Katie bit her lip, her admiration for the man growing the more she got to know him. Sarah disappeared back into the restaurant. The curious rubberneckers dispersed. Some back into the restaurant and some to their vehicles.
They walked back into the restaurant and took their seats once more while he closed his laptop. He looked at Katie. “I think I’m done here. Now what?”
“While Quinn’s checking on Tim Shepherd, we can be proactive.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“One, why don’t we do a little digging into Maurice Armstrong?”
“And two?”
“I promised Riley I’d talk to your neighbors and see if anyone saw anything last night.”
He shoved his laptop into his black bag. “I’m going to leave too. I’d feel better working from home and being close to Riley after hearing there was some unknown person outside my house last night.”
“Of course.”
He led the way, then held the door for her.
She lifted a brow. “Thanks.” She stepped outside and pulled her coat tighter around her.
Daniel shut the door behind him.
A crack sounded and something slammed him to the sidewalk.
[7]
“Shooter! Run!” Katie screamed to those on the sidewalk, frozen and staring. Others had already taken off before she had a chance to call out the warning. “Daniel!” Her heart slammed into her throat. Was he alive?
She grabbed for him, but he was rolling to his feet with a grunt. He snagged her arm and pulled her behind the nearest parked vehicle. Another shot shattered the car window and Katie ducked. Screams echoed around her. When she looked back up, Daniel had his weapon out, already scanning the area.
“You’re okay?” she gasped.
“Yeah. The bullet got my computer bag.” He grunted. “And probably my computer, but I’m alive so I’m okay with that.”
Katie made a mental note of the layout and where the bullets could be coming from. The front of the restaurant faced the frontage road with the interstate just beyond. Elmwood cemetery snugged up to the parking lot in the back. To her right was a large tree-lined field and another road past it.
“Where’s he shooting from?” she asked as she grabbed her phone and dialed 911.
The operator answered before the first ring cut off. “911, what’s your emergency?”
“There’s a shooter targeting A Taste of Yesterday restaurant on Elmwood. I can’t spot where he’s shooting from, though.” She scanned the area again, desperate to pinpoint the shooter.
“There.” Daniel bumped her arm. “Behind the rail.”
She followed his pointing finger and spotted the crouched figure. “He’s on the guardrail on I-76. He’s got a high-powered rifle—” Three more shots had her scrunching down into a tight ball. The bullets hit the building behind her. “—and we need officers here fast!”
Keyboard clicks came through the line. “We’ve got officers en route. ETA is ninety seconds.”
“Make it sixty.” She hung up as two more quick shots brought more screams. Sirens sounded, but Katie could tell they were still a good distance away. She kept her eyes on the shooter and gave a brief thought to going after him. Her mind calculated the distance, the lack of coverage, and her chances of reaching him without getting shot. They weren’t good.
“Don’t do it,” Daniel muttered. A fine sheen of sweat covered his forehead and upper lip.
She met his gaze. He’d thought about it too, but the wide-open expanse between them and the vehicle they hid behind would make it a suicide mission. They were all effectively pinned down for the moment. The shooter had chosen well.
More bullets chinked the asphalt. Two slammed into the car they used for protection. She ducked again and looked at the others crouched behind vehicles. A man held his infant against his chest, head ducked against his small body. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but her adrenaline kicked it up a notch. Two teens huddled together behind the wheel of a truck. Anger flowed hot and swift. Putting innocents in danger was just wrong. Her eyes swept the area once again. On the heels of the anger came gratitude. So far she didn’t see any wounded, so she prayed everyone had made it to a safe hiding place, out of sight—and range—of the shooter. Yes, definitely something to be grateful for.
The sirens screamed louder. Katie edged around the front of the vehicle to take another look in the direction of the shooter. He was gone. Blue lights flashed from the location she’d reported him. She pulled back and looked at Daniel. “He’s gone.”
Daniel scowled. “Yeah, but where?”
“I don’t know. Don’t give up your hiding place yet. Maybe a traffic cam got him on video or at least his license plate.”
“I’m not holding my breath,” he muttered.
She understood what he meant. After another long pause, when no more bullets came their way, he stood, cautious and watching.
Katie punched in a text to Olivia to let her know what was going on. “Do you want Riley to know about this?”
He looked skyward. She followed his gaze with her own. Already a news helicopter hovered above. It never did take them long. “Yes,” he said.
Katie finished the text and told Olivia to stay close to Riley and assure the girl her uncle was—once again—unharmed.
By the time she hit send, officers had descended and the chaos bumped up to the next level. Law enforcement in SWAT gear held their weapons ready as they started clearing the bystanders from the area. Katie flashed her badge. The badge that afforded her law enforcement privileges when she needed them, thanks to the mayor.
“He’s with me.” She gave the officer a brief rundown of the situation and earlier incidents. “We’re going inside the restaurant.”
The officer nodded. “Go. I’m right behind you. I need to get everyone’s information and a statement.” He waved over three other officers and asked for their help in expediting the process.
Daniel marched into the restaurant. Katie followed.
