The Witness

by Dee Henderson

  “I’m sorry, Marsh.”

  He nodded at the officer’s condolence, the words repeating over and over as he made his way toward Connor’s desk.

  Connor set down his phone and got up to lean against the side of the desk as Marsh pulled out an adjoining chair. “The mayor and the rest of the city council are here. I’ve got the squad union rep running interference to keep them out of your space for at least another half hour so you can hear what we have first.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  Connor handed Susan his notepad. “Can you—?”

  She glanced at the note, at Marsh, and nodded. “I’ll use Beth’s phone.” She headed over to join the unit’s secretary.

  “Your extended family heard the news; Susan can handle the initial call.”

  “Thanks.” Marsh and his second cousins had ceased to be more than blood relations a long time ago, their opinion of his job vocally expressed at family gatherings, something that had been the final straw. They were a thousand miles away and not likely to come to the funeral.

  “We haven’t found either the cab or the driver yet. We’re stopping every vehicle that is seen, but nothing so far. We’ve got a pretty good overview from the company dispatchers where cabs should have been during that slice of time. We’ve also got a list of cabs that were not on duty but where the vehicles were out with their drivers, most parked at home in preparation for weekend shifts.”

  “The cab is going to be difficult—an Irish cabdriver, maybe not quite so tough.”

  “There are officers going through cab hack licenses looking for possible matches based on the description. Others making sure there isn’t a stolen cab somewhere in the mix. It’s going to speed things up if we are able to get a sketch we can release to the public.”

  “Susan hadn’t heard—how’s Caroline doing?”

  “Still in surgery. Another two hours minimum before she makes the recovery room. She lost a lot of blood, Marsh. I don’t know.”

  She’d be dead and he’d have that on his conscience too. “Anyone else at the scene proving to be a good witness?”

  “A lot more general and contradictory information than what Caroline gave us—cabdriver, no it was a cab passenger; middle-age, no kind of young; white hair, no dark; some insist it was a woman driving—”

  “That’s probably a glimpse of the red hair getting remembered.”

  “Exactly. I’ll trust Caroline’s memory as probably the most accurate description we’ll get from the scene.” Connor ran his hand across his face and shook his head, trying to shake off the fatigue gripping him, then looked over at him.

  Marsh understood the inspection going on—his partner was trying to get a read on how he was really doing behind the calm exterior. Tracey was dead, he was bleeding inside, and it felt like a Mack truck had run him over. He wanted the guy who did this. Marsh didn’t bother to say it. “What else do we have?”

  “We know there were eleven shots fired, and the area hit covers about a quarter of a block. The technicians tracking down the shots are finding all kinds of angles. We’re assuming at this point that the cab tried to come from the center lane over to the lane nearest the restaurant and opened fire as he straightened out, fired while he was driving past, then sped up through the intersection and out of the area.”

  Marsh didn’t remember the cab and wished he’d been turned even slightly more toward the street to have been able to see something useful; as it was, there were only the memories. “The first shot—it hit the car behind us, then a display window, then the shot that hit Tracey …”

  “Two early ones hit the restaurant window, then the car behind you,” Connor suggested. “Two others shattered the back car window, one hit a pedestrian in the leg, a miss that hit brick, and the last hit Caroline.”

  “Do we know yet if the gun was in the system from a prior crime?”

  “The lab is still working on it; we’ll have that answer soon. I doubt it was a local piece. He probably brought it with him.”

  “I don’t remember an Irish guy in those New York pictures, do you?”

  “There was one in the envelope Caroline carried with her. Maybe she comes out of surgery and can give us a positive ID that it was the guy she saw.”

  “Marie?”

  “The chief told her; Daniel’s with her now.”

  “You need to go see her.”

  “I’ve got to have something to tell her, Marsh.” Connor’s voice broke. “News that we have this guy at least. Something.”

  Marsh nodded, not able to say much to that but to agree. “It looks busy around here.”

  “If it can be thought of to try, we’re trying it. The deputy chief is managing things for a while; the chief went to see Amy.”

  “This is going to tear her up.”

  “I know.”

  “Where do you need me most?”

  “We’re trying to sort out security cameras in the area and see if any of them caught a snapshot of that cab. The lab just called that they got the bank tapes in-house.”

  Marsh pushed himself to his feet. “Let’s go see what they can give us.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  LUKE SLOWED as he approached the private farmhouse, the vehicle partly blocking the last stretch of the road enough to tell him the reality. He rolled to a stop and halted beside the truck. “What happened, Jonathan?”

  “Amy bolted within minutes of the breaking news flash. By the time my guy got from his truck where he was patrolling the road back to the house she had taken her coat and we think a backpack and disappeared. I’ve got twenty guys searching the area trying to get a clue of the direction she took. I’ve even got a bird in the air, but she’s good at this and she’s gone. My guess she had a vehicle tucked away as a precaution somewhere in the area or else she hot-wired something to borrow. She was smart enough not to take one of the vehicles on the property.”

  “You had transmitters planted?”

