by Diane Kelly
Bump!
My car lurched forward, my head whipping as the vehicle collided with my back bumper.
Holy shit, the driver must be drunk! My heart hammered in my chest and my body temperature spiked as adrenaline surged through it. Too bad I wasn’t in my cruiser. Brigit and I would be better protected, and I could arrest the bastard for driving under the influence and write him a whole slew of tickets. Reckless driving. Following too closely. Vehicular assault.
Knowing the driver would plow into me if I braked, I punched the gas and changed lanes, hoping to get out of his way. As soon as I could safely do so, I’d call 911 so officers could pull him over and get him off the highway. The way he was driving he was likely to kill somebody.
A split second after I changed lanes, the vehicle did, too, bumping me again, much harder this time.
BUMP!
While my seat belt held me back against my seat, Brigit’s doggie seat belt wasn’t quite up to the task. Her nose hit the front windshield and she cried out in pain. Yelp!
Now I wasn’t just scared. I was furious! Nobody hurts my Briggie Boo without answering to me.
I zipped back into the right lane. The car zipped right along with me.
What the hell is going on here? I was beginning to think this was more than merely a drunk driver having a hard time controlling his car.
When he bumped me again, this time twice in quick succession—BUMP! BUMP!—I realized the driver wasn’t just likely to kill somebody, he was actually trying to kill somebody.
And that somebody was me.
But who was trying to end my life?
And why?
I zipped across two lanes to the far left lane, but my pursuer was in a faster, more powerful vehicle and there was no way I could outrun or outmaneuver him. I was screwed. The only thing I could hope for was that my and Brigit’s deaths would be quick and painless, and that it was really true that all dogs go to heaven. I couldn’t imagine a happy afterlife without her.
Racking my brain for ideas, I decided to try a fake. I zipped right half a lane, then zipped left again. Shit! The car was behind me before I could brake and try to force him past.
I whipped over to the right. The car was on me again. This time when the driver bumped me, he tapped my back fender, sending my car spinning like a Tilt-A-Whirl. Flashes of orange flew by my windshield as my car spun out. Poom! My car hit an orange barrel, the impact rocking the chassis. Poom! Another barrel.
I took my foot off the pedal and tried to steer into the skid like I’d learned in driver’s ed all those years ago. We gained traction just in time for me to spot something in our path that was big and yellow and made of bone-crushing metal. Holy shit, we’re headed for a bulldozer!
On instinct, I jerked the wheel and my car hurtled into a small space between the bulldozer and the concrete barrier on the opposite side. Crrrrrk! The outside of my doors scraped along the barrier and the bulldozer until the space narrowed too much for the car to move forward. We were jerked to a neck-snapping stop, trapped between the equipment and the wall.
My breaths came fast and flashing lights danced around my vision, as if I were back at Club Bassline. Brigit cowered on her seat, whimpering. It took a full thirty seconds for me to get my breathing under control. When I did, I grabbed my purse from the passenger floorboard and fished out my phone. My hand was shaking so bad, I had a hard time calling 911, first hitting 9–4–4, then 9–2–2.
“Dammit!”
Finally, I got the numbers right.
“Nine-one-one,” came a man’s voice. “What’s your emergency?”
“Someone just ran me off the road!” I shrieked.
“Where are you?”
I gave the dispatcher my approximate location, my voice and chest hitching as I fought to catch my breath.
“Any injuries?”
I looked over at Brigit. She looked okay. I’m sure her nose was sore, but at least her long snout had prevented her head from impacting the windshield and giving her a canine concussion.
“We’re shaken up,” I told the man, “but we’re okay. We’re trapped in the car. It’s in the construction zone, wedged between a bulldozer and the cement barrier.”
“I’ll get an officer out there right away. Did the other driver stop to help you?”
“Help me?” I snorted. “He was trying to kill me!”
“Is this a domestic violence situation, ma’am?”
“No. I have no idea what kind of situation this is!”
