TWENTY-FIVE

Blake walked down the corridor where less than a week ago he lay recovering. The sounds and smells made his skin crawl. He found Aaron Jenkins’s room and tapped on the door. A pair of red-rimmed eyes, enhanced by smudged mascara, met his. She shot him a soft smile and rose to greet him, her hand extended in greeting. “Chief Johnson. Didn’t you just leave this place?”

He returned Mary Jenkins’s smile, shook her hand, and walked over to the man lying in the bed surrounded by beeping machines, wires, and tubes. “Hey, Jenkins. Welcome back to the land of the living.”

The officer made an effort to raise up on his elbow. Blake put out his hand to stop him. “No. Lay back and rest. Do you feel like talking to one more person?”

Aaron’s wife stroked her husband’s pale brow. “Can’t it wait?”

Blake sighed. “Well, I’ve been assigned to head up the investigation for internal affairs...”

She whipped toward him, her eyebrows arched. “He did nothing wrong.”

He took a few steps backward. Never mess with a hormonal, pregnant woman. “I know, Mary. We have to follow protocol here. When a weapon is discharged and a perp intercepts the bullet’s path, we have to go through the hoops. We agree Aaron didn’t fire. Nonetheless, he witnessed what went down. I’ve read the report from Mike Martin and Phil Edwards, but I need to hear it from him.”

Mary looked at her husband who gave her a slight nod. “OK. I’ll go get a cup of coffee.” She pointed to them both. “No more than ten minutes, you two. I mean it.”

The two men watched her exit then winked at each other. Blake sat down. “You have a good woman there, Aaron.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jenkins’s weak reply worried Blake, but he needed to know before he left town. He reached for the Styrofoam pitcher and poured the officer some cool water. He set it on the tray along with his cell phone, the tape recorder app running. “Got to record this. I am Blake Johnson at Mercy Memorial Hospital room of Officer First Class Aaron Jenkins. It is twenty-two ten on Wednesday…” he added the date, took a deep breath, and continued, “Aaron, tell me what happened the night you were shot in the line of duty. Take your time.”

Aaron took a few sips. “I came around the front of the condo responding to Mike’s call for backup.” He looked down at his hands. “I was at the Get ‘em and Go, so I was close by.”

Blake scooted closer. “We all stop off for a cold soda or coffee, officer. That’s why they offer it to us for free. Out of thanks. It also keeps their theft down to have us hanging out there. No harm.”

Aaron let off a sigh as if a boulder had lifted from his chest. “Yes, sir. Thanks. Anyway,” he coughed and started again, “I parked the cruiser, lights off, two doors down and walked. I saw Phil come around the corner as the perps exited the front door.”

“How many?”

“Two I think. Yes, two.”

He re-positioned his head on the pillow. After a few shallow breaths, he continued. “Phil raised his weapon, identified himself, and told them to stop. I saw the taller one raise his weapon and fire.”

“Could you see what type of weapon?”

“Pistol, sir. Automatic, I think. I was still moving toward them on the left, my weapon raised as well. I stayed quiet so as not to spook the suspect, but Phil nodded that he saw my approach.”

“Go on.”

“Phil returned fire and the perp went down. His gun swung to the side as he fell and, well, he got me instead.”

“The perp shot you?”

“Yes.”

“So, you’re telling me there were three shots fired? One by Phil and two by the perp?”

“That’s right.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. “

“You say there were two coming out of the house?”

“Well, I saw one on the stoop. He’s the one who fired his weapon. The other guy dashed off once his friend went down and ran toward the alley. Stockier, wearing a dark hoodie.”

“Not tall and younger? I’m thinking early twenties?”

“Not as I recall.”

“You’re sure he headed for the alley and not the street.”

Aaron gave him a firm nod.

Blake got out his notebook, and wrote in it, allowing the wounded officer time to catch his breath. “So let me get this straight. You witnessed one burglary suspect get shot and then hit the ground. The second one, described as stockier in a dark hoodie, fled the scene toward the alley.”

Aaron closed his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

Blake took the crime photo of Wellington from his breast pocket. “I understand it was nighttime, but would you say this is the man you saw flee? I’m showing Officer Jenkins the crime photo of one Jacob Wellington.”

Aaron took the photo and studied it. “Hard to be sure, but my first instinct says no. Too skinny and tall. As I said, Holden was taller than the other one, not shorter.” He handed it back. “Something else just occurred to me.”

“What?”

“I’m not sure the two came out of the house together. I think one may have been the lookout outside. They were fairly far apart, sir.”

