With a Vengeance (10 page)

She snorted. “What do you think?” She spun on her heel, stripping out of the scrubs as she headed for the door.

“I’m hurt,” Baronick called after her.

Pete chuckled. “I may not have much of a way with women, but I can tell you this much. There are better options than a date at an autopsy.”

Eleven

Zoe was relieved to have escaped the smells of autopsy, but seeing big, tough Bruce Yancy wearing a hospital gown and attached to monitors, IVs, and oxygen didn’t strike her as a huge improvement. The head of his bed was raised, but he slumped more than sat. An unopened plastic cup of juice and a full container of green Jell-O with a spoon stuck in it occupied the bedside tray in front of him. A haggard young woman wearing a stained and wrinkled t-shirt perched on the edge of a chair next to the bed.

“Hey, Yance,” Pete said, striding toward the patient. “How are you feeling?”

Yancy seemed to have difficulty finding and focusing on his visitors. When he did, he made a sour face. “How the hell do you think I feel?” His voice sounded mushy. He attempted to hoist his right arm, which was in a brace and strapped to his body. “That son of a bitch blew out my humerus.”

The young woman touched Yancy’s shoulder. “Take it easy, Dad.”

Pete extended a hand toward her, which she took. “You must be Nicole. Pete Adams.”

Zoe introduced herself too. She’d heard Yancy talk about his only child, although the impression he’d created didn’t quite match the pale, disheveled woman in front of her. Spending a night in a hospital chair wasn’t conducive to restful sleep.

Yancy’s eyes wavered and settled on Zoe. With his left hand, he pointed a shaky finger at her. “That there’s my angel,” he slurred.

She glanced at a quizzical Pete and then took note of an IV line leading to a morphine pump. She smiled to herself. Yancy was stoned.

He continued to point at her. “She saved me last night,” he told his daughter. To Zoe he said, “I owe you my life.”

She met the daughter’s questioning gaze and shook her head. “I was in the ambulance that brought him in is all.”

Pete stepped forward. “You up to answering some questions?”

“Yeah.” Yancy looked at his daughter. “Nicole, why don’t you go down and get yourself something to eat?”

“I’m fine, Dad.”

“Go. You’ve been sittin’ there all night.” He nodded at Pete and Zoe. “They’ll make sure I don’t escape.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” But she stood and stretched before moving around the foot of the bed. She stopped next to Zoe. “Can I give you my cell number? We’re waiting for the doctor to come in, and you know darned well he’ll show up the minute I leave the floor.”

“Sure.” Zoe pulled out her phone and punched in the number Nicole gave her.

With a worried glance at her father, Nicole left.

Yancy watched her go. His eyes steadied. “She won’t let me turn on the news or call anyone. How’s Jason?” From his expression, he already knew.

Pete shook his head. “He didn’t make it.”

Yancy took a deep ragged breath. Blew it out. And blinked away tears. “Goddamn it. That boy never did nothin’ to nobody. Best worker I had. Never complained. Always wantin’ to help.”

Pete grabbed a second chair, dragged it closer to the bed, and sat. “So help me catch the bastard.”

“I’d love to. But I don’t know what I can tell you.”

“Did you see anyone?”

“No. One second we were rolling up to the fire, climbing down from the truck, then
boom boom
.” Yancy took a couple of labored breaths.

Zoe reached for the pink pitcher on his tray. “Can I pour you some water?”

“No.”

She poured a glass anyway and set it on the side of the tray closest to his one functioning arm.

“Next thing I knew I was on my knees, my arm burnin’ like a son of a bitch. Blood all over me.” Yancy took another moist breath. “And Jason was on the ground. Not moving. I knew it was bad. I tried to get to him, but the SOB shot at me again. Backed me off.”

“Three shots?” Pete jotted in his notebook. “You heard three shots?”

Yancy appeared to contemplate the question. “I guess. No. Four. Two real close together. Then two more. The one that pinned me down and another one. I think the other boys started to get out of the truck and he was shootin’ at them.”

Baronick had mentioned the other firefighters too. Pete thumbed through his notes. “What were the names of the other guys on the truck with you?”

“Stu Wilkins and Dex Alvarez. I guess they stayed in the truck. Sure wish Jason had.”

Zoe gingerly took a seat at the foot of Yancy’s bed. “Maybe one of them saw something.”

