Primary Suspect

by Laura Scott

  The rain pelted against her thin cotton blouse, instantly soaking her to the skin. Her jeans offered little protection, either, and despite the warm, muggy temperatures, she shivered.

  “Oliver Shelton asked us to check out this warehouse on Riverbend and Morgan,” Mitch said. “This is the right place, isn’t it?”

  Dana stood outside the SUV, far too close to the third man holding a gun. She couldn’t see his features clearly because of the water running into her face, and she hoped he wasn’t smart enough to figure out how Mitch was giving clues to his brother Miles on the other end of the open phone line.

  Smart move on Mitch’s part, yet she was afraid that Miles would be too late.

  What was to stop these men from shooting them once they were inside the warehouse?

  She couldn’t think of a single thing.

  Stall for as long as possible.

  “I’m Dana Petrie and I was married to Kent Petrie,” she said in a loud voice so that she could be heard over the storm. “Alice Shelton’s son. They love me like a daughter, and they won’t be happy if you hurt me.”

  She felt Mike come up to stand beside her. “She’s right,” he added in a rough tone. “She’s an integral part of the Shelton family. We’re not here to interfere with your job.”

  A couple of the gunmen exchanged looks as if silently debating if they should believe Dana’s claim. “Get moving,” the guy closest to her said, waving his gun at the front of the car.

  Swallowing hard, she edged around the hood of the SUV, trying to stay as far away as possible from the gunmen. As soon as she was close to Mitch, he reached out and drew her against him. Mike joined them, and she was sandwiched protectively between the two Callahans. Mitch’s warm presence was reassuring, and infused her with a sense of strength.

  They could do this.

  They had to do this.

  “Should I call Alice now?” she volunteered. “I’m sure my mother-in-law would be happy to vouch for me.”

  “You should let her call,” Mitch added. “That way we can clear up any confusion.”

  “Shut up and get inside,” the guy near Mitch said.

  Surrounded as they were, there was little choice but to move toward the side door of the warehouse. Dana walked slowly, worried that once they got inside, their chance for escape would be over. Another lightning bolt shot across the sky, followed by a sharp crack of thunder, causing the guy nearest to Dana to reflexively hunch his shoulders as if he was afraid of the storm.

  Was there some way to use that against him? She glanced at Mitch, wondering if he’d noticed the guy’s reaction, but she couldn’t tell by the grim expression on his face.

  Then it was too late as they were pushed across the threshold and into the building. The place had a musty smell intermixed with a stringent chemical scent.

  She wrinkled her nose, trying to hold back a sneeze. As Mike mentioned, there was clearly drug manufacturing going on in the open space. Plastic gloves and face masks had been discarded in a hurry, likely by the gunmen. The guys must be doing double duty, creating drugs while protecting the place. There was also a large container of a white powdery substance in the center of an old metal table, and her chest tightened with fear and worry at how much carfentanil was inside.

  Even a milligram could be enough to kill someone who didn’t have an opiate tolerance built up. The amount sitting there could kill an army of people.

  Stall for as long as possible.

  “Now what?” Mitch asked. “What do you plan to do? Kill us with your superstrength narcotic?”

  “Exactly,” the tallest of them said. He was the one who had stood directly in front of their SUV and the obvious leader.

  They couldn’t just stand there and let these men inject them with carfentanil. At least there weren’t more men inside the warehouse that she could see. Still, three armed men against two men and a woman with only one gun wasn’t encouraging. Especially since the only gun she was aware of was the ankle holster that Mike had given Mitch.

  Not exactly easy access to use in self-defense.

  Dana strove for a casual tone. “You’re going to do that without calling Alice or Oliver Shelton first? Big mistake.”

  The leader seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a second, then grinned, without humor. His eyes narrowed with a hint of evil. “You think I’m worried about offending old man Ollie? He’s afraid of us, not the other way around. We’re in charge here.”

