Uncertain Calm (Uncertain Suspense Series Book 1)

by Jamie Lee Scott

  “Murderers.” “You think you’re above the law.” And then things I didn’t understand. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

  As Wyatt stepped in with the face mask to help Danny breathe, a bottle came flying through the air and hit me in the back of the head.

  The force of the blow knocked me forward onto Danny’s body. In that moment, I thanked the Captain for insisting we wore riot gear.

  That was just the beginning. As Danny’s aunt, Wyatt, and I tried to save the boy’s life, debris and food flew at us from all directions. I feared for the woman’s life.

  “Sergeant Burke and I have got this, ma’am. Go in the house where it’s safe.”

  She looked at me, and shook her head.

  “Please, ma’am, it won’t do us any good if you get hurt, too.”

  The tears streamed down the poor woman’s face, snot ran from her nose, and she couldn’t even lift her hands from her nephew’s belly to wipe them away. She shook her head.

  I didn’t know how to tell her I was sure we were losing him. And in that moment, the ambulance broke through the crowd, barely slowing down to let them move out of the way.

  When the EMTs took over, they had to pry the woman off her nephew. She stood there, her hands covered in blood, shaking. Even as more projectile items hit us, I walked over and wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight.

  I closed my eyes, and it all came flooding back. I lay on the ground, a burning feeling in my gut. My head throbbed, and I wanted to close my eyes and go to sleep. But when I closed my eyes, I could feel the bullet eating at my insides. My body shut down. I heard people around me, asking me questions, but I couldn’t answer. In my head, I was answering, “I’ve been shot. It hurts. Oh, dear God in heaven, it hurts. Please don’t let me die. I don’t want to die.”

  I wondered if that’s what was going on in Danny’s head as we performed CPR on him, waiting for the ambulance to arrive. Did the chest compressions make the bullet wounds hurt worse? I whispered silently, “I’m sorry” to him as I heard the sounds of the EMTs strapping him onto the stretcher and putting him in the van. Then I silently told him, “I didn’t want to die, either.”

  Wyatt stepped up behind me, and tapped me on the shoulder, saying, “I’m going to bring the car up.”

  I whispered in the woman’s ear, “My name is Harper Leigh, what’s your name?”

  Between the sobs, she replied, “Maria Gonzalez.”

  “Maria, we’re going to take you to the hospital. Okay?”

  Wyatt pulled up, and got out of his vehicle. He came over and put his arm around Maria’s shoulders. I stepped away, and watched as Wyatt helped Maria into the passenger side of the car.

  Maria looked so frail, next to Wyatt’s six foot frame and muscular build. I thought she would have looked frail even if Wyatt was her size.

  Once Maria was tucked safely inside the car, Wyatt came back to help me pack up the emergency kit. I turned and grabbed the slipper still abandoned on the lawn.

  “I think I liked it better when you were gone. Things were much less eventful.” We walked to the back of the Explorer and put the emergency kit inside.

  “To be honest, I’ve had enough excitement to last me a while.”

  Wyatt walked to the driver’s door, and stood.

  “I want you to give her a ride to the hospital, then I want you right back here.” There was no softness or sympathy in his words.

  The crowds had calmed a little, many of them choosing to go home after hearing gunshots. I wondered who the news would attribute the gunshots to as I watched Maria stare out the window.

  Before I got in the car, I handed Maria her slipper. I felt as if I should take her back inside her house and let her get dressed, but what if we were too late by the time we arrived at the hospital? Besides, she didn’t seem to care how she was dressed.

  “Maria, I know this isn’t a good time, and that you’re upset, but I need to ask you some questions.” I turned on my chest camera, so we’d have audio running, then slid into the driver’s seat and put the Explorer in drive. I inched the vehicle out of the yard.

  “Okay,” she sniffled.

  I realized her hands were still covered in blood. I hadn’t thought to give her something to wipe them off. I reached behind the seat, pulled out a box of baby wipes, and handed them to Maria, who gave me a small smile.

