Making It Right (A Most Likely To Novel Book 3)

by Catherine Bybee

  Gill’s back shot straight up.

  Where was Jo?

  The coaches from the individual schools were not allowed on the field during championships. Official refs were dressed in traditional red jackets, red hats, and holstered starting guns while they lumbered around the field qualifying and disqualifying athletes.

  Jo liked this part. The excitement before the race when the athletes were stretched out, warmed up, and a medal was within their reach.

  Kids were running around everywhere from dozens of different schools. But her eyes were on the colors of River Bend High. As she watched Drew warming up that morning, it was hard not to stare.

  She had a brother.

  Considering all of her immediate family was gone, the revelation of a new member in her life was sobering. No wonder the kid reminded her of when she was younger. They were cut from the same patriarchal cloth. Like her, Drew didn’t like the label of being the kid of the town cop. Like her, Drew didn’t want to follow the traditional school path. Like her, he managed to get into enough trouble to show his rebellion but not enough to end up in any serious trouble. Of course, she’d come much closer than he had. Maybe that was the influence of growing up with a mother, someone to temper and guide him when he started to waver off the straight path. Jo didn’t have that luxury.

  Drew and Tim were ushered onto the field along with the other three-thousand-meter runners.

  “You have this, River Bend!” she shouted from across the track. The noise from the field and stands made it impossible to hear anything. Across the field Wyatt was positioned to yell out times and instructions, not that the boys didn’t know what they had to do.

  Jo held her stopwatch with her right hand and listened for the gun.

  With eyes glued to the starting line, she studied the body language of the ref, who stood on a stepladder on the inside of the field. “C’mon, boys. Make me proud.”

  She heard her name from behind and ignored it. The race was about to start, and she wasn’t about to take her eyes off the track.

  The ref removed the .38 from his holster . . . a gun filled with blanks, but just as loud as the real thing . . . and lifted it in the air.

  “Jo!”

  She kept staring . . . waiting.

  The sound of the gun went off and Jo flew back.

  Gill channeled his inner linebacker as he rushed through the slow-moving crowd.

  Jo stood by the fence separating the athletes from the bystanders. Her frame exposed to the world. She ignored his calls of her name.

  When the gun went off, he was standing two feet behind her as she flew back from the fence.

  He caught her before she hit the ground. His heart screamed.

  “Jo?”

  She was moaning.

  The people around them stared, confused. Some by the fence glanced at them, then back to the race.

  Gill shielded her with his frame in case the shooter had another round. But the crowd moved in enough to keep them hidden.

  He ran his hand down her zippered sweatshirt, opened it to see her torso.

  “Damn it, that hurt,” Jo cussed.

  “Where are you hit?” Gill yelled.

  “Just damn.”

  “Stop talking. Point.”

  Someone near his side knelt down. “Hey, are you okay?”

  “No. She’s not. Call 911.”

  Jo shook her head, her eyes closed. “I’m okay.”

  “Jesus, Jo. You’ve been shot.”

  With his words, more heads swiveled toward them.

  “I’m okay,” was her breathy reply.

  Gill moved to her side and lifted her bloodless T-shirt.

  Jo tapped her vest with her right hand. “Still hurts like a bitch.”

  Gill buried his head in her good shoulder and let himself breathe. “You’re killing me, JoAnne.”

  A frame pushed through the crowd, Gill hovered over Jo until he saw his partner. “Shauna.”

  “I saw her go down.”

  Jo tried to sit up.

  Gill didn’t let her. “She’s wearing a vest.”

  “Thank God.”

  “We need to get you out of here.”

  The crowd in the stands started to cheer, announcing the end of the race. He used the noise and commotion around them to hook Jo’s good arm over his shoulders and bring her to her feet.

  “When they said it hurts when you’re hit, they weren’t kidding.”

  Shauna flanked them, her eyes alert. They limped through the crowd until they rounded the corner of the gym and found an open door. Only once he had Jo’s shirt off and removed her vest was he convinced she wasn’t full of holes.

