Touch of Red (Tracers #12)(43)
“Let me get you out of here,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll take you to get your arm treated and then have an officer take you home.”
She wanted him to take her home. But of course he couldn’t do that because he had way too much going on now. This was his case. She got it. But that didn’t make the reality any easier to swallow. It was going to be a long, anxious, solitary night.
Brooke pulled her hand from his.
“I don’t need to get it treated. It’s a scratch, I told you.”
“Mind if I look?”
She shrugged. He carefully lifted her arm and unwrapped the T-shirt. The pink fabric was dark with blood where he peeled it away from the wound.
He gave her a grim look.
“It’s no big deal. I cleaned it up inside the house. I’ll put some ointment on it when I get home.” She replaced the makeshift bandage. “Tell me more about Kaitlyn. Has Ric interviewed her?”
Sean watched her a moment. “Yes.”
“And Cameron?”
“Callie talked to Cameron. She’s good with kids.”
“And?”
“And Cameron says he went by Samantha’s house that night. He said he rang the doorbell, but she wasn’t there. Then he headed home and crashed his bike on the way.”
Brooke’s heart sank. “He really said that?”
“Yes.”
“He’s lying.”
“He’s terrified. We need to get a child psychologist in to talk to him, see if we can get the real story out of him.”
“Well, what was he doing there?”
“His mother said he goes to Samantha’s house sometimes to hang out while she’s at work, sort of an informal thing. Samantha gave him a key, which makes me doubt his whole story that he rang the doorbell that night.”
Brooke shook her head, frustrated. “What about protection for them?”
“I’m working on it.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m working on it.”
Brooke looked at the weedy lawn that was now a crime scene. The sight of the bloodstained grass made her stomach tighten. “Sean . . . I feel like I led him here.”
“Who?”
“Whoever it is that’s after Cameron.”
“You didn’t.”
She searched Sean’s face, looking for clues that he believed that. “How do you know?”
“Because you didn’t. We’re not even sure this drive-by is related to Samantha’s murder.”
“But . . . why not? What else would it be related to? The killer had to have seen him flee the scene. He knows he has a witness, and he’s coming after him.”
“Take a step back, Brooke. It’s a drive-by shooting. Maybe there’s a drug connection here. Or some kind of gang violence. We have to look at everything, and right now we don’t know nearly enough about Samantha Bonner or Kaitlyn Spence, or who would have wanted to target either of them.”
“What about Cameron? He’s the target here. He’s an eyewitness, and someone’s trying to silence him.”
“Maybe. We have to look at all possibilities.” Sean paused. “Which is why I need to ask you something you’re not going to like.”
She drew back. “What?”
“Any chance you might have been the target?”
Brooke went cold.
“You told police the vehicle was a black pickup. Matt Jorgensen drives a black pickup.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“You ex could be involved here. You have to at least consider the possibility.”
“No. Never in a million years.”
Sean stared at her, his face unreadable.
“It isn’t possible.”
“Anything’s possible.”
Brooke shook her head, frustrated beyond words. She slid behind the wheel of her car.
“Where are you going?”
“To the police station. To comb through vehicle photos. To identify the truck from this shooting so that we can develop real leads and stop wasting time on wild theories.”
“I can take you,” Sean said. “It’s on my way to the hospital.”
“I’m fine.”
“Brooke—”
“Stop worrying about me!” She started up her car. “The person you should be worried about is Cameron Spence!”
CHAPTER 14
When Brooke finally made it home, she was bleary-eyed from looking at endless photos on a computer screen. She parked in her driveway and jogged through the drizzle to her neighbor’s door on the other side of the duplex. Their landlord had agreed to meet the locksmith for Brooke and leave the new key with Leila, but he was adding the charges to next month’s rent.
Leila answered the door with a smile on her face and a glass of wine in her hand. Her smile dropped as she took in Brooke’s bedraggled appearance.
“What happened to you?”
“Long day.”
“Well, I just opened a bottle of Chianti if you want to come in.”
“Thanks, but what I really need is a hot shower.”
“Okay, one sec. Your key’s in the kitchen.”