Police dogs on leashes sniffed the ground. Blue and red lights atop cruisers strobed. Grace knew that most of the force had been called to look for Grimaldi’s missing gun.
So far, nothing had been found.
Sitting on the rear bumper of an ambulance, Grace’s heart thumped with each flash of the lights.
An EMT stood at her side and examined her injured arm. “Can you open and close your hand?” he asked. His echoing voice sounded like it came from the opposite side of a canyon. Moreover, she felt as if she were watching the events unfold and not actually a part of the action. From somewhere in the back of her mind came a single word. Shock.
She’d seen it before in victims of car crashes and crimes alike. It was a detached disbelief that something awful had occurred. Just putting a word to the sensation thrust Grace back into her own body.
The EMT watched her. She knew he’d spoken yet couldn’t recall what he’d said. “I’m sorry. Can you say that again?”
“Can you move your hand?”
Grace spread her fingers and then closed them to a fist.
“Can you roll your wrist?” the EMT asked, rolling his own.
She imitated the motion.
“Any pain?”
Grace shook her head. “It’s a little sore, but nothing I can’t handle.”
“It doesn’t appear that you have any broken bones. Still, you might want to follow up with your doctor, especially if your discomfort worsens.”
“Thanks,” she said. The EMT packed up his med kit.
A barricade, a wooden sawhorse painted yellow with GGPD stenciled in black, had been set up at each end of the block. From where she stood, Grace could see that the group of onlookers had grown to more than one hundred. Beyond protesters and gawkers, there was also a TV crew from nearby Kendall.
Melissa approached as the EMT left. She wore a blue windbreaker with a badge embroidered on the chest. She also wore jeans and a T-shirt. Her brown hair hung loose around her shoulders. Just seeing Melissa calmed Grace.
Grace knew the truth. Melissa wasn’t at the scene to offer personal support. Rather, the other woman was the chief of police, and it was her job to be on the scene of a shooting.
“How’s the wrist?” Melissa asked.
“Nothing’s broken.”
Melissa nodded. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Brett approached with Ember and waited as Grace began to speak.
Grace had already repeated the story several times. Still, she said, “I saw the suspect, Mr. Grimaldi, at a window. I identified myself as a police officer. It was then that he ran. In the alleyway, he threw his backpack at me. It struck me in the wrist when I batted it away.” She drew in a deep breath, trying to slow her racing pulse. “He exited the alley, which is where I lost sight of him. As it turns out, he ducked into a doorway,” she continued, pointing to the spot. “As I approached, he ran again. It was then that he drew his weapon. I fired. He went down. There was a couple, a man and woman, at the end of the street. They approached Mr. Grimaldi. I told them to back away. They didn’t at first but left as I approached. I placed Mr. Grimaldi in custody and called for backup and medical care.” Looking at Brett, she concluded, “That’s when Detective Shea arrived.”
Melissa turned. “Brett?”
“It all went down as Grace said. She pursued the suspect on foot while I brought my SUV around the block. There were protesters in the street, and it slowed my response. By the time I arrived, Grimaldi was down.”
“What about the couple?”
“I saw a man and woman running down the street.”
“So you arrived after Mr. Grimaldi was shot?”
“That’s correct,” said Brett.
Melissa continued. “You didn’t see his gun? Or Grace firing?”
Dropping his eyes to the pavement, Brett ran his fingers through the fur on Ember’s head. “I did not.”
Melissa tensed her jaw. “Anything else?”
“We recovered the backpack.” Brett continued, meeting Grace’s gaze. “Grimaldi’s driver’s license was inside, as well as two laptop computers, a smartphone, jewelry—watches, rings, a diamond bracelet—and lots of cash. My guess, Mr. Grimaldi was routinely looking for open windows and letting himself into people’s homes. We’ve already gotten calls about some of the missing items.”
“Tell me about Grimaldi,” said Melissa.
