A Silent Fury (4 page)

Together, they took off after the teen, then heard a door slam.

At the sound of a loud crack, Catelyn stopped, turned shocked eyes to Joseph who looked back at her with the same expression she knew her face wore.

“Gunshot?”

Catelyn pulled her weapon, shouting into her radio, “Shots fired,” as she raced to the door, yelling at everyone to get down. Joseph was two steps behind her, his gun drawn and ready. Shoving it open, she pulled to a stop, the sight before her sending horror up her spine.

Zachary lay in the middle of the parking lot, unmoving, blood pooling under his head.

F
ive minutes later, the ambulance screamed into the parking lot across the street. In spite of the seriousness of the situation, they'd wait for the all-clear from the officers before they'd approach the scene. No matter who was hurt or how bad it was, for their own safety, medical personal could not enter the scene until it was deemed safe by officers.

Was the boy dead? Where were his parents? Were they still shaking hands with visitors, unaware their oldest son possibly lay dying—or was already dead?

Joseph gripped the tie he'd yanked from his neck, wishing he had the shooter by the throat instead. After the gunshot, Catelyn had secured the area, then bolted toward the fallen boy, placing her own life in danger, doing what she could for him while keeping an eye on the area around her.

Joseph had raced to the balcony after the shooter, knowing he was probably too late.

He found nothing but a spent cartridge. The shooter had disappeared as quickly as he'd appeared. Joseph radioed to let EMS know they could approach.

He looked around again. The person had left in a hurry and hadn't bothered to clean up. Joseph turned back inside, studying the room. The shooter had either come up the stairs
or the elevator. Joseph would bet the stairs in case there was a camera in the elevator.

But they'd check it anyway.

He walked over to a door just off the room. Twisted the knob. Locked. The sign said Employees Only.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Joseph turned to see a dark-suited man with a name tag that read Butler Dietz. Joseph asked, “What are you doing up here? Can you open this room?”

The man's brow furrowed. “I work here.” He pulled a set of keys from his pocket, located the right one and unlocked the door. Joseph glanced in.

A room full of coffins. And everything looked relatively undisturbed. He spoke into his radio, “Set up a perimeter, question everyone, don't let anyone leave the scene.” An affirmative answer squawked back at him.

He turned the worker, saying, “Okay, thanks. I need you out of here, too. This is a crime-scene and I need to keep it preserved.”

Flustered, the man nodded and headed for the stairs, meeting a swarm of cops coming up. Joseph motioned for one of the officers to escort the man down, then filled the rest of them in on the situation. “Crime-scene unit's on the way.”

“We've got this covered,” a tall officer assured Joseph.

Joseph loped back down the steps to find Catelyn watching a man work on Zachary, the EMTs offering their assistance as it was requested.

She looked up at his approach, question in her eyes.

Joseph pursed his lips and shook his head. “No, he got away.”

“He?”

A shrug. “He, she. Whoever. The shooter's gone. Crime scene unit's on the way. Uniforms are preserving the scene.” He
pointed to the man on his knees beside Zachary. “Who's this guy?”

“A doctor. He insisted on trying to help.”

The man looked up. “I was late coming from the hospital for the funeral. I'm a friend of the Merritts. When I saw all the commotion, I thought I'd see if I could help.” He looked back down at Zachary who lay still and pale. “The bullet grazed his head. It didn't enter the skull, which is a good thing, but it might have fractured it. I've called a neurologist. He'll be waiting at the hospital when we get there.”

“Thanks.”

A man rushed up and said, “Oh my…can I do anything?”

“Who are you?” Joseph queried.

“I'm Alan Dillard, the baseball coach at Esterman High. Zachary was…is one of my players. What's going on? Who would do such a…”

“Zachary! Oh, no, oh, my…” Joseph turned to see Zachary's mother rushing from the mortuary. The boy's father was right behind with the younger brother bringing up the rear.

“What happened? What's going on? Why is this happening?” The distraught woman wailed her grief, echoing the coach's questions. Two of her three children: one dead and one severely wounded. His heart went out to her.

Alan Dillard grabbed the woman's shoulder, keeping her from throwing herself across her son and impeding the work being done on him. “He's getting the help he needs, ma'am.”

The EMTs let the doctor take the lead, securing Zachary's neck in a brace, then they gently loaded the boy onto the gurney. The doctor helped, supervising the transfer, then washing his hands with the special alcohol-based soap the EMTs left for him. The ambulance pulled out, siren wailing, on the way to the hospital.

Joseph clapped the man on the shoulder. “Thanks. He might have a chance because you were here.”

“Quinn Carson.” The doctor introduced himself, holding out a hand for Joseph to shake.

“Joseph Santino. That's my partner, Catelyn Clark.”

Catelyn nodded and gave a half smile. The ambulance disappeared around a curve.

“I need to get to the hospital. I need to be with my boy.” Zachary and Tracy's mother wailed.

Dr. Carson turned to take the woman in his arms. “Sarah, I'm so sorry. Go and I'll be there to check on him shortly.”

“Come on, Mrs. Merritt, Mr. Merritt. I'll do anything I can to help. I'll stay here and make sure everything's finished up. Go be with Zachary,” Alan offered, his face creased in sympathy and concern.

Tears flowing, cheeks ashen, the woman nodded and took her friend's advice. She, her husband and young son hurried to their car and took off for the hospital. Friends and family dispersed to their own vehicles in near silence, shock rendering them speechless.

 

Friday morning, Catelyn dragged into work feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. After Tracy's murder, she'd talked to her parents extensively, but they'd been basically clueless about their daughter's activities. She sighed.

Unfortunately, parents had to work and couldn't watch their teens twenty-four/seven, but still, she would've thought they would have been able to provide more information than they had.

