Deadly Target (Detective Sarah Spillman Mystery Series Book 6)

by Renee Pawlish

  The line of sight was perfect. Someone could have stood at the window with a rifle and shot Cody Sheen, then escaped through the back of the café. Ernie bent down and studied the floor, careful not to touch anything. He couldn’t see whether there were any scuff marks from shoes or any other signs that someone had crouched at the window. He checked the window lock but couldn’t tell if it had been jimmied open. He doubted there’d be prints on either window, but he’d get a forensic team in here anyway.

  He stepped back. The room was cool and quiet. He spotted a small piece of paper on the floor and picked it up. Whatever ink was on it had long since faded. For all he knew, it was nothing more than an old receipt. However, the CSI team would have to bag and tag everything in here, just in case it became evidence down the road. That was going to be a chore.

  Ernie moved carefully back through the café and into the kitchen, then let himself back outside. He glanced around the back entrance with the phone flashlight and didn’t see anything else, so he walked the remainder of the alley and around the side of the building and returned to Sixth Avenue. He paused on the sidewalk and called Sarah. Still no answer. He again had to wait for traffic before he could cross the street, where he rejoined Spats.

  Spats nodded his head across the street. “Did you find anything?”

  Ernie glanced at the sidewalk in front of Charlie’s. Now that the body had been removed, the gawkers had dispersed. “I think a shooter could have been over at that abandoned café. The back door lock had been broken.” He told Spats about what he’d seen. “Let’s get a forensic team on it.”

  “Will do.” Spats thought for a moment. “A shooter would’ve had to sneak a rifle into the café. Someone might’ve seen him. Or her.”

  “Yeah. We need officers to canvas the houses on the other side of the alley behind the café, see if anyone spotted anything unusual.”

  Spats agreed, then pointed to where the body had been. Two CSI techs were disassembling the screen they’d set up earlier. “Jamison said he’ll get to the autopsy as soon as he can, tomorrow or the next day. Says he’s pretty backed up. Did the manager say if she thought why anyone would want to shoot this kid?”

  Ernie shook his head, his mind still distracted. It wasn’t like Sarah not to show.

  Spats sensed his unease. “Still nothing from Sarah?”

  Ernie shook his head. “I tried again, still no answer.”

  Spats rubbed his chin. “She usually talks to the next of kin. She’s good at that.”

  “Yeah, that’s true.” Ernie hesitated. He didn’t relish the thought of interviewing the family right now. They were both hedging. “Did someone notify the parents?”

  “Some detectives at the station have been looking into Cody Sheen. His parents are Dave and Leah. I sent a couple of officers to tell them about him. I figure one of us can go talk to them later, once we finish here.”

  “I wonder if Cody’s manager or one of his co-workers has a phone number for the parents and already told them.”

  “Could be.”

  Ernie cocked his eyebrows. “You want to flip for who talks to the parents?”

  Spats twisted up his lips. “I think you’d figure out a way to cheat.”

  Ernie laughed, not with his usual humor. He was worried about Sarah. “Nah, I wouldn’t do that.” His phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen.

  “It’s Rizzo,” Ernie said as he answered. “Hey Commander.” He listened for a moment, and his face fell. Then he swore.

  “What’s wrong?” Spats asked.

  Ernie’s heart thudded in his chest. He stared at Spats, then said, “Sarah’s been shot.”

  Chapter Four

  Spats stared at Ernie for a moment, and his jaw dropped. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Ernie held up a finger as he talked on the phone. “Yes, Commander. I’m here. What happened?”

  “I don’t have a lot of details,” Commander Rizzo said. The tone was clipped and angry, not how he normally sounded. Rizzo was always in control, but now that stony exterior seemed to be failing him. “Spillman was walking on Severn Place – that’s near her house – and someone shot her. The witnesses don’t know where the shot came from. Detectives Hackman and Lattimore were sent to the crime scene, but they had no idea who the victim was until they got there. They called me, and I’m at the hospital now.”

  Ernie’s voice was tight. “How’s she doing?” The traffic noise faded, and his vision momentarily became a pinpoint of colored stars.

