Mason climbed to his feet and stood over them, watching. A soft arm looped through his, and Karina pulled him gently backward, out of the way. Police officers ran up from all
directions, their expressions as they saw one of their own prone on the ground ranging from nausea to fury.
Mason jerked upright. How long had it been? The killer was getting away.
“The shot came from over there.” With a jerky motion he pointed toward the corner of the building. “The shooter can’t have gotten far.”
Three officers nodded, drew their guns and took off. Two others started pushing back the crowd, which was increasing in number by the second. Mason watched, his stomach churning, while the third paramedic ran up with a defibrillator, and the other two stopped CPR long enough to get the paddles in place.
An officer burst through the crowd and ran toward him, his expression frantic.
Parker.
He looked down at his partner’s body, and then choked back something that was either a sob or a shout. Then he caught sight of Mason, and rushed over to him.
“What happened?” His hands grabbed Mason’s arms and tightened, as if he could squeeze the answer out of him. “Who shot him?”
Words stuck in Mason’s throat. He shook his head, and managed to choke. “I don’t know. My back was turned. He…”
His voice caught. Caleb placed a huge, steadying hand on his shoulder. Those final seconds replayed in his mind. Graham’s gaze sliding from his to something behind him. His hand going toward his gun. Left arm rising, extending toward Mason.
Not to hit him.
Mason closed his eyes, the memory alive. If Graham had been planning to hit him, he would have cocked his right arm back. Instead, his left arm reached toward Mason at an angle. He wasn’t getting ready to strike. He was trying to shove him out of the way.
An electrical whine came from the defib machine, increasing in volume and pitch until the hair on Mason’s arms rose. Then the paddles went onto Graham’s exposed chest, and a kathunk! sounded.
The female paramedic placed a stethoscope on his chest, listened, then shook her head.
“Again,” said the first.
Another whine. Another kathunk.
Nothing.
Mason closed his eyes, unable to watch anymore.
* * *
She had never felt more helpless in her life. Karina stood in the doorway of the kitchen and listened to Detective Grierson’s angry voice. Mason sat in the living room in the corner chair, his arms on his thighs, his head drooped between hunched shoulders. On the couch, Parker sat with his elbow on the padded arm, his hand covering his eyes, fingers massaging his temple. She wanted to rinse the washcloth that lay on the carpet at Mason’s feet, the one he’d used to wipe Officer Graham’s blood from his face. But she didn’t dare enter the room.
Behind her Caleb sat at her kitchen table, his lips moving in a silent prayer. That’s what she should be doing, too. Praying for Officer Graham’s family. He had a wife, now a widow. Two children who were now fatherless. Pain twisted her heart. She knew the agony of losing a father.
Grierson’s shout filled the tiny living room with fury. “I don’t know what’s going on here, Sinclair, but you’d better start giving me some answers.”
Mason shook his head. “I don’t know anymore.”
“That’s not good enough!”
Mason’s head jerked up and he fixed Grierson with an angry stare. “Do you think I wouldn’t tell you what I knew?” His volume matched the detective’s. “A man just died trying to save my life. A police officer is dead because of me. I’m not holding anything back.”
Parker unshielded his eyes to scrub his hand across his mouth. “Let’s try to stay calm here. Mason, are you sure you didn’t see anything?”
Though he continued to glare for a minute at Grierson, he finally heaved a breath and turned a calmer look on Parker. “I wish I had. I heard the bushes rustle. Graham looked at something behind me, and he yelled in my ear. I dodged sideways, and the next thing I knew…”
Karina shut her eyes at the pain on Mason’s face.
Father, comfort him. He doesn’t know it, but he needs You.
“What were you talking about?” Parker asked.
“Uh.” Mason rubbed at his forehead. “We were talking about Maddox, and—”
“Russell Maddox?” Grierson stomped across the carpet to stand in front of Mason. “What about him?”
Mason’s gaze connected with Karina’s across the room. She didn’t think he’d intended to mention Maddox in front of his former boss. The day’s stress had caught up with him. He looked tired. And no wonder. For a moment he stiffened, and she thought he might avoid answering. But then his shoulders drooped again.
“I’ve been doing some checking into the restaurant where José Garcia worked—”
“I knew it.” Grierson tossed his hands in the air and whirled around. “I told you to stay out of this investigation, but you wouldn’t listen. And now look what’s happened. A man’s down, a good man. I ought to haul you downtown tonight, you and her,” he jerked his head toward Karina, “and that bouncer you’ve got in the kitchen.”
Karina glanced behind her, and Caleb had straightened in his chair. He cast an offended look toward the living room.
Grierson shook his head and heaved a sigh. “But right now I’ve got to go tell Graham’s wife that she gets to raise those kids by herself.” He looked at Parker. “And since you were his partner, you get to go with me.”
Mason straightened. Every muscle in his body displayed reluctance. “If you want, I’ll go, too.”
