Avenged (13 page)

“DEAD?”
Carly felt as though she’d left reality. Maybe she was still out cold. She couldn’t recall shooting Barton, but patches of her memory were blank. “GSR?”

Barrett nodded. “Homicide will be here to ask questions as soon as the scene is buttoned up and—” he cast a glance at the doctor—“and the doctor says it’s okay.”

The doctor shrugged. “Her memory is likely to be patchy for a bit. I’ve ordered a CAT scan, so as long as they don’t interfere with that and as long as Carly feels up to answering questions . . .”

Carly was conscious of all eyes on her. “My head hurts, but I can answer questions. I just don’t remember shooting him.”

Barrett looked sympathetic. He opened the first of two paper bags and reached for her right hand. “This should have been done at the scene.”

Nick stopped him. “You said her gun was fired. Why do you need the GSR?”

“Harris wants it done.” Barrett shrugged. “My guess is something doesn’t add up, but you’ll have to ask him.”

“It’s okay. Let him do it,” Carly told Nick.

Barrett proceeded to bag both her hands to protect them until a gunshot residue test could be performed.

Nick stood with a worried frown. “What’s the last thing you do remember?”

“I was chasing him. He ran through the yard and into the restaurant and ignored my order to stop, but—” She closed her eyes and leaned back, trying to picture the scene again.

“You have your gun drawn?” Barrett asked as he finished the taping.

“Yeah, my gun and my flashlight were up, but it was for safety. I mean, the guy’s an ex-con; he’s wanted. I tried to stop him so I could take him into custody.”
And he made me so mad I wasn’t thinking straight.

“Why don’t we give this a rest for now?” Nick said to Barrett. “You have to fill out her injury paperwork. Let’s do that and let homicide ask the other questions. Maybe Carly will remember more when the shooting team gets here.”

Barrett agreed and picked up his clipboard. Carly answered his questions about the fall as best she could. They’d just finished when a nurse came to take her for the CAT scan. She
heard Nick ask the doctor if she could have caffeine when she was done. The doctor said yes.

“Hear that, babe? I’ll be here with fresh coffee when you get back.”

•••

The scan took about twenty minutes. Carly actually felt better once it was over. She felt even better when she saw Nick’s smiling face and the steaming cup in his hand. But then she saw Harris and Romo. Beside them was the lab tech who would conduct the GSR test.

“Hey, Carly, how are you feeling?” Harris asked in a tight voice.

“Like I didn’t see the truck.” She scooted up to drink the coffee Nick held out for her.

“We need to do the GSR.” He gestured to the lab guy, who stepped forward and started with the left hand. “There are some strange things at the scene. I’m not going to taint your recollection by telling you what we found, but this test may clear up some stuff.”

“Fine. I don’t have a problem.”

Carly forced herself to relax as the lab tech used small circular swabs, pressing them over her hands and also her face. He was efficient and finished quickly.

As the tech packed up the test in his kit, Harris pulled out a mini recorder. “If you feel up to it, I need to know exactly what happened, and I want to tape it.”

With the bags from her hands gone, Nick handed Carly
her coffee and she took a sip before answering. She told Harris how she had gone to the Bluestone to walk around. But he stopped her almost immediately.

“You left the gate open?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t going to lock myself in. That would be shoddy officer safety. Why do you ask?”

“Because the gate was locked when assisting units got there,” Harris said. “They would have reached you a lot faster if they hadn’t had to stop and unlock the gate.”

“But that was why I left it open.” Carly felt the blood rush to her face. Her head started to pound again. Only a green rookie would have locked a gate behind them like that.

“Calm down, babe,” Nick soothed. “Someone else must have shut it.”

“But who? And why?” She stared at him, doubt invading her cloudy mind. Carly pushed the doubt away; she knew she’d left the gate open.

“Let’s move on,” Harris prompted. “Tell us what happened next.”

Carly continued with the narrative. Details were clearer now—until she got to the confrontation with Barton.

“Was he armed?” Romo asked.

“I didn’t see a weapon. I drew mine when I thought I had a burglary in progress. I’m not sure where he came from. Did you find out what he was doing in the construction yard?”

Romo shook his head. “There was no sign that anything was tampered with. But the yard is a mess of equipment. We
asked the foreman to check everything out thoroughly and get back to us if anything is amiss.”

“There certainly isn’t anything worth stealing down there, unless you have the ability to remove heavy construction equipment.” Harris rubbed his chin. “It’s curious he led you to that restaurant.”

“Why? What was special about that place?” Nick asked.