First thing this morning, she'd called to check on Zachary and learned he still hadn't awakened. She did learn that his abdomen sported the same tattoo his sister had. They posted a guard on his door who would also call immediately if Zachary woke up.

A quick call to a buddy who worked in the gang unit con
firmed that Zachary was definitely part of the gang and had a record for some petty theft, shoplifting and one incident involving a stolen car. Although, it seemed that since baseball season had started, he'd kept his nose clean.

Deep in thought, Catelyn set her cup of coffee on her desk and tossed her purse in the bottom drawer.

“Good morning to you, too.”

She whirled to find Joseph cranked back in an old squeaky chair someone had scavenged from the storage room. A desk had been set up and he looked quite at home. Lovely.

“Hi, didn't see you there. Looks like you're all set up.” She hoped her aggravation wasn't too obvious.

“Bugs you, huh?”

Clamping her teeth on her lower lip to control her tongue, she took a deep breath. It was all about self-control. Before allowing herself to respond, she picked up three phone messages and read them.

Set them back down.

Picked up her coffee and took a swig.

Then she turned to face him. And ignored his taunt. “What time did you get here?”

“About an hour ago.”

Was he trying to show her up? He'd soon learn she didn't play that game. No, she'd grown up watching her parents trying to outdo each other, show the other who was the better cop. Catelyn had decided she'd avoid that immature behavior.

Actually, if she was honest, she didn't remember that particular trait about Joseph. Was she just being…defensive? She did remember that could be a big tease, so maybe…he was teasing her?

Withholding judgment, she kept her cool.

He said, “I couldn't sleep so figured I'd just come on in.” No sarcasm, no in-your-face attitude. Just fact.

That was a trait she was more comfortable with.

Relaxing, she settled in her chair. “I guess we need to plan out our day.”

“I've got some ideas. Do you mind if I run them by you?”

Asking her permission? This she didn't remember. Suspicious, she eyed him. Then offered a shrug. “Sure. Fire away.”

A warm smile creased his cheeks and crinkled his eyes. Familiar attraction zinged, and Catelyn deliberately stomped on it.

“First of all, I want to get a record of Zachary's text messages. Then, I thought we might make our way over to the crime lab and see if we can light a fire under someone. I want those DNA results back.”

“I checked on Zachary this morning and he's still unconscious. He's got some pretty serious neurological stuff going on. Swelling on his brain and fluid. They've even put him on a ventilator.” She shook her head. “They're not sure if he'll ever wake up. The principal of the school and Coach Dillard are letting the students organize a fund-raiser for medical expenses for Zachary. The deaf school offered its services, too. Apparently, Alan is well liked in the deaf community, thanks to his having deaf parents.”

Joseph nodded. “That's a great thing to do and it'll give the students something constructive to focus on. They've got to be traumatized by all that's happened over the last few days.”

“To say the least. The school counselors are working overtime right now, talking in the classrooms, counseling friends of Tracy, Kelly and Zachary. They're doing all they can do. They've even called in some outside help, so that's good.”

“I'm glad to hear that. I just hope someone is helping the Merritt family. To have something so awful happen to two of your children…it's beyond my imagination.”

Sympathy clouded her gaze for a brief moment. She nodded
and said, “I want to know what it is those two kids knew that someone was willing to commit murder in order to keep it secret.”

“And I want to talk to Kelly Franklin's brother today, too. His name is Billy. Let's see if he can shed some light on his sister's disappearance.”

“Sound like we've got our game plan.”

“Oh, and Alonso's got a baseball game tonight. I'm planning on catching it if you want to join me.”

Speechless for a moment, Catelyn processed his statement. Gathering her wits, she shrugged. “We'll see.”

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment on her evasiveness.

As they headed out, Catelyn ignored the excitement building within her at the thought of spending so much time in Joseph's company. Excitement or no, she reminded herself that this was the man who'd broken her heart two years ago and there was no way she was trusting him with the pieces ever again.

 

Pulling into the parking lot of the building that housed the local crime lab, Joseph pondered the situation silently while Catelyn called Billy Franklin's mother to ask for permission to visit him at the school, assuring the woman that Billy was in no way considered a suspect, but they just wanted to see if he had anything else to add that might help them find his sister. Sometimes people remembered things later. After the dust settled, and the adrenaline wore off.

Tracy had been killed, and Kelly had disappeared. Why?

What did Tracy know that was worth killing for? Had Kelly been at the scene? Had she witnessed the murder and fled? Was she hiding out? Or had she witnessed it and been taken against her will? And why hadn't the killer just killed her, too? Or had he and they just hadn't found her body yet?

Sighing, Joseph waited until Catelyn hung up from a second
call before swinging his long frame from the car. “Who was that? It sounded official.”

“Victor.”

“What did he want?”

“An arrest.”

“Don't we all? I vote for arresting the right person, though.”

“I know.” She pulled at her lower lip with her two top teeth as she thought. Joseph cut his eyes and swallowed hard. He clearly remembered kissing those lips and wanted to do it again. He blinked and focused back in on what she was saying. “I still think Dylan's up to his eyeballs in this thing and knows a lot more than he's telling.”

“Possibly. It's just that when he protested his innocence so profusely, I believed him. I didn't see anything that made me think he was covering up a murder.”

Catelyn rolled her eyes at him. “Trust me. Kids like that learn how to lie so convincingly
they
probably even believe what they're saying. But they're liars all the same.”

“Kids like that?” Joseph raised a brow. Why was she so cynical? He didn't remember seeing this side of her before. Wary about a romantic relationship? Yes. A tough street cop? Yes. But where had her compassion gone? What had happened to change that part of her?