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Shadow Tag

Page 16

by Marjorie Swift Doering


  He stood with a slight wobble. “Where?” he asked.

  “Over there.” Gail pointed him in the right direction.

  Still groggy, he picked up the handset and accessed the outside line. “Ray Schiller,” he said.

  “It’s me, Ray…Dick.”

  He cleared the sleep sand from his eyes. “What’s up?”

  “Listen, buddy, are you sitting down? I’ve got news. You’re not going to like it, but keep in mind it’s not entirely bad.”

  “Geezus, Dick, would you just get on with it?”

  “Yeah, okay. I got a call from the lab. Hold onto your britches, buddy.” Waverly cleared his throat. “The bullet that killed Paul Davis did not come from Michael Johnson’s gun.”

  “What?”

  “One of the techs screwed up.”

  “What the...?” Ray heard a massive sigh on the other end of the line.

  “The lab’s been swamped for months. The natural assumption was that the bullet in Davis’s head came from the gun in his hand. Going on that assumption, someone over there put the ballistics test on the back burner. They didn’t get around to checking until now, and the results show the gun and bullet don’t match. Where the actual murder weapon is, I’ve got no frickin’ idea.”

  “What the hell kind of fly-by-night operation are they running?”

  “Hey, every now and then things get crazy; the workload gets hectic and mistakes get made.”

  “That’s a crock of shit.”

  “Well, face it, buddy, sometimes shit happens. This screw-up is just bigger than most.”

  “No damn fooling.”

  “Anyway, let’s just be glad we’re on top of the situation now. We’re looking for a 9 mm semi-automatic. And it’s like we thought; Johnson’s got to be covering for Jillian Wirth. The bullet we got out of the ash stand…? That one came from Johnson’s pearl-handled revolver.”

  “We should’ve had that information from the start.”

  “But we didn’t; those are the breaks. By the way,” Waverly said, “Johnson’s still claiming he did it.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No, I swear to God.”

  Ray gripped the phone tighter. “I wish I could be there to help.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You’ve got enough on your plate right now. Tell ya what, though—if you get the chance, think about where we should start looking for that 9mm. Captain Roth’s looking for somebody’s ass to chew and it looks like my butt’s on the buffet. If I can keep him at bay for a while, maybe he’ll lose his appetite by the time he finishes feeding on the forensic guys. Hey, I gotta go, buddy.”

  “Stay in touch, Dick.”

  “Count on it.”

  26

  Stable. The word began to grate. The occasional updates from the nurses were welcome, but there’d been no word of improvement. Tension mounted, leaving Ray with a dwindling supply of resilience.

  He returned from another brief visit with Laurie in desperate need of good news. His first sight of Gail told him there was none. She managed a weak smile as he sat beside her. Ray slung an arm around her and kissed her gingerly on the cheek. “That’s from Laurie,” he said. Retelling every detail of the visit felt like a chore, but he shared all of it.

  Gail gave way to the building stress and buried her face in her hands.

  “Look at yourself; you’re falling apart. I don’t need you hospitalized, too. Get out of here and go home for a while, Gail.”

  “Ray, I can’t.”

  He took Gail by the arm and lifted her to her feet. “Stop arguing.” He grabbed the purse she’d left hanging over the back of a chair and handed it to her. “Go. If there’s any change, I’ll let you know.”

  She looked at him through a haze of exhaustion, too tired to argue anymore. “Do I have your word, Ray?”

  “Yes. Now go home and get some rest.”

  Around 9:00 p.m. Ray forced down an egg salad sandwich on whole wheat. Not a favorite, at least it would help keep his strength up. Reading a magazine, he found himself unable to get past the first paragraph. He resorted to rifling through his mental files on the Davis case, testing theory after theory. It was the distraction he needed.

  The forensics lab had thrown them a major curve, but Waverly was right; it looked like the case against Jillian Wirth was gaining strength. Knowing she hadn’t used her stepfather’s gun to kill Davis gave Ray a small degree of comfort. As a cop, maintaining faith in the human race could be hard enough without dealing with someone who was willing to set up a family member on a murder charge.