“Is the other driver still around?”
“I don’t think so. I hope not!”
I assumed the driver had continued on after forcing me to spin out, but I couldn’t be certain. I couldn’t open the doors to get out and run. If he was still around, Brigit and I were sitting ducks. Please, God! I mentally screamed in prayer. Let us live!
Evidently, God was on a coffee break.
I couldn’t see to my left because the bulldozer was in the way. More construction equipment was parked ahead, blocking much of my view to the front.
Wait. Is something moving up there?
I sucked in a terrified breath as a person eased around a steamroller twenty yards ahead. As if the night weren’t enough to hide his identity, he was dressed head to toe in dark clothing and wore a ball cap that cast his face in shadow, the closest streetlight insufficient to battle the darkness. He stalked toward my car in wide, purposeful strides.
“Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!” I rammed my elbow against the back window, hoping I could break it so that Brigit and I could escape. Bam! No such luck. Smart Cars might be small, but the construction is solid. The only thing I’d managed to do was ensure myself a huge bruise come morning … if I lived to see another morning. Things were looking doubtful.
When he was sufficiently hidden from the passing traffic by the steamroller, he raised his arm.
Holy shit! He’s got a gun!
I grabbed Brigit around the neck and pulled her down, throwing myself on top of her to shield her the best that I could. My head stuck up a few inches over the dash and I watched in helpless horror as the man took aim.
Pop! Pop-pop-pop!
The gun’s muzzle flashed ahead of me just as the lights of an approaching police car flashed behind me. My front windshield and back window burst into a million pieces raining down on me and my partner. A shriek tore from my throat, searing my vocal chords.
The cruiser’s flashing lights grew brighter as it pulled up behind the bulldozer that had me trapped. A moment later an officer peered down at me and Brigit through my back window. “You okay in there?”
I looked up at him, opened my mouth, and burst into tears.
* * *
An hour later, I sat on an exam table in a minor emergency clinic, an older female doctor using tweezers and a magnifying glass to remove shards of windshield debris from my face and arms.
“You’re lucky,” she said. “None of these cuts were deep enough to need stitches. How did this car accident happen, exactly?”
“Someone bashed the back of my car with theirs, ran me off the road, and then fired a gun at me.”
Her mouth dropped. “Goodness gracious! All it said in your chart was that you were in an automobile accident. Why was somebody shooting at you?”
“That’s a good question.” And one I’d been mulling over as she’d worked on me. Unfortunately, given that the bulldozer had obscured the shooter who was firing at me, the officer who’d stopped to help me hadn’t seen the muzzle flashes. By the time I’d recovered my wits enough to speak, the shooter had made off and the officer wasn’t able to catch him.
As a cop, I’d made quite a few enemies. Shoplifters. Drunk drivers. Wife beaters. No doubt many of them wished me dead. Still, I couldn’t point to any particular one who’d go so far as to actually make me dead.
She reached into a drawer and pulled out a tube of ointment, dabbing it on my wounds. “This will help stave off infection.”
“Great.”
It was bad enough that my face looked like it had been used for practice in a beginners’ class at an acupuncture school. I didn’t need my wounds becoming red and infected, too.
A few more dabs and she pronounced me, “Good to go.”
“Thanks so much.”
I returned to the waiting room, where Seth and Brigit waited for me. Both stood when I came through the door. While Brigit wagged her tail, her furry brow was furrowed in concern. Seth’s fur-free brow was furrowed, too.
“My God!” he said. “Is that the best they could do?”
“Gee,” I retorted. “Way to make a girl feel attractive.”
“You know what I mean.” He put a reassuring arm around my shoulders and walked me outside to his car. “You think it’s safe for you to go home?”
He had a good point. Obviously, whoever had tried to run me off the road and shot at me had followed me to the skating rink. There was a very good chance the shooter knew where I lived and had followed me from my house. Fortunately, when I’d called the captain earlier to tell him what happened, he’d insisting on assigning an officer to serve as my protection detail.