“That’s anyone’s guess,” Romo said. “But he must have known the railing was only partially finished. There had been a rope with caution signs around it. We found it tossed to the side.”

Carly looked away from Romo. “Barton set me up?”

“Looks that way. He intended to do you harm. We can prove it if this becomes an issue.”

Carly’s voice fled. She’d let her anger at Dean Barton lead her into a trap that could have cost Carly her life. The thought froze Carly’s blood, and she closed her eyes, struggling for memories that wouldn’t come.

“You okay? Your face went pale,” Nick said as he grasped her hand.

“I don’t know.” Carly opened her eyes again. “It’s unnerving thinking about what might have happened.”

“Be thankful it was nothing more serious than a bump on the head,” Nick said, enfolding her hand in both of his.

“I agree,” Harris said. “The shooting sure smells like a setup.”

“But if Barton set me up, why did he end up dead?”

“I don’t know.” Harris checked a text, then put the phone
back on his belt. “Bottom line—assisting officers heard two shots fired with about one, maybe one and a half minutes between shots. Barton was shot once in the forehead, and two rounds were fired from your weapon.” He held Carly’s gaze. “You carry your weapon with a full clip and one round chambered, correct?”

Carly nodded.

“You don’t remember firing and shooting him?”

“No, Pete. He startled me. That’s why I stepped back into the railing. And he was grinning at me. That’s the last thing I remember.”

•••

Andrea arrived with Carly’s mother after Harris and Romo left. Carly was glad Barrett was gone too. She didn’t need any drama from an encounter with Andrea. But she hated being fussed over, and that was something her mother excelled at.

“You have a nasty bump on your head,” Kay observed, frowning. “And you don’t look good. Are they certain it’s just a concussion?”

“That’s what the doctor said, Mom.”

“They did a CAT scan, Kay.” Nick put himself between Carly and Kay. Carly could have hugged him. “The doctor said it looked fine. He told me what to watch for, and I haven’t seen any warning signs. Her thinking is clearing up. The doctor will be back in about an hour to tell us if we can leave.”

“I’m just getting tired from sitting on my butt.” Carly
yawned. “And I’m a little sore, but my head isn’t pounding anymore.” Actually, her lower back and neck hurt a lot. Carly figured it was from how she’d landed. She knew she’d ache later on.

“You haven’t had any dizziness or nausea, right?” Andrea asked.

“No. And I don’t feel so confused anymore. But I still can’t remember everything.”

“That’s normal.” Andi gave a wave of her hand. “The details will probably come to you when you’re thinking of something else.”

“One thing is bothering me. I’m not sure if it’s anything to be concerned about, but has anyone heard from Ginny Masters? She was incommunicado yesterday. I may not like the woman, but I’d hate to think of Barton doing anything to her.”

“I can check with Alex.” Andrea pulled out her cell phone. “He’ll be able to ask the newsroom.”

“Kind of early to wake him up, isn’t it?” Nick said, pointing at the clock. It was coming up on 5:30 a.m.

Andi gave him a brilliant smile before waltzing out the door to use her phone outside. “He loves to hear from me no matter what the time.”

The comment made Carly smile, but it quickly faded when another thought came to her. “Oh, I just remembered Ned.”

“Hmm?” Nick sat on the edge of the bed while Kay moved to the head.

“They weren’t close, but Dean was Ned’s brother. I’ll need to speak to him, tell him how sorry I am.”

“Better wait until you can say exactly what happened,” Nick said, leaning down to press his lips to her forehead.

“YOU DON’T HAVE
to stay and babysit me.” Carly patted her wet hair gingerly with a towel. She and Nick had made it to occupational health as it opened, and the doctor had put her off work indefinitely, ordering that she be reevaluated next week. As the day began, she’d showered and was ready to try to get some sleep.

Nick had kicked his shoes off and reclined on the bed. “Yeah, I do. The doctor told me to keep an eye on you today. Fernando has everything under control. Mickey is awake, and he’s been upgraded to stable. My phone is on. I can stay home and watch my wife for a day.”

“Hmph. I’m not an invalid,” she huffed without much feeling as she hung up the damp towel. Carly loved having
Nick home with her, today more than usual because of her interview with homicide and the lingering anxiety from falling and not remembering.

Struggling to quell the frustration, she smoothed her still-wet hair with her fingers and curled up next to her husband. Try as she might, there was no place in her mind where she could access what had happened in that second between when she saw Dean Barton grinning at her and felt the railing give way behind her.

“I need to remember,” she said, gripping Nick’s hand. “A man is dead.”

Nick brought her hand to his lips. “We’ll pray, and you will remember.” He smiled and prayed, and in spite of everything swirling around in her thoughts, Carly went to sleep almost immediately after he finished.

