Death in the Sunshine (Retired Detectives Club, #1)(89)

‘So what happened?’

‘I get these panic attacks. That’s why I retired early.’ She figures that’s enough information; it’s not like she can tell him the whole truth, but a partial view – perhaps that’s okay. ‘The first time it happened was in the aftermath of a raid that’d gone bad. We’d been tracking this criminal gang for months, trying to work out the chain of command to identify the real big player at the top. Finally, we’d got the kingpin’s name – Bobbie Porter – and their penthouse address. We couldn’t get much else – believed the name was an alias – so we planned the approach and made our move.’

Rick stays silent. Keeps his eyes on hers.

Moira continues. ‘So the subject’s apartment was the penthouse on the twenty-fourth floor of a fancy riverside apartment building. We go in gently – McCord takes the lead as he’s got an invite to meet the guy. It’s a business meet set-up, using an established alias of McCord’s, and he takes me and another of the team, Jennifer Riley, in with him as his associates while the other two main team members – Pang and Kress – hang back with armed response. We needed to get something solid to connect Porter to the gang. On the surface the meet started okay, but Porter wasn’t what we’d expected and things felt off to me. I had a bad feeling. But I knew the armed response team was standing by on the floor below if things went south.’

‘And they did?’

‘Yeah. Big time.’ She closes her eyes for a moment, remembering. ‘I’ve been over what happened thousands of times, but I still don’t really understand it. There was a moment where McCord and Porter’s conversation had stalled and the heavies at the door were looking like they were going to eject us from the apartment. I couldn’t let that happen, so I pushed the issue – asked Porter to let us in on a specific shipment we knew the gang had coming in. Made out we had the money to finance more like it.’

‘And how’d they react?’

Moira shakes her head. ‘That’s the thing. They hardly reacted at all. Just sat there, looking as if they were considering the idea. But, when I replayed the events in my mind I realised I’d missed something in the moment. There was something else in play.’

Rick leans closer. Eager for her to continue.

‘There was this look between McCord and Porter. It was so subtle I missed its significance when we were sitting there on the white sofas, but Porter blinked and McCord gave the tiniest nod, and a couple of seconds later everything went to shit.’

‘They were communicating?’

‘Porter was giving an instruction. Then they got up and made to leave the room.’ She pauses. Takes a breath. ‘That’s when McCord pulled a gun. He shouldn’t have been carrying it – he wasn’t firearms certified. At first I thought he was going to threaten Porter, then, as we all leapt to our feet, he turned away from Porter and shot Jennifer.’ Moira flinches, seeing it in her mind’s eye. ‘He just shot her, no hesitation. He’d been working with her for eighteen months. They were friends. It just didn’t . . .’

‘And Porter?’

‘Gone. Shooting Jennifer had been a diversion, and it worked. Porter used it to move fast. The penthouse had a safe room and escape route that weren’t on the building plans we had. They got free and clear, and they’re still out there.’

‘So McCord shot his own colleague to let the criminal get away.’

‘It seemed that way.’ Moira exhales hard. ‘I tried to stem the bleeding, but the bullet hit an artery, there was no hope. McCord ran to the balcony. He knew armed response would be arriving any moment, and maybe he thought he could get away somehow, but . . .’ Her hands begin to tremble.

Rick reaches out and touches her arm.

‘I had so many questions, but mainly I wanted to know why he did it. But I didn’t get the chance. McCord took a dive off the balcony. It was twenty-four storeys up.’ Moira remembers the words he’d muttered on the balcony – something to do with not trusting – and the way he had looked in that last moment before he jumped. It was as if he wanted to tell her something but felt he couldn’t. She clenches her fists. Stops her hands trembling. He should have told her. She needed to know. Moira looks back at Rick. ‘He was dead the minute he hit the pavement. Jennifer bled out on the white sofa in the penthouse. Half my team was dead in less than three minutes, start to finish.’ She looks down. Clasps her fingers together and squeezes. ‘Then a smoke grenade went off and the fire alarm started blaring out. The armed response team stormed in and it was chaos. My eyes were burning. My hands were covered in Jennifer’s blood from trying to stop her bleeding.’ Moira looks down at her hands, remembering the blood. Then meets Rick’s gaze again. ‘That’s when I had the first panic attack.’

Rick lets out a long whistle. ‘That’s heavy. You get any help afterwards?’

She looks away. ‘I saw the doc for a while. Tried to carry on, thinking I’d get past it and be able to get back on the street again. Didn’t happen though. Panic attacks kept coming. I knew I’d be a liability, and I couldn’t risk putting colleagues in danger. I already had enough blood on my hands so . . .’

‘Hey, look at me.’

She raises her gaze to meet Rick’s.