“She’s fine. Bullet barely grazed her arm, and she refused to go to the hospital in an ambulance. Treece is already being treated at the Med. I heard the paramedic say she would be okay. The teenager, though . . . It took a little longer to get her stabilized to transport.” Shaking his head, the patrolman turned.
Will followed his gaze to where paramedics loaded a gurney into one of the waiting ambulances.
“It doesn’t look good for her.”
Will took out his cell and dialed Brad, wasting no time when he answered. “You need to get over to Handy Park. Andi’s been shot.”
Brad groaned. “Is she okay?”
“I don’t know, but I’m about to find out.” A hundred yards away, a paramedic bandaged Andi’s wound. “I see her now, and she’s upright. Treece is at the Med with a possible broken arm. Would you let her family know?” He hesitated. “I’ll call Reggie.”
“Yeah. See you as soon as I can get there.”
Will pocketed his phone and trudged toward Andi, still trying to wrap his mind around how all this could happen. And why she made his heart do crazy things. He’d almost kissed her earlier.
He masked a grin at the face she made when she saw him coming.
“Thanks for coming. I guess by now you’ve called Brad.”
“You know the answer to that. He’ll call Treece’s family, and now that I know you’re okay, excuse me a minute while I call Reggie.” He nodded to the paramedic, one he’d often seen at crime scenes, then dialed Treece’s boyfriend and told him what had happened. “She’s in the ER at the Med.”
“I sure wish you’d marry that girl before she gets Treece killed,” Reggie said.
“Yeah, right.” Will cut his eyes toward Andi.
“Tell him I’m sorry,” she called out. “And to get himself over to the hospital ASAP.”
“Did you hear that?” Will asked.
“Yeah. Do you think Treece would kick me out?”
“I think she’ll be glad to see you.” He ended the call and turned back to Andi, who was rolling her shoulder.
“Did you find anything at Lacey’s house?” she asked.
“Didn’t have time to do anything but brief Brad before you called. Does it hurt much?”
“What do you think?”
Gunshot wounds hurt, even when it was just a graze.
“I was just trying to help someone.” Her gaze followed the ambulance as it pulled away with the siren going full blast. “That girl is not going to die. She can’t.”
So much power in such a tiny package. He ordered his heart to slow down. “You can’t dictate life and death. What were you doing here, anyway?”
“The girl, Chloe . . .” Andi glanced toward the paramedic putting away his equipment. “Did you get her last name?” she asked him.
“Afraid not. She never came to,” the paramedic said. “The ambulance is waiting to take you to the ER. You’ll need IV antibiotics.”
“I’ll drive myself—I’m not riding in that wagon. Last time I did, it nearly killed my back.”
The paramedic flashed a plea to Will. “Can you do something with her?”
“Sergeant Hollister will be here in a minute. He’ll take care of his sister.”
She punched his arm. “I really wish you hadn’t called him.”
This time he allowed the grin to surface. “I’d like to live to reach retirement.”
“Cops,” she muttered. “You stick together, no matter what.”
“You got it. Now, do you want to tell me what happened, or should I guess?”
He almost missed her slight shrug.
“I got a call from this runaway last night, and I thought she’d be around eighteen, nineteen. Had no idea she was just a girl. Do you know her pimp was putting her out on the street? A child! If I get my hands on that—”
“Let us handle it—it’s our job.” Sometimes following Andi’s train of thought was like watching a pinball bounce from one obstacle to another. “What did she say when she called?”
“She wanted to get away from him, except she was afraid. She would only tell me her first name, Chloe, and that she was a runaway. He promised her all sorts of things—she thought he would get her a modeling job. Instead, he put her on the street after two days. That was a month ago. Last night, she caught my news segment on runaways and called the station, and they gave her my cell number.”
Pain shot through Will’s clenched jaw. He’d seen this over and over again at the street mission. Last month, he’d discovered three girls under fourteen working as prostitutes, and now this one. At least those three were off the streets and two of them were back home with their parents. “Go on,” he said.
“She agreed to meet with me, but it had to be near the clubs where her pimp has her working. I was going to call you as soon as I got her to the apartment.” Her face darkened. “Treece wouldn’t let me come alone. That’s why she was hurt. I never should have let her—”
“You shouldn’t have been here at all,” Brad said as he walked out of the shadows. “And don’t tell me it was totally altruistic and that it didn’t cross your mind that her story might be your ticket to Atlanta or Dallas.”
Will waited for the explosion as his best friend planted his feet and crossed his arms. He didn’t have to wait long.
“That’s not fair! Reporting the news is what I do. I was here because I wanted to help that girl.” Andi fisted her good hand on her hip. “It’s no wonder that I want out of this town. You expect the worst of me, and you’re always telling me what I can and can’t do.”
“If you’d quit pulling these too-stupid-to-live stunts, I might get off your back. First last night and now this.”
Will cringed. Brad shouldn’t bait Andi. It was like taunting a bull in a pasture.
“Last night was not my fault, and you know it.”
“Maybe so,” he said, taking out his cell phone, “but one of these days you’re going to get yourself in a situation you can’t get out of. I’ll feel better if I know where you are.”
