Authors: Janice Cantore
31
Nick had been shot five times.
Carly was in her Bronco and heading down the hill in spite of everyone’s warnings to stay put. Mark sat next to her and was, thankfully, staying quiet. Mom had insisted Mark accompany Carly, and there was no time to argue. She was too worried about Nick. He’d apparently stepped out of his car to answer a citizen’s complaint, and someone opened fire. His Kevlar vest stopped three of the bullets. One of the two that got past the vest hit Nick in the hip and broke his femur; the second passed through the fleshy part of his upper arm. He was in surgery to remove the slug from his hip.
Nick had asked someone to call Nathan to get word to Carly, since he was the only other person who knew where Carly was. Nathan said Nick would be okay and that there was no proof the shooting was anything but coincidental. But something in his voice told Carly he was far from convinced.
A handgun was recovered at the scene, but the serial number had been filed off, and the shooter was in the wind.
Carly moved rapidly from helpless to angry. She said nothing during the two-hour drive back to Las Playas.
When they arrived at the hospital, she finally spoke to Mark. “We need to be low-key here. I’m not going to identify myself to anyone. I just want to find out where he’s at and quietly walk up to the room like we know what we’re doing, okay?” She knew the hospital would be crawling with cops and she’d have to do her best to be invisible.
“Sure. I’ll follow your lead.”
They went in through the public entrance. Mark asked for Nick’s room at the admissions counter and was told the information was confidential.
“I’m glad they’re taking precautions, but we have to get his room number.” Carly chewed on her thumbnail and tried to think. It occurred to her she should just follow the blue suits. There were lots of cops milling around, most likely here because of Nick. The catch-22 was that she didn’t want to be noticed by her colleagues.
“If he just came out of surgery, wouldn’t he be in a special place?” Mark asked.
Carly nodded. “Since it’s his hip, he’ll be on the orthopedic floor. They have a recovery room where he’ll stay until he can be moved to a regular room. We’ll try that floor; come on.” Carly led him to the elevator, happy to have a direction to go.
“Do you want to make sure, maybe call Nathan?” Mark asked.
“No, I know the third floor. I was here with my roommate when her mom had a hip replacement. I’ve been here enough times. As long as we walk around like we know where we’re going, no one will bug us.”
Mark punched the button and they waited for the elevator to arrive. When the doors opened, Carly nearly stepped right into Alex Trejo. She gasped, but he didn’t even notice. He was deep in conversation with Captain Garrison. Both men turned for the exit while Carly slid behind Mark in an effort to hide. She didn’t take another breath until the elevator doors closed and she and Mark were headed up.
“Who was that?”
“A reporter and a captain. That was close.”
“What are we going to do if there’s a bunch of people in his room or a guard outside his door?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Carly knew there would be an officer outside the door, standard operating procedure when a cop was shot in the line of duty. They’d already dodged several uniformed officers, but her desire to see Nick overruled her common sense.
I wish Andi worked up here.
But her roommate would be down in the ER, and it would call too much attention to her if she pulled Andi away.
The third floor was fairly quiet.
“Let’s go to the right first.” Carly knew that wandering around too long would increase the chances one of the officers here would see her.
“What if you’re wrong?”
She ignored Mark. They walked by the nurses’ station, where three RNs were busy with various duties. As they came to the end of one hall, she looked left and saw what she’d been hoping to see. A uniformed officer was outside a door at the far end of the hallway. She couldn’t tell who it was, and of course she couldn’t see if anyone was in the room with Nick. Here and there a nurse exited one room and entered another. But in general, it was a quiet hallway.
“Why don’t you send up a quick prayer to that God of yours?” Carly whispered to Mark. “We could use all the help we can get.”
“What makes you think I’ve ever stopped praying?”
Not certain what to say to that, Carly gestured down the hall. “Just follow me.”
They moved toward the guarded room. It was going to work; she was sure. And when she recognized the cop sitting at the door, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was Kyle Corley, the same officer who had responded when she shot Derek Potter. They’d probably called him in early.
“Hey, Carly, how are you doing?” He stood and smiled.
“I’m good, Kyle. But the question is, how’s Nick?”
“I think he’s in and out. He only just got here from surgery. They took a .45 slug out of his hip.” He frowned momentarily. “Carly, the doctor shooed all the cops away about twenty minutes ago. The captain has restricted visiting, and he didn’t put your name on the list.”
“I don’t know why,” Carly said, doing her best to look innocent and confused. There was no way, knowing how gossip spread, that Kyle hadn’t heard she was suspended, but that in and of itself wouldn’t prohibit her from seeing Nick. “But I’ve been off work since what happened with Derek. Garrison probably forgot about me.”
