One hundred and twenty-six minutes after Charles McMahon took fifteen patrons and employees of Java Antonio hostage, the situation was resolved with the gunman dead and no major injuries to law enforcement or civilians. It was a win–win as far as law enforcement was concerned, but Lucy couldn’t help but feel sad for what McMahon had been going through that led him to such a desperate act. Normally she didn’t have a lot of compassion for people who took their ill fortune out on the innocent. But it was clear that something else had been going on in McMahon’s head, and she hoped they could figure out what it was.
Lieutenant Young coordinated the aftermath of the SWAT takedown. He segregated the hostages into groups, had a paramedic look at each one, had his officers collect names, addresses, and photos of each hostage for the records, and take preliminary notes. SAPD crime scene techs went into the coffee shop to process the evidence. The body was guarded until the coroner arrived to take custody. A media information officer was already on scene to answer press questions, and two counselors as well as clergy were available to the hostages.
A thorough investigation was just beginning, which would include interviewing each witness for a formal statement in order to re-create the events prior to law enforcement involvement. Detectives would be assigned to talk to everyone in McMahon’s life, search his residence, vehicle, storage lockers, computers, and phone, analyze his finances, and more.
Especially in a case like this where there was no known motive, the gunman may have said or done something that could give them information on this situation, as well as help them in future armed conflicts. He may have left a note at home. There could be internet browser history that might give them information as to what he had been thinking when he fired a gun in a public coffee shop. They might never know why, but they would do everything they could to uncover the truth.
Though this was an SAPD case, most high-profile crimes were handled by a joint task force. With diminishing law enforcement funding, many FBI offices worked closely with local police departments to pool information and resources. Lieutenant Young was taking lead, and the first thing he did was pull Leo aside.
Lucy didn’t know what they were talking about, but it was a quietly intense conversation that lasted several minutes. Then they parted and Leo walked away from everyone. Yancey and Lucy focused on downloading the tactical videos for analysis. In a situation like this, deadly force wouldn’t be questioned, but every officer-involved shooting was investigated fully. That meant talking to all SWAT members, and hostages, as well as reviewing the body-cam video and any verbal communications. All that was handled administratively. Each officer or agent who fired a weapon would have to surrender it, be put on mandatory leave for a minimum of three days, and be debriefed and cleared for duty by a medical professional, usually a psychologist.
Several minutes later Lieutenant Young came over to Lucy. “I tried to get your boss to walk away and let me handle the investigation, but he’s stubborn. He talked to ASAC Durant and she cleared him to work on the joint task force. You and”—Young looked at his notes— “Lopez?”
“Yes, sir, Jason Lopez.”
“You two are also assigned to the task force for the duration, and Yancey, if you can be available for any tech issues that may arise when admin reviews the video and transcripts. Plus, we need a write-up and analysis of the thermal imaging program. You know the drill.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Three officers took shots, one was yours—Dunning. They’ve all been relieved for the next three days pending debrief and psych eval. But tell Dunning it was a righteous kill, we don’t have anything to feel bad about here. Other than the shooter, no one is hurt. That’s a win.”
“You’ve known Leo a lot longer than I have,” Lucy said, “but I think he can handle this. He probably wants to find the answers—the why—to what happened with McMahon.”
“He’s tough, and I told him we had no other choice. The guy was unhinged. But the plan was not to fire unless he turned his weapons on us. My guys are good—they would have held off. But you saw the feed.”
She nodded. “McMahon aimed two guns at the lead team member and fired one. He had no choice.”
Young listened in his earpiece, said something into his radio she couldn’t make out, then turned back to Lucy. “My people are interviewing all the witnesses,” Young said, “with Detectives Tia Mancini and Keith Hastings taking point. All reports will go through them so we can coordinate our investigation. Lopez is with them. I don’t know when we’ll be done here—it could take the rest of the day. You talked to the wife—did she give an official statement?”
Lucy shook her head. “She asked for a couple of minutes to pull herself together. Her sister-in-law is getting her kids from summer camp, and until she knows they’re home safe I don’t think she’s going to be much help. But we need to formally interview her—and if I may, possibly take over the Paul Grey missing persons case from the sheriff. It may have been the trigger.”
“I’ve already talked to the sheriff, it’s ours. FBI can take lead.”
