Noah sprinted across the street and David heard the squeal of tires and two more shots fired in rapid succession. He hunkered over Crawford and Olivia as the doors of the police department flew open and six officers ran into the street, guns drawn.
Shaking, David pushed to his knees. “Olivia. Olivia.” He pushed Crawford off her and his heart stopped. She was covered in blood and she wasn’t moving. “Olivia.” He pressed his fingertips to her throat. And breathed. “She’s got a strong pulse,” he told the officer who’d knelt beside him. “I can handle this. Go see to the others.”
The officer rushed off. David checked Crawford’s pulse, but the man was dead, his blood pooling on the sidewalk from the huge hole in his chest. The bullet had blasted straight through him. Straight into Olivia. Probably hit her shoulder.
David swiftly unbuttoned her blouse to check for the bullet’s entry, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of the Kevlar vest she wore.
“What the hell is going on here?” Abbott fell to his knees beside them.
“She’s unconscious. She hit her head on the concrete. I think all this blood is Crawford’s.” Gingerly David pulled the Kevlar away, exposing her shoulder and he calmed a little more. Already forming was what would be a nasty bruise, but there was no blood, no gaping hole. Just beautiful skin. “The bullet hit the vest.”
“Thank God.” Abbott looked paler than Olivia. “I couldn’t handle another one.”
She stirred, moaning a little, lifting her hand to her head. “Ow.”
David pulled her hand away gently, his hand shaking now that he could see she was all right. Her fedora was half off her head and he set it aside, checking her head. “You’ll have a goose egg, but there’s no open wound.”
“Good,” she murmured. “You have enough stitches for both of us.”
He’d forgotten. Tentatively he ran his fingers over his jaw, relieved none of the sutures had burst. “Can you sit up?”
She nodded and he helped her, giving in to the need to hold her for a moment. He pulled her close and felt her shudder. Or maybe it was his. “Crawford?” she asked.
“He’s dead,” David said, feeling only regret that they hadn’t made him talk first.
Noah crouched beside them, breathing hard. “Bullet came from a brown late-model Explorer. I chased, but he got away. I got the plate and called it in.”
“What the hell happened?” Abbott demanded.
“Crawford was Mary’s stepfather,” Olivia said. “I called to tell you, but you were in a meeting with the commander, closed door. Crawford said he didn’t know where she was, but was about to tell us who else was involved when somebody shot him.”
Abbott frowned. “He knew who the blackmailer is and didn’t tell us right away?”
“Tried to bargain for custody of Lincoln,” Noah said.
“Sonofabitch,” Abbott said, looking down at Crawford’s body with disgust.
David’s mind was spinning. “He said he’d talked to Mary’s brother, who didn’t know where she was. But what if the brother was lying? What if Jonathan’s involved?”
Olivia looked at Noah, then back up at David, confused. “Who’s Jonathan?”
“Mary’s brother,” David said.
Olivia struggled to her feet. “No, Mary’s brother is a doctor. Andy Crawford.”
David frowned. “She’s got two brothers then. One is named Jonathan.” He told them what he and Tom had learned.
“Jonathan’s who Crawford meant,” Olivia said. “He couldn’t have talked to Andy, because I was talking to him on my way back here. Andy’s coming from Wisconsin, to try to help us find Mary.”
“Then let’s find Jonathan,” David said grimly.
Wednesday, September 22, 6:20 p.m.
He would have preferred to have shot Crawford in the head, but he’d been forced to choose a wider target as he’d shot from a moving car. He thought Crawford would never duck around those tall men. He’d been arguing with Sutherland. If he’d told them about me, they would have run for their cars. So he thought he was safe, for now.
He pulled over, taking his gun and laptop. Webster had made out his plate, which didn’t matter as the plate was stolen. Still, it was too dangerous to keep driving this car around with a million cops searching for him. He’d steal one, then go find Mary.
Then it was time to go. He’d had a good run here, developed some skills. He’d get the fake ID he kept stashed in his safe-deposit box and start over somewhere cool. As long as he had his offshore bank numbers, the world was his damn oyster.
Wednesday, September 22, 6:30 p.m.
Olivia looked up when the conference room door opened and immediately wished she hadn’t. The room careened around her, taking her stomach with it. David closed the door behind him, in his eyes the abject terror that had been there since Mary drove off with his mother.
“You need to get x-rayed.” He dropped the handful of items he carried on the table. “Tylenol, ice packs, a clean T-shirt from Micki, and a clean vest from Abbott.”
She shrugged out of the shirt, happy not to be wearing Crawford’s blood and guts anymore. But she couldn’t manage the button at her wrist, and David took up the task.
His gaze fixed on the hole in the fabric. He stared a few seconds, his face stark.
Her mind replayed the moment, as she knew his was. The shot, the impact of the bullet, the sudden warmth of blood, the three of them, falling. “I’m sorry, David. I should have gotten what Crawford knew. If I hadn’t been so angry…” She closed her eyes, miserable. “We’d know who the blackmailer is. We might know where Mary is.”
He was quiet as he peeled the bloody vest away and taped an ice pack to her shoulder. “You need to keep that ice pack on for at least twenty minutes, then you can put the vest back on. You’re going to have some loss of rotation in your shoulder.”
He hadn’t responded to her apology and it stung. But what did she expect him to say? That it was all right? It wasn’t. She’d been outraged, acted impulsively, and now Crawford was dead, taking his knowledge with him. If they didn’t get to Phoebe in time… David won’t forgive me. I won’t forgive myself.
“It’s my left arm. I can still shoot.” She popped a Tylenol and pressed the second ice pack to her head. “I need to get back. Thanks for the first aid.”
He helped her to her feet, holding her when she would have bolted. “Olivia, wait. Look at me.” She did and saw no accusation in his eyes. Just raw fear. “You didn’t know Crawford would be killed. Do I wish we knew what he knew? Hell, yes. But in your place, I would have done the same thing. Lincoln did a terrible thing twelve years ago and he should pay for his crime, but Crawford… he was somehow worse.”
She shuddered out a breath and leaned into him. “We’ll find Mary a different way.”
His arms came around her and they clung, taking comfort and strength. “Don’t leave without the new vest,” he whispered fiercely. “Promise me.”
She kissed him softly. “I won’t take chances. I have to get back now.”
She stepped out of the conference room and blinked. Louise Tomlinson was coming out of the elevator. “Mrs. Tomlinson?”
Louise hesitated, then squared her shoulders. “Detective Sutherland. I need to talk to you. It’s important. I heard about Detective Kane on the news. I’m sorry.”
Olivia forced herself to meet the woman’s gaze, rather than looking at Kane’s empty desk. “Thank you. I’m working with Detective Webster on your husband’s murder. Please come with me.”
She led Louise into Abbott’s office where Noah sat at the round table with Barlow and Micki. “Abbott’s with the Feds, dealing with Crawford’s shooting,” he said without looking up. He was studying a printout with narrowed eyes. “I got cell LUDs on both Blunt and Tomlinson. Barlow and Micki have their credit card statements.”