Blood Orchid (Holly Barker 3)

“I’m glad you’re still there,” she said. “I want you to pull an officer off the night shift and send him out here with another officer in an unmarked car, then I want the car to leave.”

“What’s’ up?”

“I’m going to see if I can’t catch me a phone bugger.”

“Okay. I’ll send Teddy Wright; he’s a good kid.”

“Fine.”

Teddy Wright was the youngest officer on the force and, in many ways, the least experienced, but Holly found him to be bright and willing. “Here’s the story,” she said, and explained what Phil Sweat had found. “I think they’ll send somebody out here to fix it, maybe tonight, and when they do, I want you to apprehend whoever comes.” She showed him where the phone box was, and they found a spot where he could watch it while remaining unobserved.

Holly made him a sandwich, gave him a canvas chair to sit in, and handed him a thermos of coffee. “Don’t fall asleep, and if the guy shows up, don’t shoot him, understand? I want to talk to him.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Teddy said.

“Just cuff him, and then call me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Holly got him situated and went to have her own dinner. It was getting dark now.

10

Holly woke up at her usual six A.M., showered, dressed, and put some coffee on. She fed Daisy and let her out, then went to ask Teddy Wright to join her for breakfast. He was nowhere to be seen.

Holly was annoyed. She had not told him to leave at dawn, and she expected her officers to follow her instructions. Then she noticed the canvas chair she had put out for Teddy to sit in as he kept watch. It was lying on its side in some long grass. She walked over to it and found Teddy lying facedown in the grass, and there was blood on the back of his head. Alarmed, she turned him over and felt at his neck for a pulse. It was there, but it seemed weak to her.

She pulled Teddy’s radio off his belt and spoke into it. “Base, this is the chief.”

“Chief, base.”

“Get an ambulance out to my house right now, and tell Chief Wallace to get out here, too, and to bring a crime-scene tech.”

“Roger, Chief.”

Holly dragged over the chair and put Teddy’s feet in it; shock was a good possibility. She brushed the hair out of his face, and for a moment she felt something she had rarely felt before—motherly. Teddy’s face was cherubic in repose, that of a small boy. A lot of her officers adopted macho attitudes in their work, something she had tried to discourage, but Teddy’s face showed none of that now.

She heard an ambulance in the distance, and she walked around the house to meet it. “Back there,” she said to the EMTs who spilled out of the vehicle. “You’ll need a stretcher.”

“What have we got?”

“Unconscious male police officer, apparent blow to the back of the head. Pulse feels weak to me.”

She followed them and watched as they went through their routine—placed a collar on the young man’s neck, took his blood pressure, started an IV. Minutes later, Teddy was in the back of the ambulance on the way to the hospital.

“I’ll follow in a few minutes,” Holly said to the driver as he drove past her.

The ambulance had hardly cleared the driveway when Hurd Wallace drove in. H

e got out of the car. “What’s going on?”

“Somebody hit Teddy over the head last night and left him unconscious in the grass. I’ve no idea how long he was like that before I found him.”

Hurd turned to the crime-scene tech. “Check it out—footprints, and anything else you can turn up. Let’s go in the house,” Hurd said.

“Okay,” Holly replied. “I want to go to the hospital and check on Teddy.” She led the way into the house. “Coffee’s on,” she said.

“Thanks.” Hurd pulled up a stool to the kitchen counter and accepted the cup. “What do you think is going on here, Holly?”