by Anne Patrick
"I believe they are." It was the only way he could find comfort in their deaths. Ian checked his watch. He still had plenty of time before tonight's sting operation. "Listen, I still have half a pot of coffee in there. What do you say, we go finish it off?"
"Sure. Want to give me a hand with the rest of this stuff?"
"Gladly."
"A year," Isaac said as they walked back to the trailer.
"Excuse me?"
"You asked me how long I've had my truck. I bought it last year. I got a sweet deal on it, too."
Ian slipped his arm around his son. "I'm looking forward to hearing all about it."
*****
"Can we go home yet?" Nick's question came through Gwen's earpiece.
She checked her watch. "Thirty more minutes." Gwen rolled her neck to relieve the kink in her muscles. Another night like this and she'd need to see a chiropractor. She rose from the stool she'd been sitting on for the last hour and stretched. They hadn't had a customer in over twenty minutes, which seemed odd for a Saturday night. She bet the bars were full, though.
"Do you think this guy knows what we're up to?"
"I don't know, Nick. He's starting to really get on my nerves, though."
Ten more minutes passed and Gwen put the stool back in the stock area.
"Bad news, guys," Kris's voice crackled over the airway. "Williby's liquor store was hit about fifteen minutes ago. Customer just called it in."
Ah man! "Go," Gwen instructed. "See what you can find out. Have patrol be on the lookout for Bartlett's black Monte Carlo." If Bartlett were pulled over, maybe they'd get lucky and find the cash and gun on him.
"Roger that. Meet you back at the station."
Gwen leaned against the door of the cooler, tapping her head on the metal. Unless she came up with a new lead, they'd have to wait another two or three weeks to set up another sting. She should've requested more men and covered the other three stores closest to the interstate. They would've had him.
The bell jingled at the front door.
"You've gotta be kidding me." Nick gave the keywords for a robbery.
What! Gwen peered through the opening. A dark-haired man stood at the counter, wearing a black ball cap and bandana with a .45 pointed at Nick. "Everything from the register in a paper bag, now. And don't forget the large bills underneath the drawer."
A jolt of adrenaline pulsed through Gwen's body. Weapon drawn, she eased from the back room and quietly moved towards her position, keeping her eyes on the robber.
"All right, man. Just take it easy with that thing," Nick said.
"Shut up and get busy."
Gwen's heart pounded. She took slow even breaths.
"Now come out from behind the counter."
She raised her gun. "Police! Drop your weapon!"
The robber swung around, gun in hand. Behind him, a movement outside the door caught Gwen's eye. A pedestrian? Gwen fought the urge to pull the trigger.
The bell jingled. The robber fired two rounds as Gwen dove behind the end cap. A piercing pain stabbed through her left bicep and down her arm. Two more shots rang out as Gwen hit the floor and rolled onto her right side, still grasping her gun. The air knocked out of her, she sucked in a painful breath. Nick! She had to make sure he was all right. But where was the shooter, had he gone? Or was he still in the store.
Gwen heard hurried footsteps near the front of the store. She wished she had taken the shot. She rose to a crouching position and scooted backwards, out of view. In the mirror, hanging from the ceiling a few feet from her, she saw a pair of motionless feet. Her heart raced faster.
"Gwen! You okay?" Nick shouted.
She blew out the air trapped in her lungs and took off down the aisle.
"Shots fired…I repeat shots fired. Officers need assistance at Boulevard Liquors."
Nick was knelt beside a man sprawled on the floor near the door, his walkie talkie in hand. "Armed suspect on foot heading east, apprehend with caution. Need an ambulance and all available units on the scene."
Gwen started toward the door.
"No, Gwen! I got him." He dropped the walkie talkie to the floor.
Before she could argue he was on his feet and out the door.
Gwen holstered her weapon and lowered herself next to the man, applying pressure to his stomach wound as blood pooled beneath the body. Wetness trickled down Gwen's arm from her own injury. Had she not been wearing a vest, she'd be laying on the floor, too. She couldn't think about that now, though, she needed to keep her head.
