Minutes to Kill (Scarlet Falls #2)(66)

“How’s Lance?” she asked without taking her eyes off the house.

“Hanging in,” Brody said.

Lance’s eyes were closed, but he was still breathing.

Brody’s heartbeat ran in triple time. His lungs heaved, and sweat poured down his spine as he turned his attention back to Lance.

“I think the bleeding is slowing,” Brody said, mostly for Lance’s benefit. Stella returned to the car for a blanket. She covered Lance’s shivering body.

“I’m dying,” he wheezed.

“No, you’re not.” Stella took his hand.

“We got this,” a voice said over Brody’s shoulder. An EMT. Brody turned. A paramedic unit and two state troopers were parked next to his vehicle. When had they arrived?

Brody and Stella stepped back and let the EMTs take over. A sudden wave of weakness swept over Brody as his adrenaline plummeted. He leaned on his thighs and waited for his vision to clear. Stella stumbled to the side of the road and heaved into the weeds. When his head settled, he moved back to his vehicle and sat on the front bumper. Stella joined him a few minutes later.

“You OK?” he asked.

“Yes.” Her voice lacked conviction. She stared at him. “You’re bleeding.”

Brody looked down. His hands were coated in blood. More red stained his clothes. “It’s not mine.”

“You have a cut on your forehead.”

“I can’t feel it.” Brody’s whole body was numb.

More police cars and an ambulance arrived. An EMT taped a piece of gauze over Brody’s cut. Emergency personnel loaded Lance into the back of the ambulance and drove away. He heard the whump-whump of helicopter blades. He covered his eyes and squinted at the sky. A news helicopter hovered overhead.

“Think he’s going to make it?” Stella asked.

“Lance?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know.” Brody turned to look at her. “You did good.”

“I never shot anyone before.” Her eyes were huge in her pale face. She was thirty years old, with seven solid years on the SFPD, but her pallor and shock made her look impossibly young. Stella scuffed a toe of an ugly black shoe in the dirt. “Most cops go through their entire careers without shooting anyone. I had hoped to be one of them.”

“Don’t we all.”

“You ever shoot anyone?”

“Yeah.”

“Get over it?”

“Not really,” Brody said. Except for that one surprising conversation with Hannah, he never talked about his one and only shooting. Why had he opened up to her? “If you need to talk to anyone, I’m around. Don’t let it fester. The chief is going to put you on administrative leave or desk duty for a week or two. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just policy. He’s also going to send you in for a psych eval. Do yourself a favor. Talk to the doctor. It’ll help.”

“Did you?”

“Not at first. I thought I could handle it.” He paused for a breath. The shooting in Boston had been completely justified. He’d had no legal issues. But no amount of training had prepared him to take a life. “I was wrong. It would have been easier if I’d have dealt with it right away.”



Hannah stared at the television. Her vision swam. Chet pushed her head between her knees. “Relax. Shooter situations are usually patrol. Brody doesn’t work patrol.”

The scene shifted to an aerial view of a field and outbuildings.

“Shit. That’s his car.”

Chet’s phone buzzed, and he answered it. He exhaled, his chest deflating with relief. He covered the speaker with his finger. “He’s OK.”

Hannah breathed.

Chet ended his call. “Apparently, Brody and another officer went out to a kennel to ask some questions, and some guy started shooting at them.” He scanned her face. “You all right now?”

“Yes.” Mostly. But, obviously, Brody meant more to her than she’d realized. How did she feel about that? “Someone else was shot?”

“Yeah. Patrol officer. Good guy. He’s at the hospital. Doesn’t look good.” Chet went quiet.

“I’m sorry. You knew him well?”

“It’s a small force, and I’ve been on it a long time.” He paused. “I was on it for a long time,” he corrected, as if his retired status was hard for him to believe. “We all know each other well. Brody is on his way to the hospital. Apparently, he has a very minor injury. Every other available cop will be looking for the scumbag who did this.”

Hannah needed to see him. She needed to put her hands on his body and assure herself that he was intact. “Want to ride over there?”

Chet paused. “I do.”

“Then let’s go.” Hannah took the dog outside for a two-minute walk. “Do you mind if I leave the dog here? She’s not destructive.”

“Not at all.” He lifted his keys from a rack on the wall.

In five minutes they were on the road headed for the local hospital. The fifteen-minute drive seemed much longer. One woman in uniform and Brody sat in the ER waiting room. Hannah’s stride faltered as she took in the bloodstains on Brody’s clothes. He’d taken off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves, but Hannah could still see that his cuffs were stained rusty brown. His gray suit pants were bloody at the knees. A square of gauze was taped to his forehead.