Brett held Ember’s lead with one hand and his phone in the other. Using his thumb to navigate, he held up a screen. It was filled with a rap sheet. “He has a pretty long arrest record. Robbery. Larceny. Selling a controlled substance.”
“What about his gun?” Melissa asked. “Have you found that yet?”
Brett shook his head. “No.”
“You have Grimaldi’s criminal history. Has he ever been arrested with a gun before? Are there any weapons charges in his file?”
Brett glanced at the screen and then wordlessly, shook his head.
Grace’s knees threatened to buckle. No gun? What was going on? Was this all some ploy to make the department look bad? Could this be another attack on the police by Randall Bowe? Or maybe it was one of those Bowe sent to jail. The witnesses had been more than a little hostile. Had this whole incident been a setup from the beginning?
At the same time, Grace had another thought—worse than the first. What if she’d been mistaken? What if Grimaldi never had a weapon to begin with?
She drew a shaking breath and recalled those seconds before she pulled the trigger. “He was armed,” she said, her voice a croak.
“What’s that?” Melissa drew her brows together.
Grace cleared her throat. “Grimaldi was armed. He had a gun. He pointed it at me.” She paused. “I know what I saw.”
“Get a CSI team down here for a thorough search. If the gun is out here, we’ll find it,” said Melissa. Her green eyes held an unmistakable look of concern.
If? “It’s out here,” said Grace, her voice stronger than she felt. She scanned the street. It was overflowing with cops. “Somewhere.”
“And if it’s not?” Brett asked.
Were Brett and Melissa really questioning what she saw? “Grimaldi had a gun.”
“Let’s just keep looking, okay?” said Melissa.
“Sure thing, boss,” said Brett. He clicked his tongue, signaling Ember to follow.
“Before you go, I need you to do something else,” said Melissa.
Brett stopped. “Whatever you need.”
“This investigation has to be done by the book,” said Melissa. “Officer Colton’s firearm has to be examined by Forensics. Can I ask you to place it in an evidence bag? The body camera, too?”
Brett removed two evidence bags tucked into a pocket of his utility belt.
At the academy, every cadet had been warned that this day could come. If a gun was ever fired in the line of duty, that firearm would have to be analyzed and compared to the bullet. It made no difference if the officer admitted to firing or not.
Her throat tightened around a hard kernel of indignation. She was being wronged, but she knew her job and was determined to remain professional. Saying nothing, she handed over both her gun and her camera.
“For now,” Melissa continued, “let’s get back to headquarters. From there, we’ll evaluate the body-cam footage you caught. That’ll at least prove that Grimaldi was armed. Grace, you ride with me. Brett, we’ll meet you there.”
Despite the heat, Grace started to shiver. She followed Melissa to the car. Her cousin slipped into the driver’s seat of an SUV, Grace into the passenger seat. Melissa maneuvered to the end of the block, where a police officer lifted the crossbeam of a barricade.
A light shone through, blinding Grace with the glare.
A reporter pressed her face next to the glass. “I’m Harper Sullivan from Kendall, I have some questions for you.” A man stood behind her. A camera, along with the light, was perched on his shoulder.
Melissa said nothing.
The reporter continued. “Chief Colton, do you have any comment about what happened tonight? Is this case related to the Len Davison case? Or Randall Bowe? There was an officer-involved shooting. Is this the officer? Does she have any comment?”
Gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, Melissa stared through the windshield. “Just look ahead,” she whispered. “And don’t say a word.”
Tense, Grace faced forward and looked at nothing. The crowd parted as the SUV nosed forward. It took only a minute before they were on an empty street. Grace glanced in the side-view mirror. All the protesters and onlookers were behind her. She exhaled. “What in the hell was all that?”
“It’ll be okay.” Melissa smiled, but her brows were drawn together in concern.
“Thanks for saying so, but...” Grace shook her head.
“But what?”
“Just never mind,” said Grace. “It’s not important.”
