4th of July (Women's Murder Club 4)

“Two officers down. Two civilians down. Need medical assistance. Send two ambulances. Now.”

The dispatcher was asking me questions: location, badge number, location again. “Lieutenant, are you okay? Lindsay. Answer me.”

The sounds were fading in and out. I dropped the telephone and put my head down on the soft, soft pavement. I’d shot children. Children! I had seen their shocked faces as they went down. Oh, my God, what had I done?

I felt hot blood pooling under my neck and around my leg. I played the whole thing over in my mind, this time throwing the kids against the car. Cuffing them. Frisking them. Being smart. Being competent!

We’d been inexcusably stupid, and now we were all going to die. Mercifully, darkness closed over me and I shut my eyes.

Part Two

Unscheduled Vacation Time

Chapter 9

A MAN SAT QUIETLY in a nondescript gray car on Ocean Colony Road in the nicest section of Half Moon Bay, California. He wasn’t the kind of man people would notice, even though he was out of place here. Even though he had no legitimate business surveilling the people who lived in the white colonial house with the pricey cars in the driveway.

The Watcher held a camera that was no bigger than a book of matches up to his eye. It was a wonderful device with a gig of memory and a 10x zoom.

He zoomed in and pressed the shutter, capturing the family moving behind the kitchen window, downing their wholesome multigrain cereal, having morning chitchat in their breakfast nook.

At 8:06 on the dot, Caitlin O’Malley opened the front door. She was wearing a school uniform, a purple knapsack, and two watches, one on each wrist. Her long auburn hair positively shone.

The Watcher took Caitlin’s picture as the teenager got into the passenger side of the black Lexus SUV in the driveway and soon he heard the faint sounds of rock FM.

Placing his camera on the dash, the Watcher took his blue notebook and a fine-tip pen from the center console and made notes in a careful, nearly calligraphic hand.

It was essential to get it all down. The Truth demanded it.

At 8:09 the front door opened again. Dr. Ben O’Malley was wearing a lightweight gray wool suit and a red bow tie that cinched the collar of his starched white shirt. He turned to his wife, Lorelei, pecked her on the lips, and then strode down the front path.

Everyone was right on time.

The tiny camera captured the images. Zzzzt. Zzzzt. Zzzzzt.

The doctor carried a bag of trash to the blue recycling bin at the curb. He sniffed the air and looked up and down the street, sweeping his eyes across the gray car and its occupant without pausing. Then he joined his daughter in the SUV. Moments later, Dr. O’Malley backed out onto Ocean Colony Road and headed north toward Cabrillo Highway.

The Watcher completed his notes, then returned the notebook, the pen, and the camera to the console.

He had seen them now: the girl in her freshly pressed uniform and clean white kneesocks, lots of spirit showing in her pretty face. This so touched the Watcher that tears gathered in his eyes. She was so real, so different from her father, the doctor, in his bland everyday-citizen’s disguise.

But there was one thing he did like about Dr. Ben O’Malley. He liked his surgical precision. The Watcher was counting on that.

He just hated to be surprised.

Chapter 10

A VOICE IN MY head yelled, “Hey! Sara!”

I came awake with a jolt and reached for my gun, only to find that I couldn’t move at all. A dark face loomed over me, lit from behind with a hazy white glow.

“The Sugar Plum Fairy,” I blurted.

“I’ve been called worse.” She laughed. It was Claire. I was on her table, and that meant I was a goner for sure.

“Claire? Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, baby.” She hugged me gently, wrapping me in a mother’s embrace. “Welcome back.”