Jailhouse Glock (3 page)

Both Maddy and Lainey inched closer to him, waiting for him to explain.

Before he did, he glanced down at his watch. “That was the hos
pital. Alan Foxworthy has regained consciousness. They’re getting him ready for surgery, and I have a short window to talk to him before
they sedate him. Hopefully, we can get to the bottom of this quickly.”

“What about the station? Should I stay until morning?” Maddy asked.

“No, you go and stay close to Jessie. Landers is on his way in.” He bent to kiss her forehead. “Try not to worry too much. I’ll call you as soon as I know something.”

Even as she agreed, she knew there was no way she would stay calm. Her mind raced with the possible scenarios Colt could get from questioning the guy in the other cell. What if he hadn’t seen anything and wasn’t able to help her? He’d been snoring loud enough to nearly shake the building the last time she’d checked on him.

Hope that little bastard has a good memory,
Tessa said, falling in step with Maddy as she retrieved her purse and walked to the door.

Exiting the station with Tessa on her heels, Maddy felt a ray of hope
for the first time since this all began. Unless the killer shot the other guy before Bernardi, there was no way anyone could have slept
through the loud gunshots. Colt would take his statement, and
Maddy would be back on the job in a few days.

Climbing into her car, she glanced back at the station. She could only hope that would happen and she could resume her life in short order. She’d left college to marry Robbie before he was deployed to Afghanistan, and when he was killed several months later, she’d found herself pregnant with only the small government compensation to support her and her newborn daughter. She’d worked at the station in some capacity or another ever since Colt had taken over as sheriff of Vineyard.

But her gut screamed back that walking into the station in her uniform wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

four

Even as Colt walked
through the Emergency Room door at
Vine
yard Regional Medical Center, the churning in his stomach didn’t ease. If everything went well, in the next few minutes he’d get confirmation from Alan Foxworthy that Maddy had not pulled the trigger. With a little luck, the wounded man might even be able to describe the real killer. Then they could concentrate on getting the police artist’s sketch out and nail the bastard who’d held the gun to his favorite niece’s head.

Without Foxworthy’s statement, all they had to go on was Maddy’s word that she didn’t kill Bernardi. Her version of how it all went down wasn’t the easiest to believe, particularly the part about the anonymous cell phone in her desk drawer—the one that had magically appeared and then just as conveniently disappeared.

But knowing his sister-in-law the way he did, he knew there was no way she could actually kill a man, even one as obnoxious and slimy as Gino Bernardi.

At the thought of the dead man, Colt wracked his brain for something—anything—that might give him a clue as to who might have had the balls to pull this off. To walk into his police station and commit premeditated murder with his rookie officer’s own gun took a serious set, not to mention the right connections.

But no matter how hard he tried, he came up empty.

All he knew about Bernardi was that he’d moved to Vineyard several months before and hadn’t gone out of his way to make friends in the community. Personally, he thought the man to be an arrogant SOB, stupid enough to end up on the cell block at least once or twice a month for some brush with the law, usually a bar fight. The last time he’d occupied one of the cells, Gino had gotten all liquored up and ran his car into a brand-new Porsche owned by Vineyard’s only celebrity, a Dallas Cowboys’ linebacker who’d apparently cut him off
in traffic. Lucky for Gino the cops had gotten to him before the three-
hundred-plus athlete had.

Clearly, Gino Bernardi couldn’t hold his liquor and had made more than a few enemies since he’d arrived. But did any of those people
he’d managed to piss off hold a big enough grudge or have the clout to methodically plan and execute the perfect hit?

Colt would get his deputies to take a long hard look into Gino’s life as soon as he got back to the station. In the meantime, he had a potential witness to interrogate. Hopefully what the man had to say would make this investigation a whole lot less personal.

He walked up to the front desk where a tired looking, middle-aged woman was on the phone and never even bothered to glance up.

When she finally did, she asked, “You looking for the gunshot victim, Sheriff?”

“Yes.”

The woman chugged the last of her coffee before pointing down the hall. “Third room on the right, but you’d better hurry. The OR
tech is on his way down from the fifth floor to take him to surgery, and
the anesthesiologist will want to give him a little something to take the edge off before they transport him upstairs.”

Colt nodded before heading down the hall. The fire in his belly upped a notch with each step in that direction.

Why am I so apprehensive about talking to this guy?

He made eye contact with Jeff Flanagan who’d been called in to guard the prisoner and now sat outside the room with an opened news
paper on his lap.

