Tainted Mind (38 page)

Vivi studied Nick's face as they pulled up to the house. Despite his flippant nature, there was a sincerity in his tone that was unmistakable.

Vivi started to say something but stopped when her cell rang. Hitting the answer button as she climbed from the car, she heard Ian's voice.

“Vivienne, where are you?”

“Almost to your door. I forgot my computer and wanted to pick it up before we head to Albany.”

“Get back in the car and get to the Adams’ place. I'm headed there right now with Marcus. Carly and Wyatt are behind us.”

“Why? What's going on?” she paused at the back porch.

“They just got to processing Meghan's car, and they found a hand print.”

“Joe's?”

Ian paused. “Yes, how did you know?”

In the background through the phone, she could hear the sirens of the police car, and she could all but see the two of them rushing to apprehend the man. The breeze lifted the end of her ponytail and somewhere in the distance she heard a hawk.

“Because I'm looking right at him,” she said.

C
HAPTER
26

TO SAY THE SITUATION WASN'T GOOD
was an understatement, Vivi thought to herself as the man emerged from the shadows of Ian's patio. With the new evidence from Meghan's car, he was the new number one suspect—the only suspect with any solid connection to one of the victims—and, judging by the look of him, he knew things were bad. His hair was matted and wet; he had dried blood from a gash on his cheek smeared down his face, a black eye, and a goose egg visible from eight feet away. In his hands he carried a gun and a pair of bloody handcuffs. But it was the wild look in his eyes that most caught Vivi's attention.

She sensed Nick moving wide and to her right. That he hadn't already shot Joe was a bit of a mystery, but maybe Nick sensed the same thing she did. Besides the obvious, something wasn't quite right.

“Ian, I'm putting the phone down now.” His protests echoed across the static as she slid her cell, still on, into her pocket and focused her attention on the man swaying on his feet in front of her.

“Joe? Are you okay?” she asked, testing his response. She wasn't sure what to expect from him; between the situation and his appearance, he could have any range of responses from coming at her full tilt to falling to the ground and passing out.

His head tipped, as if he didn't understand the question. Then he took a staggering step toward her. “Dr. DeMarco.”

“Stay right there,” Nick ordered. She raised a hand, signaling Nick to back off.

“Joe, tell me what's going on. How did you get here?” Keeping her voice modulated and calm, she took a step forward, ignoring Nick's
warning. There was something familiar in Joe Adams's eyes; call her sentimental, but she didn't feel like she was looking at a killer. Nick didn't seem to share her observation as he ordered Joe to drop the gun.

“Nick, stand your ground and let me do this,” she said. Never taking her own eyes off Joe, she watched as his gaze bounced between her and Nick as if he were unsure where he was or what they were doing there. Which wasn't a good sign.

“Joe,” she said, wanting to bring his attention back to her. After a moment, it worked and he appeared to settle into a stance that seemed attentive to her. In the distance she could hear sirens and knew Ian and the others were nearby. If she didn't get Joe talking now she was sure the chaos of noise and people that would soon surround them would drown—or chase—out any coherent thought in his mind.

“Joe, tell me what happened. What happened to Meghan? What are those?” she asked, indicating the items in his hands.

He looked down at his hands, then opened his palms, like a child who is caught holding something he shouldn't be.

“I'm sorry,” he stammered, raising both his hands toward her. The gun was resting in his palm, the handcuffs swinging from his fingers. An offering. Not a threat. “I'm so sorry,” he said. That was the familiar thing she had seen in his eyes—sadness and sorrow.

“I'm so sorry,” he whispered again, motioning his hands toward her. The sirens were getting louder, Nick was talking to her, and Joe was pleading in silence for forgiveness. Maybe she was wrong, and he had attacked Meghan and those other women. Everything about the situation added up to that conclusion, and she'd been so wrong before in Seattle.

“Please, Dr. DeMarco.” As Joe took a step toward her, she saw tears in his eyes, and she froze in indecision, in self-doubt.

“Viv,” Nick commanded.

“Joe, did you hurt Meghan Conners?” she asked, trying to get her feet under her, trying to understand what he was telling her. She needed to know if she was wrong. Her gut still said he didn't look like a killer; everything else said otherwise.

