Fallen (33 page)

Lydia ran her hand down his forearm. Adam’s shooting had been the lead on last night’s news, and she’d seen it on replay throughout the morning, as well. Until now
, Ian Brandt had been the largest threat looming in her life. But everything now paled in comparison to Adam’s fight.

“You’ve had other things to deal with,” she said softly.

“My contact at the DOJ’s been keeping me updated. Brandt was arraigned a little while ago in federal court. I don’t know if the news is reporting it yet, but the judge considered him a flight risk and refused to set bail.”

Lydia felt some relief, at least for herself. She knew the challenge Elise still had in front of her. Testifying against her husband, facing him in a courtroom—she couldn’t imagine how terrifying that would be.

And if he was acquitted …

“He still has associates out there, Lyd. Keep your guard up.”

“I will,” she promised, not wanting to give him anything else to worry about. “So you’ll go home for a few hours?”

He sighed, his eyes meeting Mateo’s as he stepped off the elevator a little farther down the corridor. Lydia knew he’d gone home with Evie once Adam was out of surgery. He was now dressed for work, wearing his shield and holstered gun, but apparently had come by to check in.

“Talk some sense into him, Mateo? He needs some sleep,” Lydia said as he reached them.

“He’s hardheaded, but I’ll work on it.” Appearing uncomfortable, he asked, “Anything new?”

She shook her head.

“I need to talk to you for a minute, Ry.” Glancing at Lydia, he added, “Before you go, I mean.”

He briefly clasped Ryan’s shoulder before turning into the waiting area where the others were.

“You’ll call me if anything changes?” Ryan asked Lydia.

“The very second.”

He studied her, his blue eyes tired. He didn’t have to speak. Emotion seemed to hang in the air between them. Lydia knew he was grateful for her presence. Gently cradling the back of her neck, he drew her to him. She closed her eyes as his lips lightly brushed hers. They broke apart only at the soft claps of approval coming from the police in the waiting room.

A short time later, Lydia went back down the hall. But she didn’t go directly to the ER. She still had some time before her shift, so instead she returned to the ICU. She talked to the nurse at the desk, asking that she be kept immediately updated on any changes. Then hesitating at the door, she entered the suite where Adam lay.

She felt her heart squeeze all over again. Seeing him like this—vulnerable, fragile, a machine breathing for him—was difficult. Adam was always so intense and full of life.

She knew what he thought of her. Lydia wanted a chance to somehow set things right between them.

Moving to the bed, she clasped Adam’s still, cool fingers in hers, an ache inside her throat.

She hadn’t prayed since Tyler’s death. She’d been too angry with God and felt betrayed by her faith. But taking a halting breath, she closed her eyes now and silently asked for assistance, if anyone was listening.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“
S
o what’s your
take?” Ryan asked tensely as he stood with Mateo outside the ICU waiting room.

“It doesn’t look good. Witnesses at McCrosky’s confirm he and Adam had words last night and that Kimmel threatened him.”

Ryan paced a few steps, a tingle in his chest, as his partner continued.

“Detectives went to his place—middle of the night—and no one was home. He didn’t show up for his shift this morning, either.”

“What about his cell?”

“No answer. We entered his apartment a little while ago under the guise of a safety check, but it was unoccupied. Vehicle’s missing from the parking lot, too.” Mateo scratched his jaw. “We’re keeping this on the down low for now, until we know more. Ballistics are back, by the way. The gun used on Adam is a match to the other shootings.”

Ryan stared at nothing for an overlong moment. Saying he
disliked
Seth Kimmel would be an understatement, but he didn’t see him as a serial cop killer.

Mateo splayed his hands. “Look, I know it’s crazy, but you’ve got to admit Kimmel’s disappearance right after the shooting is all kinds of suspicious. It’s no secret he’s got anger issues. Half the force hates him, and he’s been passed over repeatedly for promotions—which could lead to a real grudge. If you squint hard enough, he’s a sideways fit to the GBI profile.”

Apparently anticipating Ryan’s next question, he added, “And no, there’s no nine mil registered to him, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t own one illegally.”

