Mitch passed the indignant tenants littered along the sidewalk who stood outside the iron rod fencing. Officers from every single area of law enforcement agency were on hand. For Mitch, they were a clusterfuck of people, but when one of their own was hit, things turned out like this.
The dread that consumed him had his brain going numb. He could feel himself going into survival mode. His body’s way of protecting him from the news it was about to hear.
“Deputy Marshal Knox, I’m Sergeant Johnson. I was first to arrive.” The officer met him a few feet inside the gate and walked him toward a car. Mitch assumed this was where they’d found Cody. From this vantage point, he didn’t see anyone inside the car. Generally that was a good sign, right? It had only taken him twelve minutes to get here from the airport. Officer Johnson slowed, but Mitch was having none of that. All the vehicle doors were open, but everyone stayed several feet away.
“What’d you find?” Mitch finally asked the question he’d been dreading. He went for the car, bracing himself just in case Cody’s body was still inside. The officer stopped him, and Mitch reared back to punch the guy.
“There’s a clicking noise. We think there’s a bomb attached to the undercarriage. The bomb squad’s on their way.”
“There isn’t a bomb. He just used that method on his last victim. He wouldn’t do it again so soon,” Mitch said distractedly, pulling out of the hold the officer had on his arm. He centered into himself as he glanced inside the front seat and then to the back. The car was empty except a massive blood stain on the rear seat and floorboard.
“Where is he?” Mitch finally asked, so relieved he hadn’t walked up on Cody’s dead body.
“They took him to University Medical,” the officer said. He’d stayed several feet away, clearly not convinced of Mitch’s explanation.
“What are his injuries?” Mitch questioned, surveying the blood stain. He’d seen far worse, but never from someone he loved. He steeled his heart for the answer and closed his eyes.
“No one’s told you?” the officer asked, clearly surprised. Mitch didn’t answer; he just waited as he gripped the frame of the car for support.
“Turner’s cell phone saved his life. He was shot at almost point blank range. The cell was in his front shirt pocket and took the hit.” Mitch stopped listening and dropped his head in his hands. He bent over, trying to fight back the overwhelming relief flooding his body and to keep from hyperventilating.
The tears he’d been holding back broke free. He bent his knees and dropped down, crying in earnest now. Cody had lived. How was that even possible? After a minute, he felt something at his shoulder and glanced to the side to see a handkerchief being handed to him. Sergeant Johnson had braved the supposed bomb to help him out. Several moments passed as Mitch gathered his composure and pulled himself together.
“Why do you think there’s a bomb in here?” Mitch finally asked after he dropped his sunglasses in place to help hide his red-rimmed eyes.
“The clicking sound was going off when we arrived. It was only because it was Turner that we went near the car,” the officer said, standing at a distance again.
“You better be fuckin’ glad you went after him,” Mitch mumbled.
“Say it again, I couldn’t hear you,” the officer yelled back.
“Nothing.” Finally Mitch turned his attention back to the car. “The supposed bomb misfired is your guess?”
“What else could it be?” he shot back, a little defensive. Mitch lowered to his knees, looking under the car. There was nothing there. Then he went to the front of the car, pulled the lever to pop the trunk and headed to the back of the vehicle. Against the officer’s advice, he lifted the trunk. Fuck.
“You got another body in here,” he yelled out. He ignored the foul smell of death and looked around without touching anything. “No bomb, but he’s been in here a while. The ticking’s coming from him. I need to know the specifics when you ID this guy.”
“Shit,” the officer declared, immediately tapping his chest as he began talking to headquarters.
Mitch forced himself to consider the case. Cody was alive, and this had officially become ground zero. What had made the killer come here? The obvious answer seemed to be the only one that came to mind—this was a message to him. But even more importantly, why now had he done such a sloppy job?
Blinding rage at your sexual orientation, echoed through his mind.
Mitch looked around the parking lot, then at the building. “How much surveillance do you think’s pointed this way?”
“The city’s covered. That’s one thing we’ve done right,” the officer said as the bomb squad approached the car.
“You need to stay behind the line until we’re done surveying the vehicle.” Mitch ignored them completely as he looked out toward the road, trying to identify the cameras. Sergeant Johnson followed behind him, keeping one eye on Mitch and another on the car.
“You didn’t ask, but Officer Turner was also shot in the shoulder,” the officer said quietly. “We aren’t supposed to give that information out. They’re keeping this on the DL. I guess because of you guys.”
“Was he conscious?” Mitch asked, palming his phone to call Aaron.
“He wasn’t when he left here,” the officer said, stepping back behind the imaginary line the other officers maintained. All eyes were on the team at the car.
“Who’s heading up this investigation?” Mitch probed.
“I’m not sure yet. I was first to arrive. It’s mine right now, but my direct supervisor’s en route,” he said.
“All right, give him my card. I need to talk to him. I’m working with the FBI on a special assignment. I need that car kept together.” The officer kept his eyes forward, watching the bomb squad work as he tucked Mitch’s card in his pocket. “I need a ride to the hospital.”
“Parks, take him to University,” the officer called out, still staring at the vehicle. It was only then that Mitch remembered he’d called Aaron.