“Dr. Lawson? Sergeant Montgomery, Oakdale PD. Sorry to bother you with this, ma’am. I’ll try to keep it brief.”
“No problem, Sergeant.” As the detective took the chair Mark had vacated, Emily looked at the man who’d made this day bearable—and who was now heading out the door. A wave of panic swept over her. “Aren’t you staying?”
Mark paused. “It’s not protocol to have two victims or witnesses in the room together when one is being interviewed.”
“But you’ve already given your statement. Please . . . I’d feel better if you’d stay.” The trauma of the past twelve hours had shaken her secure little world, and she needed the moral support his presence would provide.
His gaze dropped to her hands, which had clenched the sheet into a tight wad, and he exchanged a look with Sergeant Montgomery. “It’s up to you. But she might be more relaxed if I stay.
I can leave at any point if either of you wants me to.”
The man considered Emily’s tense posture. “Okay. Let’s try it this way.”
With a nod, Mark propped one shoulder against the wall and shoved his hands into his pockets.
The detective recorded the basic information first, for which Emily was grateful. It gave her a chance to calm down a little before he began asking about the morning’s events. But her pulse ratcheted up again as his questions got more specific.
“Do you walk in that park every morning, ma’am?”
“Yes. With rare exception.”
“Did you notice anything out of the ordinary prior to the shots being fired?”
“No.”
“Is there anyone in your acquaintance who has a grudge against you, or has threatened you?”
That query threw her, and she shot Mark a startled look.
“It’s a routine question in a case like this, Emily,” he told her. She looked back at the detective. “No. I have no enemies.”
“Is there anyone in your acquaintance who you consider to be capable of violence?”
“You mean, someone who might shoot me?” Incredulity rippled through her voice.
“Anyone you think capable of violence of any kind. Friends, family, co-workers, clients, the guy who cuts your grass . . . any person you’ve had any contact with.”
Jack Hanley.
The name flashed across her mind like a neon light, jolting her.
Jack Hanley wasn’t happy with her, but taking out his frustration with a gun? She couldn’t imagine it.
At her hesitation, Mark frowned and pushed off from the wall.
“What is it, Em?”
“Nothing. I just . . . I do have one client who’s rather peeved.
A referral from a corporate employee assistance program. But shooting at me . . . the whole notion is surreal.”
Mark exchanged a look with the detective and took a step closer. “Tell us about this guy.”
“He’s a senior-level manager who didn’t appreciate being sent to me by his company’s EAP three weeks ago. Nor did he appreciate my suggestion that he enroll in an anger management course. When he elected not to take my advice, I recommended he be put on paid leave until he worked through his issues.”
“Why?” Mark asked.
“With workplace violence at an all-time high, it’s best to diffuse potentially risky situations.”
“In other words, you thought this guy was capable of violence.” “Not necessarily. But I didn’t think it was wise to take any chances. My recommendation was more precautionary than anything else. The leave was intended to send him a strong message about his need to get help. In any case, I can’t see him as a shooter.”
“When did all this take place?” Sergeant Montgomery asked.
“He was notified of the leave yesterday.”
The two men exchanged another look.
“Has he ever threatened you?” Mark asked.
“He called to rant a little yesterday after HR informed him of the company’s decision. But he’s never threatened me.”
“We need to check him out.”
Emily shook her head. “I can’t reveal a client’s name. That would compromise the confidentiality my work is based on.”
“Confidentiality can be breached if criminal activity is involved,” Mark said.
“We don’t know that there is.” Emily understood the legalities of her profession. And the ethics. Her instincts, as well as her professional training, told her Jack Hanley hadn’t been the shooter. Yes, his explosive outbursts and callous treatment of his direct reports was what had brought him to the attention of his management. But she didn’t believe he would pick up a gun to express his anger. Identifying him would not only be wrong, it would add unneeded stress to a life that was already crumbling.
“Where there’s a reasonable suspicion that a person may present a danger of violence to others, you’re under no obligation to protect his identity,” Mark reiterated.
“I don’t think there is a reasonable suspicion,” Emily countered, holding her ground.
Mark regarded her for a moment. Then he turned to the sergeant. “What else do you need?”
“I’m done.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
The detective stood. “Thanks for your help, Dr. Lawson. We’ll be in touch if we have any additional questions.”
As the two men disappeared out the door, Emily closed her eyes and drew a shaky breath. The interview had taken a turn she hadn’t expected. Or liked. Until a few minutes ago, she’d assumed the shooter had been either a fanatic or someone after Mark. It had never occurred to her that she might be his target.
Even now, the whole notion was ludicrous. Aside from Jack Hanley, there was no one in her life capable of thinking about shooting her, let alone doing it. And she was certain the troubled executive wouldn’t take such extreme measures, either.
However, given the look on Mark’s face, she suspected that convincing him of that was going to be a formidable challenge.
“We need this guy’s name.” Sergeant Montgomery turned to Mark as the door shut behind them.
