Buck leaving his wallet stitched all these events together. One thing was certain: Dr. Buck Buckner could think on his feet and make smart decisions under incredible stress. Good skills for an ER doc. She doubted his training had prepared him for this ordeal, however.
Now the trick was finding him.
Could Buck save the wounded thug? It seemed like a long shot to her. If he managed to pull that off, what then? If the dude died, or even if he got better, Buck would be expendable. That they would kill him was a given. Based on what she had seen, they didn’t seem the type that would leave a witness standing. But as long as he was needed, they’d have to keep him above the grass. How long was that? A day? Two?
The clock was ticking and she had no idea how much time was left. Frustration didn’t quite cover what she felt. Neither did anger, though both were in the mix. Someone had come into her town, her domain, and killed five people. That made it personal and it was her job to find them. She gripped the steering wheel and stared unfocused through the rain-streaked windshield. The real problem was that they could be anywhere. In any direction. Near or far. Truly a needle in a haystack.
Hack returned with two coffees. The sky to the west had darkened and the wind had ticked up slightly. Real rain, not this misty spitting, was coming, and from what she’d heard on the radio, it would get stormy overnight. She took a sip, then placed the cup in the console cup-holder.
“I think we should swing by Buck’s apartment,” Cassie said.
“Why?”
“What if they’re there?”
“I suspect they bolted out of town,” Hack said.
“Probably. But we’d look pretty stupid if we searched everywhere but right under our noses.”
“True that.”
“They don’t know this area. At least, I doubt they do. Probably didn’t do a ton of research, thinking they could roll in, whack Tommy, and disappear. But now, they’ll be panicked.”
Hack nodded, then took a sip of coffee. “Buck don’t know the area none too well either.”
“So what do panicked folks do?” Cassie asked. “They head for the familiar.”
“You’re a pretty good cop.”
Cassie smiled. “I had good teachers.”
Next stop, the Greenwood Apartments where Dr. Buckner was staying during his tenure here. She didn’t expect to find him, no way, but maybe there was something to be learned. Something that might make the haystack a little more manageable. She didn’t hold high hopes for that either.
The complex was older but well-maintained. Four two-story, six unit, dark brown wooden buildings, three up and three down, shingled roofs, squared around a central garden area. Cassie gave it a drive by. It looked quiet.
“You don’t really think this’s where they’re hiding out, do you?” Hack asked.
“I don’t. I’d suspect they’d want to put some distance between them and the crime scenes.”
“Probably,” Hack said. “Then again, this is familiar territory. For the doc, anyway. Might figure it’s better than driving around looking for a place.”
“Maybe. But if it was me, I’d book it out of town as fast and as far as possible.”
“But you’re rational. These guys probably aren’t.”
“Glad you think I’m rational.” She smiled at him.
“Always were. Even as a kid.”
She pulled a U-turn and then rolled through the parking area, which extended across the front of the complex. No black SUV visible.
“They could’ve dumped it,” Hack said.
“Sure could have.” She pulled another U-turn at the end of the lot and backtracked, parking in front of the manager’s office.
“If they’re here, they’re armed,” Hack said. “From what we’ve seen, they ain’t too bashful about shooting folks.”
“True.”
“Maybe we should call in some backup just in case.”
“They ain’t here,” Cassie said.
“I suspect that’s true but do you want to bet your life on it?”
Cassie considered that. “Nope.”
Hack tugged his cell from his pocket and called the station, putting it on speaker.
“Poppy,” he said, when the answer came, “round up Fowler and Duckworth. Get them rolling over to the Greenwood Apartments.”
“Something going on?” Poppy asked.
“Don’t know yet. But tell them to keep their eyes open and come in quietly.”
“I’m on it.” Poppy hung up.
Hugh Janssen, owner and manager, wasn’t happy about handing over his master keys to anyone, even the chief of police. But after Cassie explained that the situation just might turn messy and that he should remain in his own home, door closed, he relented. Not before saying he didn’t want any trouble. Cassie assured him that she didn’t either.
Fowler and Duckworth pulled up, parked, and climbed out.
“What’s going on?” Duckworth asked.
“This is where Buckner lives,” Cassie said. “It could be where the bad guys are holed up.”
“Here?” Fowler asked. “I figured they’d be long gone.”
“They probably are, but let’s not assume anything,” Cassie said.
“How do you want to play it?” Duckworth asked.
“We’ll knock, you guys stay back and cover.”
Buck Buckner’s apartment was number 21, ground floor on the end of building 2. They approached with caution, flanking the door, guns out. Hack knocked, then banged, and shouted “Police” a couple of times. No response. Cassie keyed opened the door.
“Police,” she shouted. “If anyone’s in here, make yourself known.”
No response, or sounds of movement. She entered the living room. Hack, Fowler, and Duckworth followed.
The apartment was neat and orderly, and sparsely furnished. Cassie suspected there was no need to do much decorating or add any personal touches if your stay was going to be short. After they cleared each room and searched the bedroom closet and drawers, finding only a few clothes and several pairs of surgery scrubs, they stood in the kitchen. Buckner had apparently set up the kitchen table as his home office. On its surface sat a laptop and a stack of medical books, including “Harrison’s Textbook of
