Drawing Fire

by Janice Cantore

  “Was the second victim shot as well?” Roper asked.

  “Scraped up. Medics didn’t think they’d need to transport. They said they’d release him once they were sure.”

  With that, they came to a stop at the body. Abby saw a fit-looking older man wearing a plaid shirt open over a gray T-shirt. His close-cropped hair made her think military or law enforcement, but she didn’t know him. His blanched complexion told her that he’d lost a lot of blood.

  “I’ve never seen him before.” She turned to Bill. “You?”

  “Nope.” He knelt down to inspect the wound. “He probably took a shot right to the heart.”

  “According to the other victim, the shooting happened under the Seal Beach Boulevard bridge.” Jensen pointed. “The pair ended up in the water and he dragged himself and this guy out.”

  “Did he say what the shooting was about?”

  “The Triple Seven.”

  Abby jerked around at the sound of Luke Murphy’s voice. Coming down the rocks was a bedraggled, bloody figure.

  “There were two guys—this one and the shooter—and they warned me to stop any investigation into the Triple Seven.”

  “The Triple Seven?” Jensen asked. “Are you two looking into that old case?”

  “No—” Bill said.

  Luke kept his gaze on Abby. Her face briefly registered shock and concern before the cop face set in stone. He’d requested her and Bill, hoping that this development would reactivate the case.

  “I’ve been making inquiries,” Luke cut in, “and obviously made someone mad.” He limped to where everyone stood.

  Abby looked away, back to the dead man.

  Bill spoke up. “If they warned you, then why is this guy dead?”

  Hands on hips, Luke tilted his head. “I don’t know.” He told them everything that happened, including the picture the two men showed him of Madison.

  “Your daughter?” Abby stared, and Luke knew it angered her as much as it angered him.

  “Was there anyone else on the path?” Bill asked.

  “Not that I saw. I was running, my mind wandering. Then all of a sudden there were two guys waving me to a stop.” He pointed to Plaid Shirt. “He went into the water first; the other guy started shooting . . .” Luke raised his hands. “They must have seen me start my run. They could have driven down here to meet me. Once I was on the path, there’s no mystery where I was headed.”

  “Does this mean Long Beach will take over the investigation?” Jensen asked. “Freddy—uh, Detective Wright—should be here momentarily.”

  Luke saw Bill and Abby exchange a glance.

  “It would make sense for you two to take it over,” Luke said, hoping they’d agree.

  Finally Abby spoke up. “I doubt that will be possible. We’ve already been ordered back to the city. You guys have everything buttoned up, so I doubt we can justify being here anymore.” With that, she glanced at Luke and Jensen, then turned and strode back to the parking lot.

  Luke shot Bill a questioning glance and got a look that said, “I’ll explain later.” He followed his partner, leaving Luke to wonder what was going on.

  ABBY CLIMBED INTO HER CAR and gripped the wheel to keep her hands from shaking, thankful Roper was a few seconds behind her. She’d told Woody she was ready for the consequences of stirring the Triple Seven pot. And she was, when the consequences were directed her way, not at Luke Murphy.

  They threatened his daughter.

  Abby remembered the cute, bright, ponytailed girl and cringed. No, Lord, that was not what I expected. I couldn’t forgive myself if something happened to someone else because of me.

  “You okay?” Bill asked as he took his seat.

  Abby’s answer was cut off by the buzz of an incoming text. It was a summons from Cox to be in her office ASAP. Anger surged and Abby wanted to scream. She slammed her hand on the steering wheel.

  “What?” Roper shifted in his seat.

  Regretting her loss of control, Abby showed him the message. “It’s Cox. She wants us in her office now.”

  “What is up with that? She has it in for you. Is there something I should know?”

  Abby blew out a breath, frustration piling on frustration in her mind. “Not on my part. We’ve never really meshed. But why she’s on the warpath now, I don’t know.”

