Dead Guilty

she wanted to be was in the back of an unmarked police car dressed in sleepwear. Damn him.

A gunshot echoed through the air. Oh, God. She put a hand on the door and started to open it, then stopped. She was still undecided on whether to get out. One of the policemen came running.

‘‘We got him. An ambulance is coming, but I’m not sure he’ll make it.’’

Diane felt sick all over again. ‘‘Can he talk?’’

‘‘He’s in and out.’’

‘‘I need to ask him some questions.’’

‘‘I don’t know.’’

‘‘In case he dies, I need to ask him some questions.’’

‘‘Okay. I suppose it’s all right. You are a member of the department, after all.’’

Diane thought he’d like to add a rather troublesome member. She ran back up to her apartment, where the other policeman had a towel on the intruder’s chest. Diane knelt down by his side. ‘‘Can you hear me?’’

‘‘Just wanted talk. Not a murderer. Exec . . .’’ His breathing was labored and he started to cough. ‘‘Can’t trust the police.’’ He closed his eyes and lapsed into unconsciousness.

He was still alive but unconscious when the ambu lance came and took him to the hospital. Diane sat on her couch in a pair of jeans and the nightshirt, waiting for the police to ask her questions. When she came back to her apartment, she’d passed her landlady and several of her neighbors, including the Odells across the hall. She wondered if it was time to look for another place to live before she was asked to leave.

She was ministering to cuts on her feet when Garnett arrived. ‘‘You need medical?’’ he asked.

‘‘Just a few cuts on the soles of my feet. How’s the officer who shot . . .’’ She let the question trail off.

‘‘He’s all right. A shooting’s always hard. He thought the guy was drawing a gun. It turned out it was his cell phone. Can you tell me what happened?’’

Diane told him about going to bed and hearing the voice just as she was about to fall asleep. She told about the struggle as best she remembered and about hitting him in the head with the radio.

‘‘I talked to him after he was shot. He said he just wanted to talk, that he wasn’t a murderer.’’

Garnett shook his head. ‘‘Think he’s our guy?’’

‘‘I don’t know. He may be just a stalker.’’

‘‘You can’t come in here.’’ The voice was from a policeman outside her door.

‘‘Tell Dr. Fallon that Frank Duncan is here.’’

Diane recognized the calm voice even through the door.

‘‘Ask them to let him in,’’ she said.

Garnett obliged, and Frank came in and sat down beside Diane, putting an arm around her shoulder.

‘‘What on earth happened?’’

Garnett explained while Diane put a couple more Band-Aids on her feet.

‘‘Is he the guy who attacked you last night?’’ asked Frank.

‘‘I don’t know,’’ said Diane. ‘‘How did you know something happened?’’

‘‘Izzy called. I think he’s trying to make up for being a horse’s ass. Get some clothes and come spend the night at my house.’’

Diane nodded. That sounded safe. She was sure her neighbors would feel safer if she were gone. Her new est neighbors must think this kind of thing happened to her every night.

As she left, Veda Odell, the neighbor across the hall, stuck her head out. ‘‘Marvin says he’d rather have a load of cats living next door than you.’’

‘‘Mrs. Odell,’’ said Diane. ‘‘I can’t say as I blame him.’’

Diane called Garnett the next morning from the crime lab the minute she arrived. ‘‘What’s his status?’’

‘‘Critical. He seems to be hanging in there. Hasn’t been conscious for more than a few minutes at a time. Won’t talk when he is.’’

‘‘Do you know who he is?’’

‘‘He had no identification on him. We found what we believe is his vehicle. Stolen plates, no registration. And like I said, he isn’t talking. We’re sending you a copy of his fingerprints.’’

‘‘Here they are now.’’

David stood in front of her with an envelope in his hand. David, Jin and Neva had been hanging around her desk as if she might disappear if they looked away for a moment. Jin was stretched out on the sofa. Neva perched on the edge of one of the chairs.

‘‘These are fingerprints of the guy who came into my apartment last night. Check them against all our crime scene prints and every fingerprint database we have access to. We need a match if there’s one out there.’’

‘‘I’ll get on it,’’ said David. ‘‘I’ve just installed a new identification algorithm. I’m anxious to try it out.’’

‘‘Jin. Find out how the GBI is doing with the shed hair project.’’ She took a key off her key chain. ‘‘Go to my apartment and get some of his blood off my floor or on the towel they used to cover the wound, and take it with you to Atlanta. See if we can match it.’’

‘‘Neva.’’ Diane picked up a piece of paper from her desk. ‘‘This report from the bone samples came back