“I know.”
Coop rose as the two men stepped into the hall. Mark filled him in as they clustered outside Emily’s room.
“We can always resort to legal means to get his name, if necessary,” the detective pointed out.
“I’d rather not go down that road if we can avoid it. Let me work on it.”
“Besides checking this guy out, I don’t see any obvious reason why Dr. Lawson would be a target.”
“Me neither. I’ll be in touch, Sergeant. Thanks.”
With a wave, the man headed toward the elevators.
“The background check on her may be finished by now,” Coop offered. “We could ask Steve to have someone fax it to Nick’s house.”
“I doubt it will be much help, but let’s take a look. I’m heading back in to give this one more try.”
“I’ll call Steve. Good luck.”
The determined set of Emily’s jaw as Mark reentered her room wasn’t a good sign. But he was more concerned about the drawn, pinched look around her mouth and her lack of color.
She needed the pain medication. Now.
Moving beside the bed, Mark perched on the edge instead of taking the chair. The Bible that had been on the nightstand rested in her hands.
“Still a believer, I see.”
“You aren’t?”
He shrugged. “I’ve seen a lot in my job, Emily. Too much. It’s hard to reconcile most of it with a loving God.”
“I’m sorry, Mark.” Regret pooled in her eyes. “I can’t imagine walking through life without God by my side.”
He refrained from asking her where God had been a few hours ago when a bullet had ripped through her arm and she’d almost bled to death. Or where he’d been when her husband had perished in a fire. Faith wasn’t a topic he wanted to discuss tonight.
Instead, he reached over and tucked her hair back behind her ear, the whisper of a smile touching his lips.
“It’s been quite a day, hasn’t it?”
He sensed the subtle relaxing of her muscles. She’d been prepared to do battle to protect her client, and he’d disarmed her by stepping back from the fight.
“Before all this happened, I was looking forward to a very quiet Saturday.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t turn out the way you planned.”
“So am I. But I’m not sorry our paths crossed again. It’s been good catching up.”
“We’re just getting started. I’m not about to let you disappear again when it’s obvious fate brought us together. I hear you’ll be released tomorrow. How about I give you a ride home? We could stop on the way and have that cold drink we never got around to this morning.”
A smile curved her lips. “My neighbor volunteered to pick me up, but I think I like your offer better.”
“Good.” He needed to tackle the hard stuff again, but he wished he didn’t. He would have much preferred a simple, uncomplicated reunion. “There’s something else I need to discuss with you.”
“Okay.” She gave him a cautious look.
“Until we get this thing figured out, the Bureau would like you to have some security.”
“Explain that.”
“We want to assign an agent to you.”
“A bodyguard?”
“That’s one way to describe it.”
She searched his eyes. “Is that really necessary? I’ve been by myself all day today.”
“There’s been an agent with you ever since you left the scene.
He’s outside your door now.”
Shock rippled across her face. “You think this guy might try again?”
“We can’t rule out that possibility.”
“What about you? It seems to me you’re the more likely target.” “I’ll have someone with me too.”
She stared at him. “They’re putting protection on an HRT member who’s trained to handle worst-case scenarios?”
For a second, he hesitated. He didn’t want to freak her out— but he also needed to drive home the danger. “Yes.”
“Wow.” She let out a low breath. “Okay. I guess I’ll take it too.” He hadn’t expected her to acquiesce so easily, but he was grateful she’d realized the gravity of the threat. “Good.”
There were other security measures he needed to talk over with her, but they could wait until tomorrow. If the deepening lines of strain around her mouth were any indication, she’d had about all she could take today. “Why don’t you get that pain medication from the nurse.” He handed her the call button.
She gave him a wary look. “Aren’t you going to push me about the client I mentioned?”
“Would it do any good?”
“No.”
“That’s what I thought. But consider this, Emily. We’re very adept at making discreet inquiries. He’ll never know we ran a background check.”
“But he’ll know if you ask him for an alibi.”
“True. But we’re dealing with an attempted murder.” He waited a few seconds to let the full impact of his words register.
“In that kind of investigation, no stone is left unturned. The man knows he has an anger problem. He knows he’s mouthed off to you. It’s not unreasonable the police would want to check him out. In any case, we’re not obligated to identify the nature of the investigation or the parties involved when we question someone.”
After considering his comment, she shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mark. It doesn’t feel right. He could put two and two together. And trust is essential in a counseling relationship.”
“Did he choose to come to you?”
“No.”
“Would you say there’s much trust now?”
She conceded his point with a shrug. “Not a lot. But there’ll be less if I identify him as a client.”
He’d forgotten about her stubborn streak. And the way she could dig in her heels when it came to her principles, no matter the cost to herself.
“I understand your concern. But there are extenuating circumstances.” He laid a gentle hand on her bandaged arm. “This was too close for comfort, Emily. If you are a target, he may not miss the next time.”
She frowned and reached up to massage her temples. “Can I sleep on it?”
