The Guardian

  “Good.” He held her gaze for several moments, wishing he knew how to read what she was thinking. She was looking at him as if she wanted to ask something but was mute. She turned toward the bedroom and the moment was broken.

  Tina had found tennis shoes for her. Shari sat on the side of the bed and pulled them on.

  “Joshua was airlifted to the hospital about a minute ago. Your father should be airborne in a couple minutes. Your mom is already on the way and I’ve got a car downstairs for you.”

  She nodded.

  Tina handed Shari a shopping bag. “The clothes for your mom.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Come on,” Marcus said gently, putting his hand on Shari’s back to direct her. He didn’t like the fact he was leaving while the hunt for the shooter was still in progress, but he had no choice. In the triad of witness, shooter, and crime scene, they were all critical. He trusted Quinn to handle the shooter, and Dave to handle the crime scene. He would rather have Shari and her family remain his responsibility.

  He escorted Shari down the hall to the elevators, keeping his hand under her elbow. She was limping and it looked like she was favoring her knee, not her ankle. He would have to make sure a doctor checked her out when they got to the hospital.

  The elevator controls had been overridden so that only the security center could activate them. He asked for the first floor. They were going out a secure entrance on the first floor rather than descend to the lobby where the press could see them. Shari leaned back against the elevator wall as it descended.

  Marcus didn’t break the ensuing silence. She needed time to collect herself, and he needed time to think. They had contingency plans in place for hospital security, but his first order of business would be to get them strengthened. This shooter had shown no qualms about acting in the midst of heavy security.

  The media was going to be a problem as soon as they learned which hospital they should haunt for news. This was not going to be a one day story; he would have to plan security for the duration of the time Joshua and William were in the hospital. And Shari and her mom would eventually need other accommodations—he couldn’t risk bringing them back to this hotel; they would need someplace close to the hospital.

  “Carl’s really dead.”

  He looked over at Shari, understanding the need to be told what she already knew. “Yes.”

  “Why did this happen? Why him?”

  It was the hardest question to answer about any crime: why. If they caught the shooter and he confessed they would get a definitive answer. Short of that, it would take a long investigation to figure out the motive. “We’ll find out.”

  She rubbed her eyes. “He never knew he was going to make the short list.”

  His gaze sharpened. “You knew?”

  “That page during dinner was John passing on the news. Josh and I had ordered a special dinner to the room to celebrate. Carl hadn’t eaten much at the banquet. I should have told Carl rather than wait for him to get the official call, but it was going to be a surprise. He needed some good news. And he died never knowing . . . ”

  Her voice drifted off. Marcus waited a moment to see if she would say anything else. “Who’s John?”

  She took a deep breath. “My boss, the governor of Virginia. I need to call him.”

  The governor of the Commonwealth of Virginia was her boss. This situation, already highly political, would have the extra dimension of the Hanford family being personal friends of Governor Palmer. “I’ll get it arranged,” he promised. “Shari, did you tell anyone about the page?”

  “Joshua knew, and my parents, but we were waiting for Carl to get the official call before we invited his friends to the suite to help us celebrate. Do you think Carl was killed because he was going on the short list?”

  There was no sense trying to keep the obvious from her. She would be in the middle of this investigation until its conclusion. “It’s possible.” The look of pain that crossed her expression was intense, as if that answer wounded her personally. Why? “Do you think you can help me put together a sketch of the shooter?”

  “I’ll try.” She bit her lip. “I only saw him for a few seconds, Marcus. And after that first moment when I realized what I was seeing . . . it’s scattered.”

  “Do you think your brother saw him?”

  She shook her head. “He was off to my right when the connecting door opened. I was still screaming when that bullet hit the door frame, and Josh hit me in that instant. I don’t think the shooter moved beyond the doorway.” Her eyes closed, and she shivered. “Josh got shot because of me.”

  “Shari—” He waited until she looked over at him. “Trust me. Josh is glad he was able to reach you in time. As hard as it is for you to see him hurt, just remember, he would feel worse if you were the one hurt.”

  She gave a glimmer of a smile. “A guy thing.”

  “Yes.”

  “Are they going to be okay? Josh . . . and Dad?”

  “Can you handle the truth?”

  “No, but I would prefer it.”

  The job demanded he keep a professional, impersonal distance. There were times that kind of distance didn’t fit the circumstances. He reached over and gripped her hand, having found long ago that bad news delivered with a touch sometimes helped lessen the sting. For both of them. “I think you’d better be prepared for the worst,” he answered gently. “Josh is hurt, but he’s young. I think he’ll make it. But your father . . . it looks bad. He might not make it through surgery.”

  She had to know that, had to be prepared, and it would be wrong not to warn her. He felt her flinch, saw her jaw work, then she shuttered her expression. “He’ll make it. He has to,” she whispered fiercely. “I’ll help you however I can with information about the shooter, what happened. But can you wait to talk to Mom until tomorrow? She’s already had enough shock for one day.”

  “I think so. We’re going to make this as easy on all of you as we can; that’s a promise.”

  “Will you be staying with us at the hospital?”

