not call the cops?” Jake challenged. “They would have been better equipped to help you.”
She shook her head. “Like I said when I was mugged, I hated the way the cops grilled me five years ago. None of them believed me. They wouldn’t listen. I didn’t want to do that again.”
Jake glanced at the blood smeared on his shirt. “But you called Georgia.”
“I called a friend,” she said.
“Why’d you leave the Reeds’ house?” Jake’s questions were clipped and quick. He fired the questions like bullets so she didn’t have time to fabricate.
“Tim called me. Offered to tell me about the woods.” She touched her fingertips to her lips and turned her face from the body as if it pained her to look at it. “He said he needed to tell me the truth, but I didn’t trust the way he sounded.”
“His chest has a center mass wound, Amber. You aimed to kill.”
“I didn’t,” she said, her eyes watering. “I shot to stop him. I didn’t want him dead.”
“Why did he need your help?”
Fresh tears glistened in her eyes. “He said he’d done something horrible.”
“What did he tell you?”
She pressed trembling fingertips to her temple. “He said he killed Mr. Marlowe.”
“Someone did,” Jake said.
Amber drew in a deep breath as if to slow down Jake’s rapid-fire questioning.
“How did Tim find you?”
“He’s been following me since I came back to Nashville.”
“Why didn’t you tell us this originally?”
“I panicked. I thought you wouldn’t believe me. I thought none of you trusted me.”
Jake rubbed his chin darkened with stubble.
Georgia glanced back into the motel room where paramedics were trying to resuscitate Tim. Too much about all this bothered her, but she couldn’t articulate it.
She hurried to her trunk and grabbed a camera. As the rescue crews worked on Tim, she stood out of their way. From the threshold she began to take pictures of the room. What was wrong with this? Amber’s explanation made sense, but something didn’t fit. She couldn’t see it. Couldn’t put it into words. But her gut gnawed when a crime scene didn’t match the witness’s accounts.
Three more marked cars had appeared and now filled the parking
lot near the ambulance. Lights flashed as uniformed officers got out of their vehicles, hands on their guns.
The paramedics had run an IV into Tim’s arm and had packed his wound and put an oxygen bag on his face. As Jake hovered close, they loaded Tim onto a stretcher and locked it into the raised position. As one paramedic squeezed the bag over his nose and held up the IV, the other pushed the stretcher.
Tears spilled down Amber’s face as Tim was wheeled past. “Is he really alive?”
“Barely,” one paramedic said.
Tim was loaded in the ambulance and the paramedic climbed into the back beside him and closed the door. The other paramedic ran to the driver’s seat, and seconds later, the siren wailed and the ambulance left as a uniformed officer moved toward the scene with a roll of yellow crime scene tape.
As more marked cars arrived, Georgia indicated the areas she wanted marked off. Though she was tempted to process the scene, she held back. She was now a part of this investigation and her involvement could be misconstrued as a conflict of interest later in court.
* * *
Jake’s focus shifted from the ambulance to Georgia’s tired face as she moved toward him. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. As many crime scenes as I’ve processed, I’ve never been involved with one. Now I seem to be linked to two.”
“Why do you think Amber called you?”
“I guess it’s like she said, she feels I’ve been a friend to her. I took her to the hospital after she was mugged.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you buy her story?”
“I don’t know.” She stared into the open door of the motel room. They stood in silence for a moment. Taking it all in. “Thanks for coming to my rescue.”
He shook his head as if he hadn’t been worried. “Figured I’d keep the motel guests safe from you. You’re not always the best marksman.”
“I hit the target when it counts.”
“Eventually.”
Feeling heat rise in her cheeks under his gaze, she glanced toward her brother who escorted a frowning Amber toward the squad car.
“I told you my story,” Amber said, twisting to look up at him.
“You can tell us again at the station,” Rick said.
“Am I being arrested?” she asked.
“Questioned.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I want an attorney.”
“Why?” Jake asked, approaching. “You’re not being detained, just questioned.”
She swiped a strand of blond hair from her eyes. “I remember how it went the last time. I want an attorney.”
“I haven’t arrested you.”
She shook her head as fresh tears fell down her cheeks. “I don’t care. I’m not saying a word without an attorney.”
“You have one you can call?”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Rachel Wainwright.”
Jake’s head cocked. “The wife of the chief of homicide?”
“She’s a defense attorney. One of the best and she takes on people who can’t pay.”
“You’ve done some homework.”
She swiped away a tear, her gaze chilling. “I wasn’t coming back to this town ill prepared.”
Amber had invoked her right to counsel and there was little Jake could do but call Rachel Wainwright.
* * *
Defense attorney Rachel Wainwright arrived at the Nashville Homicide Department an hour later. Her low heels clicked on the tile floor as her long legs made up the distance under the glow of a fluorescent light. She received the call from Detective Jake Bishop that a woman he was holding for questioning was refusing to answer questions without an attorney present. She quickly ran a comb through her short dark hair and changed into dark slacks and a black V-neck sweater.
She didn’t like approaching a case cold but she’d get up to speed quickly. She picked up a visitor badge at the front desk and made her way to a double mirror that looked into a holding room where Jake Bishop and Rick Morgan sat opposite a slender blonde, who could only be described as angelic. Whereas the lighting made most look sallow, her skin glowed a faint pink. She wasn’t handcuffed. Sitting in front of her was a half-eaten sandwich and a can of diet soda. She’d not lived in Nashville when Amber Ryder had found herself in trouble five years ago and could only imagine the fear running through a teenaged girl’s mind when confronted with questions from an army of cops and reporters.
