Everything to Lose

by Danielle Girard

  Jamie texted back. How long?

  A line of bubbles showed on the screen as Hailey typed her response. Jamie resisted the urge to call.

  Two hours.

  So, it might have been Bishop. She imagined his three-piece suit, his gold pocket watch and tried to picture him a killer. It was a hard fit. He wasn’t the type to get his hands dirty. Didn’t mean he wasn’t involved.

  Jamie called Vich to share the news. He was finishing up some profiling on another case. “I’ll check out the Shambliss scene and be in touch,” she told him. He was quiet on the phone. Maybe tired. Or maybe it was the case coming between them. That would be on her. After tonight, she’d be able to come clean. With him. With Hailey and Hal. With Tony. First, Z had to come clean with her.

  By the time she arrived on the scene, Shambliss’s small apartment was crowded with police. Sydney Blanchard stood in the living room with three techs. The room might have belonged to anyone. No magazines, no pictures. A poster on one wall and the kind of bland furniture reminiscent of corporate housing. There was a single glass, half full of something like soda and some catalogues on the coffee table. A sweatshirt hung over the back of the couch, tennis shoes on the floor.

  Sydney gave Jamie a short wave and pointed. “Body’s in the kitchen.” She passed two patrol officers in a narrow hall and entered the kitchen where Hailey and Hal were watching Schwartzman, crouched by the body. Shambliss had soiled himself, so the room smelled like an overflowed bathroom. The cop shows made it seem like that sort of thing happened often, but thankfully that wasn’t the case. Hal pulled out a little green bottle and sprayed it into his mouth.

  “We’ve been living on this stuff,” Hal said, offering it to Hailey. She took a couple hits, too, then passed it toward Jamie.

  “No, thanks,” she said. She smelled the Listerine over the other smells, and she knew it would help, but she didn’t use mouthwash. Anything with alcohol was a no-no for a recovering alcoholic. Not a drink in eight years, but she’d be a recovering alcoholic forever.

  “We know what happened?” she asked.

  “He was strangled by some type of wire or cable,” Schwartzman said.

  “They just finished with the photographs of the body,” Hailey explained. “Schwartzman thinks she sees some sort of particulate in the wound. She’s trying to get some samples so we can get them to the lab.”

  “They break-in?”

  “Nope. Looks like someone had a key,” Hal said.

  Bishop came to mind again. Not hard to get if you work with someone. House keys would be in his jacket pocket or in a briefcase while he was at work.

  Schwartzman pulled a length of packing tape off a roll and laid it against the wound on Shambliss’s neck. With gloved hands, she gently pressed the adhesive to the skin then pulled it free and laid it down onto a clear plastic sheet. That she lifted into the air above her head and stared up at the length of tape.

  She pointed to several specks. “There is evidence of some plastic residue in the wound.” She motioned to his hands. “It’s under his nails, too.”

  “What do you think it is?” Hailey asked.

  “The wound appears to have been caused by some sort of thin cable.”

  “No signs of any cable in the apartment,” Hal said.

  “So, not a crime of opportunity,” Jamie said.

  “No. Killer came prepared.”

  “We have a BOLO on Heath Brody,” Hal said, referring to a police notice to “be on the lookout” for a suspect. “He’s not at his apartment, but we’ll pick him up when he gets home.”

  “So, one of them throws Charlotte down the flight of stairs because she was going to out Brody to her dad?” Jamie said. “I might buy that, but then Shambliss comes to Brody’s rescue? Why would he do that? I hardly get the feeling he was an especially nice guy.” She shared Roger’s discovery that the two men had lived down the hall from each other. “It’s hard to picture them being close friends,” she added.

  “I agree,” Hailey said.

  “Maybe Shambliss wasn’t helping,” Hal suggested. “Maybe Shambliss figured out it was Brody and was threatening to give him up,” Hal suggested.

  Her phone vibrated in her hand.

  A text from Z. Can’t leave early. I’ve got a scrimmage tonight. Done by 8.

  “But Shambliss was the one at the bar where Michael Delman was drugged,” Hailey countered. “Why drug Delman if you’re going to out Brody?”

  “Maybe so you’ve got the corner on the information. Maybe Shambliss meant to set Brody up for the Delman murder, too.”