  “Our killer just changed the rules,” Gill said.

  Drew’s fifth place finish followed Tim’s third. The two of them nearly knocked each other to the ground as they hugged.

  They shook the hands of the winners and those of the kids that came in behind them.

  “We made the podium!” Drew pumped his fist in the air.

  “What a year, man. What a year.” Tim patted him on the back.

  Drew looked up in the stands and found his mom. She stood with a hand in the air, waving with a thumbs-up. He searched for his dad and didn’t see him.

  On the other side of the field, he scanned the crowd for Coach Ward. When he came up short, he assumed she’d be at the gate as they exited the field.

  She wasn’t.

  Tina, however, was. She ran to his arms, congratulating him on his finish. “That was amazing.”

  “Not bad.”

  “What about me?” Tim asked as if Tina was going to kiss and hug him.

  “Dude, I thought you had second. That Portland kid was fast.”

  Tim rested his hands on his knees in an attempt to capture his breath. “Goals for next year.”

  “In college they’re going to be that much faster,” Tina said.

  “Good thing I’m not going to college,” Drew exclaimed.

  “Really, dude?”

  “It’s not for me.”

  Tim shook Drew’s hand. “Then thanks for letting me beat you one last time.”

  Tim won fair and square. “I want a rematch.”

  “Name the place.”

  “River Bend High on our ten-year class reunion.”

  Tim pointed at him. “You’re on.”

  Tina laughed. “That’s one way to make sure you don’t get fat before you’re thirty.”

  Drew scanned the crowd again. “Anyone see Coach Ward?”

  Tim and Tina looked around. “No.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “The X-rays show healing ribs and clavicle.”

  Jo relented to a trip to the ER, so long as it wasn’t in the back of an ambulance. The shot to the chest hit dead center. Good thing the shooter wasn’t aiming for her head.

  “Great, then I can go.” Jo swung her feet over the edge of the gurney to do just that.

  “Not so fast, Sheriff. You took a big punch. In light of the fact you’re still recovering from a collapsed lung—”

  “Recovered.”

  The ER doctor stood with his hands on his hips, determination in his eyes. “Your sweatshirt says track and field. Do you run, Sheriff?”

  Jo looked down at herself. “Don’t I look like I run?”

  “How many miles did you run today?”

  His point hit home. “I’m okay, Doc. Sitting here pretending to be sick is just going to piss everyone off.” Besides, she had a cop killer to catch.

  “Can you give us a few minutes?” Gill said to the doctor.

  He closed the door behind him.

  “You don’t want to stay in the hospital—”

  “I’m not staying in the hospital.”

  “Right now the only people that know you’re here are me, you, Shauna, and the shooter.”

  Jo paused. “I’m listening.”

  “The shooter wants you dead.”

  “He’s mucking that up.”

  Gill f
aked a smile. “We have an opportunity here to flush him out.”

  “How?”

  “We put Shauna in your bed, say it’s you . . . see if we can’t get our killer to reveal himself to finish you off.”

  “A decoy.”

  “Could work.”

  “Why Shauna? Why not me?” Jo knew the answer before she asked.

  “She’s trained.”

  “So am I. And I’m a much better body double.”

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  Jo stared. “If you’re about to tell me I can’t handle it, I’ll remind you that I’ve survived two attempts on my life already.” She swallowed a little bile on that statement but kept her gaze steady.

  “I can’t let you do it.”

  “Let me? I’m sorry . . .” She glanced around the room. “Did I miss the part about you having a say in what I will and won’t do in my life?”

  Gill’s jaw tightened, his nose flared. “Let Shauna—”

  “Not gonna happen. It’s me, or I walk out of here.” And Jo knew Gill wasn’t going to let her walk out. “I finally get to figure out who has been watching me for over a year, and I’m not gonna let anyone else do that for me!”

  Both hands reached for hair Gill didn’t have before he cussed under his breath.

