The Gift

by Kim Pritekel

  She took a deep breath, a part of her wondering the same thing, but she trusted Squirrel. In her heart of hearts, she knew she was trying to help them. “No. They know where we’re at.”

  They climbed out of the car and walked toward the barn. Catania looked around, turning in a slow circle as she went, eyeing their surrounds. She couldn’t help but feel there were eyes on them, like they’d just entered an old, haunted town. A cold breeze swept through the wind tunnel created by the close-set buildings, which whistled ominously.

  “Here goes nothing,” Oscar said softly, reaching out to grip the iron handle on the door. He pulled it open and, hand on her weapon, the holster unsnapped, Catania entered, looking in every direction, knowing Oscar had her back.

  The shadows were interrupted by patches of slated light coming in from air vents near the roof of the large structure. The floor was dirt and the building was nearly empty. There were several stalls built, though they looked rickety and nowhere near ready to house anything alive. The stalls stretched out on either side of the barn, leaving a wide aisle between them. Catania wondered if perhaps this had been a dairy at one time.

  “We should call in that we arrived,” Oscar said, eyes wide as he took in the expanse.

  “Yeah.” Catania reached into her pocket for the radio, cursing softly when it wasn’t there. She remembered she’d left it on the dash. “Do you have signal?” She kept an eye out as Oscar pulled his phone out.

  “Nope.”

  “Damn. Okay. Hey, Squirrel?” she called out. “Gonna go run out for a sec. Be right back. You better have your skinny ass out here so we can do this!”

  Oscar glanced at her with a raised eyebrow as if to say, Seriously? “Go get ’em, tiger,” he drawled.

  She stared at him for a second. “What made you say that?”

  “What? Why?”

  She shook her head and turned to leave, jogging from the barn back to the car. She scooped up the radio and jogged back toward the building when she heard Oscar yell, “Oh my god!”

  “Oscar?” Her legs pumped to get her the remaining distance, only to nearly stumble when she heard four gunshots fired in quick succession. “Oscar!”

  Reaching the door, her heart was racing as she pulled her gun. She brought the radio to her mouth. “This is d’Giovanni, shots fired, shots fired!”

  She stuck the radio into her pocket and didn’t even feel the pain as she used her bad hand to pull open the door. She instantly hit the dirt when she heard two more shot fired.

  Heart racing, she crawled her way inside far enough so the door would close and not leave her in a spotlight. Doing a partial army crawl and baby crawl on her hands and knees, she scurried into one of the stalls. Listening, she heard groaning and prayed it was Oscar because if he’d been hit, that meant he was still alive.

  Slowly raising her head so she could peek over the top of the stall’s half wall, she saw a shadowy figure dart out from a stall about fifty feet away and make a run for the back of the barn.

  “Freeze!” she yelled at the top of her voice. The figure did not stop. “I said freeze!”

  She raised her gun and fired off three shots, the figure diving for cover, dust flying up into the air to drift around in a patch of sunlight. She ran hunched down from her stall, running as far as she could before she heard another shot. It was then she saw Oscar. He lay about ten feet away from her, out in the open on his back. She could hear him wheezing, struggling to breathe.

  “Stay with me, Oscar.”

  The figure popped up again and sprinted on the same path to the back of the barn. She popped up and ran after the person, unable to tell if it was male or female, though it looked to be a large-framed person. She gripped her weapon with both hands and fired until her gun ran out of bullets. Still on the run, she tossed the old clip and slid a fresh one home.

  Suddenly, she was blinded by a tidal wave of sunlight as, almost instantaneously, a car started and then plowed through the wall of the barn, fishtailing as it slid on building debris and gravel.

  Standing wide-legged at the gaping hole, she emptied her new clip into the back of the white Subaru wagon that roared away from the barn.

  “Fucker!”

  Turning, she ran back toward Oscar, the barn now aglow. It was only then that she saw a body lying in one of the stalls. She stopped only long enough to realize it was Liv.

