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 confirmed 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
