“I’d like to talk to him as soon as possible.”
“He was up all night working the crime scene and going over the chief’s car. I told him to get some sleep.”
“Don’t wake him, but I want to talk to him at the earliest opportunity. In the meantime, tell me what you know.”
“In a nutshell, a passerby found the chief lying in front of his car on the shoulder of A1A, just after eleven last night. He’d been shot once in the head, but he was still alive. Bob Hurst got there right after the ambulance arrived; I got there right after the ambulance left. The ground was dry, so there were no footprints; nothing was amiss inside the chief’s car.”
“Were the flashers on the chief’s car running?”
“No, but the headlights were on.”
“Car doors open or closed?”
“Closed and unlocked. The driver’s window was down. The chief usually kept it down—he didn’t like air conditioning much.”
Holly looked at her Rolex, a gift from her platoon leaders on her retirement. “Okay, we’d better get out to the squad room so I can meet the others. I’d appreciate it if you’d introduce me. I’ll do the rest.”
“Sure, glad to.”
They got to their feet and walked into the squad room, where the watch had assembled.
“Let me have your attention,” Hurd said loudly. Everybody got quiet. “I want to introduce a new member of the department—Deputy Chief Holly Barker, who’s starting work today. Chief Barker?”
Holly stepped forward. “Good morning. I know I’m a surprise to all of you, but Chief Marley hired me five weeks ago, and he expected to introduce me to you today, but of course, the events of last night changed that. I expect I’ll get to know you all in due course, and I’m looking forward to that. There’ll be no changes in assignments or duty rosters—there’s a good system in place, and I don’t want to change it. I know you’re all good people, because Chet Marley hired you, so I come into this job with full confidence in every one of you. My first priority is going to be the solving of the chief’s shooting and the apprehension of the perpetrator. I’m not going to take over the case personally, but I’ll be keeping close tabs on it.
“Each of you can help in this investigation by questioning every source, every snitch you have any contact with. From what I’ve heard so far, that’s going to be our best bet. I’m going to see what I can do to get a substantial reward offered, and maybe that will help us.
“I know you’ll have a lot of questions about me. I’m going to post my resume on the bulletin board, so that you can all read up on my background. I’ll get to know you and the ropes here as fast as I can. I expect to make some mistakes. Feel free to point them out to me, I’ll learn faster that way. Any questions?”
“How’s the chief doing?” an officer asked.
“We’re waiting for information; you’ll know shortly after I do. I’m heading over to the hospital now. Any other questions?” Nobody spoke. “That’s all, then.”
“I’ll assign somebody to ride with you,” Wallace said.
“Thanks, good idea.”
Jane appeared and handed her a small cell phone. “This is for you. It fits into a pouch on your belt, and the number is taped to the back of the phone.”
“Thank you, Jane. I’m going to the hospital now. Call me if you hear anything before I do.” She turned to Wallace. “If Detective Hurst comes in, call me and ask him to wait.”
“I’ll do that.” He waved a young officer over. “This is Patrolman Jimmy Weathers. He’ll ride with you today.”
“Hi, Jimmy,” Holly said, shaking his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Chief. Bob Hurst has released the chief’s car, so we’ll use that.”
“Let’s get rolling.”
Holly approached the chief’s car, a newish, dark blue Ford Taurus, unmarked, and walked around it slowly, looking for dents or marks. She found a couple of short, deep scratches in the paint on the hood and nothing else. She went over the interior thoroughly as well and found nothing of note.
Holly drove, and Weathers gave her directions. “How long are you on the force, Jimmy?”
“A year and a half, ma’am.”
“What duties have you pulled?”
“Just patrol—on bikes and in cars.”
“Motorcycles, you mean?”
“No, ma’am, bicycles. They’re good for the business district and beach areas. The ground is flat, and they keep us close to the public—less intimidating than patrol cars. It was Chief Marley’s idea.”
“What do you want to do on the force?”
“Criminal investigation, of course. Just about everybody does.”
Holly laughed. “Sure, they do.” Following Weathers’s directions, she pulled into the hospital emergency entrance and parked in a reserved place.
“Just put down the visor,” he said. “There’s a badge printed on it.”
She did as he said, then got out of the car and went into the hospital, looking up surgery on the directory. They took the elevator to the fourth floor and went to the desk.
“I’m Deputy Chief of Police Barker,” she said to the woman. “Can you tell me anything about Chief Marley’s condition?”
“No, ma’am,” the woman said, “but I can get Dr. Green for you. He did the surgery.”
“Thank you.”
The woman picked up the phone and paged the doctor. A moment later he stepped up to the desk.
“I’m Dr. Green. Can I help you?”
Holly introduced herself. “What is Chief Marley’s condition?”
“He’s still in the recovery room, on a respirator. I had hoped he would be conscious by now, but it appears that he’s in a coma.”
“What’s the prognosis?”
“Guarded, perhaps doubtful.”
“Can you describe his injuries?”
“Just one—a small-caliber bullet to the right frontal lobe.”
“Did you recover the bullet?”
The doctor took a Ziploc bag from his pocket containing a chunk of lead. “I was wondering when someone was going to ask.”
Holly looked at it. “Looks like thirty-two caliber,” she said.
“That’s what I figured.”
“And nobody asked about this?”
“I understand there was a detective here during the night, but he was gone by the time I got out of surgery.”
“Did he see the chief at all?”
“No.”
She nodded. “I’d like to see the chief.”
“He can’t be disturbed yet,” the doctor replied.
“I don’t want to disturb him; I just want to get a look at him, with your help.”
“All right, come this way.”
“Jimmy, you wait here,” Holly said.
The doctor led the way down the hall and through the intensive-care-unit doors. There were four beds in the room; only one was occupied. Chet Marley was surrounded by monitoring equipment, his head swathed in bandages. A nurse sat on a chair beside the bed.
“Any change?” the doctor asked her.
“No, sir, still the same.”
He turned back to Holly. “Well, there he is.”
Holly approached the bed and looked closely at Marley. His head was made to seem larger by the bandages,