The detective shook a finger in his face. “Not a chance. You are going to stay here and write a detailed statement telling me everything—everything—you’ve done since the minute you stepped off that plane. I want to know every person you’ve talked to, every place you’ve been, even every piece of food you’ve put in your mouth. And I want it in my hand by eight o’clock in the morning. You got that?”
Mason’s answer told Karina just how much Officer Graham’s death had shaken him. In a meek voice, he said, “Yes, sir.”
The response surprised Grierson as much as her. His brows arched, and for a moment he said nothing. Then he turned to Parker. “Harding, let’s go. I’ll leave my car here and ride with you. We have to pick up the grief counselor on the way.”
Parker rose. He skirted the coffee table and placed a hand on Mason’s slumped shoulder. “I’ll talk to you later, buddy.”
Behind Karina, Caleb rose from the table and joined her as Parker exited through the front door. Grierson stared at him for a moment, his eyes narrowing to slits.
“I don’t know who you are, or why you’re here, but see if you can keep him out of trouble, okay?”
Caleb nodded. “I’ll do what I can.”
The detective’s gaze slid to her, and his seemed to soften a bit. But the next instant she thought she was mistaken, because he didn’t say anything. Instead he headed toward the door after Parker.
Just before he closed it, he paused and turned to look back into the room. “Sinclair.”
Mason looked up.
“It might be a good idea if you three didn’t stay here tonight. Go to a hotel somewhere, one where the rooms open into a hallway, not outside. Ask for an upper floor, so the windows are secure.”
Without waiting for an answer, he left. The three of them stared at the closed door in silence.
Finally Caleb said, “I could be wrong, but I think that man knows more than he’s letting on.”
Karina agreed. And if that were true, then there would only be one reason for his advice to get out of the apartment tonight. If they stayed here, they would be in danger.
TWENTY-TWO
Mason tossed Karina’s
overnight bag beside his and Caleb’s in the trunk of the rental, and climbed into the driver’s seat. “How about the Marriott on San Francisco Road? It’s got at least ten or twelve floors, and we could get two adjoining rooms.” He glared sideways at Karina. “And we’re leaving the connecting door open.”
He expected an argument in response, but she merely nodded. In the dark interior of the car her eyes were lost in pools of shadow, and her face looked abnormally pale.
No wonder. I’ll bet we all look a little shell-shocked.
Mason started the engine and steered out of the parking lot. The clock on the dashboard read almost one in the morning. He kept an eye on the rearview mirror, watching for anything that might look like a tail. Not much traffic in the area right around the apartment complex, so he was fairly confident they weren’t being followed.
His gaze connected with Caleb’s in the mirror. The big man’s chin jerked upward. “You doing okay?”
Referring to the shooting, of course. The sight of Graham’s body flooded his mind’s eye. A shudder threatened, but Mason controlled it before it took hold. At the moment he wasn’t sure he’d ever be okay again.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
Karina twisted around in the seat, one hand holding on to the shoulder strap of the seatbelt. “What were you and Officer Graham talking about when…” She cleared her throat.
“When he shoved me out of the way and took a bullet for me?” He winced at the harsh sound of his voice in the car’s otherwise quiet interior. “We were talking about—”
He’d been about to say they were talking about Maddox like he told Grierson, but they weren’t. Not really. Mason had been thinking about Maddox. He ran over the conversation in his mind. Maddox’s name was never mentioned.
“We were talking about the possibility of an illegal arms racket in Albuquerque, and Graham said he thought there might be something to it.” He lifted a shoulder. “Or, actually, he said it wasn’t impossible to believe, but a scheme like that would have to be huge to reach all the way up into the court system. And then he kind of changed the subject. Said he’d checked out my record, and it was clean. That he didn’t believe I killed Margie.”
He fell silent. The mention of Margie brought a wave of grief, as it always did. Only it was even heavier now. Maybe because someone had just died in front of him, killed the same way she had been. Or maybe it was because of the neighborhood he steered the car through. They’d lived not far from here, in a tiny apartment on the top floor of an old house. Quirky, she’d called it. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. They could have afforded something bigger, but Margie didn’t want to live in a housing development. She wanted to be in a neighborhood. And the apartment was close to the fitness center where she worked.
With a start, Mason realized the fitness center was only a couple of streets away. The place where José regularly delivered packages containing weapon parts. The place where Margie had been gunned down while leaving work. Somehow that fitness center tied the past and the present together.
He glanced in the rearview mirror. Nobody behind him. Without signaling, he jerked the wheel to the right and turned onto a side street.
Karina was thrown sideways in her seat. Clutching at the strap, she gave him a startled look. “Where are you going?”
“Just humor me for a minute.”
Suspicion drew her features together. “You’re going to that gym, aren’t you?”
He didn’t answer, but executed another turn.
Caleb spoke up from the back seat. “If I can weigh in on—”
Mason cut him off. “You can’t.”
“Why did you bring me here if you’re not going to at least listen to what I have to say?” He turned his head to stare through the window, sulking.
