“Not to mention GPS tracking of where she was before the fair.” Harper nodded. “Sounds like a better lead than anything I have. Let’s go.”
“What about your license plates?”
“They can wait.”
A blast of heat hit Leah as they left the mission. The old building didn’t have air conditioning, but its solid architecture and ceiling fans had kept the inside comfortable. She couldn’t remember last summer being this hot, not so hot that the concrete sidewalks and the blacktop roads were shimmering with steam.
Despite wearing a jacket over her blouse, Harper seemed impervious, leading the way back to the car baking in the sun. Suddenly, she stopped, her hand dropping to her gun, gaze fixed on something down the block.
“Wait here,” she told Leah as she took off at a stride that covered the ground faster than most people did while jogging.
Leah stood beside the car—she didn’t have the keys, so there was nowhere else to go—and shielded her eyes from the sun to see what had caught Harper’s attention. At the end of the block, a man was shouting at a girl he had pinned against a bright orange sports car. Leah couldn’t make out any words, but when she saw him slap her, she set off after Harper, who had her phone out, talking to someone as she moved down the street.
“Darius, I’m sorry,” the girl cried as Leah drew nearer, keeping behind Harper. “I couldn’t help it—”
Darius raised his hand again, this time curling it into a fist. But then he caught sight of Harper, who’d stopped about ten yards away. “What do you want?” he demanded, lowering his hand and slipping it into his pocket. “This ain’t none of your business.”
Harper said nothing, merely shifted her weight so that her jacket slid open, revealing her badge and gun.
“Go away!” the girl shouted. “We’re fine.” Except, from the way her words slurred, Leah doubted that was true.
“Doesn’t look that way to me, Macy.” Harper’s gaze never left the man’s hands. “Come over here, Macy.” Then she addressed the man. “Sir, I’m Detective Harper. I’d like to see your hands. You can wait right there while I speak with Macy about one of her friends.”
Smart, Leah thought, applauding Harper’s attempts at defusing the situation. Letting Darius know he wasn’t the reason why she was there, trying to get Macy out of his reach, repeating the girl’s name to forge a connection, while keeping things professional.
Unfortunately, Darius didn’t see things that way. Instead, he grabbed Macy’s arm, pulling her close to him. “She ain’t going nowhere. Like she said, leave us alone, we’re fine, don’t need no police.”
“Happy to,” Harper replied. “Soon as I’ve talked with Macy. She’s a witness in a murder investigation.”
“Murder?” Darius’ voice rose, both in pitch and volume, and his posture immediately shifted into an aggressive stance. His grip on Macy tightened. “What’cha tell this bitch, Macy? You tell the cops I killed someone?”
“No, I never—” Macy’s words were cut short by a strangled cry as Darius pulled a knife and held it to her throat.
“I didn’t kill no one!” he shouted at Harper. His eyes grew wide as a patrol car pulled across the intersection down the block, two officers emerging, weapons drawn. Darius dragged Macy across the sidewalk until his back was to the brick wall and she shielded him from the front. “You all got the wrong man! I didn’t do nothing!” he yelled to the patrolmen. Then he glared at Harper. “This bitch is trying to frame me! I’m innocent.”
Harper realized her mistake and backed away, motioning for the other officers to hold their position. Leah saw the frustration cross her face at how events had escalated so quickly—less than a minute had passed since they’d left the mission. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw a crowd gathering in the shade of the mission’s awning, spectators using their phones to record the event, their faces filled with anger and mistrust.
As the crowd began to shout at the police, voicing support for Darius, several raising their own hands over their heads, yelling, “Hands up, don’t shoot!” Leah realized that the police, including Harper, weren’t going to be able to easily calm things. She glanced again at the girl, Macy. She was barely able to stay on her feet, her head lolling against Darius’ shoulder. More than high—early stages of an overdose?
That made up her mind. She stepped forward to join Harper, making certain that she was on the opposite side of Harper’s gun hand so she wouldn’t risk crossing the detective’s line of fire. “Let me try.”
Harper shot her a glare but blinked and swallowed her reflexive distrust of any non-law enforcement professional. It helped that she’d seen Leah defuse a number of volatile situations during the six months that Leah had been working as a liaison between the police and the Crisis Intervention Center. “Okay, but don’t get any closer. And don’t block our line of fire.”
Leah nodded and fixed her gaze on Darius. “Mr. Darius?” she called in a soft tone. If he was forced to listen harder, he’d also be focusing more on her words. “I’m Dr. Leah Wright. I’m not a police officer. I work at Good Samaritan’s ER.” As she spoke, she sidled away from Harper, not getting closer to Darius and his knife, but also distancing herself from the police physically as well as psychologically. “I want to help.”
“Good. Get these cops away from me. Nothing here is any of their business.”
“I’m worried about Macy. Do you think she’s okay? She looks like she might need medical attention.” Leah kept her voice low and steady, using an inflection that implied that Darius was in charge. “If you drop the knife, I can examine her, get her the help she needs.”
“I drop the knife and these cops gonna shoot me