“Hmmm. I’ll make a note of that. Thanks, Aaron. Anything to add?”

“Yeah. Phil did everything by the book. Honest. It was just dumb luck the perp twisted as he fell and his aim became skewed. Otherwise, Phil would be lying here, not me. I don’t think Weldon noticed my approach.”

“Thanks, Aaron.” Blake clicked off the tape recording application.

“Sir? He’s dead, right?”

“The perp? Yeah.”

“I hear the second one hanged himself?”

Blake placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. “The man in the photo I showed you hanged in his cell.”

Aaron’s eyebrows came together. “But, he’s not...”

Blake stood up. “Exactly. So now I have to find out how he’s involved in all this. Also, who your second burglar is.” He shook the cop’s hand. “That’s my job. Yours is to rest easy, son. Thanks for your time.”

He walked out just as Mary headed back in, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. “Mary. He’s gonna be fine.”

“I know. Thanks.”

Blake walked down the hall and opened the door to the stairwell. He bolted down the two flights and out to the parking lot. He punched a number in his cell phone. The party on the other end answered after four rings.

“Hey, Detective Johnson. You all packed?”

“Mostly. Mike, you are aware I’m with I.A. on this investigation, right? Do you mind meeting me at the station? I would like to get your spin on the events.”

“Sure, but I gave my report to the chief.”

“Yep. I read it. I still want to hear it from you, OK?”

Mike hesitated. “I can be back there in ten.”

“Back? You already clocked out?”

“Yes, sir. Fifteen minutes ago. Was stopping off at the store. Wife needs milk for the kids’ breakfast cereal in the morning.”

Blake chuckled. They faced danger every day, and yet they were still husbands and fathers just like every other guy. “Let me meet you at your house then.”

“Roger. 1542 Willow Drive.”

“Know exactly where that is. See you in a few.”

He clicked off and turned right onto Main. He pulled into the drive-thru and ordered a vanilla latte. Time he discovered what his mother-in-law and wife saw in them. He sat in the car and sipped it, scanning the report one more time in order to give Mike time to get home and spend a few minutes with his wife before he barged in. He swallowed and shuddered. Nastily sweet stuff. Yuck. He set the caffeine drink in the cup holder, got out, and walked up the front walk, narrowly missing some action figures and a toy fire truck. Mike met him before he got to the porch and shook his hand. “Let’s sit out here. Wife is already in her bathrobe.”

“It’s late. I know. Won’t take long.”

“Yes, sir. Ask away.”

Ten minutes later the two shook hands, and Blake returned to his car. With his hand on the door handle, Blake stared out into the night, his brain churning. Mike Martin only reported hearing two shots, stating the perp fired, hit Aaron, and then Edwards fired in return. Phil Edwards’s statement agreed with that. Yet Jenkins’s conflicted. Which one was mistaken?

He got back into his car and looked at his dashboard. Ten thirty-two. Janie should still be up. He dialed her number.

“Blake? Are we supposed to be speaking?”

He snickered. “You are my mother-in-law.” He got a new whiff of the caffeine concoction in his console and grimaced. “Tell me. What do you see in these vanilla lattes? They taste like stale candy.”

“You’re calling me after ten o’clock at night to ask me that?”

“No. I have another question, and yes, it is part of the investigation. How many shots did you hear?”

“Two, possibly three. If three, the last two were close together. Almost the same bang. It also could have been an echo.”

“Thanks.”

“Does that help?”

“It might.”

“What time are you all heading out tomorrow? If it’s still on, that is.”

Man, she could be a busybody at times. He let out a long sigh. “About noonish. I am handing this over to Hornsby in the morning. Gates already approved it.”

“So he’ll be in charge of both investigations? Is that Kosher?”

“The burglary is Connor’s baby. Yeah, Hornsby is overseeing it I guess, but he isn’t directly involved. In fact, I suggested Connor report directly to Chief Gates while I’m gone.”

“It’s not what Connor Hemphill told me today. He said Hornsby yanked the burglary from him so he and Phil could investigate the mystery man in the river.”

“Oh, well. His choice.”

Janie laughed. “You are serious about going on vacation. I’m proud of you, Blake.”

He chuckled. “We’ll call you when we get to the beach.”

“Good enough. ’Night, Blake. Oh, and pack lots of sunscreen. Your receding hairline will need it.”

She hung up before he could respond. Wise woman.

He tossed the latte into the trash can Mike had already put out on the curb and turned over the engine.