“I might be the chief of police and your boss, but I’m also your cousin. Don’t tell me to ‘never mind.’”
Just moments before, Grace had had too many thoughts to even know what to think. Now, her mind was blank. What was she supposed to say?
“I don’t think this problem will be over soon.” Grace’s hands started to tremble. Tucking her palms under her thighs, she continued, “I think that the GGPD is about to be hit by the full force of this town’s anger. It’s all because...” Her words faltered. She cleared her throat. “It’s all because of me.”
Without speaking, Melissa drove. Turning a corner, she pulled into a lot at the back of the police department. A spot near the door was empty. A white sign on a post read Reserved for Chief of Police. She turned to Grace.
“I’m not going to lie to you,” Melissa began. “You’re going to have to be strong. The public doesn’t like to see police shoot anyone.”
“Of course not,” she said, interrupting. “Nobody wants to have force used.”
Melissa started again. “There’s going to be questions you’ll need to answer. My guess, there will be an investigation. Be honest, but don’t answer a question until it’s asked. You don’t want to provide the IA investigator with details they can use against you.”
Grace tried to swallow, but her throat was closed. “Don’t give any information unless asked.”
“Once we see what’s on your body camera, a lot of the furor will die down, I’m sure.” She turned off the motor. The silence was total. Grace could hear her own breath and the resonance of her own heart.
Melissa continued. “I called Ellie. She’ll be waiting to download the camera footage.” Ellie Bloomberg was the IT expert for the GGPD and one of the hardest working people on the force.
Grace reached for the door handle. “I can’t wait to get all of this behind me. Let’s go.”
Melissa reached out, placing her palm on Grace’s shoulder. “One last thing. You did turn on your body cam, right?”
Grace recalled those few seconds as she raced through the alley. She could feel the pressure of her fingers on the Record button. “I’m positive,” she said.
“All right, then.” Melissa smiled again. This time the expression was real. “Let’s go.”
Despite what he’d said to Arielle, Camden worked later than he intended. As he finally parked his car in front of his town house, he glanced at the dashboard clock: 10:42 p.m. No wonder he was tired.
While loosening his tie, he walked slowly to the front door. Stepping into the townhome, his mind was already on a cold beer and a soft sofa.
He twisted off the cap and took a long drink. He sighed. Home, finally. Dropping onto the sofa, he turned on the TV. As the set flickered to life, he wondered about dinner—specifically if the leftover pizza in the fridge was still fresh enough to eat.
A sitcom was interrupted by a breaking-news alert.
A newscaster from a station in Kendall stood near a police barricade.
Camden recognized the street at once. It was in downtown Grave Gulch, about a block from the city park. Blue and red emergency lights flashed in the background. The reporter wore a yellow blazer. Holding her microphone, she looked into the camera and began speaking. “This is Harper Sullivan. I’m in downtown Grave Gulch, where a department beset by scandal can add another disgrace to the list. A police-officer-involved shooting.”
The screen filled with footage of a man on a stretcher. His shoulder was encased in a white bandage, and his arm rested in a sling.
The chyron at the bottom of the screen read Robert Grimaldi shot by Grave Gulch Police Officer. “She just shot me for no reason,” said Grimaldi, speaking into the camera. “The girl cop said I had a gun, but I don’t got no gun.”
The newscaster appeared in profile. “Why would the police officer think that you were armed if you weren’t?”
“I dunno,” said Grimaldi. “She’s inexperienced, I guess. That, or maybe she’s a liar...just like the rest of them.”
Then, the victim was wheeled out of the camera’s shot and into the back of a waiting ambulance.
The picture on the screen changed once more. This time, there was footage of two women in an SUV. Camden recognized one. It was the chief of police, Melissa Colton. The other was younger, blonde, pretty, in uniform. He’d never seen her before; still, he bet that she was the girl cop Grimaldi had mentioned.