A cricket chirped on Andi’s phone.
“That’s a request to allow me to follow your location. Accept it.” Brad’s tone indicated he would not accept no for an answer.
“No.”
His eyes narrowed, and his jaw shot out. “Then I’ll put a tracking device on your car.”
They stared at each other like two boxers in the ring, and Will waited to see who would back down first. He was surprised when it was Andi.
“Oh, all right.” She tapped on her phone, and a second later, Brad’s phone dinged.
“Thank you,” he said and hooked his phone on his belt.
“I can always unfollow.”
“And I’ll know when you do.”
Will wouldn’t be surprised if Brad put the tracking device on her car anyway. He nudged his friend. “The paramedic wants Andi to go to the hospital for an antibiotic drip. I thought I’d take her. You want to get someone to take her car home? Then after she’s finished with the treatment, I’ll drop her off at her apartment.”
Brad shook his head. “You ought to make her ride in the ambulance.”
“It’s not a problem,” Will said.
A flush rushed through him at the look of gratitude Andi shot his way. He steeled his heart—he had to quit reacting to every little crumb Andi tossed him. Nothing could ever come of it. He would always only be her brother’s friend and the peacemaker between the two siblings.
“Thank you,” Andi said, looping her good arm through Will’s.
Once again he’d smoothed things over. It was the way it had always been. Since they were kids, Andi had been like a cocklebur they couldn’t get rid of, tagging along after them, and Will was always the one who defused the bomb before it exploded between the two siblings.
As soon as they were out of Brad’s hearing, Will said, “Please be more careful. I never want to knock on your parents’ door some night and tell them you got yourself killed.”
S
he blew out a sigh. “It’s just that she sounded so scared. I thought I could save her from a horrible situation.” Andi ducked her head. “Instead I almost got us all killed.”
“Your heart is in the right place,” he said, “but you’re not Captain Marvel. If you had just called me—”
“I can see that now.” Impatience crept into her voice. “Can I check on Treece and Chloe before they hook me up to the drip?”
“No. And I bet you haven’t had a tetanus shot in years, either.”
“Wrong. Had one last year when I did the story on drugs and cut my leg getting into that warehouse.” She moved her arm and winced.
He’d rather she didn’t remind him of another of her escapades. “Arm feeling any better?” he asked as he opened the passenger door.
“Not as bad as when the paramedic cleaned it out. Come on, let me check on them first.”
“No! Treatment first.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “You’re worse than Brad.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Get in.” Two nights in a row of taking Andi to get treated. He hoped there wasn’t a third.
The white Silverado pulled into the truck stop, circled around, and parked two cars down from JD. He couldn’t believe his luck. Johnson had raised the suspension on the pickup to put oversized tires on it—his job just got easier. He fingered the hammer in his hand as the guard climbed out and scanned the parking lot.
With the dark tint on his windows and his black clothes, JD didn’t worry that Larry Ray Johnson might see him. As soon as the guard was inside, JD pulled on a black cap and slipped out of his car, walking behind the other parked cars to the passenger side of the Silverado.
Less than a minute later, he was beside the wheel and feeling his way around the undercarriage of the truck. He couldn’t risk a light, but this was something he could do in his sleep. He loosened the nut that held the tie rod to the steering knuckle, and once he had it down to the last threads, he used the hammer to break the tie rod away from the steering knuckle. With the potholes on I-40, the nut should come off about five miles down the road, and Johnson would be history.
Finished, he returned the tools to his SUV, then removed the cap and brushed his clothes. He sauntered across the parking lot, observing the row of darkened cars bathed only by the pump lights and the neon sign advertising the Blue Cafe. After entering the cafe from the convenience store side, he walked to Larry Ray Johnson’s table and slid into the booth.
Johnson jumped. “Man, where’d you come from?”
JD jerked his head toward the store. “Side door.” He took an envelope from his jacket. “The letter?”
The other man pulled an envelope from his back pocket and hesitated. “I want to see the money.”
He couldn’t believe how untrusting Johnson was. Did the guard actually believe he would cheat him . . . or snatch the letter and run? He opened the envelope and thumbed through the bills. “Satisfied?”
He nodded.
“Then how about on the count of three, we both lay our packages on the table.”
“Sounds good.”
JD counted and on three laid the money down. Johnson did the same and then snatched the envelope up. JD examined the letter, recognizing Lacey’s flowery script. The woman should have known better than to mess with him.
The corrections officer cocked his head to one side. “How do you do it? Look different every time?”
JD shrugged. “I have resources. And why are you trying to figure out who I am? You do, and I’ll have to kill you.”
Johnson laughed, but when JD didn’t laugh with him, he scrambled out of the booth. “I don’t want to know what you look like. I’m outta here.”
“Have a safe trip,” JD called softly. Then he looked up and smiled at the waitress who walked toward the table. “I think I’ll have a steak sandwich to go,” he said when she asked him what he wanted to order.
