Authors: Mariah Stewart
“Did you find Courtney?”
Mallory nodded. “She and Misty are in the henhouse. I’ll get them, you take care of Ryan.”
She started toward the door, but he grabbed her by the arm and held her for just a second.
“Mal, I’m really grateful that you’re a better shot than she was.”
“So am I.” Mallory nodded. “So am I…”
TWENTY-FIVE
T
he ambulances arrived only minutes before the car that brought Linda Bauer and Chief Drabyak. Notified by the chief that her grandson had been found alive, Mary Corcoran had run to the high school and begged Father Burch to drive her to the Rayburn farm. They were followed up the lane to the farmhouse by a very confused Corina Rayburn and her equally befuddled niece.
Charlie watched as the gurney carrying Ryan was lifted into the back of the ambulance. After much discussion, Mary still was not permitted to accompany him, so Father Burch steered her back into his car and followed closely behind as the EMTs rushed the boy to the hospital.
“The medics said his vital signs were pretty strong, considering.” Chief Drabyak walked toward Charlie. “You did a hell of a job, Wanamaker. Nice debut.”
“I can’t take all the credit, you know that,” Charlie told him.
“Yeah, I do know that.”
Their eyes followed Mallory, who was joining Linda Bauer and her daughters on the back steps of the house where Corina Rayburn stood.
“You make a good team,” Drabyak observed.
Charlie nodded. “Yeah.”
“Wish I could bring her back,” the chief said.
“Ever think of that? Offering her job back?”
Drabyak shook his head. “It wouldn’t be good for her. Those bastards would eat her alive.”
It was on Charlie’s tongue to suggest that maybe the chief could do with a few less bastards, but he held it. It wasn’t his place to tell Drabyak how to run his department. Besides, he knew how it was when cops closed ranks. He’d been part of that himself, once upon a time. He understood.
“Much as I’d like to, for her own sake, I can’t bring her back.”
The chief turned to Charlie and said, “Be careful with her. She’s not as tough as she’d like you to think. And she isn’t as much of a loner as she’d like to be.”
Charlie had already figured that out for himself, but didn’t say so. He just let the chief talk.
“You seem to know her pretty well.”
“Probably better than anyone.” Drabyak glanced over at Charlie. “Not the way you’re thinking.”
“I wasn’t thinking that.”
“She was top in her class, she tell you that?” Charlie shook his head, and the chief smiled. “I didn’t think so. She had all the makings of a great cop. She was a great cop. She moved up quickly through the ranks, faster than anyone I had here. Not because of what they said about her and me. That was just ludicrous. I did have a personal relationship with her—still do—but it was more like father–daughter, you understand?”
Charlie thought he did.
“My wife and I never had kids. Wanted them, but never had them. Then this kid came out from the academy, so smart, so insightful—I told my wife she reminded me of myself when I was that young.” Drabyak smiled again, this time, Charlie thought, maybe from the memory. “June—that’s my wife—met her a few times, we had her over for dinner now and then, this before I was chief, by the way. Over the years, we grew close. June and I really care about her. She doesn’t really have anyone, understand?”
“Why are you telling me this?” Charlie asked.
“Because I don’t want you to believe what you’ve heard about her and me. I don’t want you even to wonder about it.”
“I really hadn’t, sir.”
“She never had a father, did you know that?”
“She told me, yes.”
“Did she?” Drabyak looked surprised at first, then smiled again. “Good. That’s good. She told you that. She tell you everything?”
“I don’t know about everything, but she told me about her mother…her aunt not really wanting her…”
“Makes you wonder what some people are thinking, you know? June and I, well, we would have done just about anything you could think of to have had a daughter like Mallory.” Drabyak blew out a long breath. “Well, that’s a conversation for another day. In the meantime, we didn’t have this one, you and I. Capisce?”
Charlie nodded. He understood perfectly.
“Hey, Chief. You’ve had a big day today.” Mallory was walking toward them. “You bag the sniper, your new man brings home the missing kids, and a killer is down for the count.”
“Doesn’t get much bigger than that around here,” the chief replied. “Congratulations on your part in finding the kids and helping to take down Girard.”