  Gill made calls. The bureau swept in and Jo was “transferred” to an isolated ICU bed. With her status listed as critical but stable, if the shooter wanted to make sure she didn’t make it out of the hospital alive, he’d come in and take her out.

  Once everything was mobilized, Gill brought in the players. Luke answered the phone on the second ring.

  “Hey, Miller.”

  “Gill, how’s the track meet? Is someone putting River Bend on the map?”

  “I have no idea. I’m at the hospital with Jo.”

  “What?” Music in the background turned off, Luke’s voice sharpened. “What happened?”

  “Are you alone?” The last thing Gill needed was anyone overhearing what he was about to say.

  “Yes, I’m alone. Is she okay?”

  “She is. This is what I need you to do.”

  The rumor mill in River Bend spread the news like a fire consumed a dead forest after ten years of drought. Luke called Maxine, the woman’s whose car he was working on, and told her there’d be a delay. “Jo’s been shot. I’m on my way to Eugene now.”

  “No, God, no.”

  “Yeah. Apparently she said something in the hospital about knowing who killed her dad before they had to sedate her.”

  Maxine ran the hair salon in town. Gossip central.

  “Joseph was killed?”

  “Oh, yeah. Jo’s been working on the case for years. I have to run. I wanna be there when she wakes up in the morning.”

  “That’s awful, Luke, just awful.”

  “I don’t have time to make the calls, be sure and let people know so they can pray for her.”

  Maxine was a once a month Christian. Well, that and holidays.

  Before he drove home to pick up Zoe, she was running from the front door. “Oh, God, no . . . Luke.”

  “Shh, it’s okay. She’s gonna be okay. C’mon inside.”

  He hated the stress on Zoe’s face and quickly put her at ease. Although the ease was temporary. “Someone shot her?”

  “She was wearing her vest. She’s fine. Gill and the FBI think they can flush this person out.”

  “They’re using her as bait?”

  “My guess is Jo asked to be put on the hook.”

  “This has got to stop.”

  Luke agreed. “C’mon, babe. Let’s get in the car and drive to Eugene like we normally would.”

  “I need to call Miss Gina, tell her she’s okay.”

  “No. No one else. I didn’t even tell my parents.”

  “But Miss Gina—”

  “Gill said no one. Now let’s go.”

  All the way to Eugene, Zoe’s phone lit up. Every conversation, every text was the same. Someone tried to kill Jo. The doctors were waiting for the morning to take her out of sedation to let her lungs heal. And the last bit of gossip let everyone in River Bend know that Jo knew the name of the person who killed her father.

  Considering Drew almost never used his phone to talk, the fact that it rang caught him by surprise.

  “Dude!”

  It was Gustavo.

  “Hey.”

  “What the hell happened? Is Coach Ward okay?”

  Drew was sitting in a group of athletes with his right hand plugging an ear and his left pressing the phone to the other. “What are you talking about?”

  “She was shot.”

  “What the fu—”

  “I heard she was in the ICU again. Didn’t you see anything?”

  “No. I haven’t heard a thing.” Drew jumped to his feet and scanned the field, hoping Gustavo was wrong and Coach Ward was standing close.

  “What’s wrong?” Tina asked.

  “Coach Ward is in the hospital.”

  Gustavo yelled into the phone. “Call me back when you find out what’s going on. There are all kinds of rumors spinning around here.”

  “I will.” Drew hung up. Coach Gibson and his wife were standing among a handful of parents from River Bend. One was his dad. He ran to the group and knew they were talking about Coach Ward.

  “I just heard,” he said. “Is she okay?”

  His dad placed an arm on his shoulder. “She’s going to be okay.”

  “I knew something was wrong.” She’d missed the picture opportunity on the podium. The disappointment he’d felt seemed trivial now.

  “I heard something about Jo knowing who killed her father,” Principal Mason, who stood next to Coach Gibson, said.

  Drew looked to his father.

