Deadly Aim (13 page)

Randy Grover sat down, opened his briefcase, and removed a legal pad and pen. With pen poised above the pad, he looked up at them as if to say,
Let’s get on with it
.

“Officer Delaney.” The guy from the Oregon State Police came around to where she stood to shake her hand. “Detective Callen Riley.” His hand felt warm, firm, and strangely comforting. “This is a tough time for you.” His statement echoed the concern and understanding she read in his face. His eyes, a gentle sea green, searched hers, forcing her to look away for fear he’d see too much or look too deep.

She needed air. She gulped back a surge of panic that nearly made her bolt for the door. She might’ve run if her legs hadn’t gone all rubbery on her. Her voice caught on the thank you she muttered to Detective Riley as she slipped into the chair he pulled out for her.

“I was hoping we could wait a day or two for the formal statement,” Riley said, glancing at Joe then returning his gaze to her. “If you’re not up to this today, we can postpone it.”

Neither Joe nor the lawyer commented. Grover looked like he had other things to do. Joe leaned against the wall, his expression unreadable. In her earlier conversation with him, he’d left no doubt as to his opinion.

She glanced up at Riley. “Thanks, but I’m okay with it. We’re all here, so I might as well get it over with.”

Detective Riley nodded. “All right, if you’re sure.”

She nodded.
I’m not. I may never be, but I don’t seem to have much choice
.

Riley produced a tape recorder from his open briefcase and set it on the table in front of her. The lawyer had a smaller one of his own. Angel gulped back another wave of panic.

“We’ll try to make this as easy as possible on you.” Riley’s soothing voice washed over her.

Easy? How could it ever be easy
? Already the hard wooden chair hurt her rear, and she shifted to find a comfortable position.

Detective Riley poured a glass of water and set it in front of her. From the counter behind him he snagged a box of tissues. When she frowned at his actions, he murmured, “Just in case.”

His kindness was almost her undoing. There was such a thing as being too nice. Angel closed her eyes for a moment, pushing her emotions back. She needed to be objective and to tell her side of the story. “I’m ready.”

Detective Riley and the lawyer punched the record buttons on their machines. Riley began by giving his name and the date, and listed the others present in the room, then asked her if she was aware that she was being recorded.

“Yes,” she answered. Obviously she was, but Oregon state law required officers to inform the party being recorded.

“Officer Delaney, this is a criminal review of the shooting, not an internal affairs investigation. It is not required that you submit to this interview.”

“Wait a second.” Randy Grover turned to Angel. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

She hauled in a ragged breath.
No, I’m not sure of anything. I want it all to go away, but it won’t
. “I want to get it over with. This is as good a time as any.”

The lawyer leaned back, willing to let it go. She’d seen some lawyers blow long and hard at this point. Grover seemed to have other things on his mind.

Angel glanced over toward the door, where Joe was still standing, then at the lawyer sitting opposite her, and finally to the detective, who sat at the narrow side of the table just to her left. Her heart hammered so loudly she felt certain they’d catch it on the tape. “Go ahead. Do you want me to start with the burglary?”

“Way before that,” Riley said. “Start at the beginning of the day from the time you got out of bed. Work your way up to the shooting. Be sure to include any prescription drugs you take, alcohol consumption, amount of sleep, that sort of thing.”

Drugs? Alcohol? What was he thinking
? “I don’t take anything, and I would never drink before I went to work.”

Riley nodded. “Just take your time and give as many details as possible.”

She cleared her throat then took a sip of water from the glass to moisten her dry mouth. She set the glass down and rested both arms on the table. Staring at the water glass, she began talking.

Starting early on made the telling easier, until she got to the actual shooting. She emphasized that she had yelled at the boy to stop. “He did stop, and I thought he was going to give himself up, but then he turned around and raised his weapon. He pointed the barrel right at me. I know now it was a toy, but I had no idea then. The gun looked real, and I felt I had no choice but to fire or be killed.”

“Were you in fear for your life?” Riley asked. He’d been leaning back, the way a disinterested high school kid might slouch in class. Only he seemed anything but disinterested. He’d listened to the entire account with his gaze fastened on her.

“Yes.” She rubbed her forehead and took another drink of water. “I truly believed he was going to shoot me. When he raised his gun, I... I fired.” Angel licked her lips, shoving away images of Billy’s face, the blood. She couldn’t let herself think about that. Not now.

“You did very well.” The OSP detective leaned forward to turn off his machine.

“There’s something else,” Angel heard herself saying.

Detective Riley waited for her to continue.

“Just make sure you have your facts straight
,” Eric had told her when she’d mentioned firing one shot. She still couldn’t be sure. If she hadn’t fired those three shots, someone else had been in the building with her, but that made no sense at all. Eric had explained how a person could fire multiple bullets in a deadly force situation and think they’d only fired once. Why had she opened her mouth? If she said anything, she’d look like an idiot. She took another drink of water to cover the silence. Finally, she put the glass down. “I know this is going to sound strange, but I...”

Forget it, Angel. Let it go
.

“If you’d rather wait...” Riley said.

“No. I’m all right. I was told that I fired three shots. I guess I must have—there’s really no other explanation. Eric and Nick came in while I was kneeling next to the kid, trying to stop the bleeding. Bo was there too, and Mike, but I’m not sure of the order. I didn’t want him to die.” Angel bit her lip and closed her eyes, fighting back a surge of tears.
God, please don’t let me fall apart now. I have to stay strong and at least look confident
. Forcing Billy’s image from her mind, she let her gaze move to Joe. Then to the detective, she said, “I heard three shots, but I think I only fired once.”