  “What was Danny doing in the front yard?” I asked.

  Catching her breath, Maria said, “He was just going to see what was going on. I had heard a noise outside, looked out the window, and saw a bunch of people.”

  Same as she’d said earlier, only different words. This was good.

  “Did Danny have any enemies?”

  “He didn’t even have any friends, other than Ricardo, his cousin. The only thing Danny did was work and study. He didn’t have time for friends or enemies. He wanted to get his GED so he could go to college. He didn’t want to work in the fields for the rest of his life.”

  “Who did he work for?”

  “Impact Growers, like me.”

  “What did he do?”

  “We both worked in the vineyards this year. It’s contract work with Impact. But Danny got some extra work in the almond groves.” Maria scrubbed furiously at her hands, dropping the bloody wipes on her lap.

  By now, I’d maneuvered away from the protesters, and was driving at normal speed. I wasn’t so worried about running people over now, and concentrated on the questioning.

  “Danny wasn’t involved in any gang activity?”

  Maria became defensive. “No. How could he? He was busy. Busy with studies and work. No gangs. He didn’t have time for gangs.”

  I took a deep breath, and blew it out. “I only ask, because he was wearing a lot of red. Hispanics around here don’t wear a lot of red or blue unless they’re affiliated with a gang.”

  Maria laughed. “That’s old school. We wear whatever color we like nowadays.”

  I shook my head at her naïveté.

  “Is that what Danny told you?” I asked.

  “I’m not an old woman. And I hear things. We live in a gang neighborhood, in case you didn’t notice. We depend on the gang members to keep us safe.” She stopped wiping and stared out the passenger window.

  “Depend on them how?”

  “Never mind.” She continued to stare out the window.

  “No, not never mind. How do you depend on them?” My tone didn't leave room for argument.

  Slowly, like a terrified child, Maria looked at me. “If I tell you, my fate will be worse than mi sobrino’s.”

  “I’m not going to say anything to anyone. I just need to know,” I assured her.

  I knew we had more to worry about than neighborhood protection at the moment, but Wyatt would definitely look into the matter. Maybe by the time we got to it, this incident would be long in the past, and no one would remember that Maria took a ride with the cops.

  “We pay. Anyone who doesn’t want any trouble, we pay.” Defiantly, she stared at me, and I couldn’t look back at her, because I was driving.

  “A lot?” I asked.

  “I guess ‘a lot’ depends on who you are,” she said.

  “How much are you paying for protection in your neighborhood? Why don’t you just move?” I asked.

  “I own my house, which is why I don’t move. And before you ask, I can’t sell it, because the gangs would buy it, they’d force me to sell way below market value, and then where would that leave me? I pay a hundred a month, but it’ll go up. With that whole deal with Double Ott last year, and the new blood moving in, the prices will go up. Bigger and better protection, you know.”

  It seemed that name was going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

  “What if we could get rid of the gangs? Would that make any difference?” I needed to know.

  “And how you think you’re going to do that? Kill them all? Because, you know, it goes much deeper than the two-bit hustlers you see on the streets here. The
y groom them in Mexico, and send them up here. There are thousands to replace the chuleros you put away and kill.”

  My eyes went wide at her language. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

  “I came from that land, you remember. I’m a naturalized citizen. And mi sobrino, he has a work visa, and now he’ll be sent back, because he won’t be able to work. He was a good boy, working, and minding his own business. He wanted a better life than the gangs offered. And believe me, they were offering.” She pulled a clean wipe from the container, then folded and placed all of the used wipes on top of it. She tied the clean wipe over the dirty ones.

  “We’re going to thoroughly investigate this shooting, but I need to ask you again: do you have any idea who might have done this? Did you see anything?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I can’t think of anyone, and I didn’t see anyone. And I’d tell you if I did. I’d give up everything I have to find the shooter, I promise you that. Danny didn’t deserve this. He’s a good boy.” The tears started again. She repeated, “He’s a good boy.”

