TRAVIS STARED at the house, his mind racing through possible scenarios. The easiest one was to walk up to the front door, knock, and ask Mr. Delaney to give himself up. It would work fine, if Delaney didn’t shoot him. If he put down the gun. If he came to his senses and remembered what was going on. Too many damn ifs to count on.
“Okay, I need a uniform.” Travis motioned to a nearby cop. “You. With me.” The cop followed Travis up the walk. “We’re going to knock on the door. This man has Alzheimer’s. He called in the shooting, so he’ll be expecting the police. So, we’ll give him the police.”
The officer nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
They’d reached the front door. Travis took a deep breath and knocked. “Open up, sir. It’s the police. Did you call about a break-in?”
There was a flicker of a blind at the window, then sounds behind the door. Travis motioned for the cop to step to the side, and he pulled out his badge and ID wallet to have ready to show Mr. Delaney.
The door opened a crack, the security chain stretched across the narrow opening.
“Did you get him?”
Travis held out his ID. Delaney eyeballed it.
“Sure did. He’s under arrest. We’ll need you to come down to the station and identify him for us.” Travis gave him a smile. “This is….”
“Officer Jones.” The cop stepped forward.
“He’ll be taking a statement from you.”
“Okay.” The door shut.
Travis waited on the steps. Nothing happened. He knocked again.
“Who is it?”
“It’s the police. Did you call about a break-in?”
“It’s about time you got here. He got away.” The door had only opened a crack.
Travis was beginning to hate that chain. “Can you open up, sir? We need to ask you a few questions.”
“Ask them. I’m not going anywhere.”
Shit. Travis frowned. “Well, that’s the trouble. We need you to come down to the station and identify your assailant.”
“Oh. Right. Okay.” The door shut.
Travis thought he’d scream if he had to do this one more time. No wonder David had been so frustrated.
This time, to Travis’s relief, there was the sound of the chain sliding back, and the door opened. He signaled for the cop to hold his position. He was too close to getting this done without anyone else getting hurt to fuck up now.
“Mr. Delaney?” He held out his badge again. “I’m Detective Hart with the Heights PD. This is Officer Jones. Can I come in?”
“Sure.” The door opened wider, and the old man stepped aside, not recognizing Travis at all. Delaney wore a sport coat over a knit shirt and trousers. Typical old guy clothes, but it was the gun Travis cared about. It could be stashed in a pocket of the jacket.
Travis walked in with Jones right behind him. “Now, can you tell me what happened?” He looked around the entry. There was blood smeared on the wall, along with David’s handprints. Travis’s stomach knotted at the sight, knowing that was where David had been shot.
“Well….” Delaney looked around the room. “I came home from work, and this guy was in my house.” He fidgeted with his shirt, his eyes never coming to rest on anything, much less meeting Travis’s.
“That must’ve frightened you.” He tried to sound sympathetic, but, damn, the old guy had shot the man he loved.
“It did. But I scared him,” he gloated.
“I’ll bet you did.” Travis didn’t want to imagine how scared David had been. He knew firsthand the fear of being shot, but having your father be the one to pull a gun on you, much less shoot you… that he couldn’t imagine.
“He came at me. I shot him.” Delaney shrugged.
“So he had a weapon?” Jones asked.
Travis shot him a glare. He didn’t need anyone’s help. The idea was to make this man comfortable, not put him on the defensive.
“I… think so.” Another shrug.
Travis doubted Delaney remembered much of what had happened, and his mind was making up the rest.
“So you shot him. What happened then?”
“He got away. I went to call the cops, and he was gone when I came back.” He pointed to the place where the blood was.
David’s blood. Travis’s own gaze skittered away from it.
“Well, we caught him, so don’t worry.” Jones rocked back on his heels, looking pleased.
“Good. I want to press charges.”
“We’ll fill out all the paperwork at the station, sir.” Travis seemed to be winning the old man over.
“Good.”
Here was the tricky part. “Now, I need that gun.”
“My gun? Why?”
“Well, for evidence. We need to match the bullets to tie him to the crime.”
“Oh, but I don’t want to give you my gun. I might need it.” He shook his head and took a step back.
Travis glanced at Jones. “We’ll return it to you, sir.”
“No, you won’t. It’ll get lost or something. It’ll get held up and you’ll keep it. Next time someone tries to rob me, I won’t have it.” He backed into the living room and looked around, as if searching for something.
This was the part where it got dicey. If they weren’t careful, the old man might pull the gun, and if he did, Travis would have no choice. If that happened, and he shot David’s father, what would that do to David? To him? To know he shot an old man half out of his mind from Alzheimer’s? It would mean the end of David and his relationship and their chance for a future together.
Fuck. It just couldn’t go down that way. “Mr. Delaney, I need your weapon.”
“No.” Delaney’s hand fluttered near his right coat pocket, telling Jones and Travis exactly where the gun was located. Jones flicked his gaze to Travis, but Travis gave him a subtle shake of his head, telling him not to make a move.