“Has he said anything yet?”

Flanagan shook his head. “We were waiting on you, boss. You
don’t have much time, though. The doctors think a bullet may have nicked his intestines, and they’re anxious to get him into surgery.”

Colt took a deep breath and pushed through the doorway. The
first thing he noticed was how noisy it was with all the monitors. He’d hated that sound long before becoming a cop. He connected it with a time many years before when his dad lay dying from a hit-and-run accident. As much as he’d hated the constant beeping, he remem
bered how much worse he’d felt the moment those sounds had
stopped.

He forced himself to walk closer to the bed and waited while the nurse piggybacked a smaller IV bag to the bigger one. When she was gone, he got his first look at the man who could possibly identify the gunman and save Maddy a lot of grief.

Alan Foxworthy wasn’t a big man, appearing to be about five-ten or eleven with a nose that could only be described as oversized. Why a man who was a good four inches shorter and fifty pounds lighter than Gino would pick a fight with him was beyond good sense. It was a wonder the drunken Bernardi hadn’t killed him during their altercation.

Foxworthy’s eyes were closed when Colt approached the bed, but they fluttered open just as he touched the side rail where the man’s wrist was cuffed to the metal.

“Mr. Foxworthy, I’m Sheriff Winslow. Can you tell me anything about the man who shot you?”

Foxworthy, whose face was still swollen and now a deep shade of purple and red from the beating he’d taken at the bar the night be
fore, looked confused. “Man? Who told you it was a man?” He stopped
and winced, grabbing his abdomen as if a sudden pain had shot through him.

“Wasn’t it?” Colt took a deep breath. This was not going down the way he’d hoped.

“Hell no. It was that lady cop,” the injured man said, his voice almost a whisper now.

A cold sweat began to form on the edge of Colt’s forehead. He leaned
in closer to hear. “You’re sure it was a female cop? Could it be that you just remember the cop being the last person you’d seen before shots were fired?”

Foxworthy winced again, wiggling in pain. “I’ll never forget the look on her face when she pointed that gun at me.” He closed his eyes and nodded. “It was the lady cop, all right.”

Just then two men in scrubs wheeled in a gurney. The older of the two pushed past Colt. “Sorry. We have to get this man into surgery now.” He pulled a syringe from the chest pocket of his scrubs and reached for the IV tubing. “Mr. Foxworthy, this is going to make you sleepy. When you wake up, you’ll be in the Recovery Room.”

A few seconds later Foxworthy closed his eyes, and the two men moved quickly to slide him from the bed to the stretcher. All Colt could do was watch them transport his only witness out of the room toward the elevator.

Foxworthy’s last words replayed in his mind. The man had basically sealed the case for the DA against his sister-in-law, and he’d have to be the one to break the news to her.

In his heart he knew it couldn’t have been Maddy. Was it possible
someone disguised as her had done the deed? Looking down the barrel
of a Glock had to have captured all of Foxworthy’s attention, and any woman in a police uniform could have impersonated his only female officer. And hadn’t Maddy said the voice on the phone was computer enhanced? It wasn’t a huge stretch to entertain the possibility that the killer was a woman, especially after Foxworthy’s testimony.

“Well, did you get anything from him?” Flanagan asked when Colt walked out of the room.

“He said it was Maddy.”

“What? No way. The scumbag’s lying.”

“But why?” Colt asked, talking more to himself than to Flanagan. He patted his officer’s shoulder. “Stay here until he gets out of surgery. I’ll have Landers relieve you then so you can get back to your kids.”

Turning, he walked down the hall toward the exit, the fire in his
gut reaching volcanic levels. The good people of Vineyard had
elected him to bring law and order to their small city. At times it was harder than usual to do just that. But it sickened him that right now he had to live up to the responsibility they’d placed on him.

With a heavy heart, he drove his squad car out of the hospital parking lot and down the road, knowing he was about to arrest a good friend—and a member of his own family—for the murder of Gino Bernardi.

_____

Maddy hurried up the steps of her mother-in-law’s house, scanning the area at least three times before reaching the porch, just in case
whoever had been there earlier was still hanging around. Satisfied the intruder was probably long gone, she used the key Sandra had given her and opened the door. Before she even made it inside, Jessie ran up and wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck.

“Mom, what’s wrong? Why did you send Officer Rogers here to
night?” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “You sounded so scared on the
phone.”

