“No, the crew is taking care of the orders and stock for the store. I needed the distraction.” No sense lying about her quirky behavior.
Pop!!!
Elizabeth jumped and turned to look out the bank of windows. “I heard something outside. Hold on while I check it out.”
“It’s probably just a car. You really should get a guard dog, until people fill the empty buildings around you. There’s no telling the kind of people who hang out at night down there.”
“Hey, I like it here,” she scoffed into the phone and made her way to the front windows. “It’s normally quiet, and I have all the space I need. It’s close to the shop.”
Pop!!!
Elizabeth jumped. “There it is again. Sounds like firecrackers.”
“It’s not even close to the Fourth of July or Chinese New Year,” Kay said, concerned. “Maybe it’s some kids fooling around. It better not be Jarred hoping to wine and dine you, especially at this hour. It’s almost ten.”
Elizabeth peered out the wide bank of windows overlooking the street. The lights in this part of her home were off, so she could see outside with ease.
“Kay, hold on. I see someone outside, lying in the road. He might be hurt. I’ll bring the phone out, but it might drop the call if it’s too far from the base.”
“Don’t you dare. What if it’s Jarred? Or worse, some criminal. Or some ax murderer who wants to hurt you.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes at Kay’s overactive imagination and remembered how much fun they’d had as kids watching horror movies and trying to scare each other.
“He’s lying in the street, no ax in sight. Hold on.”
Elizabeth stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of her place. Her Suburban was parked at the curb and she walked past it toward the man. She approached cautiously and stood over him. Lying on his back, his arms flung out to his sides, she could only see one side of his face. A cut above one eye bled into his long blonde hair, a black and blue bruise bloomed on his scruffy cheek, and several bleeding scrapes ran along his jaw. As far as she could see, no major injuries. He’d probably been in a fight and passed out in front of her place.
“Hey, are you okay?” She gave him a nudge in the shoulder with her foot. He didn’t make a sound or move. Kay was probably right: he was drunk and lost his way after leaving some local bar several blocks away.
Tires squealed, an SUV came out of nowhere and sped toward them, revving up to top speed. Elizabeth’s heart pounded, adrenaline kicked in, and her mind screamed for her to run. Caught in the headlights, the car bore down on her and the man at her feet. Without thinking, she screamed into the phone for Kay to call the police and tossed the phone aside. She made an attempt to drag him by the shoulders, but only managed a foot before giving up. He mumbled incoherently so she threw herself on top of him. Grabbing hold of his shoulders, focused on her Suburban parked a few feet away, she thought, “This is going to hurt.”
“Roll,” she ordered.
She used all her strength and pulled the man over. With minimal help from him and a grunt and massive effort on her part, they rolled once, twice. Her back grazed the underside of her car, tearing her blouse and cutting her back, but adrenaline masked the pain. They’d made it under the Suburban not a second before the SUV rammed into her car, nearly running over them.
The noise from the crash made her ears ring. She shook her head to stop the annoying sound. The car pulled away, only to rev up and ram her car again. She scrambled to move further back toward the curb, dragging the man by his black sweater. Tall and heavy, she couldn’t gain any leverage with so little room to maneuver him.
Oh God, buddy. I hope you’re okay.
The other car sat idling. Metal crunched and squeaked and the driver pushed against the door to get out.
For a split second, she thought to turn her back, slide out the other side of the car, and run for her life. The man let out a moan so filled with pain, she couldn’t possibly leave him. Her protective instinct flared to life and fed her determination to get them both out of this unbelievable mess alive.
She moved down along the man’s side, so she could get between him and whoever was trying to kill them. At his feet, something hard under his pant leg pressed against her ribs as she moved over him. Pulling up his jeans, she found a gun and a knife strapped to his ankle. Grabbing both, she slid up to the man’s side. She’d never used a gun.
Point and shoot. How hard can that be? Someone is trying to kill you.
I watch far too much TV.