“Who told you you’d fired three shots?” The detective seemed annoyed.

“Um... I’m not sure. I don’t think they actually told me that; they said they heard three shots and so did I. I guess everyone assumed I’d fired all three.”

“Did you see or hear anyone else in the warehouse while you were there?” Detective Riley asked.

“No. I looked around and didn’t see anyone. It was dark, but I’m sure Billy and I were alone.”

“There were three gunshot wounds in the victim.” Joe pushed away from the wall and placed his hands on the table. “You’re saying only one of them was yours?”

Angel ran a hand through her hair, hitting several snarls.

“We’ll know soon enough.” Detective Riley focused back on her. “It’s all right. No need to feel embarrassed. You may remember things more clearly in a few days. That’s why we like to wait before getting a formal statement.”

“So do I.” Joe straightened. “I told you about the situation with the mayor.”

“Hang the mayor.” Riley tossed the recorder back in his briefcase and snapped it shut. “Since when does politics come before an officer’s well-being? And while we’re on the subject, who leaked Angel’s name to the media?”

“I did,” Joe admitted. Turning to Angel he said, “It was a mistake, and I’m sorry.”

Angel didn’t know what to make of the three men. Joe was acting true to form, but Detective Riley seemed to be more of an advocate for her than her lawyer.

Riley turned back to her, and his demeanor softened. “Unless you have something more to add, we’re through for now. I’d like to talk with you when I’ve had a chance to go over the evidence. For now though, I’d suggest you get some rest. Do something good for yourself.” He reached into his left jacket pocket and retrieved a card. “Call me anytime you want to talk.”

She pocketed the card and mumbled her thanks.

“Angel,” Joe said as he opened the door, “thanks for coming in.”

“I’d say my pleasure, but that would be a lie.” Angel stepped into the hall.

Joe smiled. “Glad to see you still have a sense of humor.”

Sense of humor? Hardly
.

Randy Grover shook Joe’s hand and walked with Angel to the main door. “I’m sorry we couldn’t meet yesterday. We should’ve gone over your case before you made your statement.”

“It’s not a problem.”

“We really do need to talk.” He handed her a card. “My cell phone is on there too.”

Angel smiled politely and thanked him again. “Um, I need to go. I have an appointment with the psychologist this afternoon.”

“Good. That’s good.” He held the heavy glass door open for her. “You know, a lot of officers think they don’t need help or don’t need to see a professional, but they do. You don’t go through what you have and not suffer emotionally. This one is especially tough, since it was a kid.”

Angel didn’t respond, just nodded her head.

“Uh, would you call me later?” Randy asked. “So we can set up a time we can get together.”

“Sure.”

Randy walked away, and Angel heaved a sigh of relief. Maybe it was her imagination, but he didn’t seem too competent. She’d have to deal with that later; right now she
had to do something to relieve her stress. Detective Riley had told her to do something good for herself, and she knew just the thing.

She drove home, determined not to think about Billy or the shooting. Once there, she changed into shorts and a T-shirt and hit the deck running. She raced down the stairs to the path that led to the beach.

Callen told Joe he’d see him later and watched the petite female officer walk down the hall with her lawyer—if that’s what you could call him. Where were the guy’s brains? He should have contacted her yesterday—at least by phone. And the Delaney woman worried him. She was taking this thing harder than she wanted them to believe.

And that political garbage about wanting her statement right away made him want to slam Joe against the wall. Joe was usually a good man to work with, but he was obviously afraid of what the shooting incident would do to his career. Tough. Officer Delaney should never have been asked to come in today.
Coerced
might have been a better word. A blind man could see how affected she was. He glared at Grover’s back and clenched his fists.

Get a grip, Riley
. He liked to consider himself an easygoing kind of guy, so why was he getting so worked up about this?
Because Angel Delaney isn’t just another cop
. Callen stopped the thought midstream, mentally backing away from the emotions she had evoked in him. In his line of work, he needed objectivity and a cool head. And right now he had a whole lot of work to do.

He stopped at the water cooler and lifted the blue spout, watching the small stream fill the flimsy paper cup. He downed the water and got a refill. He drank it in two gulps and tossed the cup in the trash receptacle beside the cooler.

That business about her only firing one of the shots had taken him by surprise. All the officers at the scene had indicated that Officer Delaney had fired all three. But none of them had been in the warehouse at the time, and none had actually seen her shoot. If the three bullets hadn’t come from her gun, he had to figure out who else had fired at the kid and why. He was glad he’d had the
foresight to do the gunshot residue test. That would at least tell him if another officer had fired the shots.

A
fine mist swirled around Angel and pelted her face as she ran into the wind. A flock of seagulls feasting on the carcass of a fish cawed raucously when she came near, frantically flapping their wings and flying to safety. She turned and ran backwards, watching them drift back down to their find, picking at each other in an effort to get the choicest morsels.

“Greedy bunch of scavengers, aren’t you?” She turned back and kept running, darting in and out of the waves as they pushed farther and farther into the dry sand. When the waves receded, they left lines resembling a mountain range. As a child, Angel had watched the formation of the magical mountains and imagined fantasy worlds where fairies and ogres lived. Times had changed, but the ocean never had.

And neither have I
. The voice seemed almost audible. She recognized it, or thought she did. She had once thought of it as God’s voice.

The temperature had dropped at least twenty degrees from yesterday, and her thin jacket offered minimal protection, but by the time she reached her turnaround point at two and a half miles, she was almost ready to take it off.