  “Yeah, right,” she scoffed, calling his bluff. At least, she hoped he was bluffing. Because if he was right and the Sheltons were the ones who owed these guys and were in fact taking orders from them, then she and the Callahan brothers were in trouble.

  Big trouble.

  A few months ago, it wouldn’t have mattered. She hadn’t had much to live for, simply going through the motions without experiencing a sense of joy or wonder.

  But now she had Mitch, who’d shown her that the future wasn’t as bleak as she’d once thought. Not only had he opened her heart and her mind to a renewed faith in God, he’d given her a second chance at love.

  If they survived long enough to explore the possibility.

  She glanced at Mitch, wondering how much longer they could postpone the inevitable. Was Miles was still listening in and already on his way to their rescue?

  Please, Lord, bring Miles soon.

  Because she wanted that second chance. More than anything.

  * * *

  Come on, Miles, any time, Mitch thought. He wasn’t sure how much longer they could stall.

  He suspected Mike still had a gun, no doubt his brother owned several, and he still had Mike’s thirty-eight in the ankle holster. But once the gunmen patted them down, it would be all over.

  Then they would have no way to defend themselves against bullets or, worse, against the superstrength narcotic.

  How much time had passed since he’d connected with Miles? Five minutes? Seven at the most?

  If Miles didn’t show up soon, he’d have to risk going for the ankle holster. Mitch didn’t see any other way around it. If he caused enough of a commotion, maybe Mike could get Dana out of there.

  He glanced at his brother then down to his foot, in an attempt to make him understand his intent. Mike narrowed his gaze, as if telling him it was a lousy plan, and Mitch couldn’t necessarily disagree.

  “Get three needles and syringes,” the guy in charge said.

  The other two men glanced at each other, then the one closest to the metal table tucked his gun in his waistband and went over to a small box of supplies.

  Interesting. Making their deaths look like accidental overdoses wasn’t the smartest move. They didn’t have existing needle tracks that a typical user would.

  As if the guy had read Mitch’s mind, he abruptly said, “Wait, forget the needles. We’ll make them snort it instead.”

  “No one is going to believe all three of us just decided to start using drugs,” Dana said, a hint of terror underlying her tone. “I’m telling you, we work for the Sheltons. You don’t have anything to fear from us.”

  The leader leered at her and took a step forward. “I think you’ll go first,” he said in a snide tone. “So that the other two can watch you die.”

  No! He couldn’t bear it!

  Mitch instinctively took a step toward Dana, only to have the second gunman abruptly lift his weapon and point it directly at his chest in the region of his heart.

  “Don’t move,” the guy said. “We’ll shoot if necessary. It’ll be easy enough to bury your bodies where they’ll never be found.”

  Mitch curled his fingers into fists, battling a wave of helplessness. The guy at the metal table pulled on the gloves then used a putty knife to scrape a small amount of white powder in the palm of his hand.

  “This is for you, little lady,” he said, carefull
y stepping toward Dana. “Don’t worry, you won’t feel a thing.”

  When he lifted his palm dangerously close to Dana’s face, Mitch knew he couldn’t wait another second. With a silent prayer asking for God’s strength and endurance, he dropped to one knee and scrabbled for the thirty-eight.

  Simultaneously, there was a loud bang from the side door of the warehouse. In the back of his mind, Mitch assumed the building was hit by lightning and used the distraction to pull his weapon from the holster and leap back up to his feet.

  He aimed at the leader, hoping that if he wounded that guy, the others would fall into place.

  “Put your hands in the air!” a familiar voice shouted.

  Miles? Yes! And his brother had brought a full SWAT team with him.

  The leader fired at Miles, who was thankfully wearing bulletproof gear. He missed and Mitch shot him in return. The leader screamed and fell to the ground.

  Mike had a weapon in his hand, too, and joined the melee. As Mitch turned toward Dana, he was shocked when he saw her take a deep breath and blow with all her might at the white powder in the hand of the guy closest to her, spraying him in the face with the highly concentrated drug. He coughed and sputtered, staggered back and forth on his feet for a long couple of seconds, then fell to the ground.