  It crossed his mind that Johnson might have shot Davis with one gun and switched his pearl-handled revolver for the murder weapon. He’d have to have known the ballistics test would clear him. Thinking it through, Ray doubted he was either clever or devious enough to have created that red herring. Red herring. He wondered where the term came from—not that it mattered. And that was a good thing; he couldn’t stay focused and drifted into a restless sleep.

  An hour later Dr. Meier jostled his shoulder. “Wake up. I have good news.”

  “What?” Ray came to with a start, trying to clear the cobwebs from his head. For a moment, he feared he was still dreaming. “Good news?”

  Meier grasped his shoulder. “Are you with me now?”

  “Yeah, I’m awake,” Ray said, rubbing his eyes. “You said good news?”

  Meier nodded. “The swelling has been steadily decreasing for the last hour, and your daughter’s vital signs are looking good. She’s doing very well.”

  “Thank God. What about brain damage?” Ray asked.

  “Once she’s fully alert, we’ll have a better idea, but I feel relatively optimistic.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Meier.” Ray pumped Meier’s hand. “Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome. You can go in provided you don’t excite her…but only briefly. Expect her to be groggy; she’s still mildly sedated.”

  “I understand.” He started to turn away. “First, I have to phone my wife.”

  The doctor stopped him. “She’s not here?”

  “No, I finally got her to go home to get some sleep.”

  “Good. Then I’d like to make a suggestion: give her the news in person. The more rest your daughter gets, the better—your wife, too. She can see Krista in the morning.”

  Ray started to object, but Meier held his hand up, palm out. “As it is, I’m only allowing you a minute or two with her because, frankly, I doubt I could stop you. By morning, your daughter will be better rested and more lucid. I’d prefer to have your wife wait.”

  “I understand,” Ray said, “I hope Gail does.”

  As he approached Krista’s hospital bed, he felt his heart pounding. She turned her head, her blue eyes struggling to focus. His voice low, Ray squeezed her hand. “Hey, Krista, it’s Daddy.”

  Her lips curved in a weak smile. “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Hi, yourself, munchkin.” He kissed her cheek. “Are you sleepy?”

  Her nod seemed to take a major effort. Eyes closed, she asked, “Where’s Mommy?”

  “Mommy wanted to be here, but I made her go home to get a little sleep, honey; she was so tired. She’ll be here first thing in the morning, though. I promise, okay?”

  “Okay.” Krista struggled to open her eyes.

  Ray smiled down at her. “Laurie’s at the Clark’s house. She and Annie are playing dress-up and stuff.” He struggled to keep it light. “She thinks Annie’s brother, Phil, is kind of a nerd, though.”

  “Pete.” Her voice was barely audible.

  “What, honey?”

  “Pete, Daddy.”

  She was correcting him. Correcting him. “You’re right—Pete.” His heart slid into his throat.

  “He’s nice.”

  “Is he?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Her eyelids fluttered.

  He kissed the tiny hand he held in his own and laid it back down beside her. “Would you like to go to sleep now?”

&nb
sp; Again, the subtle nod.

  “Okay, sweetie.” Ray smoothed her covers. “I won’t talk anymore, but I’ll stay right here until you doze off, okay?”

  Another nod.

  He kissed her cheek. “Daddy loves you, Krista. Sweet dreams, baby.”

  With the house engulfed in darkness, Ray hoped Gail might actually be asleep. He wasn’t surprised she’d left no lights on; she hadn’t expected him. Stepping out of the uncomfortable heat, he let himself inside, immediately swallowed by the lightless interior.

  Always a light sleeper, even a change in the hallway lighting could wake Gail. He questioned whether he should let her sleep or wake her with the good news. Undecided, he ignored the light switch at the front door. With the aid of an outstretched hand, he side-stepped the furnishings until he reached a lighted hutch, threw the switch and followed the soft glow to the open bedroom door.