The unconscious man stirred again. He spotted the gun in her hand and grabbed it, trying to take if from her. Weak, but unwilling to give up the gun, he fought for it. She feared she’d accidentally shoot him, or herself.
“Please. I’m trying to help you. He’s getting out of the car. Let go.”
The driver’s shoes scraped the pavement, moving toward them. She didn’t have time to wrestle over the gun. Reluctantly letting it go, she held on to the knife and rolled to confront their attacker and protect the man behind her. A loud pop echoed and a fiery sting shot across her arm as she stabbed the knife through the driver’s foot. Her hearing went hollow. She tried to pull the knife out to keep a weapon, but the driver bent, grabbed her wrist and held tight, crushing the bones together painfully. She lost her grip. The man used his other hand to pull the knife free of his foot. Blood dripped from the blade on to the asphalt near her head, making her stomach pitch and roll. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat.
What have I done?
“You little bitch!”
He grabbed her other wrist and dragged her out from under the car, scraping her arms and side on the pavement. Kicking and screaming, she pulled and fought to free her arm and tried to scoot away, anything to get free.
“Let me go,” she begged, using her fingers to try to pry his gloved hand off her arm.
“You’ll regret stabbing me, bitch.” He dragged her up by her hair and threw her up against the smashed Suburban. Reaching up to rub her stinging scalp, her hand never made it to her head. He backhanded her across the face and punched her in the ribs, pitching her forward at the waist. With his hand around her throat, he pulled her back up, shoving her against the car, choking her until she gagged.
“You’re a hellcat.” A touch of humor laced his deep voice. He lifted her off the ground by her throat. Pressing his body to hers, every point of contact meant to show her he had her right where he wanted her, could do whatever he wanted to her. Fear left a sour taste in her mouth.
A euphoric look came into his dark eyes and his body shuddered against hers. “You’re a determined little thing.” His body pressed hers into her car’s wrecked metal, shooting pain up her back. His cruel voice whispered close to her ear, “I like it when you fight.”
With her feet dangling off the ground, her toes scraping the pavement but never gaining purchase, she fought with every ounce of energy she had left. She scratched at his wrist where he held her throat, but he wouldn’t let her go. Desperately trying to take a breath, she couldn’t fill her lungs. Her ears echoed her heartbeat like a chugging train slowing into a station and her vision tunneled. She kicked her feet, hitting both the car and the guy’s shins in a futile attempt to escape. He was too strong.
His cold dark eyes stared at her through the ski cap. She made a grab for it and tore it off his head, scratching his cheek in the process. Right in her face, his nose brushed against hers. Eyes locked an inch apart, he spat out, “Now you’ve done it. You sealed your fate.”
He threw her to the pavement and kicked her in the ribs, making her fall flat on the ground. Her diaphragm convulsed from the blow, she tried in vain to gulp in the much-needed air she’d been denied moments ago.
Sirens sounded in the distance, but too far away to help her. Palms planted on the road, she dragged her legs under her. The man’s ominous presence behind her sent a chill up her spine. Two terrible explosions echoed over her attempts to gulp in oxygen. Fire and pa
in erupted in her back. Then a bolt of lightning struck her leg.
The man’s shoes scraped across the pavement, moving away from her. Metal crunched as he got into his SUV and slammed the damaged door. Tires squealed. All that was left was the whining drone of sirens and the numbness engulfing her.
Her eyes focused on the dark outline of the man lying motionless under her car. Her vision closed in and spotlighted him. Please be okay. Help is coming.
Before everything went black, she feared they were too late to help her.
Chapter Three
* * *
LOCAL LAW ENFORCEMENT investigated alongside the FBI, but nothing had been determined as of yet. Even Tyler was in the dark about what happened tonight, and he’d been with Sam.
The FBI had been investigating this criminal for quite some time. The only problem: no one had ever gotten an accurate description of the hired gun, known as the “Silver Fox”. Wanted for more than eight known hits involving insurance fraud, the deaths had all convincingly appeared natural, or staged to look accidental to collect the life insurance money. And now he’d gone after an FBI agent.