Pete met her gaze, but before he had a chance to say anything else, a tall dark-haired man in a white lab coat breezed into the room, a binder in his hands.

He introduced himself as Yancy’s doctor. Zoe sent a quick text to Nicole as Pete shook hands with the physician.

Pete tucked his notebook into his pocket and turned back to Yancy. “I’ll stop back later if I have any more questions.” The two men shook left-handed. “Call me if there’s anything I can do.”

“The only thing I want you to do is catch that son of a bitch.”

Zoe and Pete passed Nicole in the hallway.

Yancy’s daughter threw up her hands in exasperation as she breezed by them. “I knew I wouldn’t have a chance to eat. Never fails.”

At the elevator, Pete jabbed the down button. Something was going on inside his head.

Zoe faced him, folding her arms. “You think one of the other guys on the fire truck might have seen something?”

His faraway gaze settled on her. His mouth was stretched into a thin line. “I hope so.”

“I get the feeling you heard more in that conversation with Yancy than I did.”

Pete’s jaw tightened. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shook his head slowly. “I’m still sorting it out. But I’ll let you know when I do.”

Pete dropped Zoe off at Rose’s front door with a promise he’d go home and get some sleep.

As soon as he checked in at the station.

On the short drive up the hill, he called Baronick. “Anything new with the autopsy?”

Instead of answering, the detective asked, “Where are you now?”

“Dillard, heading back to my office. I’m supposed to give the press a statement in…” He checked the clock on the dashboard. “Ten minutes ago. Why?”

“I’m five minutes out. Meet you there.”

The line went dead in Pete’s ear.

The station’s parking lot was filled to capacity with vehicles bearing logos from various local stations and newspapers, forcing him to park on the township offices side of the building. He cut the engine and placed calls to the rest of his officers, summoning them to come in for a briefing.

By the time he reached the station’s front door, reporters had piled out of their trucks and cars and hovered, blocking his path.

Pete held up one hand. “I know I’m late with my statement. I need to meet with my men to get updated and then I’ll be out to speak with you in one hour.”

The crowd responded with an impatient rumble, but backed away, except for one dark-haired kid in a rumpled white shirt and even more wrinkled khakis. “Do you think we have a serial killer in the area? Do you have any suspects yet?” The kid continued to bark questions as Pete pressed through the front door.

Minutes later, Baronick ambled into the conference room. Pete had already started a pot of coffee and updated the whiteboard with what he’d learned from Yancy.

The detective slapped a folder down on the table. “You look like you should be next in line for an autopsy. Go get some sleep.”

Pete grunted. Putting his reading glasses on, he opened the file. “How about the short version.”

“Nothing earth shattering. You heard the bulk of it when you were there. Doc removed a half dozen fragments from the kid’s abdomen. I dropped them off at the lab, but I can tell you there’s not enough to help us identify the gun. Did you get to talk to Yancy?”

The bells on the front door jangled. “Yeah. Let’s wait until everyone is here.”

Five minutes later, Baronick, Nate Williamson, Kevin, Seth, and two part-time officers whom Pete had called in gathered around the table with somber faces, open notebooks, and cups of coffee.

Baronick went over the autopsy findings again with the men.

Pete studied the whiteboard. “Kevin, did you find anything more about Snake Sullivan?”

“I’ve been trying to track him down since you called me about him yesterday.” The young officer skimmed through his notes. “No one’s seen or heard from him. And no one knows where he was between seven fifteen and eight thirty Thursday night.”

Baronick drummed a pen against the table. “You can’t possibly still think he’s involved in this.”

It was a question he’d been asking himself over and over. “Do I think he’s smart enough to pull it off? No. Do I think he’s hiding something? Oh yeah. And until we can positively say he wasn’t involved, I’m not clearing him of anything.”

“I did find out one thing,” Kevin added. “That ATV he claimed to have sold? The DCNR has no transfer of title recorded for it.”

Pete scrawled on the whiteboard:
Snake’s ATV
and three question marks. Something else to ask the kid whenever they found him.

“So what about Bruce Yancy?” Baronick asked. “You talked to him this morning, right? How is he?”

Pete turned his back on the board. “They have him loaded with pain meds right now, but he’s not doing bad, all things considered.”

“He’s alive,” Seth said. “That’s pretty huge at the moment.”