  Mike took out the third guy and then it was over. Miles crossed over to clap Mitch on the shoulder. “Good timing, bro,” he said.

  “Yeah.” His hands had started to shake with the aftermath of adrenaline, so he carefully put the thirty-eight down on the ground. “I guess you have to arrest me now, huh?”

  “We’ll deal with that later,” Miles assured him.

  “Mitch?” Dana’s voice was faint and tentative. He spun toward her, and she swayed and began to crumple to the floor.

  He grabbed her and managed to break her fall. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  Her wide green eyes stared at him for a moment, her pupils big and dilated. Then he knew.

  Some of the drug she’d blown toward the guy who’d tried to kill her must have been absorbed into her system, too. Maybe some had gotten into her nose or mouth by mistake.

  “Call 911!” he shouted, cradling Dana to his chest. “She needs Narcan to counteract the narcotic!”

  “There’s an ambulance outside,” Miles said. “They come on every SWAT call.”

  “Hurry!” Mitch tightened his grip on Dana, willing her not to die. “Hang on, Dana, hang on! You’re going to be all right.”

  She didn’t respond. Her face was pale and still and he panicked because she had stopped breathing.

  “Hurry!” he screamed again as he gently laid her on the floor and began doing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. He gave her several breaths then felt for a pulse.

  It was there, but the rhythm was weak, and he feared she’d slip away before he could tell her how much he loved her.

  Two paramedics arrived, pushing Mitch to the side so they could get access to Dana’s extremities. “She needs to be treated for a narcotic overdose,” he said. “These guys are making some superpowerful narcotic here and she was exposed to it.”

  The paramedic closest to him deftly placed a catheter in her vein and began infusing IV fluids. Then he began pulling up medication from a small glass vial while the other paramedic took vital signs.

  “Narcan in,” the paramedic said.

  There was a long moment as they waited for Dana to respond.

  Nothing.

  “Give her more fluids and another dose,” Mike said.

  Mitch glanced at his brother in surprise.

  “That’s what they did for you in the ER,” Mike said. “It took three doses of Narcan to bring you around.”

  “I know how to treat a narcotic overdose,” the paramedic said in a dry tone. He drew up more medication from a second glass vial.

  After the second dose, Dana responded. Her muscles twitched and she blinked, then opened her beautiful green eyes. “Mitch?”

  “I’m here. You’re fine. Everything is going to be all right.” He bent down and pressed a kiss against her forehead, then silently thanked God for saving her life.

  “She needs to get checked out at the hospital,” the paramedic next to him said.

  “No,” Dana protested weakly. She looked up at him, but he wasn’t sure she was really seeing him clearly.

  “Yes, you do.” Mitch wasn’t about to stand in the way of her need to get the best care possible. He forced a smile. “We’re safe now and there’s no need to worry. Miles is here and he’ll take care of everything.”

  “Okay.” Her eyelids fluttered closed.

  He tucked a strand of her wet hair behind her ear and pressed a sweet kiss on the center of her forehead. “I love you, Dana,” he whispered.

  She didn’t respond, but he hoped she’d heard him. He forced himself to move out of the way so the two paramedics could get her onto the stretcher.

  Mitch followed her out of the warehouse and into the rain, which had lessened to a mild drizzle, the worst of the storm having passed by. He would ride along in the ambulance for now; Mike could drive the SUV and meet him at the hospital.

  From there? He figured Miles would come to question him. Which was fine with him.

  After the way he’d almost gotten Dana and Mike killed, he was done running.

  It was time to turn himself in.

  SEVENTEEN

  Hearing the sound of muted voices, Dana forced her heavy eyelids open. The overhead lights were painfully bright, but someone must have noticed her wince, because they abruptly dimmed.

  Much better. She blinked and focused on Mitch’s concerned expression as he leaned over her. “How are you feeling?”

