Nothing to Lose (J.P. Beaumont #25)(78)

Mel continued. “Since Christmas break started Friday afternoon, responding officers initially hoped it was just some of the kids left in town over the holidays letting off steam. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. When my officers approached the apartment, the guy said he’d already shot his wife and would kill anyone who tried to enter.”

“Doesn’t sound like he was looking for a happy ending,” I put in.

Mel didn’t say anything aloud, but I guessed she was nodding in agreement.

“The watch commander called me as soon as he summoned the Emergency Response Team. By the time I got to the scene, officers had cleared the neighboring apartments. They had managed to establish communication with the guy, and our hostage negotiator was already talking to him. In the beginning Dave Willis, my negotiator, knew that the female victim was still alive because he could hear her moaning and pleading for help in the background. Dave could also hear a baby crying.

“Eventually the sounds from the wife gave out. She’d been shot three times and bled out on the living-room floor. At that point the strategy was to keep the shooter talking until he finally fell asleep. Unfortunately, he was high on something, and sleeping wasn’t part of the program. Finally, this morning, just after five, the baby started crying again. When the shooter threatened to shut her up for good, that’s when ERT made entry. Thank God the shooter turned the weapon on himself. He was pronounced dead at the scene.”

That’s the hard thing about being a cop—you can never unsee or unhear what you’ve seen and heard, and you can never unfeel what you’ve felt.

“Any idea what the shooter was high on?”

“Won’t know for sure until the tox screen comes back, but he had a little bit of everything in that apartment—meth, ecstasy, crack, you name it.”

“So he was both a dealer and a user?”

“Right,” Mel muttered. “Selling drugs is a great way to support a growing family.”

“What’s going to happen to the baby?” I asked.

I heard the slight catch in Mel’s throat before she answered. “Her name is Cara. Child Protective Services took her into foster care from the scene early this morning. That’s where she is now—with a foster family, but her maternal grandparents are flying in from Hawaii late this afternoon. They’re set to arrive at SeaTac around five. I’ve dispatched officers to meet them at the airport and bring them to Bellingham. I’ll have some time with them privately once they’re here. My understanding is they’re willing to take custody of the baby, but that will all have to be sorted out with CPS. In the meantime I just got out of the shower. I have a press conference coming up in about an hour. That’s the only reason I crawled out of bed.”

“What about the shooter’s parents?” I asked. “Have they been notified?”

“They’re both professors at the university. Unfortunately, they were at the scene this morning when it all went down.”

In a university town, with professors and students involved, this would be a public-relations nightmare for Mel’s department. I didn’t envy her presence at the upcoming high-profile press conference or her having to deal with either set of grief-stricken parents. Even now I was working a case that had originated from eerily similar circumstances. Just as it hadn’t been a walk in the park for me, this one wouldn’t be for her either. But I also knew that Mel would be up to the task. By the time she faced the cameras and microphones, I expected she’d be wearing her dress uniform and appear to be in total control of her emotions. I wasn’t too sure about her ability to maintain emotional control when it came to dealing with the two sets of parents.

“Let me know how it goes.”

“I will,” she said. “I just needed to hear your voice.”

“Are you taking Sarah with you?” I asked.

“Nope,” she said. “Much as I’d like to, I’m afraid she’s on her own this evening. With snow still on the ground, she may choose not to use the doggy door, but I’ll deal with that when it happens.”

We hung up then, and for a long time afterward I sat there as a slew of my own nightmare scenarios replayed themselves in my memory. In the old days, those were the kinds of traumatic events that would send me seeking solace in a bottle of booze. Even revisiting them secondhand, the temptation was still there. Fortunately for me, there wasn’t an honor bar in my “view room,” so I went looking for relief by brewing another cup of coffee.

There was nothing I wanted more right then than to be at home with Mel so I could hold her and comfort her in this time of need. But that wasn’t an option. I was just swilling down the last of my coffee and wondering about starting another cup when the room’s landline phone rang on my bedside table.

“Mr. Beaumont?” the caller said when I answered. “This is Michael from down at the desk. Your guest is here.”

Marvin Price had arrived in the nick of time.





Chapter 28




When I entered the lobby, Marvin stood staring out the window, lost in thought. I tapped him on the shoulder to let him know I was there, and he started as though he’d been miles away.

“What’s up?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Looking for ghosts, I guess,” he said.