After a brief hesitation, Mark nodded. “Okay. I’ll be by in the morning.” He scrutinized her and pushed the call button himself.
“You waited too long to ask for the pain pills.”
“They put me to sleep.”
“Sleep is good. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”
“What can I do for you, Dr. Lawson?” The nurse’s voice came over the intercom.
“I think I can use that pain medication now.”
“I’ll be right in.”
As Mark moved the call button aside, he gave Emily a sympathetic look. “Nights are always the worst for pain.”
She dredged up a smile. “The voice of recent experience.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Have you been shot before this last incident?”
“I have my share of battle scars.”
“You’re dodging the question.”
He was saved from having to reply by the appearance of the nurse, who moved beside the bed.
“We can do pills or I can administer the medication through the IV, which is faster-acting. Any preference?”
“The IV.”
Emily’s immediate response confirmed Mark’s assessment that she’d waited far too long to ask for help with the pain.
The nurse injected the medication and smiled at Emily. “You’ll feel better in a few minutes.”
As she exited, Emily turned to Mark. “You probably have places to go. It’s Saturday night. You might be able to salvage a few hours.”
“If I leave now, Nick will have me wielding a paintbrush within the hour.”
“Who’s Nick?”
“My roommate. A classmate from the FBI Academy who works in the St. Louis office. He’s rehabbing an old house, and in exchange for a place to stay, he puts me to work every chance he gets. He’ll have Coop climbing ladders too, before he’s through.”
“Your partner’s here?”
“Yes. My boss in Quantico sent him in to help with the case, and he’s staying with Nick too. Except I found out today he’s allergic to drywall dust.” He gave her a rueful smile and shook his head. “He’s never going to let me live this down.”
She gave a soft laugh. Already she was drifting. “I’ll have to meet him.”
“Tomorrow.”
There was silence for a couple of minutes. Her eyes flickered closed, and Mark was relieved to see her features relaxing as the pain medication began to take effect.
“Mark?”
“I’m still here, Em.”
“You’re the only one who ever called me that, you know.” Her lips lifted into a wistful smile, but her eyes remained closed as she reached out to him. “Would you mind holding my hand?”
He cocooned her slender fingers in his. “I’ve had harder duty.”
“Mmm. That feels good. Thanks.”
“It’s my pleasure, Em.”
And in truth, it was.
Darkness hadn’t diminished the oppressive heat, but at least he’d gotten rid of the long sleeves. Unfortunately, his T-shirt exposed more flesh to the thick swarms of hungry mosquitoes that called the mud flats along the river home.
As he stepped into the boat and pushed off from the small dock, he slapped at a few of the bloodthirsty insects that were unfazed by the liberal coating of DEET on his skin. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t venture out onto the river at night.
However, today had been anything but normal. And the heavy blackness of the overcast, starless sky provided the perfect cover for his task. But the darkness wasn’t a problem. He’d fished this river hundreds of times through the years and could navigate it blindfolded.
The muffled putt-putt of the outboard motor, throttled low, echoed in the stillness as he headed downstream. Given the late hour and the dark windows in the few weekend cabins he passed, he doubted the precaution of traveling to an isolated area was necessary. But he’d thought through every step of his plan and saw no reason to change it. He couldn’t afford to get caught.
Especially since the job wasn’t finished.
According to the evening news, one person had been wounded this morning. That hadn’t surprised him. He was a good shot. But an unexpected move by his quarry just as he pulled the trigger had sabotaged his aim. His second shot had been a gamble, and it didn’t appear to have paid off. The reporter on TV had mentioned only a single gunshot wound, and indicated the victim was hospitalized but stable.
He nosed the bow of the boat toward the center of the river, turned upstream, and set the throttle high enough to keep him stationary in the rapid current. Woods ran down to the shore on both sides here, and a quick scan of the secluded bank revealed no sign of life.
As he pulled the pieces of metal from the sack under his seat, he fingered the remains of his dismantled hunting rifle. The stock had been splintered and fed into his barbecue pit this afternoon as he’d cooked a steak. The barrel had been cut into three sections in his workshop, the smaller parts hammered beyond recognition.
Now, one by one, he dropped each piece overboard, watching as they were swallowed by the dark, swirling water.
The necessity for this clandestine trip was galling, and a surge of anger welled up inside him. In a just world, he wouldn’t have to cover his tracks. He would be applauded for following the Good Book, for settling this score. But the cops didn’t see it that way. If he was caught, he’d be thrown into jail. And he couldn’t let that happen. He wanted to right a wrong, not give his quarry a chance to commit more sins.
His failure today left a bitter taste in his mouth. But he consoled himself with the belief that it had to be part of God’s design. The Lord must want revenge exacted in a different way. And it was up to him to figure it out. He’d pray about it, and when he understood what was expected, he’d formulate another plan. A better plan.
Because the next time he set his sights on his target, he didn’t intend to miss.