  “Weak,” she answered truthfully. “Thirsty, but otherwise fine.” It took a moment for her to realize she was on the wrong side of the bed in the ER where she worked. How mortifying to have her coworkers taking care of her. Mitch held up a cup of water for her to drink. When she finished, she struggled to sit upright. “I need to get out of here.”

  “Soon, but not yet,” Mitch protested, putting a hand on her arm. “Dr. Robertson hasn’t given the final okay yet.”

  “What time is it?” She squinted at the clock.

  “Seven thirty in the evening.”

  Hours had passed, and they hadn’t eaten since early that morning at the truck stop. No wonder she felt a little sick to her stomach.

  “Mitch?” A tall man with brown hair and green eyes wearing SWAT gear poked his head into the room. She recognized him as Mitch’s older brother Miles. “We need to talk.”

  “I know. Give me a few minutes.”

  Dana frowned. “What’s happening? Are you going to be arrested?”

  Mitch’s expression turned rueful. “I’m not sure, but try not to worry. Mike is here to keep you safe.”

  She appreciated Mike, but wanted to stay with Mitch. “Why can’t we stick together?”

  “I’m not the lead investigator here,” Miles said from the doorway. “At some point the detective assigned to the case will need to interview you separately.” He stepped into the room. “We busted a portion of the drug manufacturing and linked the men who were there to Chicago Land Corp., but do you guys have any proof related to who actually murdered Janice and Simon?”

  “We have reason to believe Oliver Shelton is the guy calling the shots,” Mitch said.

  Dana nodded. “I saw him leaving the warehouse and getting into his fancy car. Why else would he be there if he wasn’t working with Chicago Land Corp.?”

  “We think he buys the warehouses from them for a significant amount of money, at least on paper. He insures them for that same amount, starts construction, causes a fire, gets the money, then sells the damaged property for a loss.”

  Miles rubbed the back of his neck, his expression full of doubt. “
Pretty elaborate scheme.”

  “Maybe, but there is a paper trail proving Shelton, Inc. buys the properties from Chicago Land,” Dana said. “And we know at least one fire, the most recent one Mitch investigated, was caused by arson, not faulty wiring.”

  “And I have Jeff’s notes where he wrote the initials O.S. for Oliver Shelton,” Mitch added. “I think if you dig into Jeff’s finances, you’ll see that prior to his heart attack and untimely death, he had an influx of money that likely leads to Shelton.”

  “Nice theories, but who is the one doing the actual murders?” Miles asked. “Not Shelton himself.”

  “Tyler Pitrowski?” Dana glanced at Mitch. “Wasn’t that the name of the cop’s brother-in-law? The one who works security for Shelton, Inc.?”

  “Yes. And we have the weapon you took from him,” Mitch agreed. “If he left prints on the gun, we can prove he tried to kill us. He has a criminal record including a felony drug conviction.”

  “Your word against his.” Miles’s expression was gloomy. “But it’s better than nothing.”

  “It’s the whole picture,” Mitch insisted. “And enough for reasonable doubt.”

  “Maybe.” Miles didn’t look enthusiastic. “But circumstantial evidence goes a long way. Do you know that the detective on your case found your work vehicle in your garage with Janice’s blood in the trunk?”

  Mitch groaned. “I was afraid of that. We looked, but couldn’t find it. But you need to tell the forensic team to do a tight sweep of the vehicle, because the real killer could have left a hair or some other trace evidence behind.”

  “You think this Pitrowski guy is the one who set all this up? Murdered two people and framed you?” Miles asked.

  “Why not?” Dana didn’t understand the skepticism in Miles’s tone. “He’s related to a cop by marriage. Maybe he learned a few tricks along the way.”

  Mike stepped into the room. “The doc is on his way in to discharge Dana.”

  She was relieved to hear it, even though she didn’t want to leave Mitch. There was a niggling worry in the back of her mind that they were still missing something, a connection.