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Ellie and Shondra searched the empty apartments while Bryce canvassed the residents in the hope someone had heard or seen something the night before. With ten vacant units, it was a laborious task.
Maybe word about Coolidge’s unnerving behavior had spread and they were having trouble renting them.
The first eight apartments were void of furniture or personal belongings, but as she entered the ninth one, Ellie sensed someone had been inside. She motioned to Shondra to proceed with caution and inched into the room, scanning the open living area.
There were dark, reddish brown stains on the carpet. Dried stains that might have been there a while. Mud or blood? It was hard to tell.
The scent of smoke and pungent odor of weed blended with something stronger. She coughed and walked through the room then down the hall to the bed and bath.
No one was inside. No furniture either, although she found a bong, a ratty blanket and soda cans, some crushed and others used as an ashtray. Empty chip and pretzel bags had been tossed in the corner along with fast food wrappers and three pizza boxes.
“Looks like someone had a party and the munchies,” Shondra said, stowing her weapon in her holster.
“Yeah,” Ellie said. “Wonder how they got inside.”
Shondra went to the window and checked it. “Bottom floor. Window busted out. An end unit that backed up to the woods, easy peasy.”
“No sign Sarah or a body was here,” Ellie said. “Wait for ERT and I’ll check the last unit.”
With Coolidge under suspicion, Ellie made a note to report the break-in to the owner of the apartments. For all she knew, Coolidge might have used it as his own private party pad. Covering all bases, she texted Williams and requested someone process the place and take samples of the dark stain.
She wiped her damp neck as she stepped back outside. Black clouds were rolling across the sky. Thunder rumbled as she walked to the last unit. The windows were coated with grime as if the space had sat vacant for a long time.
Using the master key, she unlocked the door and shined her flashlight across the interior. The sense that someone was inside made her pull her weapon.
Then a loud roar rent the air. A wild animal?
No. A man howled then lunged from the shadows and charged her. The force threw her backward, and she struggled to stay on her feet. Her gun flew from her hand and a bullet fired, pinging off the ceiling.
Then he was on top of her, fists connecting with her face.
NINETY-SEVEN
SOMEWHERE ON THE AT
Derrick studied the sharp angles of the ridge as Cord and the rescue team set up their equipment. If Coolidge survived that fall, it would be a miracle. His body had to have bounced off the jagged rocks. The impact against the stone had been hard, had probably shattered his bones.
Heat pounded down, Derrick’s skin blistering. Slowly, storm clouds had begun to gather above the spiny branches of the trees. Birds cawed and vultures soared. A slight wind sifted its way through the pungent air, bringing the scent of death.
Cord and his partner harnessed themselves and rappelled down the side of the ridge to examine Coolidge.
Several seconds passed. Derrick wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. His throat felt dry as if he’d been eating dust.
“He’s alive,” Cord shouted from below. “We’ll board him and haul him up.”
Derrick signaled his understanding and the rescue team lowered a neck brace and board. Cord and another worker secured Coolidge’s unconscious body, harnessed him and brought him up. As soon as they got him on the ground, the medics started to work, taking vitals and calling in to the hospital.
Derrick’s admiration for the SAR team rose, along with his respect for McClain’s expertise and professionalism.
He crossed to the ambulance and looked down at Coolidge. Blood matted his hair and face. His wrist looked shattered, a bone protruding through the skin. His leg twisted at an odd angle. Skin pasty and white. “How’s his condition?” he asked the medics.
“Pulse is low and thready. Head injury, broken leg and probably ribs. Possible internal injuries.”
“His chances of making it?”
The young medic shrugged. “I can’t say at this point.”
“He was fleeing the police during a felony investigation,” Derrick said as he handcuffed Coolidge to the gurney. He gestured to Sheriff Waters’ deputy who’d just arrived on the scene.