Deputy Director Davies cornered Tyler. “What happened? Why weren’t you with Agent Turner? You were supposed to back him up. How did he end up over here?”
Tyler had recently joined the San Francisco office after leaving Texas and knew Davies by reputation only. Extremely good at his job, he’d earned his subordinates’ utmost respect because he gave respect to everyone.
Davies liked things orderly and done by the book, so Tyler began his overview. “We don’t know, sir. I was holding my position outside the bar. I expected Agent Turner to come out through the front door, but he never showed. Several cars and motorcycles entered and left the alley to the back parking lot. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary.
“Agent Turner was scheduled to meet our contact from the insurance agency. I believe the Fox may have shown up for the meeting and made him for a cop. After thirty minutes, I went into the bar to check things out and discovered Agent Turner missing. The waitress remembered him, but didn’t see him with anyone else. I questioned the bartender, but he didn’t see anything.”
“Nothing new there. Too frightened to rat out their worst customer,” the Deputy Director said, frowning.
“Exactly. Agent Turner had a bad feeling about tonight, but he still wanted to go forward.” Tyler glanced at the ambulance holding his partner. “It was supposed to be a simple in and out. Follow our contact and see if he led us to the Silver Fox.”
Tyler ran a hand over his head and watched the controlled chaos of the scene. “Anyway, a woman named Kay called 911 stating her friend was in trouble and needed police assistance. When they arrived they found a woman severely injured in the middle of the street and Agent Turner passed out under the smashed Suburban. After I’d put out the call about our missing agent, the local PD put it together and notified the local office they’d found him.
“Skid marks down the street indicate another vehicle accelerated at high speed and rammed the Suburban. Probably more than once, considering the damage. My guess, the driver tried to kill Agent Turner.
“We believe the woman lives here, in this converted warehouse. We found the door open, cookies burning in the oven. The noise must have startled her and brought her outside. She was shot twice and stabbed in the thigh. We did find blood by the Suburban and splattered underneath. At this time, we can’t ascertain if it’s hers. It doesn’t appear to be Agent Turner’s.”
“Where’s Agent Turner now?” The Deputy Director took in the scene with a sweep of his eyes.
“In the ambulance, two gunshots to the back. He wore his vest. We haven’t spoken to him yet. Unconscious when we arrived, probably drugged, he hasn’t woken up. We found his gun by his side, one round missing from the clip. His knife is in the woman’s thigh. The paramedics are working on her, but they don’t think she’ll make it.”
“You better hope she makes it. Do you know who that is? That’s Elizabeth Hamilton.”
A woman approached, makeup-stained tears streaming black down her face, lips trembling. Disheveled blonde hair fell to her chin. Several strands stuck to her skin, turned dark by the wet tears. She practically mowed down three cops to make her way toward them. Shifting her focus back and forth between them and the woman lying in the middle of the street while paramedics worked on her, she seemed to have a hard time deciding which direction to go.
Deputy Director Davies took the lead. “You’re telling me that’s Judge John Hamilton’s daughter? Good God. What the hell is she doing here?”
“She lives here. I’m Kay, her best friend,” she said around a sob. “We were on the phone and the line went dead. I don’t even know what happened.” Crying uncontrollably now, apparently overwhelmed by all the police and seeing her best friend bleeding in the street. A female officer came over and put an arm around Kay and led her into the victim’s house. Distraught, all she could do was follow.
“I didn’t think this case could get any worse.” Davies surveyed the scene again. “Judge Hamilton’s about to come down on us like softball-size hail.”
Davies stared at Ms. Hamilton intensely. Tyler wondered if he tried to will her to get up and announce she was fine. It would certainly make things a lot less complicated.
“Tell the paramedics to do everything possible for Ms. Hamilton, keep her alive, and get her to the hospital ASAP. Whatever it takes. Contact the hospital and let them know who’s coming. I’ll contact Judge Hamilton and let him know his daughter’s been injured and to meet us at the hospital.”