"Gwen. Nick. Do you copy?" Kris's frantic voice sounded over the walkie talkie.
Gwen's left arm and hand was numb and she needed to keep pressure on the victim's wound. She tried her headset. "Kris, can you hear me?"
No answer. They must not be in reach yet. She waited a few minutes and tried again but got no response.
Dispatch called over the walkie-talkie. Gwen worked her fingers on her left hand in an attempt to get the feeling back. Glancing down at the unconscious man, she couldn't tell if he was dead or alive.
Nick came in the door and shook his head. "No sign of him."
She noticed him favoring his right side. "Are you okay?"
"Vest caught the slug. I just got the breath knocked out of me. You?"
"One in my vest, the other just grazed me. I can't feel my arm or hand yet."
"The suspect didn't even hesitate when he fired at you, Gwen. And this poor guy seemed to come out of nowhere. As soon as you announced yourself, the suspect started shooting. I drew but didn't have time to get off a shot. Did you see the vic?"
"Yeah, well, I saw a shadow. Thought it was a customer. That's why I didn't shoot when the robber swung around. I dove but not quick enough."
Sirens sounded right out front, blue and red lights illuminating the interior walls of the store. Seconds later, Kris and Ron barged through the door.
"Why didn't you answer your radio?" Kris demanded.
"I was a little busy…and I can't move my left arm."
"Oh geez, you were hit?"
Gwen looked at her upper arm. Blood seeped from a large gash. "Never mind me. Did you get him?"
Ron shook his head. Kris disappeared into the back.
"We got caught in traffic on Lexington." Ron took over for Gwen, compressing the man's wound. "Patrol spotted a black Monte Carlo in the vicinity but then lost him a block from the interstate. They put out a BOLO and have a chopper looking for it."
Nick knelt beside Ron and felt for a pulse. "He's still with us." He shifted his gaze to Gwen. "You really think it was Bartlett?"
"It was him, guys. I know it. He looked right at me." Gwen stood. The blood soaking both her hands was a crude reminder of how lucky she and Nick had been.
"He was wearing a bandana over his mouth and nose," Nick reminded.
"But not his eyes. It even sounded like him."
An ambulance stopped behind the unmarked cruiser out front. The whole street was lit up with emergency lights and a small crowd had begun to gather. A uniformed officer strung up crime scene tape to prevent them from coming any closer.
Two paramedics rushed through the doors. Gwen stepped back so they could attend to the victim. A pool of blood had formed around the motionless body. Helplessness and regret filled Gwen. If she had shot Bartlett when she had the chance, he would be the one laying there.
Kris returned with a wad of paper towels and pressed them against Gwen's arm. It felt like a knife was thrust into her bicep. Gwen jerked back. "Stop it." She looked back at Ron. "Did they run the tag?"
"I don't think they ever got close enough to read it."
Gwen sighed. So close. "Two liquor stores back to back, this guy's—"
"Was anyone hurt at the other robbery?" Nick asked.
"No." Kris pressed the paper towels back to Gwen's arm.
"Would you please stop it…I'm fine."
"You are not fine. You were shot."
The female paramedic came over to Gwen
. "You wearing a vest?"
"Yeah. Second bullet only grazed my arm." Gwen held her bloody hands out and Kris used the paper towels to clean them off. "Thanks. Have you called CSU?"
More sirens sounded outside.
"Yes." Kris stepped behind the counter and threw away the bloodied towels. "They're at Williby's now. Another team will be here shortly."
Ian came through the door, his face ashen. "What happened here?"
"He hit Williby's then came here." Nick gave him the details of the robbery, explained why they weren't able to return fire, and how the guy got away.
Gwen looked at Ian. He seemed more mad than worried now. "We should've had the other stores covered."
"We're gonna get him, Gwen."
The female paramedic finished wrapping Gwen's arm in gauze.
"Todd, talk to the bystanders outside. Chavez, I want you back at Williby's. See if anyone saw anything. Harris and Jamison, you're both going to the hospital."