“She did that on her own, Chief,” Charlie said.
Drabyak looked at Mallory. “Is that right? You shot her?”
Mallory nodded.
“I’m going to have to get statements from both of you. This is going to require an investigation, you know that.” He looked annoyed. “It’s a technicality, but it’s going to be a pain in the ass.”
“It was justifiable, Chief, she—,” Charlie began, and Drabyak cut him off.
“There’s no question in my mind that it was, but there’s still going to be questions about why she was there, why she was armed, and why she was the one who was doing the shooting.” He held out his hand to Mallory. “I’m going to need that SIG I know you have tucked in your waistband.”
“Like you said, it’s a technicality,” Mallory said as she handed over the pistol. “I’ve weathered a lot worse than that from the department, Joe. Just assign someone to the investigation and get on with it.”
“Right.” The chief stood with hands in his pockets and watched the ambulance carrying Regina Girard speed away.
“I’ll assign someone…maybe Hendricks. He never got caught up in all the bullshit, and he’s an honest cop.”
“There you go,” Mallory said cheerfully—mostly, Charlie suspected, for the chief’s benefit. “I’m available anytime he wants to talk to me.”
“Did you get a shot off?” Drabyak turned to Charlie, who nodded and turned over his gun without waiting to be asked. He knew the drill. You fire the weapon, you forfeit it until the investigation has been completed.
“The press is going to be all over this,” the chief said as if it had just occurred to him that this was newsworthy. “We were having a press conference at six
PM
to talk about the sniper case, but we’ll do this at the same time.” He turned to Charlie and said, “Go home and get cleaned up. Tonight you make your debut on local TV.”
“What about Mallory?” Charlie asked.
“I’m not going to be part of this.” She shook her head. “You’re the cop, you tell the tale, you take the glory.”
“Doesn’t seem fair,” he protested.
“Doesn’t matter,” she said firmly. “I don’t want any part of the publicity. The department has had one hell of a big day. Take the credit, look good for the hometown crew. Leave me out of it.”
She turned to the chief and said, “I hear Cal brought the sniper down.”
“That’s the story I got.”
“Interesting.”
“I thought so, too.” The chief nodded without conviction.
“So who was this guy, this sniper? What’s his name? Where’s he from?” she asked.
“He’s been identified as Hector Gomez. He’s originally from Florida, been up here for about a dozen or so years. Lived with the other street people down in that shelter they made under the Melrose Bridge.”
Mallory and the chief stared at each other. Charlie had the sense they were almost reading each other’s minds.
“The newspapers have been saying the sniper was using an assault weapon.”
Drabyak nodded. “He was.”
“So where did a guy who’s been living on the streets for over a decade get an assault weapon with enough firepower to have kept this city under siege for weeks? And how was it that he never actually shot anyone? What kind of a sniper ties up a town like that, but never hits a target?”
“Been asking myself the same question,” the chief replied.
“I’m guessing he had military training, though, right?”
“None that I’ve heard about.” Drabyak shook his head slowly. “We found a brother in Miami who tells us as far as he knows, Hector’s never even owned a handgun.”
“Curious.” Mallory nodded. “But how lucky for the city of Conroy that Patrolman Whitman was there to disarm him and take him out.”
“Lucky, yes.” The chief raised both eyebrows. “Lucky, too, that Detective Toricelli just happened to be closing in on Gomez at the same time his good buddy Whitman was taking the shot.”
“Well, now, wasn’t that a coincidence?” Mallory said flatly.
“Wasn’t it, though?”
“How do you suppose that coincidence came about?”
“I’m still waiting for a plausible explanation.” The chief turned and pointed to the news van that was just pulling up the drive. “I’m going to try to head them off for now. Why don’t you take off while you can? Charlie, I’ll see you a little before six in the mayor’s press room. Second floor, city hall. Mal, we’ll be in touch.”
“I saw you speaking with the Bauers,” Charlie said after Drabyak walked away. “How are they holding up?”
“Great. Terrific.” Mallory smiled. “When you think about what could have happened out here…when you consider how this could have ended…”
“It ended just right.” He took her hand. “It ended the way it’s supposed to.”