  Silently, he stepped into the room. Beneath the thin sheet, Ray could make out her body curled in on itself in a fetal position, so unlike her normal sprawl. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw her face, her expression troubled even in sleep. Her freshly washed hair, still damp, lay spread out on a pillow like a dark halo. A soft mewling sound escaped Gail’s lips. Her body twisted as tortured dreams creased her brow. There could be no doubt her state of mind was compromising her rest.

  Decision made, Ray carefully lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, breathing in her enticing scent. The sheet slipped down her bare arms as she shifted positions without waking. He touched her cheek. “Gail.” His hand cupped her bare shoulder. “Gail, wake up.”

  Her eyes sprang open. Bolting upright, she clutched the sheet to her chest, gasping at the sight of his silhouette on the edge of her bed.

  “It’s me,” he said. “Ray.”

  “What are you doing here?” She grabbed his arm. “Ray, why aren’t you at the hospital? What’s wrong? What’s happened?” The sheets fell away from her naked body as she started to scramble from the bed, frantically trying to get to her feet.

  Ray blocked her way. “Gail, relax. She’s fine,” he said. “Krista’s all right.” Both hands on her shoulders, he restrained her. “The doctor says the swelling is going down. Krista’s going to be fine.”

  “Oh, God.” Gail’s shoulders shook as tears spilled from her eyes. “Dear God, thank you.”

  He ducked down for a closer look at her face. “Are you all right now?”

  She began laughing, the same giddy expression of relief he’d experienced. “She’s really all right?”

  “She’s better than all right; she’s terrific.” Ray wrapped her in his arms.

  Suddenly angry, Gail shoved him away. “Why didn’t you call? You promised me.” She struggled to get past him, hurrying to get out of bed. “I’ve got to go. I have to see her.”

  He held her back. “In the morning.”

  “Get out of my way, Ray. I’m going now.”

  “Doctor’s orders,” he told her. “I know I promised to call, but Dr. Meier insisted it would be better if you waited until morning to see her. I’m sorry.” He ran his hand down the length of her arm. “Krista needs her rest, and so do you. When I left, she was sound asleep. She looked so peaceful, Gail.”

  “You saw her?”

  He nodded, smiling. “Only for a minute. Let me tell you about it.”

  Gail shifted closer, her anger forgotten. “Tell me everything.”

  He shared every word, described every impression, conveyed every nuance as she listened with rapt attention. He could see her trying to imagine it, see it, feel it, as though she’d been in the room with the two of them.

  When he finished, they fell together in a celebratory embrace. Without deliberation, it became more—the two of them locked in each other’s arms.

  Desire and need brightened Gail’s dark eyes. He leaned closer, their lips blending, softly, tenderly. A cautious exploration, so familiar, but so long denied. He caressed her cheek, letting his fingers trace a path along her jawline, then down her graceful neck.

  As his hand traveled to the curve of her shoulder, Gail tilted her head, tenderly trapping it beneath her cheek. “Ray, wait. I—”

  He silenced her with a kiss, running his fingers through her hair and across her cheek, his breath warm against her skin.

  His touch seemed to take her breath away. “I have to… Ray…”

  He kissed her throat. “Shhh.” He felt at peace—truly home. His world suddenly made sense again. Ray’s anger and resentment evaporated in the heat of passion. The anguish slipped from his grasp, replaced by new hope for their future. Taking her face in his hands, he kissed a tear from her cheek. As he held Gail in his arms, he sensed something he couldn’t immediately identify. Reluctance? He brushed a lock of hair from her face. “It’s all right, Gail. You and I… We’re going to be okay.”

  Slowly, he drew the sheet aside, engulfed by desire. In the months they’d been apart, he’d yearned to touch her, to hold her, to immerse himself in the sight, sound and feel of her.

  “Ray, I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”

  The sincerity of her words enveloped him, but as he pulled her closer, Gail pressed her hand against his chest. “No, don’t. I…”

  “Honey, what’s wrong? You don’t have to worry about Krista. I swear she’s fine.”

  “Ray, I...”

  He felt her body tremble. “What’s the matter?”

  Throat constricting, her voice came out strained. “I don’t know how to tell you.”