“Everybody listen up,” Daniel said. The patrons cowering under booths and tables slowly started to emerge. “A Taste of Yesterday is closed until further notice. If you have a business card, leave it on the bar. If you want to write down your name and email address, that’s fine. Once the trouble is past and I reopen, you’re all invited back for a free meal. I apologize for the scare. Don’t leave yet, though, until we receive the all clear from the police. I know they want to talk to you.”
The police got busy. Conversation buzzed as the diners placed their information in the designated area. But no one ventured out the door. Less than a minute later, an officer stepped inside, weapon drawn.
“It’s all clear in here,” Katie said. She flashed her badge again.
The officer holstered his weapon. “Anyone hurt in here?”
“No,” Katie said.
He nodded. “The shooter is no longer in the area, as far as we can tell. As soon as the officers are finished in here, everyone is safe to leave.”
The officers were professional and quick. One by one the customers filed out the door, and soon everyone was gone, leaving her and Daniel and his workers alone in the restaurant. Some gravitated toward him. He motioned them all to join him in the large dining area and they filed in.
“Daniel?”
He turned and Katie saw the young waitress named Sarah approach him. “Yeah?”
“Are you really going to shut down?”
His jaw tightened. “I have to. Someone’s targeted me and those around me. I can’t take a chance on someone getting between him and me.” He looked around, his eyes connecting with each person. “You’re welcome to find another job, of course, but I hope you’ll give the police a few days to catch the person responsible. I’ll continue to pay you for now. If this drags out, we’ll talk about what to do at that time.”
“You’re going to pay us not to work?” One of the cooks behind the counter scratched his head. “That doesn’t seem righ
t.”
“Shut up, man.” Another co-worker nudged him. “If he wants to pay us to chill, I’m good with that.”
Daniel smirked, but his eyes remained hard and cold. “Yes, I’m going to pay you not to work until you hear from me. Your paychecks will be mailed to your home addresses.”
One by one, his employees left, each one stopping to either shake his hand or offer a hug. The police officer spoke with someone over his radio. Once the last person was out the door, he turned to Daniel. “Detective Holcombe is here to talk to you.”
“Of course he is.” Daniel sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Fine.”
Katie took note of the new lines on his face since last night.
Quinn stepped inside the restaurant and the officer left. “You again, huh?”
“Yeah. Lucky me.”
Quinn looked around. “Someone said you shut the restaurant down.”
“I did.”
“I think that was probably a smart move.”
“I didn’t do it for you.”
“I know.” Quinn’s tone was easy, conciliatory even, but Daniel didn’t give an inch. She watched him. Given his law enforcement background, he knew being investigated was part of the process. She also knew he didn’t have to like it. Or the detective doing the investigating. Although, Daniel had to realize this latest incident worked in his favor. He would now be seen as a victim, not a suspect.
Quinn pulled his notebook from his pocket. “Are you all okay? I don’t see any blood.”
“Fortunately, I think my laptop was the only casualty.” Daniel handed it to Quinn, who studied the bullet hole. “The bullet’s still in there for ballistics.”
Quinn motioned for a crime scene tech. The young woman hurried over. “Bag this. It’s evidence.”
“Right away.”
She took it and left. Quinn scratched his nose, then pointed behind him. “There aren’t any cameras along the interstate that caught the shooter himself.” He turned back. “The ones that caught his vehicle and license plate aren’t any help because he had it caked with mud. He also parked his car in such a way that it blocked his actions from oncoming motorists. Anyone who passed him probably thought he was just waiting on help and couldn’t see the rifle.”
“Great.”
“Yeah. He picked a good spot.”
“In other words, he had this planned,” Katie said. “He was waiting, watching for Daniel to come out of the restaurant.”
“Which means he knew I’d be here today,” Daniel said.
“Are you often here around this time on Saturday?”
Daniel shook his head. “No, not usually. I don’t have a set schedule. Sometimes I come in, sometimes I don’t. I have good managers and they keep me updated, so I have the weekends off most of the time.”
Quinn frowned. “All right. Then maybe he followed you when you left your house earlier or picked up your tail along the way?”
“I doubt it. I was watching.”
“And you’re trained to spot a tail.”
Daniel met Quinn’s eyes. “Yes.”
“Right. The Marines.”
“And CID,” Katie murmured.
Quinn’s eyes widened a fraction.
Daniel crossed his arms. “You haven’t gotten the DD-214?” His military record that would have his history on it.
“It’s been requested.” He studied Daniel for a bit longer, then gave a short nod. “I knew you were military, but . . . all right then. You didn’t have a tail when you got to the restaurant. But our shooter knew you were here.”
“What if it was the guy you confronted?” Katie asked Daniel. “Would he have had time to muddy his car, pick his spot, and take shots at you?”
“And he just happened to have a rifle with him?”
“Maybe he’s a hunter.”
“What guy?” Quinn asked.
“A customer,” Katie said. “He was a little free with his hands with one of Daniel’s waitstaff, and Daniel let him know that if he came back, he’d be arrested for assault.”
