Thirty minutes later, I sat on a chair inside the hospital room where Detective Murphy was having Chelsea checked out to ensure she hadn’t sustained any injuries. The shot we’d heard earlier wasn’t fired from an officer’s gun. And it wasn’t fired from her attacker. It was fired from Chelsea’s mother’s gun, which Chelsea had stashed inside the glove box after her mother’s murder.
“I’m fine,” Chelsea spat as the nurse inspected her. “I’m not missing my mother’s funeral over this.”
“Don’t worry about that right now,” I said.
“I’m not worried. I’m pissed that asshole got away.”
The asshole she referred to had fled on foot after Blunt and Parks failed to catch him. Or her. We still weren’t certain which gender we were dealing with. A tireless Officer Blunt was still searching. The attacker’s car had been towed. Every inch was being inspected.
“When can I get out of here?” Chelsea asked. “Please. I can’t miss the funeral.”
“I have a few questions first,” Murphy said. “Joss, can you give us a minute alone?”
Chelsea shook her head. “No way. She’s staying. I don’t know you.”
Offended by the comment, Murphy huffed then crossed his arms. “You know I’m a detective. I showed you my badge.”
“You ever see Training Day? The Shield? The Place Beyond the Pines? All cops. All corrupt. You seem nice. You’re probably a great guy just trying to do his job. But right now, the only adult I trust besides my fiancé is Joss.”
He laughed. “This isn’t a movie. This is real life. But okay, if it makes you feel better, she can stay.”
Chelsea glanced at the clock on the wall. “Can I be out of here in fifteen minutes?”
“We can postpone the funeral for a few hours if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said. “After the car crashed into you, did you get a good look at the person following you?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t get a look at her face, but I think she was a woman.”
“What makes you say that?”
“She wasn’t big, you know, like a guy. She was small.”
Murphy frowned. “What was she wearing?”
“Black pants and, umm, black boots, the kind you wear in the snow. She had a black hoodie pulled over her head. It was tied around her face so I couldn’t see anything.”
“What color was the hoodie?”
“Black. Everything was black.”
“Plain or patterned?”
“It was plain.”
“Was there any lettering on the hoodie?”
“Nope.”
“Any tattoos or markings?”
She shook her head. “I just told you, I couldn’t see anything. She was covered up.”
“Hair color?”
She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t see her actual hair. It was covered by the hoodie. I just said that.”
“How tall was she?”
“My height.”
“Which is?”
“Five foot nine.”
Murphy’s cell phone rang. He answered, listened, then said, “Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Thanks. I need to put an APB out. Suspect is female, approximately five feet nine inches, dressed in all black. Hoodie, pants, snow boots.” He gave some additional details and ended the call. “The car is registered to a Zack Montana. There’s only one problem. Zack reported the car stolen a few hours ago. Besides the fact he’s a guy and not a girl, he’s also six foot four, so he doesn’t fit the profile you just gave me. He said he ran into the coffee shop, came out, and his car was gone.”
Murphy looked at Chelsea. “I’m going to let you go, but you won’t be alone. One of my men will remain with you for now.”
“Uhh, I don’t want someone I don’t know following me around. My fiancé is coming to pick me up. So, no thanks.”
“Trust me,” Murphy said. “No offense to your betrothed, but he can’t offer you the protection we can. Besides, you don’t have a choice.”