•••

The first call came around 11:15 a.m. to the house landline, and it was a tip-off that the floodgates were about to open.

“Who was it?” Carly asked with a yawn and a stretch and an
ow
. She ached all over and felt as though she’d been in a car accident. Adding to her discomfort, she hadn’t wanted to eat before she went to sleep, so now she was starving. She ran a comb through her hair, wincing when she came to the knot her fall had left.

“Channel 2. They wanted a statement about the shooting.”

She looked up to see Nick’s brow furrowed with irritation and worry, the scar on his forehead an angry shade of red.

“What about the shooting? And how did they get our home number?”

He shook his head. “I’m not sure what’s going on.”

The phone rang again and he waved a hand. “Let it go to voice mail. I’m going to fire up the computer and check the
Messenger
website. Why don’t you turn on the TV?”

Carly nodded and followed Nick into the living room.

The phone rang again, and a second after that, Carly’s cell phone buzzed.

The caller ID said Andi, so Carly answered. “What’s up?”

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay, I guess. A little sore.” She rolled her shoulders. “But overall fine. Why?”

She heard Andrea sigh. “Carly, that woman is evil. I can’t believe what she’s done. I can’t—” she sputtered.

“Who?” She looked at Nick, who was studying the computer. The scar on his forehead was the darkest she’d ever seen it. “Masters?” She spoke the name of the only evil woman who came to mind.

“Yes. You were worried about her safety. Do you know where she was? She was out at the state prison in Tehachapi, interviewing Drake and Tucker. Now she’s quoting them, calling you a loose cannon, saying you assassinated Dean Barton!”

“What?” Carly’s stomach turned as she remembered how much damage a newspaper reporter could do by tossing around accusations and skewing the facts.

“Alex will call you. He has the details. Right now see if you can catch the local noon news reports. I’m so sorry.”

Carly closed the phone and clicked on the TV, then moved to where Nick sat. “How bad is it?”

He shook his head. “Bad. She claims Barton told her he was afraid of you. That he knew you wanted to hurt him. She also claims that you drew down on him at the hospital for no reason and that she has the pictures to prove it. She’s screaming for an independent investigation into his death.”

Carly felt her knees weaken, and she sat down heavily next to Nick to look at the headline under breaking news.
“Reporter Alleges Murder by Cop,”
it blared.

Her headache returned full-force as she turned her attention to the TV screen and switched to channel 2. When the noon news report started, Carly felt jolted as if by electric current.

There was her picture as the newscasters droned on with Ginny Masters’s accusations. They quickly switched to a live shot of Masters standing in front of Half Baked and Almost Grounded. She announced that she’d learned there already was a federal investigation into the shooting death of Dean Barton, a man, she said, wiping away tears, who was trying to turn his life around until he ran into an unforgiving and corrupt police officer who didn’t believe that anyone could change. She vowed to keep the pressure on until the feds arrested a murderer.

“Officer Edwards persecuted Dean, hounded him. She was waiting for a chance to hurt him. I just can’t believe she’d kill him in cold blood. He was unarmed! It makes you wonder about every investigation this rogue officer has ever been involved in.” Masters dissolved into tears.

The television reporter took over and tried to get a comment from someone in the coffee shop. Erika was there, and she firmly told them that no one had any comment. The reporter sent it back to the studio, where the anchor read the formal police statement and said that Captain Jacobs would be holding a press conference later in the day.

Carly’s cell phone buzzed again. This time it was a text from the POA president, asking that she call right away.

She showed it to Nick.

He brought a knuckle to his lip. “I’ll call him. He’s probably going to advise we get representation.”

Carly nodded and folded her arms as he pressed the number to the Police Officers Association. Numbness spread from her head to her toes.
Representation . . .
I need a lawyer,
burned in her thoughts.

She heard only Nick’s half of the conversation but she understood the gist. The POA president advised that she not report for any interviews until she was cleared medically. Hopefully by then more facts would surface to support her story. He also suggested an attorney be present for any talks with the feds.

Part of Carly bristled at this. She had nothing to hide; only the guilty hid behind lawyers. But she realized it was probably sage advice.

Nick ended the call and wrapped Carly in a hug. She didn’t want to cry, but it was just too much déjà vu. Nearly two years ago she’d been hounded by a false press allegation that had resulted in her being yanked from patrol and
hidden away in juvenile.
How can I go through this all over again?

She buried her head in Nick’s chest, knowing she didn’t shoot Barton in cold blood.
That couldn’t have happened, could it?

Why can’t I remember?