  She’d just been shot at and she sounded apologetic for asking if he would be around to help as all the churn hit. He knew his life was going to be chaotic in the next few days as he worked the case, but it was nothing compared to what had just hit hers. She was a witness; her family was hurt; within days any secrets she thought she had would be considered fair game for reporters across the country . . . she’d just lost her life as she knew it although he didn’t think she fully realized that yet.

  “I’ll be watching out for you throughout this,” he replied, determined to do what he could to throw a shield around her from the worst of it. “That’s a promise, Shari.”

  He felt it, those words. It was an O’Malley promise. She wouldn’t understand what that meant, didn’t need to. It was enough for him to realize the line he had crossed. The shooter had made a fatal mistake. He had shot a judge with impunity. He had hurt a lady Marcus knew. He had made the case personal. Marcus would put the weight of the O’Malley family behind solving the case, and together they were a group it was unwise to cross.

  She squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

  Marcus looked at their linked hands. Her hand not only fit his but looked right there. He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. She was strong like her mom. She’d get through this. With a little help from him. He squeezed her hand before releasing it. The elevator doors opened. “Stay close.”

  * * *

  Kate O’Malley positioned herself beside Quinn by the door of room 1124. It was one of eleven rooms on this floor where they hadn’t been able to get an answer on the phone. They had used the registration information to try and track down the guests in the hotel and failed to do so. They had no choice but to assume the room was a threat situation.

  They were using fiber optic cameras under the doors to make a first look, then opening and searching the rooms. Kate leaned her head back against the wall. She was at Quinn’s elbow on the distinct probabi
lity they might open a door and have a gunman with a hostage waiting for them. Those first seconds would be critical and all hers to deal with.

  “What do you think, Kate?”

  They had to do these sweeps fast, eliminating rooms; every minute without the gunman found simply spread the threat area. They also had to move with caution. It was the adrenaline draining; the worst kind of search. It didn’t help that her gum was getting old. “You’re bleeding on the carpet.”

  Quinn looked and scowled. “A few drops; you would think I was bleeding out the way you keep hassling me. At the price they charge for rooms, the hotel can probably afford to shampoo the carpet.”

  “Lisa’s not here; someone’s got to hassle you.” Kate rather liked Marcus’s partner, and the fact he annoyed her sister Lisa only increased that conclusion. She took another glance at the fiber optic feed. This was a suite of rooms, one of the highest risk entries since they could see only a portion of the rooms. They were at fifty seconds and still no sign of movement. “Open the door.”

  Quinn popped the lock and they swept into the suite; four men from the SWAT team, Quinn, and Kate following them in.

  “Clear.”

  “Clear.”

  “Clear!”

  The cops were efficient and thorough; all rooms, closets, and other places where someone could conceal himself were methodically checked.

  “This is getting old,” Kate commented, feeling her heart rate slow down.

  “Tell me about it,” Quinn replied. “Any ideas?”

  “Get a structural engineer up here. I’d love to know what other ways there are off these three floors. Air ducts and the like. We’re running out of rooms to check.”

  Quinn nodded. “Worth trying. There should be an engineer in the Belmont room.” He made the call down to the security center, requesting the man be found and brought upstairs.

  The guest room door was sealed with police tape to show the room had been swept. They moved to the next room on their list and began the careful process of setting up the fiber optic feed.

  “A dead judge; two wounded. Want to lay odds we’re going to open a door and find our shooter has killed himself?” Quinn asked.

  “Doubtful. He acted in the middle of a hotel full of cops. He had a plan to get away. The mere fact he went up instead of down is striking.”

  “This guy gets away, life is going to get very ugly until he’s caught.”

  Kate nodded. She was already bracing for the worst. Marcus had always been there for her when she needed him; it looked like she was going to be returning the favor. A U.S. Marshal having a judge killed—someone was going to have to sit on Marcus and remind him to get some sleep occasionally.

  She held up a hand, made a fist, and the officer moving the fiber optic lens held steady. Quinn took a look at the small display and agreed with her. Only two feet wearing blue socks were visible, but someone was lying on the bed. He motioned an officer to dial the room phone again; Kate saw no movement. He wasn’t moving to answer the ringing phone.

  “Room registration?” Quinn asked.

  “Kevin McCurry. A judge from the seventh circuit,” another officer replied.

  Quinn looked at her. “Your call.”

  “Thanks a lot.” Kate considered the situation for a moment. “We’ve either got another victim, a very heavy sleeping guest, a hostage, or a dead shooter. The room lights are off. We kill the hall lights, unlock the door, open it a fraction, and we slide the fiber optic camera in high, so we can see the room. In the worst case, we risk getting gunfire back at us.”

  Quinn nodded. “It will work.”

  Ten minutes later, they were dealing with an irate guest whose hearing aid had been turned off.

  * * *

  She had just gone to bed and her pager was going off. Lisa O’Malley rolled over and squashed it with a forceful hand. Bleary-eyed, she tried to find her shoes. They had been kicked off haphazardly when she collapsed on the bed. Her boss had promised her a weekend off call, but she didn’t truly mind, even though it had already been a sixty-hour week. If she slept, she would dream, and thanks to Kevin they had become the kinds of nights she would prefer to forget.