  Jamie told them about Bishop’s tracking devices.

  “Sounds like we need to talk to Mr. Bishop,” Hal said.

  “I’d suggest talking to Ikerd and Bishop separately,” Jamie offered. “Maybe you can put some pressure on them that way.”

  “We’ll check out Shambliss’s car and phone for tracking devices, but without something to link Bishop to the scene, we’ve got no probable cause,” Hailey said.

  “We did link Shambliss to Carmen Gutierrez,” Hal said.

  “Gutierrez?” Jamie repeated.

  “Gutierrez was the CFO of a company that designed geo-tracking units for government use. We matched the slug in Delman to a slug in the database—the one that killed Gutierrez,” Hal explained.

  “And they’re connected how?” Jamie asked.

  “Gutierrez was the one who pressed charges against Shambliss as a minor,” Hailey answered.

  “And we never looked at Shambliss for Gutierrez’s death?”

  Hal shook his head. “Not even on the radar.”

  Jamie sighed. “And where’s Tiffany Greene?”

  “We haven’t been able to reach her,” Hailey said. “We spoke to her roommate. She was in Yosemite with two of her girlfriends this weekend. They’re due back tonight.”

  Jamie sighed.

  Schwartzman stood up. “I think I’ve got everything I need for now. I’ll do the cut first thing in the morning.”

  Jamie checked the time. It wasn’t yet 6:00 and she couldn’t pick Z up until 8:00. She considered going to the school and pulling him. He’d be angry, but so what? He was in some serious shit.

  “Nothing to do but go have dinner,” Hailey said.

  “You hungry?” Hal asked.

  “A little, but tonight’s the Rookie dinner at Tommy’s.”

  “Rookie Club is tonight?” Jamie asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Hailey said.

  “What’s Rookie Club?” Schwartzman asked.

  “Ah, hell,” Hal said. “You guys go on. I’ll finish here.”

  Jamie couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone to a dinner. No. She could remember. It was around the time she adopted Z. She did not want to go tonight. She wanted to pick up Z, get his DNA, go home, and sort everything out. “I—” But then, she couldn’t think of anything to say. She didn’t have an excuse. She wasn’t pulling Z from the scrimmage. She couldn’t go home. The investigation was at a standstill until Shambliss was processed, Brody was brought in, or they got in touch with Tiffany Greene. Nothing could be resolved right now. Plus, she had to admit she was hungry. “Okay,” she conceded.

  “Come on, Schwartzman,” Hailey said. “We’ll introduce you to the Rookie Club tradition.”

  Schwartzman seemed a little reluctant, but Jamie gave her arm a soft squeeze.

  “It’s a good thing,” Jamie promised. “It’s gotten me through some tough times.”

  “Me, too,” Hailey added.

  Schwartzman gave a nod, and the three of them walked out of the apartment, leaving Hal with a dead body and the terrible stench.

  Chapter 39

  They were the first to arrive at Tommy’s. Rookie Club dinners normally began closer to 7:00. The three of them sat at the same table in the back. The restaurant was quieter than normal. Maybe it was because they were early. Maybe it was because it was Monday. Or perhaps it was her state of mind. At her last Rookie Club dinner, she’d be
en working to catch a serial rapist who was attacking women on the force.

  When the waitress arrived, Hailey ordered a Coors in a bottle.

  “Seltzer with lemon for me,” Jamie said.

  “Me, too,” Schwartzman said.

  They agreed on an order of nachos to share. As soon as the waitress left, Jamie addressed Schwartzman. “You doing okay?”

  “Better,” Schwartzman said, turning to Hailey. “I got a bouquet of flowers yesterday from my ex-husband.”

  Hailey looked at her. “You don’t have to explain.”

  “I left him after he threw me into a dresser,” Schwartzman said, her voice carefully modulated. “I lost my baby.”

  “I’m sorry,” Hailey said.

  Jamie touched her hand.

  Schwartzman hitched her chin a little higher. “Every once in a while, he finds out where I am and calls.”

  What triggered him to get in touch with her? “Have you gotten flowers before?”

  Schwartzman shook her head.

  “Gifts of any kind?” Hailey asked.

  “He’s escalating,” Schwartzman said.