  CHAPTER 7

  I dropped Maria at the hospital, and had an officer assigned to stay with her. I wanted her to be safe, and wanted Danny to be safe when he emerged from surgery. We were to be notified of his status as soon as the doctors finished removing the bullets.

  I headed back to the “anti-police” rally. Only this time, we weren’t there to keep the peace. Chief Richardson had given orders to disperse the crowds and start asking questions. Every officer on duty questioned protesters, asking if anyone saw the shooter.

  Wyatt had his officers working in pairs, knocking on doors, talking to people in the streets. He and I checked the apartment complexes, the shopping mall up the road, and the motel over the hill. After six hours of questioning, going door to door, apparently no one saw or heard anything.

  I leaned against the back of Wyatt’s vehicle, watching as he listened to the call he’d just gotten on his cell phone. He paced as he listened, and I heard a few, “Uh, huh, I see” comments, but not much else. When he finally pulled the phone from his ear and slid his finger across the screen, his face looked grim.

  I saw his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed hard. “Danny died on the operating table. We’re now investigating a murder.”

  My strength gave out, and I dropped to a sitting position, my head resting against the bumper of the car. I put my elbows on my knees and rolled my head forward to cradle it in my hands. If I was the praying type, I’d have prayed Danny lived. If not for Danny, for Maria.

  As bad as it sounds, I was glad I wasn’t in the hospital when Maria heard the news. I don’t think I could have handled the grief. I’d had so much of my own grief in the last year, and after talking to Bernie’s mom the previous day, I didn’t think I could handle Maria’s grief, too. It took everything in me not to cry for her. But I wouldn’t cry, because I was a professional, and I wasn’t weak. I took a deep breath, and reminded myself to breath. I was counting my breaths when I looked up at Wyatt.

  “You think the aunt was telling the truth? That he wasn’t in a gang?” I asked.

  Wyatt reached for my hand and pulled me up into a standing position. “Stand up and act like an officer, not a girl.”

  “Screw you.” The truth of his words cut to my nerves.

  “Would you be acting this way if it was a murderer, or a rapist, that was killed?”

  “Probably not,” I had to admit.

  “Then stop it. Separate yourself from the person. You tried to save him, and you didn’t. You’d have tried just as hard to save him if he was a pedophile. So get over it, and start doing your damn job.” Wyatt walked to the driver’s side of his car.

  “Maybe not so much, if I knew the guy was a child molester,” I said as I walked to the passenger side and got in.

  Once I had my seatbelt on, I decided to open up. “He was shot in nearly the exact same place I was.”

  Wyatt looked at me. For a moment, he just looked. I couldn’t read him. Then he said, “Stop this. Just stop it. Stop comparing everything that happens to that night. It was almost a year ago, and it’s the past. If you can’t let it go, you aren’t going to be able to go forward. And if you can’t go forward, then maybe this isn’t the best job for you anymore, Harper.”

  Ouch.

  This is what I loved about Wyatt. Never lied to me, never sugar coated anything, never let me be delusional. It was also what I hated about him. Couldn’t he, just once, let me wallow in self-pity?

  “Why are you such an ass?” Again, the tears started to well. I wasn’t a crybaby, but shit, maybe I was now.

  “I’m calling it like it is, Harper. I wouldn’t want to be your partner. Not like this. I’d always be worried you don’t have my back.” Wyatt didn’t pull any punches.

  That cut to the quick. He was right. It wasn’t about me. Not on the job, anyway. I thought I was over the shooting, but how did I know I was going to be witness to two shootings within two days of coming back to work? Maybe I wasn’t ready? Oh, hell no. I was ready.

  I was ready to come back to work. The problem, I wasn’t ready to let go of what had happened. And that was a huge problem. The elephant in the room, so to speak. Everyone else knew it, and now I was keenly aware, too.

  It was as if the universe had put me in this position to test me. Little did the universe know, I was a sucker for a test, and I hated to get less than one hundred percent. Time to wipe the slate clean. The way to do that was to solve this murder.

