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“Heather and her sister found him. He fell at their feet. He was alive. Hope rode in the ambulance with him. She is going to text her sister with updates.” Jarrod pulled her closer. “You stay where I can see you at all times. Shooter got away. No leads.”
She shivered. “He was targeted, wasn’t he?”
It really wasn’t a question.
“Looks that way. Someone waited behind his damned truck for him. It was over in a matter of seconds. His bloody gun was found in the seat of his truck. No one has touched anything.”
“Is someone targeting Major Crimes, Jarrod?”
Major Crimes had a restructuring after the choir shooting; it now encompassed the main Major Crimes team—Daniel and his buddies, who handled any case that needed special attention, Major Crimes: Homicide, which was Rodriguez and four other men, Major Crimes: Cold Case, and Major Crimes: Assault. Jarrod and Heather were cold case detectives now, but would be pulled to work wherever needed. There were other units in the post but weren’t major crimes.
“I think they’ve been targeting us from the inception of the unit.” Until a few years back, before Major Crimes was given its official title, the various departments worked almost independently, under former chief Blankenbaker’s leadership. Then Elliot Marshall had restructured the Finley Creek post, after some backing from the governor, into what it was now. “Even the damned choir shooting could have been a statement. Considering who was targeted that night. Dom’s girl, whether she admits it or not, the governor’s sister-in-law, Jake’s girl. Charlie’s daughter. The head of forensics. And Powell, although she’s the one that I can’t really make fit. Not then. Gunnar hadn’t even met her yet.”
“Yes, he had. He met her at Shelby’s. Before the shooting. And that’s when he started flirting with her.” His words chilled her straight through. Haldyn forced that feeling away. She had work to do tonight. “Every time he’s seen her since, except the night of the shooting, he’s been flirting with her. Obviously. Openly. Just like everyone knew Jake had stayed with Shelby right before then, too. People were gossiping about Jake ‘shacking up with the rich girl.’”
“In front of people from the TSP. Hell, I never even put it together.”
“What are you getting at?” But she knew.
“It might not have been anything you two were involved in, babe. Your little buddy could have been targeted because Gunnar doesn’t have anybody else outside of the TSP except the Marshalls he calls family. The only woman he’s shown any romantic interest in at all in well over two years has been Powell. Threatening the woman he wants—considering he lost the woman he loved before, that would be a damned effective blow. Cruel, too.”
More of her people arrived. Ready to help. It was almost shift change. Someone had gunned down a man she respected. She had the knowledge to find something to help put the shooter away. It was going to be a long night.
They looked at her. Tom, the second-shift supervisor looked at her. “You need us, Hal?”
“Yes. I’ll clock you in later. You two get started.” Haldyn turned to Jarrod. “Let’s go. I’m going to FCGH to process Miguel. No matter…what.”
There wouldn’t be an enormous amount of physical evidence from this kind of hit. What would be there, would most likely be on Miguel right now. She wasn’t going to let anything happen to that evidence.
“Then let’s roll. But first”—he looked at Daniel—“security for our people?”
“Go. Get her there. And I’ll be coming up behind you with Dodson and Coleson.”
They had a cavalcade of more than fifteen marked and unmarked cart the distance to the hospital. Thank God FCGH was only three blocks away.
Time. Time was what mattered. Hopefully, Miguel had gotten to help in time.
63
Statistics said he was going to lose friends in the line of duty. It was a risk every cop took. Signed up for knowingly. That didn’t make it hurt any less to know it was his friend in surgery now. Jarrod understood that.
There were cops everywhere in the FCGH emergency department waiting area. He kept one eye on them, and one eye on his little rabbit, where she stood talking with Heather. Heather had blood on her polo. She would have to be processed, Haldyn had told him. So would Hope. Just in case something important had been transferred to them.
If…someone could find Hope.
All he knew was that that little gremlin had ridden in on the ambulance with Miguel. No one had really seen her since.
Someone stepped up behind him with a quiet “excuse me.” He turned, to see a vaguely familiar woman in scrubs there. She walked up to Heather. Jarrod’s attention sharpened as she spoke to Heather. She handed Heather some clothing or something.
“That’s her niece, Eden, I believe,” Haldyn said. “Four or five of the Colesons work here.”
“I see. I thought she looked familiar. A little like Heather…and Zoey.” But thinner, with different cheekbones and far lighter hair that was almost curly.
“Yes. Hard to miss the resemblance,” Haldyn said, rubbing that damned watch face rhythmically. Jarrod didn’t even think about the people watching them, he just reached out and covered her hand with his. Then pulled her even closer. Until her head rested on his shoulder.
“He’ll pull through. He’s too damned fierce not to.”
Heather turned toward the nearest restroom. Haldyn followed. To collect Heather’s clothes, he suspected.