Leo returned to the group, and Young asked, “Are you sure you want to do this—McMahon could have killed Grey and blocked it out, or was playing us. You don’t have to be part of the investigation.”
“I’m in, Jordan, don’t push.”
“Just trying again. You want to take the wife?”
Leo nodded. “I just spoke to her brother, Travis County Deputy Trevor Olsen. She’s talking to her kids now, but she wants to talk to us. Olsen suggested later—at his place—but I want to do it now, then follow up tomorrow. We need a clear direction here, and she might know something she doesn’t realize. The guy was in distress and we owe it to him, to the hostages, and to his family to figure out what brought him to this point.”
“Agreed. My people will handle the hostages; you handle the family and the Paul Grey disappearance. Tomorrow morning at oh-eight-hundred everyone on the task force will meet at SAPD to debrief and for follow-ups. Agreed?”
“Thanks, Jordan. I appreciate it.”
Young put his hand on Leo’s shoulder. “I meant what I said, Leo. You did everything you could to save that guy. I’m sorry it went south.”
Leo nodded at his friend, and when Young left, Leo hit the side of the truck. “Lucy, find out about the autopsy. You have a good rapport with the ME’s office, right?”
“Yes, Julie’s a friend.” As much as the prickly Julie Peters could be a friend to anyone. She was the deputy medical examiner.
“She’s good, right?”
“The best.”
“Okay—see if you can get her on it. Something was going on physically with that guy. Maybe mental, but a good ME can see that in the brain, right?”
“Possibly—they should be able to identify a tumor, or chemical imbalance.”
“I asked Mrs. McMahon’s brother to call me when she’s ready to talk, and I’d like you to sit in. You’re a psychologist, you might pick up on something that I don’t. So be ready.”
Lucy left Leo and Yancey at the tactical truck and walked over to where the hostages were being interviewed in a restaurant. Jason Lopez was talking to two teenage girls, but when he saw Lucy he wrapped up the conversation and approached her.
“Clusterfuck,” he muttered.
“Did you expect anything else?”
“Those two girls—Cindy Oberman and April Forsyth—they’re fifteen. Both were supposed to be in summer school today for flunking geometry, but ditched. Don’t think they’ll do that again. Anyway, they were sitting at the table next to McMahon and each had a different statement.”
“You took them separately or together?”
“Together—Mancini said not to split them up because they were scared and we didn’t want to further terrorize them. They’re minors, their parents have been called, but that was a situation in and of itself. Both with divorced parents, everyone works, no one can get here for an hour, a lot of family stress. I’m going to follow up again with them tomorrow, though, because it doesn’t make sense.”
“What specifically did they disagree about?”
“Cindy—the blonde—said McMahon was talking to himself, she thought he was a homeless guy who panhandled enough for coffee. ‘Off his meds,’ she said. April, the brunette, said he was clearly not homeless, his clothes were too clean.”
“Observant.”
“Yeah, except she insisted that he wasn’t talking to himself, he was having a conversation with someone else. Which doesn’t make sense because no other witness said he was talking to anyone, but several said he was muttering to himself.”
“Who?”
“She didn’t see his face. A guy was looking at a display, but she said he was listening to McMahon and said something to him, but she couldn’t hear what.”
“Get a description?”
“Nope. Just a guy in a suit, old like her dad.”
“How old is her dad?”
“Forty-six. But I’ve interviewed enough teenagers to know that he could be anywhere from thirty to sixty.”
“But he would have to be in there, right?” She gestured toward the witness staging area.
“I asked her to point him out, and she said he wasn’t here.”
“Have any of the hostages been released?”
“Yes, but at the time I was talking to the girls, only the mother with her kids had been released. Mancini talked to her, she wasn’t much help.” He flipped through his notes. “We have identified eight individuals who fled prior to the doors being locked. Names, numbers, et cetera. He could have left with them; maybe he went to the police station or his car. We’ll track him down.”
“Are there security cameras in there?”
“Nope. But SAPD is canvassing the businesses in the area. Some have security feeds, we should be able to put together a series of events. If the guy left we’ll find him.”
Tia Mancini motioned for Jason, and he said to Lucy, “We’ll be here all day, so I probably won’t see you until the morning briefing. And thank Sean again for the Fourth of July barbecue. My son had a blast with Jesse.”