Rachel knocked on the door, then opened it. Jake and Rick stood.
Jake politely nodded. “Rachel, thanks for coming.”
She acknowledged Jake and Rick, but shifted her attention to the blonde. “Amber Ryder?”
The pale woman rose. “That’s right.”
“I’m Rachel Wainwright. I understand you need an attorney?”
She looked up with blue eyes as pale as a clear lake. “Yes. Thank you so much for coming.”
Rachel liked and respected Jake and Rick, but she was here as a defense attorney and not as a friend of the family. “Gentlemen, if you will give me some privacy with my client.”
Jake glanced at Amber, who stared up at him with wide, worried eyes.
Amber shook her head. “They can stay. I’ve nothing to hide, but I want an attorney present. You’ve heard about my past with the law.”
“Bits and pieces,” Rachel said. Most of what she heard had been from her husband, Deke Morgan. And as much as she loved that man, he was a cop first and she often did not completely share his view of the police.
Jake’s phone buzzed and he glanced at the screen before frowning. “It’s the hospital. Would you excuse me?”
“Sure,” Rachel said. He ducked out of the room.
Rachel motioned for Amber to sit and she took the chair across from her. “Is there anything you need?”
Amber tugged at the hem of her sleeve. “I want to see Mrs. Reed. She’ll be worried about me.”
Rachel looked up at Rick. “Detective?”
His stance stiffened just a fraction. “I can call her.”
Amber flexed her fingers. “I don’t want her to hear my story from a cop. I want her to hear it from me. She needs to see me and know I’m innocent.”
“Why not your mother?” Rick asked.
Amber looked at Rachel with watery eyes. “My mother can’t help. Is it so unreasonable for me to see Mrs. Reed?”
Rachel tapped short plain fingernails on the table. “Detective? It’s not an unreasonable request.”
Rick frowned, but before he could answer, the door opened to a scowling Jake.
“That was the hospital,” Jake said.
“How is Tim?” Amber asked.
“Still alive,” Jake said. “A miracle, considering the injuries, but he’s in surgery right now.”
“So he’s going to live?” Amber’s tentative smile beamed hope and worry.
Jake slid his hands into his pockets. “Docs say he’s a tough guy. It could go either way.”
She lowered her face to her hands. A sigh shuddered through her before she looked up, eyes red-rimmed and tearing. “I never meant to hurt him.”
Rachel pulled out a legal pad and pen. “Detectives, I need a moment with my client.”
“Sure,” Jake said.
When the door closed behind them, Rachel looked at Amber. “Tell me what happened.” Amber recounted her story, starting with Tim calling and asking her to meet him at the motel.
The story was tight. Made sense.
Rachel had defended her share of the guilty. She never judged, believing in every person’s right to a fair trial. Some of her guilty clients had been bad liars. Some had been very skilled. Over the last few years she had developed a knack for ferreting them out. She needed to know fast where she stood with a client’s defense. Every citizen in Nashville would be following this case.
But with Amber, she couldn’t get a read. Everything about the woman spoke of truth. The mannerisms. The inflection in her voice. Even the way she looked at Rachel as she spoke.
All signs of telling the truth.
But a very small twist in her gut belied the body language and the words. The woman could be hiding something, but that didn’t mean she had intended to shoot Tim. Hiding one secret didn’t mean she was guilty of another. She couldn’t pinpoint what Amber held back, but there was something. The trick now was to figure out what her client was hiding.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Friday, October 13, 12:30 A.M
Georgia accepted a cup of coffee from Jake as the two stood outside the interview room while Rachel talked to Amber. “Have you been able to get ahold of Mrs. Reed?”
“No,” Jake said. “She’s not answering her cell and she’s not at her home. Which does not make sense given the time. We’re looking for her.”
She dug her fingernail into the side of the Styrofoam. “Do you think Amber knew she was Marlowe’s kid when they slept together?”
“Says a lot about her if she did.” Jake shook his head. “No wonder the guy looked like he could jump out of his skin when he was close to her.”
She glanced into her cup. “So how bad is Tim?”
“Pretty bad,” he said sipping his coffee.
“On a scale of one to ten.”
“Ten being dead?”
“Yeah, sure.”
He stared over the brim of his cup. “He’s a ten.”
“What?” A frown furrowed her brow. “How long have you known?”
“He died at the scene. The IV and the ambulance were all theater. I didn’t tell you because you had to buy into it completely so I could sell it to Amber.”
There had never been any hint of Jake’s deception until this moment. “So you just basically told a huge fat lie.”
He grimaced as if she’d insulted him. “A little white lie in my book. And when it’s a homicide investigation, all bets are off.”
She glanced toward her brother who looked perfectly content as he read a text on his phone. “Rick, did you know?” she asked
Without glancing up, he typed a message. “Pleading the Fifth.”
“Damn it.” She punched her brother in the arm. “What are you two trying to accomplish?”
“If Amber shot Tim in self-defense as she said, then she’ll continue to be glad he’s alive,” Jake said. “All her lying and the reports of promiscuity could be a result of her relationship with Dalton.