Dead Center (The Rookie Club Book 1) (39 page)

The gun was warm against her neck. The scent of gun oil mixed with the copper scent of her own blood.

She thought about the fight with Marchek, the adrenaline rush of escaping him. She had known she wouldn't die. She had known she could get away. She'd had her weapon. She'd just had to get to it.

But now, her own gun clenched in Chip Washington's fist, she wasn't so sure.

For the first time, Jamie considered that she might die any minute.

Chapter 39

Still clasping her hair in his fist, Washington held her at the final landing. He pressed her face to the wall as he opened the door. There were voices. She opened her mouth to scream as he shifted the gun from her head to the hollow of her cheek. The door clicked shut again.

"Don't do it. I'll kill them all."

She closed her mouth.

When the voices had passed, Washington opened the door again. Peered out. He pushed her into the hallway, moving quickly behind her. He held the gun at her side and out of view.

She tried to slow him, to stall, but the muzzle dug into her ribs, the pain urged her forward.

The hallway was empty. With her in front, they walked through the back doors and into the quiet parking lot. She had prayed somehow Tony would be there, waiting. But the back lot was deserted.

Terror surged through her. She couldn't let him reach his car. She couldn't get in. This was her best chance.

He moved quickly now, his fist in her hair driving the momentum.

They turned the corner into the dark lot. She heard a tiny cry escape her lips. It was too close. There was no way out.

He pushed against her. "Not a sound." He stopped by a white Volvo and she heard the double beep of doors unlocking. He took her arm, steering her toward the driver's side when light exploded in her eyes.

He backed up, dragging her.

She blinked hard, waved her arms.

Headlights. A car's headlights shone on them. She squinted to see the driver.

"Move," Washington commanded.

The car engine revved as the lights came toward them.

Washington ducked behind the Volvo, dragging her with him.

Jamie wrenched free. Threw herself into the line of the car.

They were separated. She stood and ran, tripped. Fell onto her knees, cried out, crawled on before scrambling to get up again.

She turned back to see Washington raise his weapon and fire at the car. The car revved but didn't move.

Then she heard gunshots from the other side of her. Three quick blasts.

She dropped, then rolled toward a cement post. A cry of pain burst from her lips as she tried to stand. A muscle tore against her ribs. She swallowed a scream.

Silence. She waited, listened. She stared in the direction of the headlights then got down on the ground and searched for Washington. She saw him lying huddled on the ground by his car, still.

A car door opened. Shoes scraped on the pavement. She heard voices.

Someone bent over Washington, rolled him onto his back. She saw her gun in his hand. He didn't move.

It was over. She closed her eyes, dropped her head to her hands.

Then she heard her name.

"Here," she said. "I'm here."

She heard their voices, felt hands. Opened her eyes enough to see Hailey and Mackenzie. The rookie holstering her gun.

"Nice shot, rookie," Jamie croaked.

Mackenzie smiled.

Jamie thought she might have dozed. She woke to the sounds of other voices, men shouting.

Time seemed to fade in and out. Through her fog, Jamie heard the onslaught of questions, felt Mackenzie try to help her up. She just shook her head. Didn't want to move.

"Jesus Christ, it's Charlie's Fucking Angels again," a familiar voice said.

Jamie opened her eyes, stared at Scott Scanlan. "Listen you—"

Hailey raised her hand. "Save your breath," she told Jamie, pointing at someone walking toward them.

It took Jamie a minute to recognize that it was Daniels who emerged from the dark with two other officers. Jamie recognized the others from her own IA experience way back when. Daniels gave Hailey a quick nod, turned to Scanlan. "Officer Scanlan, you need to come with us."

Scanlan looked around, befuddled. Then he settled an angry gaze on Jamie.

Jamie smiled at him, the same shit-eating grin that he'd given her that first night when IA had come to his rescue. It wasn't as satisfying, though, because the smiling hurt like hell.

As Scanlan was led away, she leaned back and listened to the whir of an ambulance siren, saw the spinning lights. Paramedics jumped out of the cab and jogged toward her.

"I probably don't need to go to the hospital," she said. "I'm okay."

No one listened. They loaded her into the back.

She spotted Tony in the crowd. "I'll meet you at the hospital, Jamie."

She tried to raise an arm but couldn't.

Hailey climbed up into the back of the ambulance first, then offered Mackenzie a hand. They both sat down, waiting for the paramedics to load Jamie in.

"Only one can go," one of the paramedics told them.

"Oh, no. We're
both
going," Mackenzie stated, leaving no room for argument.

The paramedic looked at his partner for support, but the other man shrugged.

Jamie smiled and lay back on the gurney, thinking she might just take the Vicodin prescription this time. The idea of floating sounded so nice. No pain, no thoughts... Or maybe not.