Ryan drew in a slow breath and released it. All of this was conjecture.

“It’s not him,” he said quietly.

“You sure about that?” Mateo persisted. “What if Adam
did
get a look at his shooter? It would explain why Kimmel’s MIA. He knows Adam will identify him when he wakes up.”

If he wakes up.

“We need to find him.” Tired, Ryan squeezed the bridge of his nose, at least sure about that much.

“We’ve put a statewide BOLO out for that damn muscle car he drives.”

“What about cameras?”

“No CCTV systems in the alley or access streets. Sorry, Ry.”

He realized Mateo was peering at him.

“How’re you doing?” his partner asked, shifting his stance to make room for a nurse pushing an EKG cart past.

Ryan sighed, not quite meeting his eyes. “I’m okay.”

Mateo nodded toward the officers seated together in the ICU waiting area, Adam’s partner among them. They were cloistered off from the civilians who also occupied the space. “You’ve got support. You can see that in there. The captain says to take the time you need.”

Overwhelmed, Ryan clasped the back of his neck, at a loss for words. He cleared his throat. “Tell Evie I appreciate her being here last night. I never told her.”

“She knows. She’s happy about you and Lydia, too.” He lowered his voice. “It’s pretty obvious you guys are working things out.”

Thinking of Lydia, Ryan felt his heart fill. Their lovemaking last night still tugged at him, as did her confession about the difficulties she’d been having since their split. He was worried about her, and he knew she was being strong for him now. Trying to help him get through this. He’d kissed her in front of the entire waiting room, but he didn’t care—his emotions had gotten the better of him.

Ryan ran a hand over his mouth, still in disbelief about this latest hard turn of events.

Mateo gave his shoulder a light tap. “You should get going. Go home and grab some sleep while you can.”

He pressed his lips together, something Mateo had said earlier jabbing at him. He should have ordered it sooner. “I want a cop positioned outside Adam’s room. Can you get a plainclothes in there now?”

“Sure, but it’s the ICU. There’re nurses everywhere.”

“You said yourself Adam could’ve seen his shooter.”

Mateo reached into his pocket for his cell. “You’re right. Better safe than sorry. All it would take is for someone to code. They’re distracted and our guy goes in.”

In his brother’s fragile state, it wouldn’t take much—a flipped switch on the ventilator, air injected into an IV line—to finish him. Ryan felt his muscles weaken at the thought. It seemed improbable in a crowded hospital, but he believed their killer was becoming bold enough to try anything. If he was going to be away for even a few hours, he wanted extra vigilance.

“Go on, Ryan. I’ll keep watch on him myself until we get someone here.”

“Don’t get too hung up on this Kimmel thing,” he warned. “I want you to treat this like it could still be anyone. Whoever you get for the detail, make sure they’re watching everyone who goes in. If anyone looks like they’re loitering or just seems out of place—”

“Got it.” Mateo bobbed his head in understanding. “He could be the freakin’ one.”

*

At home, Ryan had drifted in and out of an uneasy sleep before finally giving up on the prospect entirely. He had showered, changed into fresh clothes and allowed Tess to coax some food into him before leaving again.

Know this, Winter. When I’m ready for payback, you won’t even see me coming.

As he drove his SUV, Seth’s threat that day in the precinct locker room replayed itself. But as much as Ryan himself loathed him, he still couldn’t envision him as their shooter. The man’s entire ego was wrapped up in the uniform and badge. He was a jerk, but he wasn’t psychotic. Nor would he risk going down in the APD’s annals as a cop killer.

Then where was he?

Fatigued and emotionally wrung out, Ryan passed a hand over his burning eyes and admitted he wasn’t entirely sure about anything anymore.

The spired brick buildings of Agnes Scott College soon appeared on the SUV’s right. A short time later, he turned onto Candler Street. The small ranch house Adam rented, nestled farther back among tall pines and other trees, came into view. Pulling into the driveway, Ryan cut the engine and sat inside the vehicle, his posture loose as he stared blindly out. He felt powerless not being part of the hunt for Adam’s shooter, but he also understood why he had been temporarily removed from the case. Still, he’d come by here on his way to the hospital to look through his brother’s belongings, hoping to find something that might tie him to the other victims. Some clue as to why he’d been targeted among the hundreds of metro officers.