  Rizzo’s sigh was loud through the phone. “I don’t know yet. The bullet entered near her collarbone and passed right on through. An inch the wrong way and she’d be dead. She’s in surgery now. We’ll have to wait and see, keep our hopes up.”

  Ernie blinked hard a few times. So much suddenly flashed through his mind, and he had trouble thinking. He and Sarah had been partners for almost ten years, even before Spats had joined them. Sarah was lead investigator, and he worked well with her, relied on her instincts. She was a helluva investigator, and as good a friend, too. He’d worked with a lot of people over the years, but Sarah and Spats were his favorites.

  “What’s going on there?” Rizzo interrupted his thoughts. “Fill me in.”

  Ernie stared at the abandoned café as he told Rizzo what they’d discovered so far. “Spats is here with me, and we were just talking about who was going to talk to next-of-kin.”

  Spats was pacing, and he turned at the sound of his name. “What?”

  Ernie shook his head, and Spats held up a hand.

  “Keep Spats on that investigation,” Rizzo said. “What happened to Sarah is upsetting for both of you, but we still need to keep that investigation going. Sarah would want that, too.”

  Ernie nodded to himself. Rizzo was right. Sarah wouldn’t want them to stop, but she would also want to help her partners.

  “I want to find out who shot her.” Ernie felt his muscles flood with anger. “Why not put Spats and me on that investigation?”

  Rizzo didn’t answer for a moment. “I know you’re upset, but …”

  “You’ve got to let us do this,” Ernie insisted. “Spats and I can keep both investigations going. Come on, let me find the sucker who did that to her.”

  “All right,” Rizzo said. “But I’m going to monitor things closely.”

  “What hospital did they take her to?” Ernie asked.

  “Denver Health,” Rizzo said. “I know you’ll want to come here, but you should head over to her crime scene. I’ll put you in charge. Talk to Hackman and Lattimore, see what you can find out.”

  “But Sarah –” Ernie began.

  “There’s nothing you can do for her right now,” Rizzo snapped uncharacteristically. “Go over there and get me what details you can. I’ll keep you posted on how Sarah’s doing.”

  “Okay.” Ernie held up a shaky finger. “You let me know the minute you hear anything about Sarah.”

  “I’ll keep you posted,” Rizzo said.

  With that, Rizzo ended the call. Ernie stared at his phone for a moment, then realized Spats was talking. He looked up.

  “What’s going on?” Spats asked. He stopped pacing, and his eyes scrunched up with worry.

  Ernie looked up at Spats but could barely find his voice. “Sarah’s been shot. She’s at Denver Health, in surgery. Rizzo doesn’t know any more.” He swallowed hard.

  Spats swore. “Does Harry know?”

  “I don’t know, but surely Rizzo would think to call him. Harry and Sarah have been together for years. Do you think I should call Rizzo back or send him Harry’s contact info?” Ernie was already trying to locate Harry in his phone contacts. “What’s Harry’s last name – Sousen, is that it?”

  “Yeah, I think his company name is Agility Software Consulting. We need to make sure Harry’s there with Sarah.”

  Ernie and Spats both liked Harry a lot, and everyone had been so happy when Sarah had recently announced that she an
d Harry were finally going to marry, after a decade of her putting off the commitment. Ernie had never understood Sarah’s reluctance to marry Harry. He’s smart and kind, just like Sarah, but much less intense than she is. And Ernie supposed maybe that’s what made their relationship work.

  “Okay, I just texted Rizzo the contact info for Harry. Just to make sure he knows. He’s a good man. Sarah’s gonna need him with her.” After a pause, Ernie continued. “Rizzo said he wants me to head over to the crime scene where Sarah got shot. God, I can’t believe I’m saying that.” Ernie waved a hand toward the crime-scene techs, who were packing up their equipment. “He wants you to stay here, keep working this investigation. He’ll let us know when he hears more about Sarah.”

  Spats stared at him, then swore. “I don’t … what…” He couldn’t find words. “Who did that to her?”