Karina cocked her head. “Gee, where have I heard that before?”
Mason ignored them both. The fitness center lay ahead of them. A sprawling one-story structure with a parking lot in the front and a drive that led around the back. When Mason and Karina had been teenagers, the building had housed a small grocery store. It had closed down during their senior year in high school and had been converted a few years later.
Mason slowed the car near the entrance to the parking lot. His eyes sought out one particular square on the sidewalk, exactly eleven feet from the place where the road concrete changed to asphalt. There. Right there. The muscles in his throat tightened. That’s where his wife had died. She’d just left work and was walking toward their home.
Karina’s hand snaked across the console. Her fingers touched his arm. No words of sympathy, but he didn’t need any. He’d heard them all before. They didn’t help.
He jerked the wheel and stepped on the gas. The car bounced as it crossed into the empty parking lot.
“There’s nobody here,” Caleb commented.
“No kidding?” Mason couldn’t have filtered the sarcasm out of his voice if he’d tried. His emotions were too raw, too close to the surface. “I was sure we’d find at least a half-dozen gym rats working out at one in the morning.”
He rolled through the parking lot, scanning the windows all along the front of the building. They’d been lined with a reflective coating that blocked the sun’s rays and made it impossible to see inside. Both Karina and Caleb held their tongues as the car rolled past, and Mason stared at their reflection in the glass. At the end of the building he turned onto the side driveway and headed for the back.
“What are you looking for?” Caleb asked.
The truth was, he had no idea. Something to prove his gut feeling about Maddox was correct? But even if they found proof that the fitness center was involved with illegal arms traffic, Maddox had placed enough padding between himself and this place that nobody would ever be able to get to him.
“I’ll know it when I see it,” he answered.
The drive opened onto a narrow rear lot. A big loading dock lay at the far end of the building. The huge metal door had rusted, and looked as though it hadn’t been opened in years. Beside it, nearer, was a regular door, also of thick metal. A Dumpster sat in the far corner of the lot. Old scraggly trees reached into the sky along the back of the asphalt, and giant scrub bushes had grown up between them to form a barrier to the buildings that lay on the other side. Nothing moved. The place was as deserted in the back as it had looked from the front.
Mason executed a U-turn so the car faced the only exit—a habit he’d learned at the police academy and had never given up—rolled to a stop by the door and shifted into Park. The hum of the idling engine provided a faint background that only made the silence in the car louder.
“I wish we could get inside,” he said.
“And see what?” Karina ducked her head to see across him, through the window. “Gym equipment?”
Mason shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s all there is. Maybe not.”
He noticed something then. Beside the door, mounted on the brick, was a keypad. The kind alarm companies installed in commercial buildings. It looked old, but the buttons glowed with a faint light. Maybe it still worked. Maybe this was the way the manager got inside every morning.
He opened the door and got out.
“Hey, Brother, where are you going?”
Caleb’s voice called after him, but he ignored it. He approached the keypad, bent over to examine it. The numbers on the buttons were almost rubbed off from frequent use.
Two car doors slammed, and then Karina and Caleb were beside him.
“This thing looks like it’s still being used,” he commented.
Caleb looked at it, then into his face. “Yeah. So?”
“So, I wonder if we can get in.”
Karina’s eyes widened. “Mason, you can’t be serious.”
“Oh yeah. I can be. And I am.” He looked f
rom her to Caleb and back again. “Don’t you two see? There’s something going on. Graham knew what it was, or at least he suspected. Grierson knows something. I’ll bet if we can get inside we’ll find something in the manager’s office. Some sort of documentation or something that we can use as proof.”
“Proof of what?” Caleb asked. “Brother, that man we talked to today isn’t dumb enough to leave written records lying around that will point to him.”
Mason held Karina’s gaze when he answered. “Maybe you’re right. But maybe we’ll find proof that Alex didn’t kill José. Or at least something that will leave a questionable doubt in the minds of a jury.”
Her lips twisted as she thought about that. Then she nodded. “If we can do that, Alex will be found not guilty.”
“Exactly.”
Caleb’s head was still shaking. “I don’t like it. Besides, how are you going to get in there?” He tapped on the keypad. “This means there’s an alarm system. Unless you have skills I don’t know about, we can’t crack an alarm code.”
Mason clamped his jaw shut. Therein lay the problem. He could barely manage to remember the code to the alarm in his home, much less figure out someone else’s.
But he knew someone who might be able to.
He grinned at Caleb. “It’s for times like these we have a computer geek at our beck and call, right?”
He whipped out his cell phone and dialed Brent’s number. The line rang four times, and then went to voice mail. Mason immediately dialed again. This time the call was answered on the second ring.
Brent’s voice, husky with sleep, came on the line. “Are you seriously calling me at three fifteen in the morning?”
Mason had forgotten the time difference between Albuquerque and Atlanta. But even if he’d remembered, that wouldn’t have made a difference. He ignored the cranky comment.
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