“Yeah, I heard what they did to you, and it sucks.” He commiserated with her but didn’t seem ready to let her in.
“Does it say on there that Nick doesn’t want to see me?”
Kyle shook his head. “No, no, not at all. Hey, look, what the captain doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Go on in.” He jerked a thumb toward the room. None of the older officers trusted the brass. “Just keep the visit short.” He cast a questioning glance at Mark.
“He’s a friend of Nick’s,” Carly said about Mark. “He’ll wait out here with you.”
Carly stepped tentatively into the small, dark recovery cubicle. Nick looked so pale. An IV hung on one side, and machines beeped as his heart rate and pulse were closely monitored. His right leg was suspended in a cast from hip to ankle. Carly stood for a couple minutes and watched the rise and fall of his chest. She knew, at that moment, no amount of hurt or pain would change the fact that she still loved him.
She’d spent a year of her life trying to convince herself it was hate she felt toward him, not love. For several months she talked to him only through lawyers. She gave him back her wedding band, let him have the house, and told him in anger she wished she’d never met him. The wall of bitterness wasn’t hard to nurture, but it sure had taken its toll.
Now, as she looked at Nick, the bitterness chipped and crumbled away. She didn’t even have the strength to drum up any anger to keep the bitter blocks in place. Carly shivered at the thought of Nick going down in the line of duty. An officer-down call was the worst call to hear over the radio, one that chilled other cops to the bone. She knew if she’d been working when it happened, she’d have driven like a madwoman to be near him, to help him.
A wave of love and protectiveness engulfed Carly and washed over her like the ocean during a really good swim.
He stirred slightly, and Carly reached for his hand. It was cold. Sleepy eyes opened and looked in her direction. He blinked and squeezed his brows as if trying to focus.
“Carly, is that you?” His voice was weak and raspy.
“Yeah, it’s me.” A lump in her throat made it difficult to control her voice.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“Don’t worry about me. What happened to you?”
“I didn’t see the truck.” He smiled weakly, and it cheered Carly that he would try to joke. “They got me all doped up.”
“I noticed.” She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. Smoothing his forehead gently, Carly said quietly, “I forgive you, Nick.”
He faded out and she wondered if he’d heard her. It didn’t matter. She felt better saying it. She stayed for several minutes, stroking his forehead and holding his hand.
32
“There is no way Nick being shot was a coincidence,” Carly fumed as she took the stairs down to the lobby two at a time.
“Whether it was or it wasn’t, what can you do about it?” Mark followed.
Carly recognized the soothing timbre in his voice, but she refused to be calmed. “I know what I can’t do. I can’t sit around and wait for the next disaster.” She shoved the exit door open, then stopped and turned to face Mark. “You can’t come with me. Whatever I decide to do, I’m going to do it alone.”
“I came along to help. I can’t do that if you go running off half-cocked.” Mark tried reasoning with her.
But Carly was beyond reason. She stood arms akimbo and glared at him in response.
“If you get yourself hurt or shot, what good will that do anyone?” he asked.
“I can take care of myself. I’m sorry. It’s nothing personal. You’re a nice guy.”
“At least call Nathan. Maybe he can help.”
“No time. You call him for me. Make sure he does all he can to look after Nick. I’ll get in touch with him as soon as I can.” She held up a hand to stop further protest. “I’ve made up my mind. If you want to help, I guess you can pray.”
Mark smiled and shook his head. “I wish you’d change your mind, but since you won’t, I won’t stop praying.” He stretched out his hand. She shook it, then turned and jogged for her car.
Carly floored it out of the parking lot, tires squealing. She traveled a couple of blocks before she calmed and her thinking cleared. Slowing, she realized that the last thing she needed was to get stopped by a cop. She didn’t know who the bad guys were. Driving through town toward home, Carly took stock of her situation. She thought about Derek and the fire and shifted in her seat when the realization that she had no badge and no authority to investigate anything hit home.
Slowly she cruised by her mother’s house, her grip tightening on the wheel as she perused the charred remains. Setting her jaw stubbornly, she made a vow. “I’m not sure who you are, but badge or no badge, I’m gonna find you. The body count stops here!”
Carly parked on the street in front of her apartment and jogged to the front door. A plan coalesced in her mind. It was past time to check out the harbor. Nick had said he was going to. Was that why he was shot? She also remembered him saying he put in a call to the FBI.
What ever happened with that?
she wondered.
I don’t have time to wait and see if the FBI will poke its nose into this.