The video in the car continued, as did the voice of the reporter. “Do you have any comment about what happened tonight? Is this case related to the Len Davison case? Or Randall Bowe? There was an officer-involved shooting. Is this the officer? Does she have a comment?”
Neither of the women in the police vehicle flinched.
The camera cut back to the reporter for a live shot. “There you have it. A citizen of Grave Gulch, Robert Grimaldi, shot by the police without warning or reason. And the police have nothing to say. This is Harper Sullivan, sending you back to your regularly scheduled program.”
Setting his beer on a side table, Camden cursed with frustration. An officer-involved shooting would be his case, for sure. It was more than his interrupted night. He reached for his cell phone at the same moment it began to ring. The caller ID read Arielle Parks.
“Why am I not surprised,” he muttered to himself before accepting the call. Without a greeting he said, “I saw it on the news.”
“Good god, Camden. This is the last thing we need in Grave Gulch.” He agreed with the DA, but knew she’d called to do more than complain. She continued, “I just got off the phone with the mayor. He wants you on the case.”
“Understood. I’ll head over to police headquarters now.” Camden paused a beat and waited for Arielle to say more. “Everything okay?”
She gave a tight laugh. “The mayor’s furious at everyone. It’s not even my department and he chewed me out.” He could well imagine Mayor Abels yelling at Arielle. The picture wasn’t pleasant. “What are we supposed to do now?” Her tone was sharp. “Someone...” she drew out the word “...has to be held publicly accountable once and for all. It’s for the public good.”
Camden’s neck and shoulders tightened. “I’m not interested in public accountability,” he said tersely. “What I want is the truth.”
“Well, the truth is that a man was shot. Was it caused by bad policing or bad training? That’s what the people of Grave Gulch deserve to know.”
Picking up his messenger bag, he slipped the strap over his shoulder. “What d’you know about the incident? The officer?”
“Her name is Grace Colton. Right now, she’s on the way to police headquarters.”
Camden turned off his TV and threw the remote onto the sofa. “Colton? As in she’s Chief Colton’s—what, sister?”
“I think they’re cousins.”
Detective Troy Colton was assigned to the Randall Bowe case, and Camden had worked with him more than once. Troy was a good guy. Still, Camden had to ask, “Is everyone in that police department related to one another?”
“Not quite. But there are a whole lot of them,” said Arielle.
Camden stepped out of his town house and pulled the door closed behind him. The night air was oppressive, and he began to sweat. Yet, it was more than the heat and humidity of a summer holding on too long. Two things bothered him. The first was obvious. Camden was worried that with all the family relations in the GGPD, Chief Colton would want to protect her officer. Randall Bowe had tried to frame several members of the GGPD, as well. He had to assume that they’d be wary of anyone not named Colton—or an employee of the police department. What kind of cooperation could he expect?
The second problem was more oblique. An officer-involved shooting was too close to the one that had changed his father’s life. Hell, it was the case that had made Camden who and what he was today. A sharp pain gripped his chest along with a memory of his father. Accused of a crime he hadn’t committed, his pop had been found guilty, nevertheless. He’d been removed from the force. It was a disgrace that became a part of his father—like a tattoo on his soul.
The aftermath of those events had shaped the rest of Camden’s life. In the span of a heartbeat, he saw his father as he was the night he’d been let go from the force. Sitting at the kitchen table, head down, hands resting on a placemat.
A headache started in his temple. Camden didn’t have the luxury of wallowing in pity or doubt. He had a job to do and turned his thoughts to the news report and the female police officer in the passenger seat of the SUV. At first, it appeared that her gaze was impassive and without any emotion. But Camden had been wrong. There had been tension around Grace Colton’s eyes. Her jaw had been tight. She was worried, perhaps even afraid.
That left Camden wondering: What did she have to fear?
Was she simply overwhelmed?
Or was she afraid of someone finding out what had really happened?
