“Yeah, I think so.”
“You okay, Ms. Hagen?”
Torie turned to look at him. Nodded.
“I heard a car—” Paul began.
“Yeah. I think he beat it. Harry, my partner, radioed for black and whites, but he’s probably gone.”
“Damn.”
“Tell me about it.”
Tibbet grilled them about what they had been doing, what they’d heard. He helped Torie out of the car, but asked them not to touch anything else. Within minutes, he had a team out searching for the bullets or any casings.
“What are casings?” Torie asked Paul as they sat together on the tailgate of an ambulance. A crowd had gathered, of course. The owner of the other car, the one hit by the bullet, was protesting the need for his car to be impounded, towed back to the city lot for examination. Torie didn’t blame him.
“What do you mean?” Paul asked.
“What are these casings they’re talking about?”
“Shell casings,” Paul answered the question, but gave her a funny look.
She looked exasperated. “That doesn’t mean anything to me.”
“Gunshots mean bullets. Bullets mean shell casings. It’s what holds the shot while it’s in the gun.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that.”
“You don’t watch the news? Or TV?”
How irritating. “Of course I do. I simply don’t watch a lot of violent TV. I can’t sleep when I do.”
“Ah.” He sounded odd. And a little condescending.
She scooted away from him, just a little. She needed distance. Even that much helped.
How could this still be happening?
“Ms. Hagen. Mister Jameson.” Tibbet came over to where they waited, his ubiquitous notebook open and ready for more squiggly notes.
“You were following us,” Paul said. She could tell he was a little angry, a little embarrassed.
“Yeah. Obviously someone wants to kill your client. Possibly you, too. You don’t torch a house, and shoot a guy, and then stop, ya know?” Tibbet didn’t quite roll his eyes, but it looked like he wanted to. “My partner and I had some time, so we’ve been watching over Ms. Hagen. Saw the bodyguard bug out. Guess we’ll have to tag you, too. Now, if you separate…” he said to Paul.
“Separate? Tag him, too? What do you mean?” Torie jumped in.
“That shot wasn’t meant for you, Ms. Hagen. Whoever this guy is, he had a clean shot at you through the back window. Or while you were walking to the car. Nope.” Tibbet looked at Paul, his expression quizzical. “That one was meant for Mister Jameson here.”
Torie’s heart squeezed in painful understanding. She had gone to dinner with Paul. That had painted a big fat target on his back.
“Oh, my God,” she gasped, horrified at the implications.
“Torie,” Paul said sharply. “This could as easily be someone after me for other reasons.”
“No, I don’t think so, Mister Jameson,” Tibbet interjected, cutting off Torie’s reply. “We’ve checked your cases. Pretty much none of your work has been controversial. No divorces, nothing that’s big press. Those being the usual causes of a grudge,” he explained. “I think your friend, Todd, is the unifying factor, but I can’t get a handle on it.”
“But why Torie?”
“She dumped him. Or was dumped by him.”
“But the accidents…” Torie began.
“Were deliberate. Look,” Tibbet said, leaning in, foot on the bumper. “I don’t pretend to know what this guy’s thinkin’, okay? But seems to me that the common denominator is your friend Todd Peterson. He wins money, and goes gallivanting off into the wild blue, right? Leaves you behind. If your time line’s right, the one you gave me a rundown on?” He directed this toward Paul, who nodded.
Tibbet turned to Torie. “Then the accidents and incidents your friend had began the first time he returned to the U.S. for a visit. You put down on your time line that you were on a date with—” Tibbet references his book—“a guy named Trey Buckner?”
“Jeez, you dated Trey?” Paul shot her an amazed look.
“Yes, I did. He was very nice, but we didn’t click,” she said defensively, and nearly cursed at how it came out. She’d have preferred to be cool and calm about the whole thing.
“Yeah, that’s the guy who had the nuisance complaint, right? Where someone canceled all his stuff.”
“Yes. I only found out because he thought I might have done it.”
“Why?” Paul asked, turning to look at her. She could see the knowledge in his face. Knowing Trey’s reputation, Paul could guess why.