  Knowing the young woman was already gone, she ran to Oscar, grabbing her radio as she slid to her knees next to him. “Officer down, officer down!” she screamed into the radio. “Don’t you leave me, Oscar! Don’t you fucking leave me. Send me a goddamn ambulance!” She threw the radio aside. “Oh god, no.” She sobbed, looking into his face as she brought up a hand to wipe away some ancient dried hay that was stuck to the blood on his face.

  He looked up at her, though his eyes weren’t focused. “Hey, bud,” she managed, her tears falling and mingling with his blood. His mouth moved as though he was trying to work out some words.

  “Don’t talk,” she whispered, cradling his head. “Help is coming.” She looked out over his body, evaluating his injuries. He’d been struck three times, one in the right shoulder, one in the right thigh, and the third in his chest.

  She looked up when she heard the distant sound of sirens, stunning considering how far out they were.

  Looking back down at him, she smiled. “Guess they’d already sent the cavalry knowing how much trouble we get into, huh?”

  In response, he began to wheeze, a horrifying gurgling sound in his throat. His eyes began to close and his body grew relaxed in her arms.

  “No you don’t, Oscar. Goddamn it, no you don’t!”

  She moved back enough to lay him flat and held his nose closed with her fingers as she pressed her lips to his, beginning CPR.

  “Stay with me,” she murmured, breathless as she did her compressions. “Stay with me…”

  Her bangs hung damp in her eyes from exertion when she stared down at him, noting how pale he was and that he wasn’t breathing. The tears began anew even as she desperately tried to hold it together. She put two fingers at his carotid artery, praying like she’d never prayed before. Nothing.

  “Goddamn it,” she cried, desperation hitting her harder than before.

  She began CPR again, the world around her disappearing as she gave everything she had to try to bring him back, keep him alive.

  “Get off me!” she yelled, lashing out when she was grabbed from behind, hands underneath her armpits. She scrambled to her feet away from the firm touch only to see a paramedic staring back at her. She fell to her knees. “You save him,” she whimpered.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Catania’s hand shielded her eyes as she watched the medevac helicopter float up into the day, the thup, thup, thup of the blades deafening, the dirt and debris kicked up by the wind they caused making her squint.

  She had to think it was an act of God or something that there had been an ambulance call in the remote, tiny farming town of Boone, for which the paramedics hadn’t had to transport the patient back into town to the hospital, so they were open to take her call. They were able to get Oscar stable enough to be medevaced to the hospital. Now, she had the most difficult part of her job to do.

  Stepping closer to the building to get away from the noise, she pulled out her phone and dialed Linda’s cell. She’d prefer to be there in person, but she’d by far rather tell her than Linda hear it on the news. Luck was with her and she was able to get signal.

  “Hey, Linda, it’s Nia… Uh, no. No, everything isn’t okay. Linda, Oscar’s been shot.” She squeezed her eyes shut at the instant cry of No! she heard on the other end of the line. “Linda, Linda, I don’t have a lot of time and I need you to hear me, okay? He’s being medevaced to Parkview Hospital as we speak, okay?” She brought up a hand and swiped at another tear that managed to escape. “I don’t know,” she whispered at the all-important question of whether he was okay. She saw one of the uniformed officers th
at had arrived on scene after the ambulance hurrying toward her from around the back of the barn where the gunman had blasted through the wall. “I have to run, but stay in touch, okay? See you soon, bye.”

  “Detective, there’s nobody else here, just the body.”

  “Nobody? Not in the other buildings?”

  He shook his head. “No, ma’am. We’ve searched the entire property.”

  She let out a sigh, tapping the side of her phone against her thigh. “Okay.” One look at the seasoned officer told her something was on his mind. “What?”

  “The body, Detective,” he said, a slight look of disgust in his expression.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s frozen.”

  Following him inside, Catania watched as officers laid small yellow plastic markers at each shell casing, both expended from her weapon as well as the gunman’s. She was shocked by how many there were. In the heat of the moment, it was very easy to lose count of just how many shots were volleyed. It was, however, very difficult to see the blood left behind where Oscar had gone down.