  “Gail, whatever it is, just say it.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “There’s something you need to know.” Unable, or unwilling to meet his eyes, Gail turned her face away. “I’m pregnant. The baby is Mark’s. Ray, I’m so sorry.”

  The room filled with an ear-shattering silence.

  For what seemed like an eternity, neither he nor Gail moved, or spoke, or breathed.

  Within the span of those moments, a mix of emotions battered Ray, their sharp edges reopening his wounds.

  “How could you let that happen?” The words made their way through clenched teeth. “With all the—”

  “Mark said he had a vasectomy years ago; that’s what he told me.”

  Ray slid from the bed. A minute passed in silence as he stood in the darkness, bewildered, then walked to the bedroom door.

  Eyes shimmering in the pale light, Gail turned to him. “Ray?” In the space of that one syllable, the sound of hope and despair clashed.

  He stopped in the doorway, the backlighting of the hallway concealing the tears welling in his eyes. His throat tightened. “I almost wish I’d shot the bastard deliberately. Goodbye, Gail.”

  As he left, the sound of her sobs followed him down the hall.

  27

  Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Waverly hadn’t questioned Ray’s quick return to work.

  “The goddamn lab really screwed up big time,” Ray ranted for the third time.

  Waverly downed the last of his coffee. “Let it go already. Be grateful your kid’s doing well and making a good recovery. At least the mistake’s been straightened out and we have a fix on the make of the murder weapon now.”

  “Some lab tech’s stupid assumption cost us a lot of valuable time. If the job had been done right in the first place, we’d have closed the case by now.”

  “Another assumption,” Waverly said, glancing at Ray from under his eyebrows. “Just sayin’…”

  “Screw you.”

  Waverly dropped into his chair. “Look, you’re tired. You’ve been through a hell of lot these past few days. Maybe you should go back to Widmer for a while and be with your wife and kids.”

  “Don’t patronize me, damn it.”

  Waverly held his palms outward. “I was just thinking it might be a little soon for you to have come back.”

  “Let it be, Dick. Just drop it.”

  “Whatever you say, buddy.” Waverly moved on. “You know, until we find the
murder weapon, we’re just spinning our wheels.”

  “We’ve been doing nothing but chasing shadows from the start.” Ray sat there repeatedly clicking a pen against his thigh. “About the attitude, Dick… Sorry. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Phyllis has me on another low-salt, low-carb, no-taste diet. The sun’s not exactly shining outta my butt today either.” Waverly drummed his fingers against the desktop. “Listen, I tried calling to tell you yesterday, but you didn’t pick up. Johnson recanted his confession.”

  “Recanted? He’s already been cleared. Why’d he bother?”

  “The guy’s half-snockered most of the time. Brain’s pickled. Something came out of it, though, and I promise you, you’re gonna like this.”

  “Why? What line of bull is Johnson trying to sell us now?”

  “It’s no line this time; a couple cops verified it. It seems Jillian Wirth visited her stepdaddy in lockup while you were away. Imagine Johnson’s surprise when she started carving him up with that sharp tongue of hers over his killing her beloved boss.”

  “What the hell?”

  “Uh-huh. Go figure. Anyway, before the ballistics test cleared Johnson, she ripped him a new one. Turns out her tirade got him thinking that if she’s got him pegged as Davis’s killer, then she must not have done it either. Apparently it dawned on him that, if that’s the case, he took the blame for nothing. What a hoot, hey?” Waverly grinned. “Naturally, the first thing he does is drown his problems. Then he comes here and tells me he wants to set the record straight. I tell him there’s no need; he’s already off the hook for the killing, but he keeps running his mouth, ya know? I couldn’t get rid of the guy. I decided it was easier to just let him talk himself out. And, man, did he ever.

  “Johnson admitted letting Wirth into the building that night. He says he watched the lights on the elevator as she went up to the eighteenth floor.” Waverly ran a finger over his mustache. “He told me she came back down, crying, a few minutes later.”

  “Okay, so? He basically confirmed what Wirth told us.”

  “But he didn’t quit there, buddy. Johnson said she took off in a hurry, but not so fast he didn’t see the blood on her blouse—a pretty fair amount, according to him.”

 

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