  Ernie shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’ll let you know as soon as I find out anything.” He squared his shoulders. He wanted to scream, to shout that this couldn’t be happening, not to him and his team, but he realized he had a job to do. He looked at Spats, and could see that Spats was pissed, too. Ernie pointed across the street. “Take a look over there, let me know if you think the shooter positioned himself there.”

  “Will do,” Spats nodded. “I’ll head over to talk to Cody’s family, too.” He ran a hand over his face, his concern replaced by a steely determination. “Rizzo is going to let us know what’s going on?”

  “I told him to, and you know he will.”

  “I’ll take the techs over to that café to see what we can find. I’ve got to wrap up with the officers in the restaurant, check all the interviews with everyone inside as well.”

  Ernie tapped Spats on the shoulder, a small gesture of encouragement. “Hang in there.”

  Spats forced a smile. “You, too.”

  “We’ll connect later,” Ernie said, then he turned and walked to his car.

  Ernie parked on Grape Street, near Sarah’s house, then walked around the corner to East Severn Place. A squad car with lights flashing blocked the street, a uniformed officer standing nearby. The area would be cordoned off until the police had time to process the crime scene. Ernie flashed his badge at the cop, who tipped his head for Ernie to pass, then jotted Ernie’s entry into the area on a notepad. Ernie walked partway down the block, where two men in suits were standing in a bright halo of light from a lighting system set up on the sidewalk. One, a tall man with narrow hips, was talking to a member of a forensics crew. The other was jotting notes in a small notepad, his lips pressed into a grim line.

  “Hey, Ernie.” Lattimore looked up from his notepad. His dark eyebrows accented a wide face full of consternation. “I’m sure sorry about this. I know Spillman is your partner.”

  Ernie nodded and fought back a sudden wave of emotion. He stared at the lights on the squad car at the other end of the block and focused. “Thanks.”

  “Rizzo called, he said you’ll take over on this one,” Lattimore went on. “You let us know what you need.”

  Ernie nodded again as his gaze fell to a dark spot on the sidewalk. Blood. “What do you have so far?”

  Lattimore consulted his notepad. “A woman named Michelle Irwin, and a man named Manuel Garcia, were out walking separately earlier this evening. Both passed by Spillman. Neither one noticed anything unusual about her. Michelle had just passed Sarah here.” He gestured at the sidewalk. “Michelle didn’t hear anything because she was talking on her phone. She bent down to tie her shoe, and then noticed Spillman had collapsed on the ground, so she came over to check on her. That’s when she noticed Spillman was bleeding. She screamed, and that brought the other guy, Garcia, running. She called 911, and he felt for a pulse. When he found one, he used his hoodie to try to stop the blood. They stayed with Spillman until an ambulance arrived.” He scowled. “They were both pretty shook up.”

  “Understandably.”

  “I sent a detective to the hospital to collect her clothes and her phone. She wore a gun on an ankle holster. We’ll check to see if it was fired. And we’ll start going through her phone.”

  Ernie shielded his eyes and peered past the lights. “Any idea where the shot came from?”

  Lattimore shrugged. “That’s a good question.” He pointed to the north. “The way she was positioned on the ground, this way,” he used his hand to show where Sarah had been lying on the ground, “and where the bullet entered her body, I’d say someone was probably over there when they shot her.” He pointed toward Grape Street.

  Ernie looked in that direction. “Did anybody see anything?”

  Lattimore shook his head. “Not so far. We still have officers canvassing the neighborhood, and we’ll see if anybody had surveillance cameras. But so far, nothing.” He repeated.

  “So the shooter didn’t approach her? She was shot from a distance?”

  “It looks that way,” Lattimore said. He studied Ernie. “What?”

  “I just came from Charlie’s Restaurant. A waiter was shot there this evening, from a distance.” He narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on?”

  “Same gunman?”

  Ernie didn’t answer that. “And the other witness that was out walking …” He searched for the name, “Garcia. Did he hear or see anything?” Ernie asked.

  “No. Like I said, the woman was on her phone, and by her own admission, she wasn’t paying much attention to anybody around her, and Garcia said he was thinking about a problem at his work, so he was distracted.”