"I'm okay," Gwen argued. Surely the feeling would come back in her arm and hand soon.
"You need stitches," the paramedic said.
"Later."
"No, now." Ian took hold of her good arm. "I'll give you two a lift." Gwen was about to protest and he looked at her. "No arguments."
"Fine."
*****
Ian's heart continued to slam against his chest wall as he waited outside Gwen's examining room for her to return from x-ray. Thankfully, Nick had only suffered bruised ribs and had been given the okay to leave. He refused to go, though, until he knew Gwen was okay. Ian appreciated his loyalty. The civilian, Don Masterson, was still in surgery, but the doctors were hopeful he would survive.
"She did everything by the book, sir. If she'd had a clear shot, she would've taken it. Trust me."
"I don't doubt that, Nick." Ian had just pulled into town when he heard the distress call. Recognizing Nick's voice, he knew it was Gwen who'd been shot. With that fear came a crushing feeling he had yet to shake. Like a shotgun blast to his heart, ripping it into hundreds of pieces. In two short weeks she had become the world to him. Something he never expected. He'd looked forward to each new day since meeting her.
"She thinks the guy was Dawson Bartlett."
"Did you get a good look at him? Could it have been Bartlett?"
"To be honest, sir, I don't know. The hair and height match, but he wore a bandana over his face and ball cap on his head. No way to be sure. And his voice, well, I never talked to Bartlett, so I can't answer to that, either."
Ian heard a man's laughter and glanced up to see an orderly pushing Gwen down the hall in a wheelchair. She raised her left arm slightly and waved at them before disappearing into the examining room.
"That's a good sign," Nick commented.
"Yeah, it is. I'll be back." Ian caught the door before it closed and stepped inside.
The orderly helped Gwen from the chair and onto the bed.
She glanced up at Ian. "How's the civilian who got shot?"
"Don Masterson. Still in surgery, but the doctor's say he'll make it. How're you doing?"
"The feelings back." She tossed Ian a welcomed smile.
He grinned in relief. "I see that. Any muscle damage?"
"Doctor Vanguard will have to review the x-rays, but seeing as how her mobility is improving, there probably isn't any. We still need to stitch her up."
Ian glanced at the bloody bandage on her bicep, barely visible under the sleeve of her hospital gown. "I'd like to stay with her." He moved to her right side and wrapped his hand around hers. "For moral support."
"As long as the patient doesn't mind."
"I don't." Gwen squeezed his hand.
The orderly smiled at them. "The doctor will be here in a minute."
"I'm so glad you're all right."
"Yeah. It was pretty intense. I can't believe he pulled off two robberies in one night. At least he didn't get the money from Boulevard Liquors. That means he'll hit again in two or three weeks and we can set up another sting—"
"No, we're not doing this again. The captain will never go for it."
"The captain won't or you won't?"
Before he could answer, Doctor Vanguard and a nurse came in. "How's the patient?" the doctor asked as he pulled over a tray.
"Ready to get out of here." Gwen shifted on the bed.
"You're a lucky lady, Detective. That bruise on your chest from where the bullet struck your vest was about an inch from your heart, and there's no muscle damage to your arm. You should be as good as new in a couple of weeks."
Ian let out a sigh of relief. God had definitely been looking out for her.
The nurse removed Gwen's bandages. "That's a nasty scar there. Did you get that in the line of duty, too?"
"No. I got it when I was a kid."
Ian peered down at the eight-inch scar on her left forearm. He'd noticed it before and wondered if it was part of the reason she didn't like discussing her childhood. Having been in the foster care system, there was no telling what all had happened to her.
The nurse began to clean the wound. Gwen jerked slightly and bit down on her lip.
"You know what this means, don't you?" Ian asked Gwen as a way to distract her.
She watched as Doctor Vanguard slipped on a pair of gloves. "What?"
"Desk duty next week."
Doctor Vanguard picked up the syringe.