Andi surveyed the mess. So much for making Treece breakfast this morning. Charred tops on the biscuits. Brown scrambled eggs because she let the butter get too hot. She picked up a piece of the brittle bacon, and it broke off, falling back on the plate. All because she had so much running through her mind. Treece would be off the rest of the week with her arm in a sling, Chloe was clinging to life, Andi’s arm burned like fire, and Jimmy Shelton would die if she didn’t find evidence of his innocence.
Chloe and Jimmy were her biggest worries. If the girl died, Andi would never forgive herself. And if Jimmy died, and they discovered later he was innocent . . . well, she wouldn’t get over that, either.
Andi had spent eighteen years hating him. Now she had major doubts that he killed Stephanie. But was there enough evidence to stop the execution? She made a mental note to stop by and see Maggie Starr later today . . . after her meeting with the station producer, and the police director, and . . .
She checked her phone for the time. Eight o’clock? She didn’t have time to stand and cry over burned biscuits. Andi grabbed her purse and phone, dialing as she bolted out the door. She should have gone to Sally’s Bakery and picked up muffins in the first place. “Don’t eat breakfast until I get back,” she said when Treece answered.
“Too late. I’m done.”
Par for the morning. Andi turned around on the stairs and trudged back to Treece’s apartment. The Commercial Appeal still lay where she’d dropped it in front of her door earlier, and she picked it up and rang the doorbell.
“Hold on while I turn off the alarm.”
Andi bit her lip. She’d forgotten to set the alarm when she raced out of her apartment. And earlier when she went to the grocery.
Her friend wrinkled her nose when she opened the door. “What did you burn?”
“Your biscuits and bacon. And eggs. I thought it was the least I could do. Cook your breakfast, I mean.”
“How do you burn eggs?” Treece moved so Andi could enter the apartment. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. Good thing you don’t have a husband to cook for. How about an English muffin with honey?”
The aroma of fresh-ground coffee beans made her mouth water. “How about just coffee? I haven’t had any yet.” Andi had forgotten to grab a bag when she bought the bacon and eggs.
“Just ground some.”
“I know, I smell it. And, as far as husbands go, if cooking is part of the deal, it won’t happen—I don’t have time to learn.”
The memory of thinking Will was going to kiss her last night brought heat to her face. For him, she might be willing to take cooking lessons. Sometimes Andi thought she’d been waiting all her life for him to notice her.
She placed the newspaper on top of three unopened editions. Treece was as busy as Andi was. A wooden angel and a bottle of mineral oil sat on the island. “Is this new?”
“Relatively. I bought it last week at the flea market, and I was polishing it with the oil to bring out the grain. You should go with me sometime.”
“Maybe.” Andi took the mug of Italian roast Treece handed her. “How’s your shoulder?”
“So-so.” Treece winced as she picked up the mahogany angel. “It hasn’t stopped me from working on this.”
“It’s beautiful,” Andi said. “How did it go with Reggie last night?”
“Okay.” Then Treece shrugged. “At least he didn’t say I told you so, but he thought it. How’s your arm?”
“Barely a scratch.” She wouldn’t admit to Treece how sore it was, not when Treece had been hurt much worse. Even though her arm wasn’t broken, she’d jammed her elbow and pulled muscles in her shoulder. Evidently, Treece had a high tolerance for pain or she wouldn’t be working on anything. “Look, I’m sorry—”
“Like I said last night, I offered to go with you—I wasn’t about to let you go alone.”
She should never have told her where she was going. “Brad said I only did it to get the attention of a bigger market.” He was partially right about that. She cupped the mug in her hands, letting the heat soothe her frazzled nerv
es.
Still, her mind whirled with the day’s activity. With Treece out, Andi was left to meet alone with their producer later this morning. If he noticed the bandage on her arm, he’d probably send her home as well. She shifted her gaze and stared out the kitchen window. Heavy clouds hung in the sky, matching her mood.
“Your brother shouldn’t have said that.”
Treece’s soft voice brought Andi back to earth. Heat flushed her cheeks. “I have to admit that the possibility of producers in Atlanta or Dallas seeing the story crossed my mind.”
She shifted her gaze to her friend, who was still in her housecoat. The right sleeve hung limp, and Andi fixated on the white sling. “Nothing like this will ever happen again.”
Treece laughed. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. You wanted a story. You just need to temper that with common sense and learn to accept help from others.”
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d needed help with anything. “You may be right about the common sense part, but if I know how to do something, I like to do it my way.”
“Andi, that’s your problem. You’re too capable. You leave everyone else out of the equation, including God.” Treece poured mineral oil on a soft cloth. “Do you ever even pray about your decisions?”
“Sure.” Usually after she got into trouble.
“But do you ever listen to what God tells you? Or are your prayers more like, ‘God, I’m climbing over this fence to video this poor dog. You want to come with me?’”
“Look, God is busy with people who need help.” She stopped short of saying he was too busy to bother with her. That would set her friend off for sure.
“I can read your mind. You think you don’t need help.” Treece concentrated on rubbing the oil into the wood. “One of these days you’re going to learn that you’re not God.”
“I don’t think I’m God.” Her face grew hot when Treece rolled her eyes. “Okay, maybe sometimes I get a little impatient waiting for him to act.”
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