  “I never liked the fact Joseph’s death was deemed accidental. The man was too smart to leave a bullet in a gun he was cleaning.”

  “Why are we standing here talking?” Drew asked. “We should be at the hospital.”

  “Does anyone know where she was shot?” Principal Mason asked.

  “I heard it was here,” Tim’s mother said.

  “We would have heard something if that was the case,” Karl said.

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Coach Gibson added.

  When the starting gun went off, all heads turned.

  Drew’s dad stepped closer to his side. “We’re outta here.”

  “I need to get my stuff.”

  “Screw your stuff. We’re leaving.”

  “Gather your athletes, Wyatt. This meet is over for River Bend.”

  All Jo had to do was lie there and wait.

  Not an easy task regardless of how many FBI personnel were surrounding her. One of the nurses in the station worked with Gill, a man posing as an orderly carried a gun.

  The vital signs pinging on the monitor were not her own, the blankets and dressings masked the dripping IV that wasn’t connected to her arm.

  And now she waited.

  Even when her friends walked into the room, she didn’t open her eyes. Zoe didn’t stay long, and Mel left even quicker. Good thing, too, because as Mel was walking out of the room, Karl and Drew stepped in.

  The room held one camera that could be viewed from the nurse’s station, and audio recording hid within the wires of medical equipment.

  Jo counted her breaths to keep them even.

  “Oh, man.” Drew’s voice was a whisper.

  “They said she’s going to be okay,” Karl said.

  “This looks bad.”

  “She’s a very strong woman, Drew. One of the strongest I’ve ever met. She’s going to be fine.”

  Jo heard footsteps cross and had to keep her hand limp when one of them reached for it. Drew’s voice cracked. “I made fifth place. Tim came in third.”

  She bit her tongue and kept her smile away.

  “She’ll be proud,” Karl assured his son.

  “Oh, man . . . I can’t do this.”

  “You�
��re fine. Go on. I’ll be just a minute,” Karl said.

  The sound from outside her door amplified and then dissipated as someone exited the room.

  She heard a chair scrape along the floor and the sound of Karl’s breath. “Damn it, JoAnne. It’s so hard to stay mad at you when you keep ending up in the hospital.”

  Breathe in . . . one, two, three.

  Breathe out . . . four, five, six.

  “I’ve been told that people hear things and remember things said when they were unconscious in hospital rooms. So I’m promising this to you now, not because I don’t want you to remember it, but because I do. I always believed your father was murdered. But I was too afraid to look for his killer. You see, I learned he was Drew’s real dad just months before Joseph’s death. I know how it would have looked then, and I know how it looks now.”

  Karl rested a hand on her arm.

  Jo didn’t flinch.

  “I didn’t kill him. And I would never harm you. The fact some in River Bend think I’m capable grabs my balls and twists them in knots. I guess I should learn to be a little more diplomatic. A little more laid-back like you. My guess is you know about Drew, which is why you’ve taken him under your wing.”

  She heard Karl sniffle and had to force herself not to join his emotions.

  “I didn’t want him gaining a sister to be the same thing that removes me as his dad. I know it’s selfish of me, but I would have liked to keep who his real father was from him. I see now that isn’t possible. It’s only fair that someday he knows he has a sister.” Karl patted her arm, and the sound of a chair scooting back reached her ears. “Anyway. It looks like they have you well protected here. I’m going to get back to town and make sure everything is ready for your return.”

  A few footsteps, the sound of the ICU . . . the door closed.

  And Jo released a long-suffering sigh.

  Gill had a remote mic in his ear from Jo’s room. There was no way of knowing if Karl’s bedside confessions were made because he’d spotted the recording devices or if they were as heartfelt as they sounded. Living by the standard of believe none of what you hear and half of what you see forced Gill to hold his opinions of the man until he could prove him right.

  As he sat in the ICU waiting room, Drew spoke with Wyatt and Mel and allowed his mother to hug him. Eighteen was such a hard year for boys, technically a man but still too young to process his emotions without tears.