“We were glad you could make it.”
“Bobbie said when she gets the house in order, she’ll reciprocate. I can’t tell you how happy I am to have my family finally here.”
“Family is why we do all this,” Lucy said. “I enjoyed meeting Bobbie and the kids.”
When Jason transferred from Phoenix to San Antonio six months ago, his wife didn’t want to take the kids out of school in the middle of the year, plus they needed to sell their house. It had been hard on them, and while Lucy’s initial working relationship with Jason had been strained, they’d developed a mutual respect. Sean hooked Jason up with a terrific real estate agent who helped make the relocation easier for the Lopez family. Bobbie and his two kids moved a month ago.
The barbecue on Saturday had been an easy way to introduce Sean’s son Jesse to their friends. Most people didn’t know Sean had a thirteen-year-old son—Sean himself hadn’t known about Jesse until last year. Their relationship was short-lived because Jesse, his mother, and his stepfather had been put into witness protection, but a recent threat assessment indicated that the danger was low because those threatening the Spade family were dead. Jesse’s mother agreed that Sean could have visitation rights, and Jesse was spending most of the summer in San Antonio.
Jason headed over to regroup with Tia Mancini, and Lucy went back outside. She saw the coroner’s van and looked around for which deputy coroner was scheduled. She was pleased to see Julie Peters.
She approached and said, “I’m glad you’re the one taking lead on this.”
“You want in?”
“I have a debriefing at eight, what time will you start?”
“Don’t know yet—I have to move some bodies around, but SAPD says this is a priority. Sometime tomorrow morning. And I know what you need—full tox, complete autopsy. No stone unturned, yada yada. I’ll put in a call to the hot doc.”
“Excuse me?”
Julie grinned. “Dr. Dominic Moreno. Even his name is sexy.”
“And he is what? An ME?”
“No, a brain surgeon. Literally—he’s a neurosurgeon. He works out of the university medical center, transferred at the beginning of the year from Johns Hopkins to head up the department here. He’s absolutely the finest specimen of male anatomy I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“Ask him out.”
“I did. He’s gay.”
Lucy laughed, then quickly covered her mouth. Not appropriate here.
“But he’s so nice to look at, I really don’t care. And brilliant. He’s assisted me a couple of times when I found a brain anomaly, and since it’s a research hospital, he’s more than happy to help. I’ll give him a heads-up and ask for an assist.”
“If he does, I’ll shoot him the audio files of Proctor’s conversation with McMahon. It might help, from a neurological standpoint.”
“I’ll let you know either way. I’m outta here. It’s too friggin’ hot to stand around, and the body is only going to get riper. Sorry I couldn’t make the party at your place this weekend. Truly, I thought about it, but people—living people, that is—make me break out in hives. I’m just not much for large groups.”
Lucy could relate. While she didn’t dislike groups—growing up as the youngest of seven kids, she couldn’t avoid them—she was always exhausted after a big event like the party. She’d slept in on Sunday and then was lazy for the rest of the day—a rarity for her.
“Sometime you’ll have to come over, just you, me, and Sean.”
“That I’d enjoy,” she said with a sincere grin and secured the back of the van, then she and her assistant climbed into the cab and drove off.
Lucy spotted Nate Dunning, her friend and colleague, leaning against the FBI tactical van. He looked angry—and for Nate, that was saying something. He rarely showed emotion.
She walked over to Nate. “How are you?”
“I did the job, Luce.”
“I know.”
“Be my friend, not my shrink.”
“I am.”
“Mandatory leave is bullshit.”
“Agreed.” Most of the time. “You took the shot on orders, because you had to. I get it. It’s only three days,” she reminded him.
“I need to be in the field. I’m worried about Leo and want to be part of his team, but I’m going to be sitting around doing shit and talking to fucking shrinks.”
“I’m on the task force, Nate. I’ll keep an eye on him. I listened to every word of their conversation. Leo did everything he could to end this without gunfire. Something was going on with McMahon. I’m hopeful that the autopsy will give us answers.”
“We couldn’t have done anything different,” Nate said.
“I agree. And if you need me—as a friend, either me or Sean—we’re here for you.”
He nodded, but he wasn’t smiling. “Thanks, Luce.”