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Chapter32
THE MORGUE AGAIN.
Decker had been in far too many of them.
And the electric blue light sensation was bombarding him almost like the night he had found his family. It was as if a strobe was attached to the ceiling of the room and was blasting the unsettling light into every pore of the place.
He touched his leg where underneath his pants a large butterfly bandage had been applied. The emergency room doctor had told him he’d been lucky. Another couple inches to the left and his femoral artery would have been nicked. And he might have bled out right there in that alley.
He next touched his face, which was covered in Band-Aids and bandages. He was stiff and sore and felt like he’d just played in an NFL game. Mars was next to him, his injured arm in a sling. But at least they were still alive. Lying in front of them was Sally Brimmer’s pale body with a sheet pulled up to her neck.
The homeless man in the alley had turned out to be what he looked like—homeless. And strung out on so much crap that it had taken the EMTs an hour to wake him up. The gun had no usable prints, and Decker knew why. The shooter had been wearing gloves. He had probably flung the murder weapon next to the homeless man to simply get rid of it. He had attacked Decker and Mars because they had gotten to him before he reached the other end of the alley. Lying in wait, he had tried to add two more lives to the one he’d already taken. Unfortunately, he had managed to elude the police and get away.
The ME was in the room, washing a few of his instruments in the sink. There was only one overhead fluorescent light on, throwing the room into shadows and making an already disconcerting sensation worse.
A moment later the door clanged open and there was Blake Natty, his face white, his features screwed up in agony. He lurched over to Brimmer’s sheet-draped body and looked down at it. He put a hand to his mouth, and Decker heard the man start to quietly sob.
No one said anything until Natty had composed himself and rubbed his eyes dry on his coat sleeve. He looked over at Decker and Mars. Next, he ran his gaze over their wounds. “Heard he almost got you both too.”
“Almost,” said Decker. “The guy was a lot smaller than we were.”
“Small but lethal,” said Mars. “I’ve seen guys with shivs, hardened cons, who couldn’t wield a blade anything like that dude.”
“Guys with shivs? Hardened cons?” said Natty. “Were you a prison guard or something?”
“Or something,” said Mars quietly.
Decker rubbed his stomach. “And he had fists like bricks. And some crazy arm tats.”
Natty said, “What were you and Sally even doing there?”
Decker knew this question was coming and had prepared several answers. One came tumbling out. It happened to be the truth.
“I arranged to meet Sally at McArthur Park. We were coming out to the street when the guy opened fire.”
“Why did you want to meet with her?”
“Because I wanted to get her help on the case. I won’t be able to help you solve it by merelyobserving, Blake. You know that, and I know that.”
Decker had been prepared for Natty to explode at this comment, but to his surprise the detective merely nodded. He rubbed his nose and said, “I guess I can see that. Do you…do you think Sally was the target?”
“No. I was. Someone already tried to kill me once. We were standing so close together that the shooter hit Sally and not me.” He paused and looked at the disconsolate Natty. “I’m sorry, Blake. I really am. Sally was just trying to do the right thing.”
Mars said, “Why is someone so desperate to kill you?”
“Someone doesn’t want Decker to figure out the truth,” replied Natty. “I mean, you worked on that case all those years ago. Hawkins came to you and Mary to clear his name. And now they’re going to try to stop you. Mary got recused, but you’re still on the trail.”
“So are you,” pointed out Decker. “I think we all have to watch our backs.”
“So you think someone hired the guy to do this?” said Natty.
“I do. Which means that Hawkins was innocent. And that means the forensic evidence tying him to the scene was somehow forged.”
Natty glanced at him incredulously. “Prints and DNA at a crime scene. Forged?”
“It can be done,” responded Decker.
“It would be hard as hell,” retorted Natty.
