He sniffed the barrel. It hadn't been fired recently.
As though only then realizing that he was there, the woman lowered her hands from her face and looked up at him. Her light brown eyes remained disconnected and vague. The whites of them were streaked with red from crying. Her skin was very pale, her lips practically colorless.
She swallowed noisily. 'Is he all right?'
'Not really.'
Whimpering, she looked past Ski to the bloodstain just beyond the threshold. 'Oh, God.' She pressed trembling fingers against her lips. 'I can't believe this happened.'
'What did happen?'
'He's
She tried to stand, but Ski placed his hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down. 'Not now.'
For the first time since he'd come into the room, she focused on him. 'Are you ... Who are you?'
He unsnapped the leather wallet on his belt and opened it to show her his ID. 'Deputy Ski Nyland, Merritt County S.O.'
'I see.' But Ski didn't believe she actually did. She'd barely glanced at his ID. Her watery gaze was imploring. 'Please tell me he's going to be okay.'
'What's your name?'
She seemed to have to think about it. Then she hooked her wet hair behind her ears and answered in a husky voice. 'Berry Malone.'
Ski noted that her last name wasn't the same as that of the man who'd been shot. Neither of them was named King.
He said, 'The wounded man, Ben Lofland ... is that right?'
She gave an abrupt nod.
'He's on his way to the ER.'
'He's not dead?'
'Wasn't when they left with him.'
'He bled a lot.'
'He did, yeah.'
'He can't die.'
'Unfortunately, he can.'
She made a choking sound and whispered, 'I must call his wife.'
'His
She stared at Ski for several seconds, then covered her face with her hands and began to cry in loud, wracking sobs.
Ski planted his feet wider on the bathroom floor tiles. 'What happened here tonight, Ms. Malone?'
She moaned into her hands and shook her head.
'Is this your pistol? Did you shoot Lofland with it?' He didn't believe she had, at least not using the pistol now in his possession. But he wanted to see what kind of reaction he'd get by asking.
She dropped her hands from her face and gaped at him. 'What?'
'Did you--'
'No!' She surged to her feet, reeled slightly, then steadied herself by placing a hand on the edge of the pedestal sink. 'I didn't get out the pistol until after I'd called 911.'
'
Her head bobbed an affirmation. She gulped a breath. 'I was afraid ... afraid he would come back.'
'Who?'
Before she could answer, sounds of a commotion downstairs reached them. A door slammed. Voices were raised. Ski heard Andy telling someone that they couldn't come in. Just as insistently, a female voice, ordered him out of her way. Apparently Berry Malone recognized the woman's voice, because suddenly she gave a sharp cry and slipped past Ski through the bathroom door.
'Hey!' He was careful to hurdle the bloodstain on the rug as he chased after her. Midway across the bedroom, he made a grab for her arm but came up with only a handful of cotton fabric. She whirled around and yanked it from his grip, but not before he got an eyeful.
Then in a flash of bare skin and printed textile, she vanished through the bedroom door.
Ski went after her, crossed the gallery in a run, and bolted down the stairs, hot on her heels.
CHAPTER 1
WHEN HIS CELL PHONE'S JINGLE PULLED HIM FROM A deep sleep, Dodge figured the caller was Derek. Likely his employer had had one of his famous middle-of-the-night brainstorms and wanted Dodge to act upon it immediately.
Dodge couldn't think of what might be so crucial that it couldn't keep till daylight, but Derek paid him to be on twenty-four-hour call, if for no other reason than to act as a sounding board.
He fumbled for his phone in the dark and, without even opening his eyes, figuring he was about to be sent out on an errand he wasn't in the mood for, answered with an unfriendly and unenthusiastic 'Yeah?'
'Dodge?'
Surprised to hear a woman's voice, he sat up and swung his feet to the floor. He reached through the darkness for the lamp switch and turned it on. Using his lips, he pulled a cigarette from the pack, then flicked on his lighter. As he took his first inhale, he wondered which woman, among the vast number with whom he was acquainted, he had pissed off this time. He didn't remember getting on anyone's fighting side recently, but maybe that was his transgression--disremembering.
Since he hadn't yet responded to his name, his caller asked with uncertainty, 'Have I reached Dodge Hanley?'
He was reluctant to confirm it before he knew who was asking. He preferred keeping a low profile. He had a driver's license because it was a necessity. He carried a single credit card, but it had been issued in Derek's name. Dodge used it only when doing business for the law firm. Privately, he operated strictly on a cash basis, and not even Derek knew his home address.
'Dodge? Is that you?'
He replied with a sound that was half word, half dry cough. 'Yeah.'
'This is Caroline.'
His lighter slid from his fingers and fell to the floor.
'Caroline King.'
As if she needed to specify which Caroline. As if she needed to jog his memory.
After a long moment, she said, 'Are you still there?'
He sucked tobacco smoke into his lungs and exhaled as he said, 'Yeah. Yeah.' To prove to himself that the call wasn't part of a dream, he stood up and took a few steps away from the bed. But because his legs were so shaky, he backed up and sat down again on the sagging mattress.
'Fair to say that you're surprised to hear from me?'