  Ernie bent down and looked at the blood on the sidewalk. The spot was eerily similar to the one he’d just seen outside Charlie’s Restaurant. His stomach tightened into a hard knot. This blood, though, was his partner’s spilled blood. Anger welled within him. Who had done this to her? He hung his head and sucked in a breath. The air held a hint of moisture. At another time, it would have made him smile, that hint of spring.

  “You okay, Moore?” Lattimore asked.

  Ernie stood up and nodded. “I want to talk to both witnesses.”

  “Sure, let me write down their addresses. I told them both someone might circle back to talk to them again.” He flipped a page on his notepad, wrote on it, then tore off the page and handed it to Ernie.

  The other detective approached. “Hey, Ernie, sorry about Spillman.”

  “Thanks, Hackman,” Ernie said.

  Hackman shook his head in disgust. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw who was shot.”

  Ernie gestured toward the crime-scene techs. “It’s a long shot, but have them scour the area for a bullet.”

  Hackman pointed to a white fence surrounding a nearby house. “We’re looking along the fence and in the grass.”

  “Good,” Ernie said. Somewhere on an adjacent block a horn honked. Ernie looked that way, then at the two detectives. “I’m going to talk to the two witnesses again. Let me know if you find anyone in the area who saw anything unusual, or if anyone has surveillance cameras.”

  “Sure thing,” Hackman said. Despite his deadpan expression, Hackman was an intelligent, methodical investigator. “Again, I’m really sorry.” He scrunched up his face. “The press was here, but they’ve gone.”

  “It’ll only be a matter of time before they figure out she’s a cop,” Ernie said as he gestured at the ground.

  “They better leave Sarah alone.”

  “Yeah.” Ernie turned and walked back to his car.

  Chapter Five

  Ernie guessed that the man who answered the door was in his late forties, with salt-and-pepper hair and a thin mustache that he stroked as he stared at Ernie.

  “Yes?”

  “Mr. Garcia?” Ernie said. “I’m Detective Moore with the Denver Police Department.”

  “Sure, come on in.” Manuel Garcia opened the screen door to his house and waved Ernie inside.

  As Ernie stepped into an open living room, Garcia went to a coffee table, took a remote, and muted the sound of a basketball game on a large TV against the far wall.
He pointed to a couch. Ernie took a seat, and Garcia perched on the edge of an overstuffed leather chair. He rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together.

  “You’re here about that woman who got shot?” he asked. He was trying to act calm, but his voice was uneasy.

  Ernie looked at him grimly. “Yes. I know that you were interviewed earlier, but I’m taking over the investigation, and I’d like to hear firsthand what you heard and saw.”

  Garcia ran a hand through his carefully groomed hair. “Well, to tell you the truth, I didn’t see or hear anything. I’d passed that woman on the sidewalk and kept walking. The next thing I know, I hear somebody shouting, so I turn around and see that other lady – her name is Michelle – waving and screaming. She was bent down over the woman who got shot. I ran back, and I could tell that the woman was bleeding. I checked for a pulse, and I yelled for Michelle to call 911. Then I took off my hoodie and tried to stop the bleeding.” He smoothed his mustache and grimaced. “I don’t know how long it was before the paramedics arrived, but when they did, they started working on that woman. It all happened really fast, and then she was on a stretcher and they put her in an ambulance and drove off. Then the cops started asking me some questions, and they had me wait until some detectives arrived. One of them questioned me, and I told him what had happened, and he let me leave. I came straight home.” He sighed. “My hoodie had blood on it, and so did my hands.” He rubbed a hand over gray sweatpants, then tugged at a Denver Nuggets T-shirt. “I took a shower, and I threw the hoodie in the washer.” His eyebrows shot up. “I hope that was okay. I assume the detectives would’ve told me if you needed it, for evidence.”

  “It’s fine,” Ernie said.

  “Man, I’ve never seen anybody get shot. I didn’t know what to do, other than try to stop the bleeding.”

  “That’s about all you could do, and I appreciate it.”