“I—”

He never finished the sentence. A shot rang out and Joe Adams pitched forward, a look of shock in his eyes that Vivi knew she would never forget.

*   *   *

Ian watched from the cruiser as Vivienne hit the ground. Before Marcus even pulled to a full stop, Ian was out the door moving to her side, gun drawn.

“Vivienne!” He heard the panic in his own voice. He'd been in any number of tense situations, but his heart had never stuttered the way it did when he'd heard the shot and seen Vivienne drop. He heard Nick order him to stop and take cover, but there was no way in hell he was going to leave her out there. Trusting Nick and the others to cover him if need be, Ian reached her side and dropped to cover her.

“Vivienne? Are you hit?” Even as he shielded her from god knows what, he was running his hands over her body checking for any injuries.

“It's not me, Ian. Ian!”

Her voice penetrated the haze of his mind and he pulled back to look her in the face.

“It's not me, Ian. The shot got Joe. I dropped on instinct. I'm fine. Well, fine as I can be, knowing someone is out there shooting at us. I assume it wasn't you or one of the team.”

He heard what she was saying, even understood it, but the truth was that nearly everything else was drowned out by the tremendous relief flooding every inch of his body and soul knowing she was okay.

“Ian.” She gave him a little shake. “Are you okay?”

He blinked. “Of course, I'm fine. I'm pretty sure you took about ten years off my life and I feel like I'm about to throw up, but other than that and the fact that there is another shooter out there,” he acknowledged, “I'm fine.”

“Okay, then maybe we should find some other cover?”

Of course they should. And he should have of thought of that. Assessing the situation in a flash, he noted Nick behind one of the cars, Joe Adams lying head toward them on the ground, a pool of blood seeping onto the grass, and Marcus and Carly also safely behind the squad car. His patio was to their left. Ian offered a silent question to Vivienne and she nodded. He called to Nick to cover them
then grabbed her hand. The two of them lunged up and bolted toward his house.

Shoving Vivienne behind him, he tucked her up against an external wall. No shots rang out.

“Nick?” he called out.

“A single shot fired from the woods. It hit Adams in the back. Can you tell if he's dead?” Nick answered back.

Ian felt Vivienne peer around from behind him. She didn't like being there, but he was not going to let her into anyone's line of sight. “There's a lot of blood, judging by what I can see from here,” she said to Ian. “It's hard to tell where the bullet hit, but if he is alive and we don't get that blood to stop flowing, he won't be for long.”

There was an ambulance waiting for them at the bottom of Ian's driveway. He'd had Marcus call for one when he heard Joe Adams was at his house. But he didn't want to call it up the driveway until they knew the area was clear. He relayed Vivienne's opinion and the information about the medics to the team.

“Nick?” Ian called.

“Ready when you are, guv,” came the reply. That he didn't need to ask what they were going to do spoke volumes about how much Ian now trusted this man.

“Marcus, Carly, cover us. We're headed into the woods. Once we're there, if it looks clear, call the ambulance up,” he barked the orders out. And then, speaking to Vivienne, he added, “Once we're clear, go do your doctor thing and see if he's savable. I don't really care one way or the other, but it's cleaner if we have him around to confess. Do you want my backup gun?”

He felt her shake her head behind him. “No, I've got one,” she answered, reaching down to an ankle holster. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to smile.

“That's kind of hot, you know,” he said.

She let out a soft laugh and nudged him. “Unknown shooter in the woods, suspect bleeding out—focus, MacAllister.”

“I have to wonder why I've never seen that before, I mean given that we've been living together and all.”

“You don't want to know, at least not while you're wearing a uniform.”

“And I can guarantee the next time I'm out of this uniform, I won't care.”

When she laughed at him again, he knew then and there that, when this was all over, it would be just the beginning for the two of them. They were good together, right together. There was no other way to describe it.

“Get back to work MacAllister. And be safe.”