Camden’s fists clenched. It was then that he realized he still held the phone to his ear. The DA was on the other end of the call, still waiting for his reply.
“I’m on my way to the police department now. I don’t know what happened on that street tonight. Until I get the facts I’m not going to speculate. But there’s one thing Grave Gulch will get from my investigation, Arielle.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
“The truth.”
Ellie Bloomberg sat in front of a bank of computer monitors. She looked up as Melissa and Grace entered.
“Rough night,” said Ellie. Her wavy brown hair was tied into a bun at the top of her head. She wore jeans, a T-shirt and a pair of flip-flops.
Grace ignored the comment about her rough night. Instead, she said, “Sorry for making you come into work.” She continued, mentioning Ellie’s longtime boyfriend. “Mick must be peeved.”
Ellie waved away the comment. “He’s fine. When I left, he was still in his office on a call with Tokyo or London or something.” Sitting taller, she held up a plastic bag. Inside was the camera. “Brett dropped this off and said he was taking the gun for forensic analysis.” A yellow-and-black Evidence banner ran along the top of the translucent bag. There were also several lines for signatures in the chain of custody. Brett Shea’s name was first. Then, Melissa Colton’s.
Ellie stood, pen in hand, and wrote her name on the third line.
The camera was small and black and had plastic casing. The lens was smaller than a dime. Recorded footage needed to be uploaded to a computer in order to be viewed. Sure, some of the newer cameras had a built-in screen. But the GGPD’s budget hadn’t allowed for an upgrade in years.
Ellie studied the bag and chewed on her bottom lip.
Grace didn’t like the expression, and her stomach churned. “What’s the matter?”
“It looks like this has been damaged.” Holding up the camera for Grace to see, Ellie used the end of her pen and pointed. “See this? The Record button is cracked.”
Grace sucked in a breath as her heart started racing. “That’s impossible. I examined that camera myself before we left for patrol. It was in perfectly good condition then.”
“Well, it’s not now,” said Ellie. “Let me see what I can do, and I’ll get back to you.”
Grace stood next to Melissa. The older woman placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Let’s go to my office. I’ll get you a cup of coffee. Tonight’s going to be a long night.”
Grace’s stomach still roiled. Her hands still trembled. She was already jittery. She’d paid attention to all of the academy lectures on what would happen if a cop ever shot a civilian. It’s just that in those moments, Grace never imagined she’d be the one to pull the trigger. It didn’t help that the gun hadn’t been found or that the camera was now broken. What was going on? Could she be the victim of sabotage? It seemed far-fetched, but nothing that happened tonight made any sense.
“Let’s get some coffee,” Melissa said.
“I don’t want any.”
“Yeah? Well, I do. Besides, Ellie won’t get her job done any faster if we’re watching over her shoulder.” Melissa tugged Grace. “C’mon.”
Grace relented. They used a set of stairs that led to the main level.
The squad room was filled with more than a dozen desks. In short, there was always someone in there. At night, the GGPD headquarters wasn’t nearly as busy as it was during the day. All the same, it didn’t mean that it was ever empty. Yet, tonight was different. Every desk was vacant. The silence was total—not even interrupted by the ringing of a phone.
“Where is everyone?” Grace asked. “This place is like a tomb.”
“Everyone’s out.” Melissa’s answer was vague—yet not so ambiguous that Grace couldn’t figure out what she meant.
“They’re looking for the gun,” said Grace grimly.
“Among other things.”
“What if this is all a setup?” Grace asked.
“Setup?” Melissa echoed.
“Maybe it’s someone who wants to make the department look bad.” Once Grace began to speak, words flowed out of her like water from a firehose. “Maybe it’s Bowe. He hates the department enough. He could have paid all those people...”
Melissa stopped in the middle of the squad room. “Ask yourself one question. Even if this whole scenario could be orchestrated, Grimaldi would never know which cop would find him. How could he be sure that he was shot in the shoulder and not the chest or the head?” She walked to her office and opened the door. “That’s a hell of risk to take. For what? Money? Revenge?”