“The captain’s got a unit watching my house,” I told Seth, “and other officers will be shadowing me for a while.”
“How long?” he asked.
“Until the captain feels sure I’m safe,” I said, “or until this plays out.”
Seth frowned. “‘Plays out?’ I don’t like the sound of that.”
I let out a long breath. “Neither do I.”
“I’m staying with you tonight, too,” he said as he opened my door.
“You’ll get no argument from me.” I could use his comfort, would sleep better with him there. I slid into the passenger seat while he situated Brigit in the back.
We drove back to my house to find Summer parked in a cruiser out front. She climbed out of her car as Seth turned into the driveway.
“She’s your protection?” Seth asked, clearly not impressed.
“What’s the problem?” I said. “Is it because she’s a woman?”
He gave me a wry look. “I know better than to go there, Megan. It’s not that. It’s just that I’d prefer she were seven feet tall and built like a defensive lineman. In fact, I wish they’d assigned the entire SWAT team to keep you surrounded until whoever tried to kill you is brought in or dead.”
His concern was touching. I reached out and put my finger in his chin dimple, my odd and special little sign of affection for him. “Thanks for worrying about me.”
Honestly, I shared his concerns about my safety. Ironically, I’d wished Derek hadn’t been put on leave so he could be assigned to be my bodyguard. Not that he’d be excited by the chance to take a bullet for me, per se, but he loved getting to flex his muscle and this would have been the perfect opportunity. Plus, he was crazy brave and would enjoy the confrontation. If anyone attempted to shoot me again tonight, he’d tackle them, rip off their trigger finger with his teeth, then shove that finger where the sun doesn’t shine.
I climbed out of the car. “Hey, Summer.”
She gasped when she drew close enough to see my face, reflexively slapping her hand over her mouth. “Oh, my God!”
Her reaction wasn’t exactly reassuring. “I take it you don’t approve of my ambush makeover?”
She shook her head and grabbed me in a tight hug. “I could hardly believe the news when I heard! I’m glad you’re okay!”
“Thanks,” I replied. “And thanks for doing guard duty. I realize this puts you at risk, too.”
She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “What are friends for?”
“You have coffee?” I asked. She’d need it, sitting out here all night. When she replied in the negative, I said, “I’ll make a pot and bring some out to you.”
“That sounds great.”
Seth and I went inside. Zoe padded up, greeting us with a meow? as if to ask what’s up? I scratched under her chin and proceeded to the kitchen to start the coffeemaker. Once it was gurgling, I ventured into the bathroom to take a look at myself. Dear Lord! My face looked like raw meat. I only hoped the cuts wouldn’t leave any scars.
When the coffee was ready, I filled a travel mug and added some organic soymilk and sugar to it. I also rounded up a spare key so Summer could come inside during the night to get more coffee or use the facilities when needed.
Seth reached out a hand. “I’ll take the coffee and key out to her.”
“Thanks.”
As he stepped out, Frankie stepped in. “Holy shit, Megan! I just talked to Summer out there and she said someone ran you off the road and shot at you?”
“Yeah. It’s b-been a really fun night.”
She came over and gave me a hug, too. “Who the hell would try to kill you like that?”
“Good question,” I said.
As far as I knew, none of the TCU students, other than Hunter, knew I was a cop. And even if Paige had figured out her short-term suitemate had actually been a police officer working undercover, I sincerely doubted she’d send someone after me. There was no need. Anthony Giacomo would surely get her off on any potential charges. The shooter was likely someone from an earlier investigation, maybe someone I’d helped to convict who had since been released from prison. But given that I hadn’t been on the job long, only a year and a half, it would have to be someone who hadn’t been sentenced to much time. There were several possible suspects who met that criteria. Still, none were particularly violent.
“I’m exhausted,” I told her. “I’m going to bed.”
“Okay,” she said. “Sleep tight.”