“What if I gave you another gun while you waited for yours to come back?” At this point, Travis would tell any lie he had to as long as Delaney gave up the gun.
The old man paused, seeming to chew it over. “Can you do that? Do you have another gun?”
“Sure. The department has lots of guns for just this purpose. You’d have to sign for it, of course.” Where the hell he was pulling this line of bullshit from, he didn’t know. Sheer desperation, most likely.
Delaney’s eyes moved from Travis to Jones. “I’m not sure.” His hand slid into his pocket.
Oh shit. “Officer Jones, can you go out and get me a weapons form?” Travis wanted Jones out of there. If Delaney pulled the gun, Travis could control himself, but not the other officer.
“Are you sure?” Jones raised an eyebrow.
“Positive.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back.” The officer lumbered to the door, opened it, and then looked back at Travis. Travis gave him a nod and Jones left, leaving the door open.
“Now, Mr. Delaney, I’ll need your gun.” Travis held out his hand, careful not to advance or move in any aggressive manner.
“Well….” Delaney’s hand slid out, the gun held tight in his grip. Travis could see his finger on the trigger.
He waited, hand out, palm up, and held his breath. Delaney looked from the gun to Travis, judging, thinking, and deciding. Travis prayed.
“I’ll get another one, right?”
“Sure. Do you want one like this or something different?” Travis kept his tone light and helpful.
“Like this. It’s lightweight and small. See? It fits in my pocket.” He took the gun back and put it in his pocket.
Fuck. Now they were back at square one. “Sure thing. I’ll make sure. Pick it out myself. Now, if you’ll just let me have it.” Oops. Bad choice of words. Travis could have kicked himself.
Delaney laughed. “Hey, you made a joke!”
Travis laughed. “That’s me. Always joking around.” He held out his hand.
With a nod, Delaney pulled out the gun, and for a second, Travis could see right down the small, dark barrel as it was aimed at him. He held his breath and hoped if the old man pulled the trigger, it’d be a shot in the area his Kevlar vest covered.
Delaney slipped the gun into Travis’s hand.
“Do I get a receipt for that?”
Travis exhaled and locked his legs to keep from sinking to the ground. “Sure. I’ve got one in the patrol car. Let’s go get it. You’ll have to go down to the station to identify the man we caught, though. I can have one of my men drive you.”
Delaney smiled and moved toward the door. “Thanks, Detective….”
“Hart. Travis Hart.”
“Travis?” He frowned. “I used to know a guy named Travis.”
“It’s a popular name here in Texas.” Travis stepped outside and signaled to the others that he had the weapon.
“I suppose so.” Delaney paused on the top step and surveyed the front yard. “Hey, what are all these cops doing here?”
“Just our duty. To protect and serve, Mr. Delaney.” Travis walked him to a patrol car, and Officer Jones came up. The cops crouched behind the patrol cars stood and lowered their weapons.
The big cop reached for his handcuffs, but Travis shook his head.
“I’ve always supported law enforcement.” Delaney got into the backseat, no cuffs.
Travis closed the door.
Travis’s lieutenant stalked up to Travis and pulled him to the side. “What the hell is going on, Hart?” Lieutenant Wilkins was a reasonable guy, and Travis knew once he explained, everything would be fine.
“I’m having Mr. Delaney taken to Ben Taub for psychiatric evaluation. He’s got Alzheimer’s and doesn’t know what he’s done or that he shot his own son.” There was no way Delaney belonged in jail, not even in lockup, not for a moment.
Travis was going to make sure the DA knew the circumstances of the incident and recommend he follow the doctor’s evaluation.
“Alzheimer’s, huh? You know this guy?” Wilkins frowned.
“Yeah. He’s the father of the man I’m seeing.” Travis straightened and waited for Wilkins to say something as they stared at each other.
“Right.” Wilkins turned to another cop. “Officer Daily, take Mr. Delaney to Ben Taub and have him checked in for psychiatric observation.”
Daily gave him a nod, got in the patrol car, and drove off with David Delaney Sr.
“Thanks, Lieutenant.” Travis flashed a brief smile.
“You’re a good cop, Hart. You handled this fine. If we’d brought SWAT in here or rushed the old man and killed him, the press would’ve had a field day.” Wilkins slapped him on the back. “Now, why the hell are you standing here? Shouldn’t you be at the hospital?”
“I have to finish here.” Travis rubbed his eyes. He leaned against David’s car and rolled his shoulders to loosen the tension he’d been holding there since he’d gotten David’s phone call.
“Detective Hart?” Wilkins said.
“Yeah?”
“Get the hell out of here. That’s an order.”
Glancing down at the cement driveway, he spotted the blood trail. His stomach threatened to empty, knowing it was David’s blood.
He’d be in surgery now.
Travis said, “I’ll be at the hospital if you need me.”
Wilkins nodded, and Travis headed to his car.