Gwen looked at Ian. "What? No way. I hate desk duty. It's just—"
The syringe pierced Gwen's skin above the two-inch gash. She sucked in a deep breath and squeezed Ian's hand. The doctor finished deadening the skin around the gaping cut, and then began to suture it. Gwen continued to squeeze Ian's hand, her knuckles growing white.
"It'll give you a chance to catch up on your paper work," Ian teased.
"I'm already caught up. You've got all my reports."
"You can organize the file cabinets. Ron made the comment the other day that several files were out of place."
"That's not my fault. I know the alphabet. Have Nick do it. He's the one that can't spell."
"You both can do it. How's that?"
"How is Nick?"
"He's fine. You were both very fortunate." They both could have easily been killed, had they not been wearing their vests.
"What if I let Kris drive? I could still—"
"No, Gwen."
"But—"
"All done." Doctor Vanguard stepped away.
Gwen glanced down. "What, already?"
"You only needed ten stitches. Cindy will wrap it for you and you can be on your way." He removed his gloves and deposited them in the trashcan. "A minimum of two days on desk duty, and no heavy lifting or strenuous activity for two weeks."
"When do the stitches need to come out?" Gwen removed her hand from Ian's.
"They'll dissolve in a couple of weeks. If you have any problems, don't hesitate to call my office." He took out a packet of pills from his pocket and handed them to her. "Pain relievers. Once the numbness wears off, you'll probably want to take one of these. They should last you three or four days. Beyond that, aspirin or ibuprofen should work."
"I'll let you get dressed." Ian put his hand on her shoulder. "Nick and I will be in the waiting room."
"Thanks, Ian."
Nick still stood in the hallway when Ian exited the room. "Let's get some coffee." Ian headed toward the emergency waiting room.
"How'd it go?"
"Ten stitches." Ian led the way to the coffee pot and poured two cups. "She's on desk duty, too, next week." He handed Nick one of the coffees.
Nick chuckled. "She's not going to like that."
"It's either that or stay home."
*****
Ian dropped Nick off then drove to Gwen's apartment building. She had barely spoken six words since leaving the hospital. He glanced over at her and found her staring out the passenger's side window. Her uncharacteristic behavior worried him.
He pulled into the only available parking
spot and turned off the engine. "I'll walk you to your apartment."
"That's not necessary. I'll be fine."
Ian wasn't going to take no for an answer. He met her at the front of his car and they walked in silence to the building. She retrieved her keys from her pocket and unlocked the front entrance. He slid in behind her and followed her up the three flights of stairs. It was almost like she was in a trance of some sort. The drugs maybe? No way was he going to leave her alone until he was certain she was all right both physically and mentally. She'd been shot tonight. That had to have shaken her at least a little bit.
Gwen stopped in front of her door. "Thanks for the lift home and for walking me to my door."
"Aren't you going to offer me a cup of coffee?"
"It's almost four in the morning."
"I've got nowhere else to be."
"You're not going to take no for an answer, are you?"
Instead of replying, he took the keys from her hand and unlocked the door. "Why don't you go change and I'll make the coffee."
Gwen returned just as he was pouring them each a cup. She now wore sweats and a sleeveless tee shirt. "I just want water." Moving past him to the refrigerator, she opened the fridge door, retrieved a bottle, and downed one of the pills the doctor had given her.
"Why don't we talk about what happened tonight?"
"Nothing to talk about. The guy got away."
"We'll come up with another way to nail him."
She nodded as she sipped her water.
"Are you all right, Gwen?"
"You heard the doctor. I'm fine."
"You're gonna have to be more convincing than that."
"What is it you want to hear, Ian?" Gwen sighed. "I'm just a little shaken. I've never been in this position before. I mean, yeah, there's been some close calls, but no one's ever shot me."
Tears filled her eyes. Before he could take her in his arms, she turned away from him and walked into the living room. She placed her water on the coffee table and sat on the sofa.
Ian joined her. "I know how unsettling this is, Gwen."
"You've been shot?" She looked at him.
"I took a 9mm slug to the chest eight years ago. It really makes you stop and think."