I’d just finished getting our recollections from the night on paper when Brent’s phone rang. It was Dr. Cammy. Sammy had gotten through the night with flying colors and could be picked up any time.
Despite his desire to reunite with his pupper ASAP, I refused to leave the apartment until we’d both gotten cleaned up.
“I smell like the bottom of a garbage can. You’re a little ripe, too. I’m not subjecting those good folks at the clinic to us in this condition. It’s the least we can do.”
I had an ulterior motive at work. While Brent was in the shower, I texted Matt. I wanted him to know I was up to my old investigative shenanigans, despite Jeanette’s request. If the Rushing Creek PD really wanted me to stand aside, it needed to come from him.
The tension during the ride to the clinic was as thick as a hardback copy of War and Peace. Brent tapped his index finger against the steering wheel at a rapid rate. It was something he did when he was stressed out. Who could blame him?
In the past twelve hours, he’d almost been shot, been concussed, and spent a sleepless night fretting about his injured dog. If he wasn’t on edge after all that, the man wasn’t human.
His symptoms of anxiety disappeared the moment he was reunited with his beloved Sammy, though. The dog was in a large cubicle, snoozing when we were allowed to see him. At the sound of Brent’s voice, he sat up and barked. His tail began wagging so forcefully, it made loud thumps against the side of the plastic cubicle.
“Hiya, buddy.” Brent opened the cubicle and took Sammy in his arms. With his back to me, it was impossible to know for sure, but the way his back was heaving, I think the reunion was causing a few tears to be shed.
He refused to let go of his fur baby until Dr. Cammy insisted he put Sammy down on an exam table.
“Sammy’s smart, but he’s still a dog. He’s going to want to walk and run and do all the things dogs love to do. You’re going to need to do all you can to prevent as much of that as possible to give the break time to heal.”
With clear reluctance, Brent placed Sammy on the surface as gently as he could. The dog let out a little yelp, then settled into a sitting position with his weight on his uninjured side.
“How long will it be until he’s better?”
“A couple of months, provided you’re diligent in limiting the amount of weight he puts on his leg. You’ll want to keep him crated for the first two weeks or so to maximize healing time.” She handed him some papers. “Here are care guidelines. Among other things, you’ll see there are instructions on how to work the muscles on his injured leg so they don’t atrophy.”
“He was supposed to be the ring bearer at our wedding. Can he still do that?” Brent asked. He’d been so excited about Sammy fulfilling this duty during the ceremony.
“Normally, I’d say no.” She put her hands up to head off any objections. “This is a special occasion, though. Let’s schedule some time the day before the wedding. If he’s making good progress, we should be able to work something out. Deal?”
“Deal,” Brent and I said in unison. I was sure he shared my gratitude for Cammy’s willingness to work with us while keeping Sammy’s health her main concern.
While Cammy and Brent went over the discharge instructions, I grabbed the keys and headed for the truck. With my boy and his dog back together, I was confident they’d want to keep each other close on the ride home.
Brent proved me right by heading straight for the truck’s passenger side.
Once we were moving, I gave Sammy a scratch behind an ear. He responded by licking Brent’s cheek. That got a laugh out of him.
“Feeling better?” The simple joy of their reunion was sending my blood pressure down. That was for sure.
“Yes. I hate the idea of crating him, but if that’s what must be done—” He was cut off by Sammy licking his face.
“If it’ll help, he can stay at my place when you’re at work. Ursi and I can make sure he follows doctor’s orders.”
“We’ll see. I’m glad he’s okay.” Brent let out a long breath. “I was thinking about something.”
I bit back a snarky comment about the ability for men, in general, to think. I’d save the joke for another time.
“Let me hear it.”
“What if the bullet that, you know, what if it went through Ollie? If the cops can find it, maybe that can help narrow down the direction the shot came from.”
“That’s a great point. I’ll look into it.” Nobody had mentioned an exit wound to me. Calypso had dropped my bike in the back of the truck when Kim brought her home. Brent’s suggestion had given me the perfect reason to continue my investigation with a swing by the park.
“Thanks.” He gave my thigh a squeeze. “It’s nice to feel like I’m contributing.”
“It’s the least you can do since you got me into this mess.” I gave him a big smile. “Not that I needed much coaxing, to be honest.”
“I figured as much.” He put one hand on the dash as I slowed the truck to turn into his driveway. “Still, me encouraging you to investigate a murder. That’s a first.”
“Fingers crossed that it’s the last, too.” I turned off the engine, then gave Brent a fist bump. One more investigation. Then my time as an amateur sleuth was definitely over.
A little while later, I pedaled away from Brent’s house. Sammy, despite his joy in being reunited with his human, was still a little out of sorts. I left them snuggled against each other in Brent’s queen-sized bed. Even if I had wanted to stay and snooze with them, there would have been hardly any room.
It was just as well. My brain had kicked into investigation mode, and I wanted to take advantage of that before my well of energy ran dry.
If not for my helmet strap, my jaw would have hit the road when I arrived at the park. A fourth of it had been cordoned off with yellow police tape. Four people, dressed from head to toe in white coveralls to prevent contaminating the scene, were combing through the area, centimeter by centimeter. Two dozen yellow triangles with black numbers on them marked locations where potential evidence had been found.
A black-and-white trailer emblazoned with Brown County Sheriff in bold black lettering was parked on the street. A set of aluminum steps at one end of the trailer led to a door. With the sliding glass windows and canvas awning on one side, it called to mind a camper van. If the van in question was used to respond to emergency situations, that is.