  “Anything to say?” Wyatt’s voice sounded strange, and I realized I’d been staring into space for several moments, not responding.

  “Give me this case. I’m going to solve it.” I sat up a little taller in my seat.

  “Here’s the thing, Harper. All day, while we’ve been knocking on doors, talking to people, I’ve had this nagging suspicion in the back of my brain.” He turned to look me in the eyes.

  “Nagging suspicion about what?”

  “Let me ask you a question first.”

  “Shoot,” I said.

  He glared at me.

  “Oh, my bad, too soon?” I tried to lighten the mood.

  “How close was that boy standing to you?” My joke had done nothing to lighten the atmosphere. In fact, with Wyatt’s question, a heavy fog rolled in.

  “Why are you asking me this?” Something curdled in my empty stomach.

  “Answer the question.”

  I had to think for a moment. He was behind me. I think he’d been walking when I heard the first shot. “He was about five feet behind me, maybe. I could see him in my peripheral, so maybe closer, which means, he’d have been standing right next to me, I guess.”

  I didn’t tell him everything else I saw. I should, but then I’d be gone. Off the force.

  The dead silence screamed at me.

  “Holy shit. No. No way,” I choked up.

  “It’s just a theory. I may be way off base.”

  “But who knew I was even back on the force?” I asked.

  “Everyone,” Wyatt said. “The entire police department. We don’t know how many dirty cops were working for Donovan. We hope he was working alone, but there’s that chance he and the drug cartel had more insiders. They’d know you were going to be at the rally today. Danny could have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  I looked down to make sure I’d turned off my chest camera, and that this conversation was just between Wyatt and me. I grabbed at my chest. “I will die if I got that kid killed.”

  Wyatt grabbed my hand. “Harper, you didn’t get Danny killed. The drug cartels got him killed. You can’t not do your job, and be afraid all of the time. You have to stand up, fight back, or they win.”

  I jerked my hand back. “It’s a losing battle. They’re bigger than we are. They always win.”

  Ochoa stood behind Wyatt, nodding. The silver cap on his front tooth glinted in the light.

  Defiant as always, Wyatt grabbed my hand again. “Not
this time.”

  I didn’t pull away this time. I relaxed and opened my fingered and entwined them in his. I needed this partnership. I needed this win. I needed Ochoa to see that I had Wyatt, and that I was stronger than him.

  “Even better reason to give me this case. If it’s from Nazar’s cartel, I’ll bring those mothers to their knees.” I’d had enough with drug lords and their pansy drug running peons.

  “Now that’s the Harper I know and love.” Wyatt leaned over and kissed me on the lips.

  I let him.

  “Let’s go home.”

  “Better yet, let’s go to Code 7.”

  CHAPTER 8

  We still had a few hours before the end of the shift, but we got through our shitload of paperwork, and headed home.

  Ochoa followed me home, silent, just staring. A couple of times he got right in my face, looking into my eyes. I chose to ignore him. I thought if I pretended he wasn’t there, he’d go away.

  I showered, and pulled my wet hair up into a messy ponytail high on my head, and artfully applied my makeup. I debated on white cotton granny underwear, you know, the kind you wear during “that time of the month” or pretty panties. I went with pretty panties, because I needed to feel pretty. Lavender satin did the job. I should have gone granny, so I wouldn’t be tempted to bring Wyatt home.

  Over my pretties, I tugged on a pair of skin-tight blue jeans, and a sleeveless black turtleneck that fit like a glove. I slid my bare feet into leopard print pumps and headed to the garage to start my pickup. Yes, I drove a pickup. What else would a chick with horses drive?

  I needed this night out. So what if it was with my ex-husband, and I’d be coming home alone? Hanging out at Code 7 was like hanging out with family. Wyatt’s dad, a retired cop, owned the bar, and the place was always filled with cops. We were like any other profession, we hung out with our own kind. Our own people. Bankers hang out with bankers, criminals with criminals, car dealers with, well, I’m not sure they even want to hang out with each other.