  The ER doctor had been a steady date up until six months ago when he’d taken a slap at her profession and she had been stunned to realize he meant it. She had come home, curled up on the couch, and cried, and no guy had done that easily since she was sixteen. She had promised herself to tell Kevin no in the future, but last week he’d caught her at a weak moment and she’d said yes to dinner. It had been a disaster. Would she never learn? He was still a rat.

  A squeaking metal wheel broke the silence and she looked across the room at the metal cage with the spinning wheel. Her white mice were awake. “Sorry, guys. I didn’t mean the insult.”

  A page at this time of night could only mean one thing: the lab was dealing with so many homicides they were shorthanded and were calling in other shifts. And since she was one of the few forensic pathologists in the office that enjoyed the on-site work, she would probably be spending the middle of the night in some city alley. She would rather go deal with the dead than with another living person. She turned on the bathroom light and winced. She looked like one of the dead.

  She looked like Quinn. That realization didn’t improve her mood. She was glad she had said no to Quinn’s offer for dinner. Women liked him too much for her to want to compete for his attention. And while she knew she wasn’t the most sparkling or witty lady in her family, being asked out third was humiliating. She was the O’Malley that couldn’t stay out of trouble and couldn’t seem to get her social life together. Quinn had been feeling sorry for her.

  Enough. She was off men. They didn’t make them as nice as her brothers and there was no use having her heart hurt again. She had been crying on Jennifer’s shoulder last night, feeling like a wimp, and she hated that.

  Lisa picked up the pager and went to work wondering who had died.

  Chapter Four

  “Shari.” Marcus held out the Styrofoam cup. It was hot tea, very sweet. She took it from him with a murmured thanks. She was still too shaky on her feet for his comfort. If this didn’t get some color back in her face, he was going to insist she accept a sedative. “Are you sure you don’t want a doctor to look at that knee? You keep rubbing it.” They were the only ones in the hospital waiting room. Security had this section of the hospital floor closed.

  She glanced at him. “I’ll be okay. I just aggravated an old injury. Josh talked me into skydiving once and I landed hard.”

  It said a lot about Shari that she would allow her brother to talk her into trying something like skydiving. She was either fearless or brave enough to face a petrifying fear. Stepping out of an airplane took a lot of nerve. “Adventurous.”

  “A sucker when it comes to family.” She leaned her head back against the wall.

  “Your mom is settled?”

  “In room 841 down the hall. They gave her something to help her sleep. With her history of heart problems, the specialists didn’t want to take chances. She was . . . annoyed at their insistence, but she took it.”

  “She struck me as strong willed.”

  “She’s never been one to accept without a fight the fact her health is not good.”

  “The surgeon said it’s going to be another hour before there is any news on Joshua and William,” he commented, glad now that he had intercepted the doctor coming to see Shari. He left unsaid the grim assessment the doctor had made about her dad. She had enough to deal with at the moment, and nothing the doctor had said would change the outcome.

  “Until they are out of surgery, and that will be hours, no news is good news.” She sighed. “I should probably get on the phone, begin making some calls.”

  Her voice was steady; her color was coming back, but he could hear the reluctance. “No reason to rush it.” He drank his coffee and waited.

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re good at being tactful?”

&nb
sp; “I’m a cop, Shari, but I’ve also been in your seat waiting for news about family. I can give you a moment; not much more than that, but at least a moment.”

  “I appreciate it.” She finished her tea. “Open your notebook. I’ll give you what answers I can.”

  Marcus glanced at his watch and noted the time on his notepad. “Walk me through what happened tonight.”

  “Where do I start?”

  “Anywhere safe,” Marcus suggested quietly. “How about early this evening when you went down to the banquet?”

  “We went down together, Carl and my family, about 5:45 P.M.”

  Marcus started filling pages as she talked. She thought her family had gotten back to the suite about 9:45. Room service had been delivered. Carl had been shot minutes later. Marcus wrote a note to himself to make sure they immediately interviewed the hotel employee who had delivered that room service. The security net had put out the alert of shots fired at 10:20, so Shari’s time estimates sounded accurate.

  “When you knocked on the connecting door, it swung open on its own?”

  “The latch hadn’t caught.”

  “Where was Carl when you saw him?”

  “In front of me, about five feet inside the room.” Her voice choked. “He was falling backwards and I knew his head was going to hit the wall. I heard the echo of the shots.”

  “Where was the gunman?”

  “To my—” she looked momentarily confused.

  Directionally challenged. “You’re facing into the room. Where’s he standing?”

  She held out her hand, her look grateful. “Here. By the foot of the bed.”

  “Was there much distance between them?”

  “Four feet? Five? Not much more.”

  The gunman must have stepped out from the bathroom to the end of the bed and fired. “Did you hear Carl say anything? Cry out in alarm?”

  “He seemed surprised, startled.”

  Surprised to find someone in the room, or surprised because he knew the shooter?