Oh, I’d sleep tight all right. Every muscle in my body had been clenched since the first time the car had bumped me, and they had yet to relax. It was a wonder some of my bones hadn’t snapped.
An hour later, I was lying in bed with Seth pressed up against my back, spooning me. I, in turn, was spooning Brigit, who was curled up in front of me. As hard as I was trying to go to sleep, the adrenaline had not quite worn off yet and my mind wouldn’t quiet. Ugh.
My cell phone rang from the nightstand. I grabbed it and checked the readout. Detective Jackson. I’d spoken with her earlier, after the incident. Could she be calling to tell me they’d made an arrest?
I sat up, disturbing Brigit and Seth, but it couldn’t be helped. “Hi, Detective. Any news? D-did you figure out who tried to kill me?”
“Not yet,” she said. “One eyewitness called the Grapevine Police Department and said she’d seen you spin out. She saw a black Chevy Suburban pull over and assumed the driver was going to help you so she didn’t stop herself. She’d been too far back to be able to tell exactly what was going on. She thought you were the one driving erratically and that the Chevy had been swerving to avoid you. She called 911, but she didn’t get the Suburban’s license plate number.”
We might not have the plate, but at least we knew what kind of car it was. The department would issue a be-on-the-lookout alert to car repair shops in the area. If someone brought a black Suburban in to have front end damage repaired, they’d have some explaining to do.
Jackson continued. “I’m actually calling with some other news. I just got word that there was a shooting on campus at TCU. Paige McQuaid was shot in the back as she returned to the dorm.”
Forget those other possible suspects. The fact that Paige had been shot on the same night someone opened fire on me was too much to be coincidence. There was no doubt in my mind now that whoever had run me off the road and shot up my car was related to my undercover Molly investigation.
I was almost afraid to ask the next question. I mean, Paige was no saint. I knew that. She had been helping Chao deal drugs to her fellow students, and several had suffered as a result. But she wasn’t a hardened, violent criminal. She’d done some very stupid things, for very stupid reasons. Love turned people into idiots sometimes. She deserved to be punished, sure, but she deserved a chance to set herself straight, too. She didn’t deserve to die. “How’s Pa
ige doing?” I asked, my voice sounding as tentative as I felt. “Did she survive?”
“She’s in surgery at JPS as we speak. That’s all I know right now.”
JPS stood for John Peter Smith Hospital, the only facility in the city with a Level 1 trauma center. While part of me was relieved to hear she’d made it through the incident itself, I knew gunshot victims could die on the operating table. She wasn’t out of the woods yet.
“Did they catch the person who shot her?”
“No,” Jackson replied. “Witnesses only saw a person dressed in black shooting from behind a tree. He ran off after firing the shots.”
I mulled all of this over for a moment. “What does this all mean?”
“It means you and I are meeting with Chief Garelik first thing in the morning. Be there at eight.”
“All right. See you then.” When I ended the call, Seth asked what was going on. I told him about Paige getting shot, that the two incidents were too coincidental to be unrelated.
“That narrows down the list of potential suspects, doesn’t it?” he asked. “It would have to be someone with something to lose if the drug case moved forward.”
That person would be Chaoxiang. But he was safely back in China, beyond the reach of American law enforcement.
My mind toyed with the thought. Who else has something to lose?
FIFTY-SEVEN
PACK ATTACK
Brigit
The dog lay in bed, snuggled back against her partner and fellow pack member. While it might appear she was dozing, she was unable to sleep. Her nose hurt from where she’d banged it against the inside of the windshield, and she felt too agitated to relax. Megan’s phone ringing out of the blue hadn’t helped, either.
She settled her head on her paws and heaved a heavy sigh. Zoe seemed to sense something was wrong. Cats were dumb creatures, so inferior to dogs, but every once in a while Zoe showed some signs of intelligence. The cat stood next to the bed, rose up to put her paws on the side of the mattress, and extended her nose to sniff Brigit’s face.