He turned and gave her a quick kiss before signaling to Nick and barking another order to Marcus to leave their radios on. A few seconds later, he was running toward the woods with Nick to his right. At the edge of the tree line, they paused and listened. Hearing nothing, he motioned Vivienne out to tend to Joe then turned to Nick. Entering the woods together from about where they estimated the shot must have been fired, they fanned out. Moving silently into the thick, the two men looked for any signs of movement or retreat—including broken branches or footprints.

Ian estimated they were about three hundred yards in when he lost sight of Nick. He wasn't all that worried, knowing the man could take care of himself, but still, thinking it might be better to stay together, he paused. Straining to hear any sounds that didn't belong, his heart rate kicked up. He and Nick were quiet, but not that quiet, and he should at least be able to hear Larrimore making his way through the woods. But he heard nothing.

Taking cover in the newly budded ground shrubs, the peculiarity and the familiarity of the situation hit him. Not in a million years would he have thought to find himself hunting like this—hunting a human—in his hometown, on his own property. And yet, other than the foliage and the humidity, it was the same thing he'd done for years in the service. The instincts came roaring back and he'd never been more grateful.

With adrenaline coursing through his veins, his movements became all but silent as he made his way toward where he and Nick had first split. About a hundred yards back he picked up Nick's trail and started to make his way toward his partner. He paused to listen every few steps, occasionally picking up what he thought might be the sound of branches and leaves being brushed aside.

Catching an unfamiliar sound, Ian halted mid-step. His foot had barely touched the ground when he heard Nick grunt and two shots ring through the woods.

“Larrimore!” Ian shouted, breaking cover.

“Here,” came the strong answer. “Whoever he is, he's down,” Nick added.

Hearing those words, Ian no longer cared about making his presence known and ran the remaining few yards to his colleague. Nick was standing, gun at his side, a steady trickle of blood flowing from his temple, looking at the crumpled body of a man.

“You okay?” Ian asked.

“I have a hard head. He hit me with a branch after I disarmed him, but I'll be fine. Any idea who that is?” he asked, gesturing toward the body. The man could have been anyone, lying face down in the dirt.

“His gun?” Ian asked, wanting to make sure that on the off chance the man wasn't dead, they wouldn't get shot at when they turned him.

“It's over there,” Nick pointed with his own weapon to a spot about ten feet away. Ian could see the dark barrel buried in the leaves. “But believe me, he's dead. I all but blew a hole in his chest.” Ian glanced at Nick's gun. It was definitely the caliber to do the job.

“Roll him?” Ian suggested.

Without another word, both men approached the body and crouched down. Ian grabbed the man's jacket-clad shoulder and pulled it toward him. The body flopped over and Ian stared down, more confused than ever.

“Ian?” his radio crackled on his belt. Vivienne. She would have heard the shots. She'd be worried.

“We're fine, Vivienne. The shooter, or who we think is the shooter, is down,” he answered.

“You don't sound too certain about that, Ian. Is he still alive? Do you need the EMTs?” she asked.

Ian shook his head even though she couldn't see him. “No, he's definitely dead.”

There was a beat of silence before Vivienne asked, “Are you not sure it's the shooter then?”

“I don't know what to think at this point. But all I can tell you is we're looking at the body of Schuyler Adams.”

C
HAPTER
27

STANDING IN THE HALLWAY
of Riverside Hospital, Vivi understood the annoyed acceptance she heard in Ian's voice. The news Dr. Martinez had just delivered about Joe Adams wasn't good.

“Given his injuries,” Vivi stepped in to support Dr. Martinez and take the brunt of Ian's frustration. “He probably won't be speaking for a while. The bullet went through his left lung, barely missing his heart. The trauma caused his other lung to collapse, and he lost a lot of blood. If he survives, it will be a miracle. That he didn't die instantly was only because our shooter was half an inch off in the wrong direction.”

Ian ran a hand through his hair. Nick was leaning against the wall looking nonchalant, but Vivi knew better. Tensions were high. They had evidence and a good suspect for the attack on Meghan, but with both Meghan and Joe not able to talk and Schuyler Adams dead, a sense of frustration over the lack of closure hung in the air. Ian liked his plans. He liked things neat and tidy. But he wasn't alone in wanting clear answers on this.

He sighed and finally looked ready to accept that it might be a while before they knew anything definite. “How is Meghan?” he asked.