  “Any idea why?” Hailey asked.

  “No. It’s been more than seven years. And as far as I know, he’s still in South Carolina.”

  “Do you know if he’s involved with anyone?” Jamie asked. A recent breakup might explain the renewed attention to his ex. Or some sort of anniversary.

  “My mother gives me the occasional updates,” Schwartzman said. “Despite my request that she not talk about him,” she added. She looked up at Jamie. “Vich told me that Roger’s tech found a black duffel in the dumpster behind my apartment building. Roger thinks maybe that’s how he got the flowers inside.”

  “You think it was your ex? Inside the building?” Jamie asked.

  “I don’t, but I’m not sure. Roger’s working on the video footage, too.”

  “Does the date mean anything?” Hailey asked as the waitress brought their nachos. “An anniversary?”

  “No. We were married in July.” Schwartzman reached for a nacho. “Let’s talk about something else, please,” she said before taking a bite.

  Jamie knew exactly where she was coming from. Hailey did, too. They didn’t have to be asked twice. Shifting off the subject, the three talked about other ongoing cases. Schwartzman and Hailey were working a recent stabbing. Schwartzman was able to do a cast of the wound, and they were thinking it would match a knife found in the suspect’s possession. Eating nachos and talking about stab wounds was par for the course at these dinners.

  Before long, several others joined them. Mei Ling arrived with Ryaan Berry. Linda James. Cameron Cruz. Cindy Wang from the bomb squad. Soon the table was loud and raucous and, instead of talking about cases, they were sharing gossip about the department. Which of the attractive men were married, which weren’t. Interoffice romances, which were discouraged but happened all the time, often to married officers.

  Mei mentioned to the group that Ryaan was dating Hal and that things were hot and heavy. Ryaan bumped Mei, who seemed at home in the group. The others teased Ryaan about Hal. Jamie was happy for them. The banter bounced around the table. Finally, Cindy looked at her. “How about you, Jamie? Is there a man in your life?”

  “Just my son,” Jamie said.

  Cindy was one of those women who always had a boyfriend though she never appeared to take them too seriously. Highly motivated in her job, she didn’t act interested in the idea of settling down. Perhaps if your job was dealing with explosives, settling down wasn’t really in your nature. “Come on, Jamie,” Cindy pushed. “There has to be someone ringing that bell.”

  A wave of laughter erupted, and Jamie found herself thinking about Travis Steckler. She deflected the questioning by asking Cindy for an update on her own life, which spurred a long conversation about another officer in the drug unit whom Jamie didn’t know.

  More food arrived, drinks. Another round of seltzer water for her and for Schwartzman. She watched Hailey get up from the table to take a call. Cameron Cruz pulled out her phone to share pictures of her son. Then, Hailey was back. Jamie noticed her expression and stood from the table. “What is it?”

  “We got Brody,” she said. “I’ve got to go back in.”

  “I’ll meet you there,” Jamie said. “I’ve got to get Z at practice.”

  Hailey came around the table to talk to her. “Hal also told me that they pulled Shambliss’s financials. There’s a recent charge at a place called Fresh Start Auto Body in Alameda. Almost a thousand dollars.”

  “A white Buick.”

  “Think so. But we don’t know who it belongs to. I’ll keep you updated.” Hailey left a few bills on the table and walked out.

  Jamie pulled a twenty from her wallet and put it on top of Hailey’s. She touched Schwartzman’s shoulder. “You okay if I go?”

  “Absolutely. Thanks, Jamie.”

  Jamie said goodbye to the group and started for the door. Behind her, the conversation shifted to the annual policemen’s ball. Something Jamie had never attended. She was sorry to miss the story, whatever it was. Theirs was a unique group. To make an ongoing dinner work for them, it had to be. Some wouldn’t come, sometimes for years. But when they showed up again, they were welcomed as though they’d never been gone. New additions were included without any weird female antics, and when someone got up in the middle of dinner to take a call or to leave on a case that was perfectly fine, too. Jamie had few girlfriends growing up.

  It was nice to have women friends.

  Without all the female drama.

  The Rookie Club fit her perfectly.