  If she were a betting person, she’d bet it was the Triple Seven. As she threaded her way out of the crowded lot, she felt like she did at the end of a really long run when the lactic acid building up made every step painful and heavy.

  It seemed that no one wanted her parents’ killers found. Was she wrong to even try?

  Realizing she had bigger problems with Cox at the moment, she conjured up Woody and one of his favorite sayings: “Patience always pays off.” She repeated the Woody-ism over and over, knowing she had to keep her tongue and emotions in check when she spoke to Cox. There had to be a reason she was riding her like this. Hopefully with patience Abby would discover what it was.

  At the station, she and Roper rode the elevator up to the third floor in silence. When they got to the chief’s office, which was still Cox’s until the chief returned, the secretary indicated that they could go right in.

  Cox stood with her back to them. Abby noted that she’d begun boxing up her personal belongings, presumably to take them back to her office.

  “I read Boy 10’s call history.” She spoke without turning.

  “Chief, we were requested at that scene.” Bill spoke up and Abby held her breath.

  Cox turned. “I realize that.”

  Abby tried to read her. Was she contrite?

  “But the problem I have is that I want the two of you concentrating on the most pressing current cases on your plate. Traveling to Seal Beach, requested or not, is a waste of time. Do I make myself clear?” She was angry but obviously on a tight leash and Abby wondered who was holding it.

  Bill looked toward Abby, and she cleared her throat.

  “Yes, Chief, we both understand perfectly.” She turned to leave but Cox stopped her.

  “I’m not finished. From the call history I understand there was some reference made to the Triple Seven today. This PI, Murphy, was threatened to stay away?”

  “Yes, that’s what he said,” Abby answered.

  “Understand this: if we receive a request from the investigators on this shooting for information on the Triple Seven, and should the case need to be activated, I’ve officially made Carney the contact person for the case. Let me repeat: if that happens, it will be handled by O’Reilly and Carney. As I told you before, you will not be allowed to investigate the murders of your parents.” She stepped away from the window and sat down at the desk. “You two can get back to work.” She looked down at paperwork on the desk; they were dismissed.

  Abby called Marilynn Jenkins and apologized for not coming by as promised.

  “That’s okay. I don’t have much else to tell you. I don’t know what was in the boxes that were in the garage. I even called Haley Sanders and asked about it, but she didn’t know either.”

  After the conversation, Abby felt stymied. But she was tired, and her thinking was muddled. She began to pack her things up to leave.

  “Are you on your way out?” Bill asked.

  “Yes, I’m tired.”

  “You’ve been up for what, more than twenty-four hours?”

  “I lost count.” Guilt tore through her when she realized Bandit hadn’t been let out in hours.

  “I think I’m going to go back over to the hospital and check on Nadine,” Bill said. “If anything comes up, I’ll call you.”

  “Great, thanks.”

  Her mind wrestled over the problem with Cox. What was going on there? Abby hated gossip, but she needed to tap into some department scuttlebutt and figure out what was happening. It felt like something personal. But Abby couldn’t recall ever crossing Cox in any way.

  She started her car and left the PD lot. I’ve hit the wall in so many areas,
she thought as fatigue turned into self-pity. I’ll never find my parents’ killers. I’m spinning my wheels, and I’ve put Murphy and his whole family in danger.

  Driving on autopilot, she dwelled on the bloody scene at the river. Who threatened Murphy? Was he targeted because of his interview on Good Morning Long Beach? That piece had been picked up by other networks and rebroadcast several times. He was the face of the Triple Seven investigation right now.

  Had she awoken the killers by revealing who she was? Was Murphy in danger because of her? Emotions swirled through her thoughts of the man. At the hospital she’d watched him take control of the crowd of church people and marveled at his grace and compassion. Ethan was always warm and helpful, but Luke seemed to have something more, some quality—

  She stopped herself as she pulled into her driveway.

  Why am I comparing them?

  Guilt assailed her. I love Ethan; I do, she repeated over and over. After a minute she climbed out of the car and started toward her front door.