Quinn lifted a brow. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Does the waitress want to press charges?”
Daniel shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
Quinn frowned. “She should.”
“I agree.”
“So what’s this guy’s name?” Quinn asked.
“John Doe.”
Quinn rolled his eyes.
“He didn’t give it. Paid in cash. But Katie and I both got his plate number.” Daniel gave it to Quinn along with the vehicle description. “If the vehicles are different, he’s definitely worth checking out. He might have more than one vehicle.”
Quinn nodded. “Hold on and let me request that information.” He sent a text and looked back up. “All right. I should have that in a few.”
“What if the shooter didn’t know Daniel would be here?” Katie asked. “What if he didn’t care? What if it was just a coincidence?”
Quinn lifted a brow. “What do you mean?”
“What if the shooter was going to shoot at the restaurant anyway and Daniel just happened to be here this morning?”
“Just like it was a coincidence I was at the restaurant last night when someone hung a body in my basement?” Daniel said.
“I’m not saying it as fact, I’m just stating it as a possibility.”
Quinn shook his head. “No, he could have shot at anyone out there. He chose to wait for you.”
“Yeah. I guess so.” Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know what? The thing is, I wasn’t even supposed to be there last night or this morning. Not just at the restaurant, but I wasn’t even supposed to be in town.”
“Where were you supposed to be?” Katie said.
“On a business trip that got canceled at the last minute Friday morning. I was scheduled to meet with a man who was interested in opening another restaurant in downtown Charleston. But his eighteen-year-old son was in a car wreck that landed him in ICU. We postponed indefinitely.”
“So it’s someone who knew you were supposed to be out of town but knew you didn’t actually go out of town and decided to see if he could set you up by putting the body in the basement,” Quinn said.
“Or it’s all a freak coincidence.”
“I’m going to vote for the first one. It’s probably someone close to you.”
He cocked his head. “It could be, but not necessarily.”
“Why do you say that?” Quinn asked.
“My secretary, Bridgett Holmes, keeps my schedule. I was supposed to leave Friday around midmorning and come back on Saturday evening. All anyone would have to do is call and ask for me. If the person acted it well enough, she might let the caller know I was out of town and when he or she could get in touch with me.”
Quinn’s phone rang and he stepped away to answer it.
She frowned at Daniel. “It sounds like your secretary is a little too free with your whereabouts.”
“Yeah, well, trust me, that’s all about to change.”
“Good.”
Quinn hung up his phone. “Got some information back on your financials.”
Daniel stilled. “And?”
“You don’t have any reason to burn down your restaurant.”
“No. I don’t.”
Quinn nodded. “Also, Armstrong was up to his ears in debt. No evidence of gang activity that’s been speculated, but he owed a lot of legit people money. If he owed some people who weren’t so legit . . .”
“Don’t have to be in a gang to be dangerous,” Daniel murmured. “But if he needed money because he was scared of retaliation from some bad guys, guess that’s a good motive for stealing.” He shook his head. “I wish he’d just come to me and told me. I’d have tried to help him.”
“But he didn’t, unfortunately.” Katie pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Anyone that’s good for a suspect?” she asked Quinn.
“Several. We’re running them down now.” Q
uinn slid his notebook into his pocket. “I’ll let you know what else develops.”
“Actually, I may have something else for you to check out,” Daniel said.
Katie lifted a brow and Quinn mirrored her expression. “What’s that?” Quinn asked.
“Tim Shepherd.”
“The real estate developer?” Quinn said.
“Yes. He’s been after me for the last six months to sell him my restaurant on North Lake. He wants to put up some high-rise apartments. He’s also offered me double what the land and restaurant are worth.”
Quinn let out a low whistle. “Wow.”
“Yes.”
“And you said no?”
Daniel shrugged. “I don’t need the money and I like my restaurant. Or I did before someone burned it down. Now I’m going to rebuild it and continue on with business as usual.”
“And you’re just now telling me this?”
“It didn’t occur to me until now, but when I got home after the fire, Riley said he’d called again. And this time he called the house number. I don’t know how he got it, but I didn’t give it to him.”
“What about your secretary?”
Daniel shook his head. “No, she might let someone know if I was out of town, but she wouldn’t give out my home number.”
“When did he call?” Katie asked.
“Last night.”
“Before or after the fire?”
“Before. But with everything that’s happened, I haven’t had a chance to call him back.”
Quinn nodded. “I’ll check into it. See if this is a pattern for people who won’t sell out to him. If so, then we may have a good break here.”
“Thanks, Detective.”
“Just call me Quinn. And you’re welcome.”
Quinn left and Katie turned to Daniel to study him. Silently. Curiously.
“What?” he asked.
“You did three tours as a Marine in Afghanistan and Iraq.”
He eyed her warily. “Yes.”
“The shooting didn’t seem to faze you at all. You slipped right into soldier mode. No PTSD?”
His eyes went dark. “It’s not important, is it?”
“Of course it is.”
“Why do you want to know?”
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