  Chapter 40

  A group was huddled in the school parking lot as Jamie drove in. Staring back toward the school, they appeared to be waiting for something. It was the baseball team. They stared into her headlights like terrified deer. Something was wrong. She parked where she was and shut off the engine, got out.

  Coach Kushner ran to her. “He’s got a gun.” He grabbed her arm. “There’s a kid with a gun. He’s got a gun.”

  The mother pain seared her chest. A gun.

  Instinctively, she grabbed his arm. “Where is Z?”

  “Another boy showed up—maybe ten minutes ago. Came onto the field. He was looking for Z.”

  “Who?”

  He shook his head.

  “They’re on the field?” she asked.

  Coach nodded. “They were.”

  She started toward the baseball complex.

  Zephenaya. She had to fight the desperate need to run to him. She forced herself to stop. Listen. Understand. “This is a boy from school?”

  “No,” Kushner said. “None of the other boys know him either.”

  She knotted a fist and pressed it against the hollow ache. “A random boy showed up looking for Z?”

  “It was someone Z knows. His brother maybe?”

  “He doesn’t have a brother,” Jamie said.

  “I don’t know who he is,” Kushner confessed. “But he’s angry.”

  “A gun,” Jamie whispered. All the effort to bring Z here, to this impenetrable learning institution, and he was facing a boy with a gun.

  “I tried to get Z out of there, but I had to clear the other kids,” Kushner said.

  Jamie pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed. “Are there any other kids on campus? Beside the boys here?” she asked the coach.

  He licked his lips, thinking. “Choir is practicing for this weekend’s concert.”

  Dispatch answered. “This is Jamie Vail. I’ve got a two-two-one at City Academy. Requesting any available units in the area for four-oh-six. Repeat requesting officer assistance for an armed suspect at City Academy High School.” It hurt to breathe.

  She ended the call and took hold of the coach’s shirtsleeve. “Get over to that choir building. Take the back way. Stay totally clear of the diamond. Tell the choir group to lock down. I don’t want anyone out on the campus grounds until the police arrive.” She wav
ed to the baseball boys. “And I want these kids out of here. Tell them to load into the cars of those who can drive and head out. Pick a safe meeting spot off campus. You got it?”

  “Yes. Get the boys off campus and warn the choir group.”

  She dialed Vich.

  He answered on the first ring. “Jamie.”

  “Vich, I’m at City Academy. There’s a kid with a gun. Z—” She choked. “He’s got Z.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “I called Dispatch, but get Hailey and Hal, okay?”

  “I’m doing it now.”

  She ended the call and popped her trunk, pulled out her Kevlar vest, got it over her head, and yanked the straps across her sides. She ran toward the baseball diamond, gun in her hand, with everything she had.

  She hadn’t made it more than a hundred feet when there was a gunshot. She stumbled, tripping over her feet. “Zephenaya!” she screamed, catching herself from falling, and sprinted across the uneven grass.

  Breathless, she reached the cement entryway to the diamond and pushed herself faster. Her panting reverberated off the walls as she paused in the tunnel to shove her gun down the back of her pants so the suspect wouldn’t see it, then ran ahead. He has to be okay. Please let him be okay. The lights on the field were blinding. She stopped at the edge of the tunnel and stared out. She’d be a sitting duck if she stepped into the lights. She covered her eyes in the glare, blinked. Come on, eyes. Adjust. “Z,” she shouted.

  She listened.

  “Z!” she shouted again, a shrill of desperation.

  “Jamie,” he called back.

  She focused on his voice. She had to go to him. She thought about the shooter. Hitting a target at more than fifty feet was difficult, even for a good shot. Cameron Cruz could do it. Would they call in Special Ops?

  They were at least fifty feet away. Hopefully, she could reason with him before she got too close. If he managed to shoot her, she hoped it would be in the vest.

  She stepped into the light.

  “Stay the hell back,” the boy shouted.

  She stopped cold, raised her hands. Squinted at the figures on the field. The voice was familiar. Not Zephenaya’s voice but similar. His brother. Could Z have a brother? His mother was dead before his fifth birthday. His older sister, Shawna, had been his caregiver before her death. Could there have been a brother she didn’t know about? From a different father, maybe? Or Michael Delman had a baby with another woman? The blood showed familiar markers that matched Delman’s.