  Abby’s foot froze at her bottom step, and her hand reached for her weapon. The door, lock, and doorjamb had been destroyed with some kind of pry tool. This was brazen; it was broad daylight. She drew her automatic and held it down by her thigh as she backed up to her car for the radio. Once behind the door, she crouched down and reached for the radio mike.

  “David Henry 4,” she whispered as she keyed the radio.

  “David Henry 4, go.”

  “David Henry 4, I’ve got a possible burglary in progress at my residence.” Her voice stayed calm and level. “Can you send me a backup unit?”

  “David Henry 4, 10-4. Any available unit to assist David Henry 8 prepare to copy the call on your computer.”

  Abby set the mike down, confident backup would be with her shortly. Was this related to the Triple Seven? Were killers here now for her like they were for Murphy?

  I’m ready, she thought, anticipation breaking through the caution, the fear, and waking her up. If she took the suspects into custody, she might finally get the answers she wanted. She raised her weapon and trained it on the door.

  A second later the door burst open and there stood the BUG Murphy and Georgie had described. He was bigger than Abby thought possible and he had a crowbar in his hand. He fixed a hostile glare on her.

  “Where is it?” was all he said as he started her way, slapping one meaty palm with the crowbar.

  “Police. Stay right where you are,” Abby ordered. She stood, two-handed grip on her gun, sights trained on the large man.

  “I don’t have time for this,” he snarled as he stepped toward her, swinging the crowbar. “She said she gave it to you, and I want it now.”

  Abby ordered him again to stop, but she could see in his eyes as he raised the crowbar with malicious intent and continued toward her that he had no plans to stop. Her duty weapon was a .45 automatic, a gun she’d picked for stopping power. She’d seen suspects shot with 9mms keep moving. A .45 had better odds of dropping a target, the range master had assured her. But Abby backpedaled. Pulling the trigger would mean this guy would not be alive to tell her what this was about.

  “One more chance—stop or I will fire.”

  He didn’t stop.

  Someone grabbed her from behind, looping his arms around her in a bear hug. Her finger depressed the trigger and a wild shot hit the BUG in the leg. As he stumbled forward, he cursed her in a rage. Abby struggled with the man who had her in a tight grasp even as she saw the crowbar coming closer. With all the strength she could muster, she twisted her body, turning the man on her back toward the BUG as the bar came down.

  A strangled oof came from the man who had her from behind as the blow struck him square across his back. She heard the sickening crack of bone, and he released his grip immediately. But the force of the blow still drove her to the ground, grinding her knees into the pavement as the other man slid off her and rolled away screaming in pain. She struggled to turn and bring her gun around, fearing the crowbar’s next target was her head. Then she heard her backup.

  “Police. Drop it!” several voices yelled in unison.

  Abby brought her hands over her head and tried to disappear into the concrete of her driveway as she knew what would come next.

  The big man cursed, and she guessed he wasn’t dropping the crowbar. A split second later a deafening volley of shots rang out.

  It was only seconds, but it seemed an eternity before the firing stopped, and the attacker dropped the crowbar and toppled like a felled redwood in front of her.

  LUKE BEGAN TO FEEL THE PAIN after he’d gotten home, taken a shower, and had something to eat. He’d pulled James and Grace aside, told them about the men in the flood control, and asked them to be careful and vigilant. He’d also made a list of friends from aikido, wondering if he should ask them for a little help.

  “We have a weekend trip to the mountains with the homeschool group. Should we cancel?” Grace asked.

  “No,” Luke said. “It might be good for all of you to get away.”

  “I’ll tag along,” James said, “and look after the girls.”

  Luke was satisfied with that. As he limped into the kitchen, Grace and James made plans.

  “You really need to see a doctor,” Grace said as she watched him swallow some Advil.

  “Mom, I don’t want to take up the doctor’s time for scratches.”

  “When was the last time you had a tetanus shot? The flood control is filled with bacteria.”

  Luke leaned against the counter. “I guess you’re right. The last thing I’d want is some flesh-eating scum in me.”

