“Janie?” Keir’s eyes narrowed as he geared up to ask another question.
But Thomas’s oldest son, Duff, walked up, stuffing his detective’s notebook into the pocket of his jeans. He grinned at his brother. “Hey, Pipsqueak.”
“Muscle-head,” Keir deadpanned. The two had been teasing each other from the time Keir was old enough to toddle after his older siblings. And he’d never once let his bigger, brawnier brother intimidate him. The normalcy of the exchange elicited a smile Thomas hadn’t felt all evening. Keir answered with a grin of his own. “Call me as soon as you know anything, Dad. Kenna and I will stay at the house with Grandpa and Millie until you get home.”
If Thomas didn’t know better, he’d think Seamus was a little sweet on Keir’s fiancée. Certainly, the high-powered attorney Keir had rescued from a stalker was sweet on Keir’s grandpa. “He’ll like that. Thanks, son.”
Keir nodded to the older man walking beside Duff before turning away to escort Seamus and Millie to his car.
Duff patted the shoulder of the old family friend Thomas recognized, and pulled him into the conversation. “Look who I ran into while I was canvassing.”
“Al.” Thomas reached out to shake the man’s hand and was immediately pulled in for a backslapping hug.
“Long time, no see, Tommy boy.”
That had been Al Junkert’s nickname for him since the two had been young hotshots fresh out of the academy. He and Al had started in patrol together, made detective the same year and were well on their way to running their own precinct when the tragic end of a high-speed chase had put Thomas in the hospital, fighting to keep his leg, and scared Al into leaving the investigations bureau of the department and going back to school to earn his business degree. He’d been a fixture in the KCPD administrative offices for years now, working in public relations. Al had been there when Mary died. He was Olivia’s godfather and a Dutch uncle to all his children. His graying hair looked white against the deeply tanned skin at his receding hairline, earned from too many hours out on the golf course.
When Al pulled away, he was frowning. “Sorry to reconnect under these circumstances, though. I thought you were safe teaching seminars at the academy. The bad guys are still taking shots at you, huh?”
Thomas propped his hands at his waist, shaking his head at the clear lack of a motive here. “I’ve made a few enemies over the years, but I can’t explain this one yet. Were you at the restaurant? I didn’t see you. Shirley with you?”
“Yes and no. I was in the mood for Kansas City barbecue. But unfortunately, Shirley and I didn’t work out. I’m on date number two with a gal I met at one of those charity fund-raisers.” Al nodded toward the black-and-whites and flashing lights beyond the yellow crime-scene tape. “I may not make it to date number three. Hearing all the gunshots rattled her. When I told her my old partner was the target, she visibly scooted her chair away from mine, like she thought whatever happened to you was catching.”
Thomas laughed along with Duff, but his gaze slid over to the ambulance again. The medic was bandaging Jane’s arm now. He couldn’t forget the frantic insistence in her voice when they’d argued about who was saving whom. He was after me. Maybe his injuries were the collateral damage instead of the other way around.
That woman was afraid of something. He could feel it in his bones. And he intended to find out what or who could make a strong, independent woman like Jane shut down and pretend she hadn’t blurted out that fear.
He reached out to shake Al’s hand and thank his buddy for checking on him, eager to get to work on finding out the truth about something tonight. “Sorry about the date. Show her that fancy office of yours and remind her that you and I don’t work together anymore. She should be safe from any fallout.”
Al grinned. “I don’t know. This one’s skittish. She’s not like Mary was. Your Mary was a strong one—handled any crisis life threw at her. Except for that last one, of course.” His grin faded and he swiped his hand over the top of his deep forehead. “I’m sorry, Thomas. That didn’t come out right. I just meant that was the one fight she couldn’t win.”
“It’s okay, Al. It’s been a long time. We can talk about Mary.”
“Seems like yesterday that you and me, Mary and my first wife would all hang out.”
“A lot has changed since those days.”
“Your kids are all grown up. I’m looking for wife number four. Well, I’d better get back to, um...” He snapped his fingers, trying to come up with a name. “Renee. I’d better get back to Renee.” He patted Duff on the shoulder of his black Henley shirt and nodded to Thomas. “Don’t be such a stranger. Let’s meet up at the Shamrock some night and catch up.” He glanced over at the bench where Keir was helping Seamus stand and find his balance. “I’m going to say hi to your old man before I take off. Good luck catching this one, boys.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Thomas waited for Al to head back down the sidewalk before turning to Duff. “What did you find? Did anybody in one of the other restaurants or bars see anything? I know this neighborhood is packed with traffic and pedestrians on a Friday night.”
Duff adjusted the strap of his shoulder holster and tugged down the sleeves of the cotton knit shirt. The days might still be heating up with the dregs of summer, but fall was creeping into the September nights. “We’re damn lucky we didn’t have a hit-and-run. About the only thing anybody on the street out front can agree on is that the driver was going fast. But I’ve got reports of a white SUV, a navy-blue sedan and a red convertible with the top up. The driver was Latino, a man with a stocking mask or a woman with long black hair.”
“It was a white van. At least a decade old and driven pretty hard, judging by the rust on the chrome trim and dent in the passenger door. The shooter was white, a man from the size of the hand on the steering wheel. The gun was a—”
“Forty-five mil.” His middle son, Niall, walked up with an evidence bag in his hand. Although he was a medical examiner with the crime lab and he didn’t report to crime scenes unless there was a dead body, like all Thomas’s sons, he’d shown up shortly after the all-points broadcast that had mentioned his name. The only reason Olivia wasn’t here, too, was because she was attending a profile training seminar in Saint Louis. “The driver wasn’t interested in cleaning up his rounds.” Niall handed the bag with the bullet to Thomas, who inspected it through the clear plastic window before handing it off to Duff. “He was also a lousy shot, judging by the fact that he didn’t hit anybody but you and your truck.”
They’d all noticed the same thing. A drive-by shooting with no dead bodies didn’t add up. This wasn’t a gang neighborhood, but even if it was, a gang member would be aiming for a particular target or targets. Duff handed the evidence bag back to Niall, to assure the chain of custody. “Richard Lloyd, the hired gun who shot up Liv’s wedding, didn’t hit anything but Grandpa, either. I don’t like coincidences like that.”
“Neither do I. And you could be right about the mask,” Thomas speculated. “I didn’t see his face. Just the hand holding the gun through the open window. Do you think whoever hired Lloyd has got someone new on his payroll?”
“If one of us figures that out, we share the intel, right?”
“Right,” Niall agreed.
“Right.” Thomas inhaled a