After grabbing a camera and a belt holster, she nixed leaving Andrea a note. The less her roommate knew, the better. Sliding Nick’s gun into the holster, she slipped it on her belt. There was only one clip and no extra rounds, but that would have to do. Carly left the apartment for her truck, stopping cold when she saw Jeff standing next to the passenger door. Reflexively, she reached for the gun at her side.
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Jeff said when he saw her. He wasn’t in his repairman’s clothes anymore; instead he was dressed the part of a drug addict, torn jeans and a faded T-shirt.
“Where did you come from? How did you know I was back?”
“Back from where?” He raised his hands when she stepped away from him. “Hey, don’t go sideways on me. I’ve been waiting. I saw your mom’s house was trashed, and I didn’t know where else to wait but here.”
She stopped moving but remained wary. Her hand stayed on her gun. Jeff looked worse than she remembered—thinner, more haunted.
“I’m sorry about Nick.” He spoke softly and held Carly’s angry glare. “I guess I was wrong.”
“How or why am I supposed to believe you? You come and go like a ghost, and every time you materialize, something terrible happens.”
“I’m sorry, but I’ve been living like a homeless man on the run for two weeks. Do you think I’m happy with the way things are?” He looked so pathetic standing there by her car. Carly admitted her options were limited.
“What is it you want now?”
“I know where we need to go. If you hadn’t shown up, I would have gone by myself. If you come along, the odds are better.”
“Odds? Jeff, I don’t know who you are anymore. Why should I trust you?”
“I took a chance at an Internet café and went through what was on the thumb drive. I now know why Teresa was killed and why they tried to kill Nick.”
“Nick?” The idea that his shooting might be connected to this mess enflamed Carly like a match strike.
“Let’s go. I’ve hidden something we need to pick up.”
“Who shot Nick?”
“I’ll explain as you drive.”
Against her better judgment, Carly unlocked the car and sat behind the wheel but didn’t start the motor. “Where are we going?”
“Pier K. That’s where all the action is.” Jeff sounded certain of the location now, a change from the other day at Nick’s. Pier K was just past Pier J, the pier Londy said Darryl worked at.
“You mean I visited Londy and got suspended for nothing?”
“I’m sorry. What the drive contains is a schedule for illegal activity—mostly drugs, but a host of other crimes too. Lo and behold, there were hundreds of entries going back a couple of years. Correa has been making a fortune off that pier.”
“Teresa was keeping that information?”
“No, she copied it from Galen’s computer. He was keeping a record for some reason. When we arrest him, we’ll ask.”
“Can you prove who killed Teresa and shot Nick?”
“I can prove Galen Burke and Mario Correa are the ‘they’ we’ve been tracking. Burke’s money problems drove him to Correa. Now Correa basically owns him. The warehouse we’re going to is a cover for an illegal shipping operation. Yesterday I took a chance and broke into the warehouse. I used some technology I still had from narcotics and set up a motion-activated camera.”
Carly frowned. “From narcotics?”
“Don’t ask, Carly.” He grimaced. “I’m not proud of how I got it, and I’m sure I’ll have to answer for it. But I wanted hard evidence. With luck the camera recorded Correa and Burke buying drugs and arranging for distribution with their PD help.”
“And this shows that they killed Teresa?” Carly bit back doubt and frustration. This was not a sure thing. Jeff was desperate.
Do desperate people make sound judgments?
“There’s also proof on the drive documenting kickbacks, illegal contracts, underbidding—I could go on and on. The documentation nails Burke and Correa. If Teresa knew and threatened to expose the operation . . . well, there’s the motive.”
“So why do I need to go anywhere? Sounds like you have the case wrapped up.”
“Not quite. I have to retrieve the camera. It will show exactly who is involved on the PD side. I’m afraid that without photographic evidence, guilty people will be able to slither out of an arrest. The camera is small and self contained; I’ll have to get it in order to see what was recorded.”
“Why do you need me?”
This is beyond crazy.
“What were you going to do?” He pointed to the camera she’d tossed on the dash.
“I’m not sure.” She blew out a breath and pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “I’m angry about Nick. I can’t sit and do nothing.”
“I’m worried about Nick too.” Jeff placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Trust me, Carly. I know I’m right. This will bust things wide open. And—” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black object about the size of a BlackBerry; Carly recognized it as a flip camera—“I borrowed this from narco as well. You’ll be able to record more with this than with the camera you have.”
She studied him for a long moment. “Did they really have Nick shot?”
“It fits their MO. They’ve gone after anyone associated with me. It stands to reason that they would target people connected to you. Look at your mother’s house.”
Mother’s house
was the phrase that smashed the right button. Carly threw caution to the wind and started the engine. “This better be the right move because I’m not going to rest until everyone involved is in jail.”