The thought that Ryan himself might have been the reason due to his role in the investigation sat in his stomach like a stone.

Taking a tense breath, he exited the vehicle. Then digging the extra key Adam had given him from his jeans pocket, he stepped onto the porch, unlocked the door and went inside.

The house’s quiet hit him hard. It was as if Adam no longer existed.

Don’t think like that.

With a heavy heart, Ryan glanced around at the evidence of his brother’s bachelor lifestyle. The living area was sparsely decorated, and clothes, as well as a Kevlar vest, were strewn on the couch. Athletic equipment, including several basketballs, a pair of high-tops and a gym bag, had taken root in one corner. An empty beer bottle sat on a coffee table amid copies of
Sports Illustrated.
Ryan couldn’t help it—he briefly closed his eyes, Adam’s face and voice in his head. He had seen him off at the airport for dangerous tours in Afghanistan and Costa Rica. But the sight of him tethered to a bed by EKG leads and IV lines, an endotracheal tube down his throat … it frightened him.

Gritty eyed, he went into the kitchen. It was a notch or two neater in here, at least, although dishes were stacked in the sink. He shook his head, mustering a faint smile at Adam’s characteristic untidiness.

For the second time in twenty-four hours, Ryan had a flashback of sitting next to him all those years ago, holding his small hand as their mother tearfully broke the news their father was gone.

Gone, like Tyler. Maybe Adam now, too.

Ryan felt a lump form in his throat. He had seen too much loss in his life.

Shaking off his grim thoughts, he looked around and reminded himself why he was here. He flipped through mail on the counter, checked the phone for voice mail and studied the various notes and cards pinned to the refrigerator door with magnets. Nothing stood out beyond a recent snapshot of Adam and the girl Ryan had seen at the restaurant in downtown Decatur that night. In fact, the photo might have been taken there. He recalled her name was Rachel. In the image, Adam appeared handsome and whole, his arm around the pretty redhead’s shoulders. He’d told Ryan she taught kindergarten.

He wondered if she knew about the shooting. Ryan didn’t recall seeing her at the hospital.

His stomach fluttered as his cell phone rang. Reaching into his pocket for it, he checked the screen before answering.

“Did I wake you?” Mateo asked.

Ryan restacked the mail he’d gone through, deciding not to tell him where he was instead of resting. He didn’t need a lecture. “No.”

“I thought you’d want to know. A patrol unit just called in the plates on Kimmel’s vehicle. It’s parked on a side street near the Midtown MARTA station.”

Admittedly, it was an odd place since it was nowhere near the officer’s apartment complex on Briarwood. MARTA lines ran all over the city, including into the suburbs. “Which means he could be anywhere.”

“Including Hartsfield,” Mateo pointed out. “We’ve got units in the area, as well as men checking the transit’s security cams for him. Detectives are headed down now to get the airlines’ passenger logs.”

“Any activity on his credit cards?”

“Nothing since the bar last night,” Mateo said. “But he could’ve paid for a ticket with cash. You going back to the hospital soon?”

He felt a hollowness in his chest. “Yeah.”

“Hang in there. I’ll keep you posted.”

Ryan disconnected, blowing out a breath before returning his cell to his pocket and leaving the kitchen. The ranch had a single bath and two bedrooms, one of which had been made into a home gym, with free weights and a bench press. Ryan wandered past it to the bedroom Adam used. Like the rest of the house, it was a study in his brother’s special form of chaos, a contradiction to his military training. The bed was unmade, with a pile of mismatched clothing on the floor, and the top bureau drawer hung open. Ryan went to inspect its contents, then moved his attention to a duffel that lay on the bed. He unzipped it, surprised by the female clothing packed inside. A girl—perhaps Rachel—must have stayed overnight recently and left it behind.