  Looking away, she was led to the body of the young black woman. She’d only met her the one time, but she was such a lovely young woman it was easy to remember that face, now relaxed in death.

  The young woman’s hair was in tight braids, pulled back and cinched at the nape of her neck. Her neck. Catania’s gaze was drawn to it.

  Dark eyes widen, surprise…

  The grip tightened…

  No breath, no breath. Can’t breathe, can’t breathe…

  The shine gone in her eyes, mahogany skin dull, a yellowish fluid puddled at the corner of slightly spread lips. Suddenly, the eyes focused, lifeless yet direct.

  “You did this,” she whispered. “You did this!”

  She gasped, falling back to her behind in the dirt. She blinked several times before she could focus on the young woman lying on the ground instead of the one who had just haunted her mind for a second time.

  “You okay, Detective?”

  She looked up to see the officer looking down at her from where he stood on the opposite side of Liv’s body. “Uh, yeah. Sorry.”

  Moving away from the deeply bruised neck, Catania took in the dark purple tank top, which had a small rip near the hem. She couldn’t tell if that was from whatever ordeal the woman had been put through, or if it was dryer rot—wear from too many washes.

  She wore light blue jeans that looked like they’d been painted on. She was barefoot, just like Megan Murphy.

  “Any I.D. on her?” she asked softly.

  “Nothing. She was left literally with what she was wearing.”

  Curious, Catania remembered that Megan had been found with no undergarments. She could tell Liv wasn’t wearing a bra. She had no latex gloves on or with her, but noticed the officer did.

  “Do me a favor and unbutton her jeans. Let’s see if she’s wearing any panties.”

  He did as asked, though he struggled with the chilled material of the denim. After several moments, he pulled apart the flaps to reveal nothing.

  She let out a sigh, pushing to her feet. “He’s got a thing for panties, that’s for sure.”

  “D’Giovanni.”

  She turned to see Detectives Slovodnik and Trujillo headed her way. “Fuck me,” she muttered. “Good afternoon, guys.”

  “Price wants to see you,” Rodney said, glancing down at the body at her feet.

  “Well, he can wait. Obviously I’m busy—”

  “Now, Nia,” he said gently. “We’re taking over.”

  She looked at him sunned. “What? Why?”

  He sighed and shook his head, reaching up to run his hand down the length of his tie. “We’re following orders.”

  She shook her head, anger burning hot and heavy. “Okay,” she said, not about to kill the messenger. She could see by the overwhelmed, fish-out-of-water look on her colleague’s face that he wasn’t thrilled, either. From embezzling crimes to murder in an afternoon.

  She moved to walk past him when he stopped her with a hand on her arm. She met his gaze, hers hard and determined.

  “Listen, Nia,” he said softly, just loud enough for her to hear. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m so sorry about Oscar. We’re all pullin’ for him.”

  She managed a small smile. “Thanks.”

  ****

  Catania marched to her desk, ignoring the looks she got from her colleagues, some radiating solemn support for Oscar, others expressing naked surprise. She had to figure that was from the blood that was all over her blouse. Oscar’s blood.

  She made it to her desk and tossed the jacket she’d been carrying onto her desk, not even able to look at Oscar’s chair. If she did, she knew she’d break down.

  “D’Giovanni!”

  She glanced up to see Price leaning out of his office, hands braced on either side of the doorframe. His dark, hard gaze was pinning her to the spot.

  Don’t fuck with me today, you son of a bitch, was all she could think as she turned on her heel and marched her way to him. Without a word, she squeezed past his large bulk, nearly knocking him down. From the look on his face when he turned to her in the office, he was too shocked to say anything about that.

  She sat in one of the chairs, crossing one knee elegantly over the other, waiting. She didn’t even react when he slammed the door shut, her eyes following him as he walked around to the business side of his desk. He did not sit, but stood, towering over her.

  “Give me your weapon,” he said, voice surprisingly calm.