“Shh, sweetheart, I’m fine,” Maddy whispered, brushing her
daughter’s hair back soothingly. “I was worried about you and your
grandmother, that’s all.” She made eye contact with Tom Rogers whose
face showed his utter confusion about why he’d been asked to stand guard over his coworker’s family.

She pushed the ten year old an arm’s length away and kissed her forehead. “It’s late, and we’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow.” When Jessie’s eyebrows arched, she added “We’re putting up the Christmas tree, remember?”

That brought a smile to her daughter’s face. “Oh, yeah.” She
turned
and bounded up the steps to the bedroom.

Maddy moved closer to Rogers. “You’re absolutely sure no one’s up there, right?”

He shook his head. “I checked every available inch just like you asked me to. If someone is there, he’s invisible.” He turned and watched while Jessie closed her bedroom door before focusing his attention back on Maddy. “You want to tell me what this is all about?”

Maddy blew out a long breath, half in relief and half in frustration. “You’re not going to believe it.” She pointed to the kitchen. “Let’s go in there and talk. Jessie’s not above sneaking out of her room and listening from the top of the stairs. I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”

He followed her into Sandra’s kitchen and sat down on a barstool at the counter. Silently, Maddy got the pot of coffee brewing before
she followed suit. Biting her lower lip, something she always did when
she was nervous, she let her eyes wander around the brightly colored kitchen with its lemon-yellow walls that she’d helped her mother-in-law paint not that long ago.

She loved this room, had spent many hours in here with Robbie
and his parents while they’d prepared dinner or snacks, or some
times just talked over coffee like she was doing now. God, she wished Robbie was here with her. He’d know how to rub her shoulders and make her feel like things would get better.

But he’d been gone over ten years, and she’d had to learn how to fend for herself.

Robbie Castillo had been an only child, and Sandra and Big Rob, as they’d called Robbie’s father, had doted on their son, spoiling him rotten. Maddy had set her sights on Robbie in junior high and pursued him relentlessly until he’d finally given in and asked her to the prom their senior year at Vineyard High School. They were together nearly every day after that, and before he went into the army, they’d found out she was pregnant. A quick trip to the Vineyard Justice of the Peace surprised both sets of parents, but they were young and too much in love to wait.

The memories of the night she’d found out Big Rob had died of a sudden heart attack a few weeks after Robbie was deployed to Afghanistan were still vivid in her mind. Since her husband had been unable to get back home to comfort his mother, she’d been left with the task and had done everything she could to ease Sandra’s pain. Little did either woman know that less than six months later they’d be comforting each other over yet another death.

“Are you going to tell me or not?”

Maddy was jerked out of her walk down unpleasant memory
lane and nodded. “Coffee’s about ready. I guarantee both of us will need it.”
She meandered over to the pot and stood with her back to him to watch the dark liquid finish dripping. After filling two cups, she carried them back to where Rogers sat. “I’m guessing you still take it black.”

“Black and hot.” He reached for it.

Sitting down next to him, she took a sip of the steaming liquid before she repeated the events of the horrible night.

“Jesus!” He jumped from his chair halfway through her rendition. “Some guy was in this house with a gun?”

“Yes,” she said sadly. “I was hoping you’d seen something when you arrived that would prove he was really here.”

“Why in the hell would you need to prove something like that?”

She finished the story, telling him how the phone and the text had
disappeared, and how it came down to her word only. When her voice caught, he patted her hand.

“Maddy, no one could ever believe you had anything to do with killing Bernardi. What possible reason would you have to off that fat bastard?”

She shrugged before taking another sip of the hot coffee. “I don’t know. Colt’s at the hospital now talking to the guy who was in the cell next to Bernardi. Hopefully, he’ll be able to shed some light on the situation.”

“You didn’t tell Colt I was at the diner, did you?” A look of panic spread across his face like a little boy who’d just done something naughty and hoped no one had noticed.

For the first time since Bernardi was killed, Maddy smiled. It was just like a man to worry about something like that only seconds after hearing about her traumatic experience. “Your secret’s safe. No rea
son Colt needs to know about your quest to bed Miss Whatever-
Her-Name-Is.”

“Thank God for that!” A mischievous grin replaced the worried look. Holding up his thumb and forefinger, he said, “I’m this close to getting her between the sheets.”

Why is getting laid the only thing the male species thinks about? The always hysterical Robin Williams got it right when he said that God gave men a brain and a penis, and only enough blood to run one at a time. Guess which one wins out every time?