  “Yuck.” Maddie made a face.

  “And it was gross in that water.” He threw his hands up. “You win; I’ll go.”

  “That is what urgent care is for,” Grace said.

  Luke kissed Maddie good-bye and grabbed his car keys. He’d just started the engine when his phone buzzed with a call from Bill.

  “Hey, I’m on my way to urgent care.”

  “Good,” Bill said. “With all the gunk in the flood control I hope you don’t come down with typhoid or something.”

  “Ha, you’re as bad as my mother.”

  “Grace is a smart woman. I’m just leaving work, on my way to see Nadine. I’ll drop by, make sure the nurse gives you a shot that hurts.”

  Luke laughed. He prayed that Bill coming meant Abby as well since it was not their EOW. At the very least he hoped he’d find out what was going on with the partners, why they didn’t stay and talk to Wright from OC Sheriff’s.

  Urgent care was quiet. He’d seen a doctor, had his wounds checked, and gotten a tetanus shot by the time Bill arrived.

  “You are really milking this, aren’t you?” Bill said with a smile as he gave the nurse a wink. “Maybe they should give you a Band-Aid with little teddy bears on it.”

  “Funny guy. The last thing I want to pick up right now is some lethal bacteria. So what—?”

  An emergency beep sounded from Bill’s radio.

  Bill pulled the radio from his pocket and turned up the volume.

  Luke heard their homicide call sign and went rigid.

  Bill met his eyes. “Problem at Abby’s house. Follow me over there?”

  Bill didn’t have to ask twice as Luke raced out of urgent care after him.

  They kept to speed laws just barely. Luke almost raced past Bill because he had heard the code for an officer-involved shooting, 998, blaring from his friend’s radio just before they parted.

  As it was, they had to pull over at one point for a paramedic rig and a black-and-white rolling code 3. When they reached Abby’s street, they had to park down the block because of all the emergency vehicles.

  Was someone after her like they came for him?

  Luke caught up to Bill quickly.

  “Was she hurt?” Luke asked, noting that his friend had the handheld radio up to his ear.

  “No. No officer was hurt. But the burglars went down,” Bill said as they reache
d the driveway. A crowd of neighbors had already massed on the sidewalk.

  “She’s my partner,” Bill told the uniformed officer separating the crowd from the scene with yellow tape. “He’s with me.”

  Luke slipped under the tape with Bill.

  Walking up the drive through the busy police activity, Luke calmed as he saw Abby standing, fine, talking to a patrol sergeant. She had a scrape on one side of her face and her pants were torn at the knees, but she looked okay and Luke relaxed a bit.

  Paramedics were working on someone while uniformed officers were spreading a yellow tarp over another figure.

  What happened here?

  Abby arched a brow and tilted her head his way when she saw the two of them approach, and it was then he saw Bandit in her arms. She was holding on to him like a lifeline.

  “You okay, partner?” Bill asked, stepping ahead of Luke.

  “A little scraped, but yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Was this another Triple Seven threat?” Luke asked.

  Abby shook her head. “Neither of these guys said anything about the Triple Seven. I’m glad you’re here, Mr. Murphy. Take a look.” She pointed to the yellow tarp. “Tell me if that’s the man you saw at Crunchers.”

  He let the formal greeting go for the moment and walked with Bill to the tarp. Bill peeled back a corner. It was, without a doubt, the big guy he’d seen at the junkyard and then later with Bill.

  “That’s him,” he said, turning back to Abby, noting she was all cop, not a frightened civilian victim. Still, knowing what she’d just been through, he had to ask. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. A couple scratches from hitting the pavement is all. But they trashed my house.”

  He looked over her shoulder to the front door and saw the damage there. “If this wasn’t about the Triple Seven, what did he want?”

  She gave a heavy sigh. “He just asked me where it was.”

  “Where what was?”

  “I don’t know. He also said that she gave it to me.”

  Luke frowned. “She? Nadine?”