  Without a word, she thumbed open the snap on her holster and pulled out the Glock, unloaded it, and gently laid it and the clip on his desk.

  “Did you fire this weapon?” he asked, indicating the pistol lying a few inches from his coffee mug.

  “Yes, sir. Fired through two clips, sir.”

  “What happened?” he asked, again voice calm, but his towering intimidation tactics told her where his head was.

  “We were ambushed.”

  “Ambushed?”

  “Yes. I received a call from an informant that she and Liv had information regarding this case.”

  “Who is Liv? And, who is this informant?”

  “I don’t know her full name yet, but Liv is our victim. She’s a young lady I met several weeks ago on the streets. Squirrel.”

  “What? What the hell is that supposed to mean, Squirrel?”

  “My informant. Her nickname on the streets.”

  “She called you, you said? On your phone or Riley’s?”

  “Mine, sir.”

  He held out a large hand. Without a word, she removed her phone from her pocket and unlocked it before setting it in his palm. He tapped and scrolled as he sat down, bouncing slightly in the springy desk chair.

  “Is she listed as Mamma or Ally?” he asked, looking over the device at her.

  “The number came up as restricted, Sergeant,” she said, her irritation rising at his condescending tone. She was, however, baffled by his drawn eyebrows as he scrolled through the call log.

  “She called you today?”

  “Yes. Oscar and I were at City Park checking out the report of a found gun this morning.”

  “Restricted, huh?” He tossed the phone across the desk. “There is no such call, Detective.”

  “What?” She grabbed her phone and scrolled through the morning, all the way to two days before. Not one restricted listing.

  “What else you got, d’Giovanni? You said you were ambushed. Word is, Detective Riley’s gun was never discharged. Yours, by your own admission, was. Two whole clips, even.”

  She met his gaze, stunned at what he was insinuating. “I would never, ever shoot my partner,” she said slowly, conviction behind every syllable.

  “So you say, but what does the evidence say?” He clasped his fingers on his desk and sat forward, eyes boring into her. “Did he figure out what was up, Detective?” he asked quietly. “You’re a cop, know the ropes. No fingerprints foun
d on any of the crime scenes, not one. Not one ounce of usable DNA evidence on our killer. A cop would know how to get around that, too, wouldn’t they? Not even semen found.” He smirked. “Tell me, Detective, do lesbians ejaculate? Leave behind evidence?”

  “How dare—”

  “Were your neighbors too close, too?” he continued, talking over her as he raised his voice a bit. “Who else is in danger, d’Giovanni? Huh? Now you’re lying to me about little woodland creatures calling you,” he said, casually indicating her phone with a wave of his hand. “Whispering sweet nothings in your ear. And, I gotta say,” he said with a smirk. “It takes a real sick fuck to use your own family. Matteo, right? Is that his name?”

  “You son of a—” she whispered, tears of rage stinging behind her eyes.

  “From what I heard, the raid literally scared the shit out of him.”

  Catania flew across the desk, grabbing him by the front of his dress shirt, her face no more than three inches from his. “Listen, you rat bastard, don’t you ever talk about my brother again. You got me?” she yelled, shaking him for good measure. “I am killing myself trying to find out who is doing this, do you get that? Oscar Riley may die because of this motherfucker! You do and say what you want to me, but I will not stop until I find him and kill him if I have to. Do you understand?” She shoved him back into his chair as she released him, her rage still burning in her belly.

  “Go home,” he said, his voice deadly calm, but his eyes were on fire. “You come back tomorrow morning at eight in uniform and you report to Records.”

  She glared at him from where she’d moved back by the chair she’d vacated in her rage.

  “Now,” he continued. “Get. Out.”

  She didn’t bother to say anything or even look at him as she turned and slammed out of the office.

  ****

  Now dressed in casual clothing after going home, taking a quick shower, and tossing her blouse, she sat in a chair and studied Matteo’s profile. She’d been nearly brought to tears in relief and gratitude when his doctor had told her he’d been asking for her when she called to see how he was.