The women were silent as the ambulance bounced across the parking lot. Jamie squeezed her eyes against the pain that knifed her with every motion. The men up front spoke softly, the radio crackled.

Jamie knew they were all thinking about how close she'd come. She took slow breaths to manage the pain, tried to think of something amusing. Scott Scanlan was going to get it. That helped. And Chip Washington was gone. And Marchek... No, she couldn't think about that. Not yet.

She focused back on Scanlan, his cockiness. He was the easiest. Charlie's Angels, he'd called them. Jamie looked up at Mackenzie then over at Hailey. Hailey smiled at her, the way a mother might smile at a child. It was soothing. She tried to smile back.

"Maybe we could sell the story rights to Hollywood—" Jamie whispered.

Hailey frowned. "What?"

"Sell the story to Hollywood, make a million dollars." She took small, shallow breaths. "Retire."

"We can be stunt doubles," Mackenzie said.

"God, no," Jamie croaked. "Let's just consult."

Mackenzie grinned. "Who's going to play you, Jamie?"

"Probably Lucy Liu."

Hailey laughed.

Jamie glanced from one of them to the other. "After all, she looks the most like me."

She heard them laugh—big belly laughs—and she did, too. She stopped because it hurt too much, but at least she could. She could laugh and feel and breathe.

It was like she told people about her victims—she might never be okay, but she was definitely going to survive.

Epilogue

Twelve weeks later

Jamie glanced over at Z. His gaze was glued to the basketball court fifteen rows below them, his eyes shifting only enough to move up and down the court. And every time a player named Stephen Curry made a move, Z launched out of his seat like a rocket. Tony wasn't much better. They'd been jumping in and out of their seats throughout the game though the Warriors were beating the Spurs forty-seven to twenty-three.

Jamie sat back and drank her second Coke. Or was it the third? Her pants were fitting better. She was probably going to have to start monitoring what she ate before she outgrew them. Or maybe she'd just buy new ones. She paid more attention to the boys than the game. To her, they were infinitely more interesting. All she needed was some cotton candy. How could a professional team not offer cotton candy? They'd eaten everything else—hot dogs, pretzels, nachos.

The third quarter ended and Z jumped up. "Can we get some popcorn?"

Tony's mouth dropped open. "You've already had two Cokes, a hotdog, and nachos."

"And a pretzel," Jamie added. She smiled at Z. "But no popcorn yet."

Z grinned back at Tony. "Yeah, no popcorn yet."

Tony laughed, rubbed Z's head. To Jamie he asked, "You want anything?"

"No thanks."

Tony led Z out of the stands and she watched them disappear into the crowd. Jamie scanned the people, watching as the group on the court launched T-shirts into the crowd using giant rubber bands and gave away free pizzas to whoever could make the most noise. She still wasn't doing much jumping around. The pain in her back still wasn't completely gone although it was nothing compared to those first few weeks. She was on leave for almost eight weeks; the next four on desk work. Next week, she had the okay to go back to active duty. She was ready.

For the moment, she was content not to be running the chaos. She still dealt with plenty of it, but not tonight. Her caseload was heavy, but the stress would be nothing like it had been with Marchek. She and Mackenzie and Hailey had attended Chip Washington's memorial services the Saturday after he died. His death had been treated as an accidental shooting. The department had promised Washington's wife and the press that a full investigation would be conducted, but she knew there would be no investigation. Washington's wife would receive his pension and death benefits. She would never know the dark side of the man she'd married.

Jamie was not yet okay with the decision. She was not at peace with the fact that the man who had held her at gunpoint, who had every intention of killing her, who had killed Natasha Devlin, had been given a hero's funeral. It meant Devlin's murder would remain officially unsolved. Hailey would get no credit for solving it. Suspicion about who had killed Devlin would continue to proliferate. Much of it would remain on Tim. But the truth would hurt people, too. Washington's wife, of course. But also Hailey and Mackenzie. The shooting would necessitate an investigation by IA. Those were hard to recover from. Professionally but emotionally, too.

During her leave, Jamie had been talking to a therapist, something she never thought she'd do. And she was trying to quit smoking. She had one of those patches and she chewed a lot of gum—packs and packs of it—but she figured it was better than smoking. Every once in a while, though, she ripped the patch off and had a cigarette. Baby steps, she thought.

Lately she'd been doing a lot of things she never thought she'd do. She met Tim for coffee. One coffee. As friends. She'd been very clear about that. Still, it hadn't been awful. And she hadn't shot anyone, so that was something. Tim was assimilating back into the department. He complained about the way some of the other officers looked at him. Some of his old pals were no longer so friendly. All the charges against him had been dropped and he had received an official apology from the department as well as full pay and comp time for his days spent in jail. It didn't relieve the embarrassment, and nothing would restore his reputation. Jamie knew all about that. She remembered how things had changed after she'd shot at him and Natasha. It would probably get easier eventually, she told him. Probably.