“True.” Pete went on to tell about Yancy’s report on the shooting, including the four shots fired. “Who questioned the other men on that first truck?”

Seth raised a hand. “I did. Dexter Alvarez and Stuart Wilkins. They said there were four shots too. Wilkins was pretty shaken up. I think he probably hit the floor when the shots rang out. Claims he didn’t see a thing. Alvarez, though, spotted the muzzle flash and was able to help us pinpoint the shooter’s location.”

Baronick tapped his phone with the pen. “Which enabled us to find the tire marks from his quad. Because of the rain and mud, we couldn’t get a clean cast of the tread, but the measurements match the one he used when he shot the paramedics.”

“What about spent shells?” Pete asked.

“None. He’s still policing his brass.” Baronick set the pen down on the table. “So we have four shots.” He held up one finger. “The first one hits Yancy in the arm. Through and through.” Baronick held up two fingers. “The second one hits Jason Dyer and fragments inside his body.” The detective raised two more fingers. “Shots three and four were misses.” He closed his hand into a fist. “So our guys with the metal detectors could potentially find a couple of bullets out there in the mud. And with a little luck, they’ll be intact enough to ID a weapon.”

“We just have to find a weapon to match them to first,” Pete said.

“Yeah. There is that.”

Pete faced away from the men and rubbed a hand across his eyes. The exhaustion of the case and over forty-eight hours with virtually no sleep was catching up to him. As much as he wanted to push ahead, he needed rest. He turned back toward the table and pointed at Seth and Kevin. “You two. Go home and get a few hours’ sleep.”

Seth straightened. “But—”

Pete shushed him with a wave of his hand. “We need to work this in shifts until we nail this guy.”

“What about you?” Kevin asked.

“I’m going home too.” To Nate and the part-timers, Pete said, “Find Eli ‘Snake’ Sullivan. Or find out where the hell he was last night and between seven fifteen and eight thirty on Thursday night. And keep an eye out for that quad he says he sold.”

Baronick folded his arms. “I had the impression you didn’t believe he did this.”

Pete spun on the detective. “I don’t believe anything one way or the other. Sullivan’s lied about his whereabouts during the first shooting. We’re looking for a quad, and he has or had one. If nothing else, I want to clear him so I can eliminate one possibility.”

The two men glared at each other for a moment before Baronick nodded. “I’ll get on my men to find those stray bullets buried in the mud at the Loomis place.”

Pete stepped back. “Good. And one more thing. I want a police escort on every emergency call in Vance Township tonight.”

Nate gave a low whistle. “On a Saturday night? I hope everyone stays off the streets and out of the bars. We’re gonna be busy.”

“What about the rest of Monongahela County?” Baronick asked.

Pete held up his hands. “That’s your problem. I have to take care of my own jurisdiction.” And if he had any say in the matter, no more first responders were going to die on his watch.

Rose paced her kitchen, a tissue clenched in one fist. “I can’t believe this is happening. First Curtis and Barry. Now Yancy and—” Her voice cracked. “Jason Dyer.” She gestured toward the kitchen chair Zoe currently occupied. “Jason used to sit right there with Logan while they did their homework.”

“I didn’t realize they were so close,” Zoe said.

Rose paused at the sink and stared into it as if it held answers to the unfairness in life. “Jason and Logan went to school together, were lab partners, played football and basketball together. After Jason’s dad died, Ted stepped in and kind of filled the void a little. Ted would take both boys to the fire station with him. Logan had no interest in joining the department, but Jason was in love with the idea of fighting fires and saving lives. He was a good kid.”

Zoe gazed through the screen door.

The warm sunshine and low humidity outside mocked the sorrow and anxiety blanketing the inside of the Bassi house. “Are you gonna call Logan and tell him?”

“I guess I have to.” Rose opened the dishwasher and rolled out the bottom shelf. “I really don’t know how I’m gonna break the news to him. Or Allison. She kinda had a crush on Jason for a while. I hope this doesn’t set her back.”

The memory of a suicidal and drug-addicted girl flashed through Zoe’s mind. She brushed it aside. “Allison’s stronger now. And we’re both here for her.”

Rose cast a strained glance over her shoulder at Zoe. “We’ve all lost so much this year.”

“Where is she anyway?”

Rose started picking through the dirty plates and containers in the dishwasher, rearranging them. “She’s spending some girl time with my mom.”