  “On anything that could move, including the tractor. She’s carrying that phone Caroline gave her, so maybe we’ll get a break. She uses it, I’ll know where she’s standing to within a meter. But I’m not hopeful. They got through to Marie; now her sister Tracey is dead; Amy’s not only afraid—she’s angry. She’s not going to make the more obvious mistakes. And unless Caroline took it with her, her backup piece is missing. She had it tucked under the stack of kitchen towels by the back door. Amy would have known that.” Jonathan shook his head. “Bad day all the way around. Anything we can do for you in town?”

  “Marie is safe, and I’ve got Daniel with her so he’s covered by proxy. What do you think Amy is going to do?”

  “I don’t know the lady. I’ve just read the army personnel file on her. I think she’s going to hunt down the guy that killed her sister and do your job for you.”

  “She’s not leaving the area.”

  “I’ll put money on the fact she’s heading back into town, not away from it.”

  The thought didn’t settle well; none of today did. “I’m going up to the house to look around, then head back to see Sam. I could use a couple guys to watch the gallery tonight so I can leave Bryce with Marie.”

  “You’ll have them,” Jonathan promised. “I’m sorry for this, Luke. They seemed like a nice family, the sisters.”

  “They are.” Telling Marie about Tracey had been close to the hardest thing he had ever done in his life. He just wished someone had been able to tell Amy the news in person, rather than have it be a media announcement.

  He drove toward the house. Amy, I know you’re hurting, honey. I know you’re grieving. But you have to let me help you. You’ve got to call me.

  The hospital recovery room had lights dimmed to half wattage to make it easier on patients coming out of the drugged coma of surgery. Marsh felt clumsy trying to walk quietly in his work shoes. “Thanks for this.” It was incredibly late, edging toward midnight, for the surgery had lasted six hours and the recovery even longer.

  The n
urse escorting him smiled as she tied the mask for him. “Five minutes and not a word to her doctor. She’s been asking for you.”

  He lifted one eyebrow at that but nodded, and the nurse directed him toward the third curtained cubicle. They still had Caroline on heart monitors and IV lines and what looked like an emergency transfusion line taped in place on her right arm.

  He rested a hand on the raised handrail and leaned down to speak softly. “Hey, Caroline. It’s Marsh. How are you doing?”

  Her eyes had moved toward him as she realized she had company. She tried her best to smile. “It hurts like you know what.”

  He eased down the mask just for a moment so she could see his answering smile. “I’m sorry about that. They should have good drugs here though to help with that.”

  “Yeah. Remembered something.”

  He moved the mask back in place and carefully slid his hand under her limp one at her side as he waited for her to form her words.

  She tried to lick her lips as she breathed in. “The cab—it had these three big white stripes down the side. I forgot to tell you that.”

  He made sure he didn’t tighten his hand around hers more than a fraction as the news sank in. It made the cab one of the Speedy Yellow Cab Company’s vehicles. “Thank you. That will help. Do you remember if the shooter was old, young, thin, heavyset?”

  She fought to think and shook her head. “Sorry.”

  He’d come to simply make sure with his own eyes that when they said she would make it they hadn’t been trying to soften the number of deaths on his conscience today; now she’d changed the search they were on and helped them out in a huge fashion. He could see the battle going on to stay alert against the pain. “Let me get the nurse and a bunch of painkillers for you. We’ll be around when you wake up next,” he promised.

  “Thanks.”

  A brief word with the nurse and she nodded and moved to join Caroline while he stripped off his mask and the paper gown they required for this room. He left the recovery room.

  “How’s she doing?” Connor asked, pushing away from the wall by the elevator.

  “Better than anyone could have expected. Three white stripes on the cab; we’re looking for a Speedy Yellow Cab Company car.”

  “Hallelujah. There are less than a hundred in the city. I’m on it. You want to ride with me?”

  “I’m staying for a bit.”

  Connor hesitated as the reason registered. “You’ll let Susan stay with you?”

  A couple minutes sitting with Tracey’s body in the morgue and he’d need someone else to be doing the driving when they left here. He forced a smile at his partner. “Yes. Go find that Speedy cab. It’s the best thing you can do for me tonight.”

  “I’ll call you just as soon as we know anything.”

  Marsh nodded, glad Connor had the job to focus on, that it kept him moving and hopefully gave him something to tell Marie. Marsh waited for the elevator with Connor to close and then punched the button for one to take him to the basement. He thought he was still breathing but wasn’t sure. It would be so much easier to have been the one who had died.

  Caroline struggled to open her eyes and then focus on her guest. “You are here.”

  Amy turned from the window and the dark night outside and came toward the hospital bed. “Yes.”

  “I thought I was dreaming.”

  “I’m not here officially. I kind of had to sneak in. I wanted to make sure—” Amy touched the back of her lax hand. “How are you doing?”

  “All in one piece and moving my fingers and my toes.” She tried to smile. “It’s okay, friend. I’ll make it. I am so, so sorry about your sister.”

  “They shot her on the street while she was walking with Marsh. No warning, no reason, just because she was my sister.”

  Caroline nudged a finger against her friend’s and wished it could be a hug instead. “Much loved, much grieved. You haven’t slept yet.”

  “No.”