A few officers were milling about the command center. Two were in the navy blue of the Rushing Creek PD. The other one was in the brown of the Sheriff’s Department. Even from a distance, the anxiety radiating from the trailer was palpable.
The last thing I wanted to do was cause a problem. Matt and his team took every case seriously, from teens egging windows on Halloween to murder. This one clearly hit home, though. It was one of their own.
Despite my misgivings about Ollie Watson, and there were many, my heart went out to his fellow police officers. They’d lost a compatriot. And had to search for the murderer while grieving. Folks in law enforcement weren’t perfect, but the cards the Rushing Creek Police Department had been dealt were pretty lousy.
So, instead of barging in on Matt like I was some self-appointed savior, I walked the perimeter of the park. It was an opportunity to take in the whole scene, not only the cordoned-off section. That included the properties that ringed the perimeter of the park.
It was like I’d brought home a new five-thousand-piece puzzle but hadn’t taken the pieces out of the box yet. I wanted to get a sense of the whole picture before diving in. There were so many pieces to be dealt with, taking a few moments to assess the big picture couldn’t hurt.
Observations and thoughts went into my phone via a dictation app. I made a special note to confirm who lived in the homes that faced the parkland. After all, the fireworks show was a community highlight. Folks watched it from all over town. As I walked, visions of folding chairs in driveways came to mind.
Yes. Potential witnesses would include those in the park’s general vicinity, not only within it.
I came across a small pile of exploded firecrackers. It got me wondering whether the fireworks show had proceeded. We’d been mere minutes from its scheduled start. Yet, for the life of me, I couldn’t recall hearing the familiar booms or seeing the breathtaking colors in the sky.
My pondering was interrupted by a hubbub at the command center. Matt had arrived, with a uniformed entourage trailing behind him. He strode into the trailer with such purpose, those with him had to jog to keep up.
I guess that meant the press briefing Jeanette had mentioned was over.
I resumed my tour, dictating random observations along the way. There weren’t any suspicious-looking people lurking in the shadows like a villain returning to the scene of the crime. There hadn’t been any online posts claiming responsibility. For the moment at least, no group or individual had taken credit. At least that meant we weren’t dealing with some deranged, attention-loving killer.
Other than a single evidence marker stuck to the Memory Tree, there was nothing that led me to believe the police had much to go on. If they had found remains of a bullet in the tree, at least they’d have something to start with.
Not unlike placing a puzzle’s corner piece on the table in front of me. One small piece at a time.
When I returned to my bike, a note was taped to the handlebars. Chief Roberson had invited me for a chat at the command center.
It was an invitation I dare not refuse.
Before I got ten feet from my bike, Matt emerged from the trailer. He waved as he jogged toward me. I sensed that somehow this wasn’t going to be good.
“Hey, Matt.” I put my hand on his forearm. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks.” He popped two pieces of nicotine gum into his mouth, then chuckled. “At least this hasn’t made me go back to smoking. Not yet.”
“Don’t be like that. It’s early days. You’ll get whoever did this.” I gave him a moment to reply. When he didn’t, I forged ahead. “What’s up with the note?”
“I wanted to talk to you. Out of range of prying ears. This conversation doesn’t go beyond the two of us. Understood?”
That turned my attention level up to eleven.
“At the press briefing, we asked for anyone with photos or video from yesterday to please come forward.”
“Yeah, Jeanette told me you were going to announce that.”
He sighed. “Here’s my problem. Ollie was a cop. Because of his job, we have a handful of obvious suspects. We’ve got nothing to go on, though, and I’m reluctant to round people up just because of a criminal record.”
“Okay.” What I wanted to say was that I appreciated his acknowledgment of citizens’ rights under the Constitution. That would have been counterproductive, though.
“Not surprisingly, there’s very little physical evidence.”
I pointed toward the tree. “What about the bullet? Were you able to recover enough of it to make an ID?”
“Yes. It’s being analyzed as we speak. We’re not releasing that information to the public, though. We don’t want the shooter to know we have it.”
“I appreciate you telling me this. Do you mind if I ask why?”
He gave me the briefest of smiles. “I was about to get to that. Even with the results from ballistics, we’re still looking for a needle in a haystack. Sifting through evidence, knocking on doors, looking at video, interviewing who knows how many witnesses, all that will take time.”
“Which isn’t a friend of a murder investigation.”
“Exactly. I got your text. I’ll take any help you can give us.”
I stood up a little straighter. In the past, Matt’s views of my amateur sleuthing ranged from annoyance to hostility to grudging acceptance. Not once had he asked for my assistance.
“I’m happy to do anything I can. I told Jeanette everything I can remember, though. And she told me to keep my nose out of the investigation.”
“I’m aware.” He crossed his arms. “And despite you promising Jeanette to stick to the sidelines, here you are, randomly taking a ride to the park and then going for a walk around it. Need I say more?”
“Touché.” It wasn’t like I was trying to hide what I was doing, but that topic was for another time.
“So, here’s the deal. You have certain techniques available for your investigations that I don’t. If you were to use those, go for it, but I don’t want to hear about them. I want the shooter caught. He killed one of my men.”
“And almost killed my fiancé.” I stuck out my hand to shake. “I believe we have an understanding.”
“Good. There’s work to be done. I’ll leave you to yours.”
And just like that, Allie Cobb, amateur sleuth, the Kickboxing Crusader, was officially on the case.