Tyler winced. The situation was dire. “She’s critical. You may want to prepare him to see her.”
“Do you want to be the one to tell Judge Hamilton his daughter got in the way of an FBI investigation and will probably die because she tried to help one of our agents?”
“No thank you. His temper is legendary.”
Tyler hated to admit it, but Judge Hamilton was on his short list of people you didn’t mess with—ever.
“Christ. Heads will roll if anything happens to his only daughter. I don’t even know if she helped or harmed Agent Turner. Is it clear who shot her?” Davies asked, letting his frustration show.
“I can’t say. We’re still collecting evidence. We need to speak to Sam. I’ll light a fire under the paramedics and get them moving to the hospital. Looks like the ambulance carrying Sam is leaving now.”
The police measured skid marks, marked possible evidence, and took photographs of the entire scene. Officers interviewed people who had come to gawk, and several officers and firefighters stood near the paramedics working on Ms. Hamilton. Tyler took it all in and hoped they’d sort everything out soon.
The paramedics loaded Ms. Hamilton into the back of the ambulance. Tyler caught them before they left. “How’s she doing? Will she make it to the hospital?”
“If we can get her there, she might have a chance. She’s lost a lot of blood. Looks like she might have scratched someone. Several nails are broken, and we bagged her hands for evidence. She’s not conscious, but mumbles like she’s trying to get something important across to us.”
“This is Judge Hamilton’s daughter, Elizabeth.” Recognition dawned on the paramedic’s face. “Make sure she makes it to the hospital alive. Tell the attending doctor who she is and Judge Hamilton and his wife are on the way. Hospital administration will want to put measures in place for dealing with reporters.”
“No problem. We’ve got to go. Time is critical. She’s holding her own right now, but that could change in a second.”
Once the doors were closed, Tyler slapped the back of the ambulance, indicating they could go. He walked into Ms. Hamilton’s house and found Kay sitting with a cup of coffee in her hands, answering questions for an officer. As soon as he approached, she jumped up to confront him, spilling soiled tissues from her lap and coffee down her hand, the burn unnoticed.
“How is she? Is she okay? What happened? The
y keep telling me Liz is in good hands.” A new flood of tears cascaded down her cheeks. “If anything happens to Liz, I don’t know what I’ll do. We’ve been best friends since we were kids.”
“She’s on her way to the hospital,” Tyler said softly in hopes of soothing the poor woman. “She’ll need emergency surgery. She’s lost a lot of blood. They said she’s holding her own right now.”
“Surgery? Why does she need surgery?”
“She’s been shot and stabbed.” Tyler hated to be the bearer of such news.
“Oh, God. Oh my God. No. I have to call her parents and her brothers. I have to tell them what’s happened. Where are they taking her?”
“St. Mary’s, along with our man.”
“Was he shot too? Is that why he was in the street?”
“We aren’t sure of the extent of his injuries.”
Kay’s hands trembled. Hell, her whole body shook. She probably couldn’t put together two coherent thoughts to save her life.
“Can I get a ride to the hospital? I don’t think I can manage on my own and call Liz’s parents and brothers at the same time.”
“An officer will take you,” Tyler assured her.
“What about Liz’s home? I should lock up.” The place was crawling with police and smelled like a cookie factory. “If Liz were here, she’d serve everyone coffee and pie. She’d want you all to make yourself at home. You’re cops. It isn’t like you’ll steal anything,” Kay rambled.
Tyler put his hand on Kay’s shoulder to reassure her. “We’ll take care of everything and lock the place up tight when we’re ready to go. Don’t worry.”
Tyler had seen a lot of victims like this. He was used to them going from hysterics to wondering if they’d dropped off the dry cleaning. Kay needed to think of ordinary things. Her mind didn’t want to think about her friend, bloody and lying in the street, and how she’d ended up that way. It was too much to process.
He wished his own mind could switch to ordinary things. Instead, he worked over everything that had happened and wondered what they could have, should have, done differently.
Lucky Like Us Page 2