“I guess you’re right,” Grace grumbled.
“For now, we’re going to follow the facts. First, coffee.”
Melissa’s office was tucked into the back corner of the squad room, a light turned on as soon as Grace crossed the threshold. A large desk sat in the middle of the room, a pile of manila folders filled one corner. One wall was filled with pictures of Randall Bowe. A whiteboard had been tacked to the wall. The names of all his victims had been written in blue marker. Beneath the names were the words Don’t stop until the job is done.
Grace lifted a smaller picture from the table. It was a selfie of Melissa and her new fiancé, Antonio Ruiz. Melissa smiled at the camera, Antonio looking at her. It was impossible to miss the look of tenderness and dedication on Antonio’s face. “This one’s new.”
“I figured I needed a picture of the two of us.”
Grace handed the photograph back to Melissa. More than having movie-star good looks, Antonio was rich. “He’s a catch. Plus, he looks like he’s completely in love with you.”
“I am lucky.” Melissa stroked her finger over the picture before setting the photograph on the table.
Grace couldn’t help but wonder how two people could find each other and fall in love. Obviously, she knew how Melissa and Antonio met. It was during the investigation into the kidnapping of Grace’s nephew, Danny. Danny had been found and returned to his family, so the story had a happy ending all the way around.
But why had they met and fallen in love? Was it luck?
And moreover, why was Grace caught up in this and not in love? Was that luck, too? Good luck for Melissa and bad luck for Grace?
Gesturing to one of two chairs that sat near her desk, Melissa said, “Have a seat. I’ll get a coffee started for you.”
Melissa started her single-cup brewer. For a moment, the hiss of coffee brewing was the only sound in the room. What was Melissa thinking? What should Grace say? She was usually bubbling over with words, and now, well...
Glancing over her shoulder, Melissa asked, “How are you?”
Slipping her hands under her thighs, Grace said, “Fine. Not great, you know. But I’m fine.” She nodded vigorously.
“I’ve known you your whole life. You’re far from fine.”
Grace’s eyes burned, but she’d be damned before she’d cry—even in front of Melissa. She bit the inside of her lip hard. Still, she couldn’t help but say, “I’m worried that I’ve made things worse for the department. I’m worried that I’m a failure as a cop.” She stopped and drew a breath. “I’m worried that I’ve done the wrong thing or disappointed you.”
Melissa stirred in a packet of sugar. She handed Grace a mug filled with steaming coffee. “Drink that.”
Grace took a sip. The liquid scalded a raw spot on her lip, and she winced. Damn, when had she hurt her mouth?
“For the record, I’ll never be disappointed in you, Grace. There’s a lot of us Coltons, you know. But you’re my favorite little cousin.”
Grace smiled. “Thanks.”
“Now, really, drink the coffee. Once the adrenaline wears off, you’re going to have a hell of a headache. Besides, you aren’t going home anytime soon. Someone from Internal Affairs will be here soon. You’ll want the caffeine to keep you sharp.”
Grace took another drink. At least she could always count on her cousin. “Yes, ma’am.”
Melissa’s cell phone rang. She glanced at the screen. “It’s Ellie,” she said, before swiping the call open and turning on the Speaker feature. “Hey.” Melissa set the phone on her desk. “I have Grace here, and you’re on Speaker.”
“I’m glad she’s with you. I was able to access the footage. Come down to the lab. I’ll have everything set up for you to review.”
“On our way,” said Melissa and ended the call. She exhaled and smiled. “If all goes well, then we’ll have Mr. Grimaldi on video, pointing a gun at you. This incident will be resolved tonight. By tomorrow morning, your life will be back to normal.”
“If all goes well,” Grace echoed, trying to summon her cousin’s optimism.
Why did Grace feel as if it wasn’t going to go well at all? And that things wouldn’t be normal for a long time?