the chill was the principal cause. “Please leave me alone!”
“I’ll give you a present.” Megan plunged her hand into the depths of her shoulder bag and came up with the treasure she had acquired in the toxicology lab. “See?”
Collins stared at the object in her hand. “You’re offering me a plastic bus?”
“But it’s more-”
“I didn’t expect a million dollars, but as bribes go, that’s pathetic.”
“But it isn’t a bribe. It’s-”
“Yes?”
She drew in her breath. “It’s a Christmas present.”
“Ah. Well, that is different.” Somewhat reluctantly he took the bus into his hands. “I suppose this is intended as a stocking stuffer for preschoolers?”
“Oh, no. Definitely for grown-ups. See, it plays records.”
“What?”
“You heard right. There’s a stylus on the bottom.” She turned it over to show him. “You turn on the motor, put it on top of an LP, and it runs around playing the record. The sound comes out of those tiny speakers.”
Collins drew in his breath. “What’ll they think of next.” He held it up to his face for a closer look. “Is the music quality good?”
Megan shook her head. “Sounds like hell, I understand.”
“Is it good for your records?”
“Destroys them.”
He shrugged. “Well, what was I going to do with them, anyway? Use them for Frisbees?” He slipped the bus into his pocket. “Okay, you made me an offer I can’t refuse. Here, let me give you something.”
“I promise you-that isn’t necessary-”
He rooted around in the backseat of his car, then emerged again. “The truth is, I lied to you.”
“You did?”
“Yeah.” His eyes clouded. “I’m not going to see my family. My wife and I are divorced. I get visitation, but she got Christmas. And she made it clear she doesn’t want me anywhere near. I don’t get to see my boy till New Year’s.” He looked at the wrapped package in his hands. “I bought this for my kid. Ordered it months ago. But if I know my ex-wife and her parents, by the time I see my boy next, he’ll already have three of them. Why don’t you take it?”
Megan held up her hands. “I really have no need-”
He pressed it into her hands. “You never know. Take it.” Megan reluctantly accepted the gift. “So, anyway, what was it you wanted to know?”
Her eyes widened. “You mean you’ll tell me?”
“Well, it is Christmas, after all. Almost. So you’re investigating the Cantrell shooting?”
“Right.” There was precipitation in the air, a bit too cold and dry to be rain. It was definitely going to snow. “Do you know who shot him?”
“No. And I’m not likely to find out through ballistics analysis, either.”
“I thought every gun left individual markings on a bullet that could be used to trace it back to the gun that fired it.”
“That’s true. But the bullet has to be found in a condition such that it’s possible to read those markings. This bullet was found lodged in the bark of a tree.”
“Blast.” Megan’s fists clenched up. “I knew it passed through Carl’s body, but I didn’t know about the tree.”
“I’m afraid the bullet was squashed on impact. The markings are absolutely unreadable at this point. For all I can tell, the bullet could have come out of any of a million guns.”
“And there was nothing unusual about the caliber?”
“No. Exactly the same bullet all the city cops are firing.”
Megan wrapped her arms around herself. All of a sudden she was feeling the cold. Even though she didn’t know what it was, she had thought she was getting close to something. Now it seemed she had come up against a brick wall. “I had hoped I might learn something by talking to the police officer who actually shot him.”
“Police officer? What do you mean?”
“I mean, if I could talk to the officer who fired the bullet-”
“Oh, no. There’s no chance of that.”
“I don’t understand. You said the bullet was the same caliber-”
“And it is. But that doesn’t mean he was shot by a cop.”
“But … then who?”
“I can’t tell you. But I can tell you this. I was with Barney when he inspected the wound and took pictures for the evidence file. The entry wound was in the forearm, in the front. The exit wound was in the back.”
“I don’t think I understand.”
“I was given to understand the man was running toward the house when he was shot.”
“That’s true. He was.”
“And I assume he wasn’t running backwards.”
“No, of course not.”
“Then there’s no doubt about it.” He folded his arms firmly across his chest. “The bullet was fired from the house.”
“The police were behind him. They may have fired, but the bullet that hit the man came from in front of him. And that means it came from the house.”
Megan grabbed his arm. “Have you told this to anyone yet?”
“Told who? Everyone’s gone. It’s Christmas Eve, for Pete’s sake. I filed my report. And I expect the detectives working on the case will read it-when they get back after the holidays.”
A sudden frisson of horror shot down Megan’s spine. “That won’t be soon enough.” She spun around toward her car on the other side of the parking lot. “I have to tell Carl.”
“Carl?” Collins called after her. “Carl Cantrell?”
“Right.”
“Haven’t you heard?”
Megan froze in her tracks. What
“It was on the radio. Carl Cantrell broke out of protective custody. Eluded his guards and snuck away from the hospital where he was recuperating.”
Megan’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, no!”
“I’m afraid it’s true. So you’re not going to be able to tell him anything. Unless you know where he’s going next.”
The short hairs rose up on the back of Megan’s neck. Something was bringing goose bumps to her skin, and it wasn’t the cold. “I only hope I don’t,” she said, and without saying another word, she raced across the parking lot to her car.
21
Bonnie gazed into the mirror on the sun visor above the passenger seat and reapplied her lipstick. Too many Chicken McNuggets had undermined her cosmetic work.
She smeared on the ruby-red, pressed her lips together, and frowned. She hated McDonald’s. The only edible food in the whole restaurant was the french fries, and they weren’t exactly conducive to a 114-pound hourglass figure.
Still, Frank had seemed to think it was important that they all trudge out to the dreadful place, not that he’d bothered to explain why. She thought it was strange. But not as strange as this business of stopping at a church- First Presbyterian, just off Robinson. As far as she knew, Frank never went near churches, and for a reason. But
