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I sat upright. My heart was in my throat. “Meaning what, Claire?”
“Meaning… Coombs had Parkinson’s, Lindsay. And not an unadvanced case.”
Parkinson’s… My first thought was, That’s why he missed. That I had been so damn lucky…
Then, watching the look of blank-eyed nullity grow into alarm on Claire’s face, I knew it wasn’t so simple.
“Lindsay, someone with Coombs’s stage of Parkinson’s could never have pulled off those shots.”
My mind went back to the scene at the La Salle Heights Church… Tasha Catchings, felled by that incredible shot… And Art Davidson, a single bullet hole in his head… The bullet had come through the window from an adjoining roof, at least a hundred yards away.
I fixed on Claire’s eyes. “You’re sure about this?”
She nodded slowly. “I’m not a neurologist…” But then with unwavering clarity, “Yes, I’m sure. I’m absolutely positive. His state of Parkinson’s could never have allowed the necessary interaction between hand and brain for those shots. His case was too progressed.”
With an almost nauseating chill, I flashed through all the things we knew about our killer. We had been certain that Chimera had a tattoo. But Coombs didn’t have one. Then he barely grazed me on the steps of the Hall from point-blank range. And now this, Parkinson’s… Whoever Chimera was, he was certifiable as a marksman. That much was irrefutable.
We looked at each other and I uttered the unutterable. “Jesus, Claire, Coombs isn’t our man.”
“Right,” she said. “So, who is, Lieutenant?”
Chapter 107
FOR A LONG TIME, we just sat there, letting the stunning realization, and panic, sink in.
The newspapers, the TV, every sane person in the entire city was celebrating Chimera’s death. Just that morning, I had wiped the murder cases off the board.
“Coombs was trying to tell me something,” I said to Claire, recalling his dying moments. “ ‘One last…,’he whispered, and when I asked him, one last what? he seemed to smile. ‘One last surprise.’ He knew Chimera was still out there, Claire. He knew we would find out. The bastard was laughing at me as he drew his last breath. It has to be somebody else in his group. There’s another madman.”
Claire pressed her lips together. “Lindsay, if I could’ve come back with any other conclusion…”
I didn’t know exactly what to do with this new information. The pattern had fit so seamlessly. Bay View… Chimera. The file in Coombs’s room. And how he had come at me. I couldn’t believe that somehow I had been wrong. And then the question again: If not Coombs, who?
The last thing I wanted to do was go upstairs and shatter the celebration of all the bureaucrats and brass. But at the same moment Claire and I were gaping at each other in disbelief, the real killer was out there, possibly scoping another hit. Jesus, this just didn’t make sense.
“Come with me,” I said, sucking in the sharp pain in my side. I ambled down the hall to Charlie Clapper’s office.
“The returning hero.” The rotund CSU man stood up and smiled. “A little bent over at the waist, but otherwise you look okay.”
“Charlie,” I said, “how long until we have a match on the gun?”
“Gun…?” He screwed his brow.
“Coombs’s gun. How long until we can match it up against the piece that killed Mercer?”
“It’s a little late, gorgeous, if you’re trying to narrow down your suspects. I’d start with the dude on Claire’s slab.”
“When, Charlie?” I shot back. “How long ’til you get a match?”
“Maybe Wednesday.” He shrugged. “We’ve got to scan the inside of the gun, get a reading on the—”
“Tomorrow, Charlie,” I said. “I need it by tomorrow.”
“Lindsay,” he said, looking a little confused, “what the hell is going on?”
I turned to Claire, a swallow of bile making an unpleasant retreat into my chest. “We have to bring this upstairs.”
We grabbed an elevator up to the fifth floor. I was so dumbfounded and racked with emotions, I hardly felt the pain shooting through my side. We barged into Acting Chief Tracchio’s office. He was scribbling at his desk.