He tugged on her hand. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”
On the way, they listened to the news station on the radio, where the afternoon talk show was all abuzz about the capture of the sniper. The story of the missing teens being found hadn’t yet hit, though Charlie knew it was only a matter of time. He wasn’t happy that the part Mallory played was going to be shoved under the table as much as possible. It bothered him a lot more than it seemed to bother her.
“Go get handsome for the cameras,” Mallory told him when he pulled up in front of her house. “And call your mother. Let her know you’re a hero.”
“You’re the hero.”
“Bullshit. Take the credit for the department, if not for yourself. Make Joe look good, make yourself look good. Maybe the mayor will free up some funds so that Joe can finally buy another squad car or two.” She smiled. “It’s all politics, you know that. So take the commendation for your file and move on to the next case.”
Charlie nodded. He understood what she was saying even if he didn’t totally agree with it. She gave him a quick kiss on the chin and got out of the car. He watched her walk away thinking he’d rather be following her inside than going to city hall.
Mallory lifted the mail from the box and glanced through it briefly, noting that the second piece in the pile bore the county’s seal.
Hopefully, my license. About time.
She ripped open the envelope and studied the license with satisfaction. Not that she’d need the license again, but at least now she could bill Robert Magellan for her hours.
She tucked the mail under her arm while she unlocked the front door and closed it behind her. She went directly to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and studied the contents. She hadn’t eaten all day and was starving, but she hadn’t been food shopping in a while so there wasn’t much there. She opened a can of Diet Pepsi and drank from it, leaning back against the counter. She was hot and tired and hungry and just a little annoyed that she wasn’t still with the department to take part in that press conference. As much as she’d denied it, it rankled just a little to step into the background. She knew it was strictly her ego at work, but she’d have loved a commendation in her personnel file for bringing in someone like Regina Girard.
Of course, she no longer had an active personnel file, and after today she wouldn’t have a job, either.
She looked in the pantry for something she could fix, but all she had was soup and some Shredded Wheat. It was too hot out for the soup, and the cereal was past its prime. She drank a little more of the soda and thought about calling for a pizza. She thought she’d seen a flyer advertising a new place downtown, and she sorted through the stack of mail in search of it.
A plain white envelope slipped from the pile and fell to the floor as if pushed by an unseen finger. It was addressed to her in neat handwriting and had no return address. The postmark was someplace in New Jersey called Elm Hill. Curious, she slit open the back with a fingernail, and took out the single sheet of paper. She read with increasing confusion:
Dear Mallory,
I don’t really know how to start this letter—I’ve already thrown away about thirty tries—so I decided I should just say what I have to say right up front. I know you’ve never heard of me, but I think we might be sisters. Well, half sisters anyway. Guess that got your attention, huh?
You are probably wondering how I found you—it’s a story I’d like to share with you. But you’re going to have to contact me if you want to know. I’m afraid you won’t get in touch without that incentive, so I’m going to leave it at that, and hope you follow through. I pray you do. If you’re at all curious, well, it’s in your hands.
Sincerely,
Callen MacKenzie
1305 Campbell Road
Elm Hill, NJ
609-555-1793
Mallory read the letter over and over, as if she thought perhaps the contents might change with enough readings. But the message remained the same.
But was it true?
It couldn’t be true. Maybe it was some of her former coworkers, harassing her again.
She’d find that easy enough to believe, except for one thing. Callen was her maternal grandmother’s maiden name, and no one—no one outside of her aunt Jess’s immediate family—would know that.
So who was Callen MacKenzie, and how had she found out about Mallory?
Mallory was still sitting on the sofa in the living room asking herself that question when the doorbell rang.
She looked through the front window and was surprised to see that not only was it almost dark, but Charlie was on her top step holding a large white bag. She unlocked the door and opened it.
“Nice showing at the press conference,” she said with a smile. “Good job, Detective Wanamaker. I’ll bet your mama was proud.”
He grunted noncommitedly, then held up the bag. “I’m guessing you didn’t eat.”
He walked past her and straight into the kitchen.
“And even if you did, you can watch me eat. I’m starving, how ’bout you?”
“Starving,” she said, following him. Whatever was in the bag smelled incredible.