  “I don’t think I would have been able to either in your place.” Caroline struggled to realize where she was at. ICU, yeah, this would be ICU. And the night outside looked like the middle of the earliest morning hours. “Luke bring you?”

  “I’m traveling alone for now. I just had to know for sure.…” Amy brushed at her tears. “Thanks for being there, Caroline. At least you were there.”

  Caroline hurt, hard, as the reality connected, and she turned her hand to grip Amy’s. Her friend was running. “Marie needs you; call her; head there.”

  Amy’s hand tightened on hers, but she didn’t reply. “Thanks, friend. I owe you.”

  “Pray for a cute doctor to show up for the rehab,” Caroline suggested, trying to smile and reconnect with the past she needed Amy to remember, to the friendship they had forged. “The last one looked like my former drill sergeant.”

  Amy laughed.

  Caroline tightened her hand. “You run, I’m going to be mad,” she whispered.

  “I won’t run.”

  Caroline nodded, accepting the soft words. She closed her eyes, breathing in shallowly against the pain and knowing she also didn’t like the way those words had been a promise. Amy wasn’t running, and that meant she was already on a course of action.

  Caroline came alert enough to realize Amy had slipped away on her as softly as she had come. She wished she were going with her. Tracey dead—that reality was going to mess up Marsh too.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Caroline thought she had been sleeping but stirred at the chief’s words, forcing her eyes open. She’d asked the nurse to call him but couldn’t remember how long ago that had been. Being shot was turning out to be harder than she thought for staying with a sense of time. “About as well as I look, I’m afraid.”

  “Pretty beautiful around the edges but for a few bruises.”

  She smiled just a bit; then her eyes turned serious. “I’m so sorry about Tracey.”

  His hand covered hers. “I know.”

  “How’s Marie? Marsh?”

  “Marsh has me worried; Marie is still pretty dazed. Connor is pushing through and carrying a lot of what has to be done.” He squeezed her hand. “Amy is gone; she bolted when she heard the news.”

  Caroline closed her eyes, fighting with a fierce headache. “She was here.”

  She felt Luke jolt at the words. “Amy?”

  “I promised her she had my loyalty first but forget that promise,” she whispered. “She’s got to be heading to her prior safe houses because she’s not running. Maybe Sam has an idea where in town she has them. She’s probably got at least two if not three. Where did you pick her up that day you brought her to the farm?”

  “East of town. She’d been running for a few miles she said, looking pretty sweaty and winded.”

  “She was probably able to see the diner from where she was staying and saw you arrive. Run in place for a while, and you can say you’ve been for a twenty-mile hike and it will get believed. Check the area; it’s worth a shot at least.”

  “Thanks, Caroline. I’ve been at a loss for where to start.”

  “Amy grieving for Tracey—there’s no telling what she’ll do, Chief. She was fighting for her composure while she was here.”

  “Okay. I’ll deal with it; I’ll find her.”

  “I know you will.” She struggled to wet her lips. “I froze, Chief. I heard the shots, and I just stood there until one of them knocked me down.”

  “There were zero places you could have gone to get out of the line of fire,” he replied softly after absorbing the pain she was in over that memory.

  She didn’t bother to answer that. “Just so you know: getting shot is not something I plan to do again. It hurts.”

  He gently smiled. “I’m glad to hear it. I don’t want you telling the doc you feel fine so you can get out of here early; stay put and let them sort you out.”

  “Since I don’t have the strength to lift my head at the moment, that’s a simple promise to make.”


  He squeezed her hand. “We haven’t been able to locate the shooter even with everything you’ve been able to tell us. Do you think you can help us with a sketch?”

  “I’ll certainly try.”

  “After the doctor comes by we’ll bring in a sketch artist to talk with you and bring copies of the photos we have from New York.”

  “I got a good look at him; he looked right at me. I’ll get you a good sketch if we don’t have his photo,” she promised.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  THE NURSES SEEMED PLEASED with how quickly Caroline was coming out of the lingering sedation from the surgery, but Connor didn’t think she looked much better than she had an hour after she had been shot. He hated the fact they needed to push for more information so soon rather than give her more time to rest, but she gamely waved the sketch artist over to the bedside. Connor stayed back out of the way while the sketch artist worked with her, his chair pulled near her bedside and the sketchbook held so she could see it being developed.

  “That’s not perfect, but it’s as close as I can figure out how to describe,” Caroline finally said, looking from the sketch over to him.

  Connor came closer to see it. The face did indeed look Irish, and he could almost see the red in the hair even though it was a black-and-white drawing. He’d been hoping to recognize the face but drew a blank when he saw the drawing. “It’s a solid sketch we can work from, Caroline.” They would have it plastered all over the city within the hour.

  She’d given him everything she had for concentration; he could see the exhaustion clouding her face. She worked the morphine drip again to help keep down the pain.

  He moved around to the other side of the bed while the sketch artist collected his equipment. “It’s time for us to get out of here and let you try to sleep.”

  Her hand turned to catch his. “Can you arrange for me to see Marsh, please?”

  He could lie to make it easier on her, but that wouldn’t do either of them any good in the long run. “I’m not sure where he is, Caroline. He was gone from his place when I went to pick him up this morning.”