Finally, the last interview was wrapped up. Stay close to home in case other questions come up, Cindy was told. Report to the academy on Monday. No classes. The group would be suspended until this tragedy was sorted out.
It was almost midnight when Cindy left the interview room. The worst was behind her, she figured-until she saw her father waiting for her. His face was impassive, his cop face.
Tears came to her eyes. Fiercely, he whispered, “Look down! And when you look back up, make sure your eyes are dry.”
She did as she was told, happy to follow him and his unambiguous orders.
They walked through the long hallway of the old stucco building, past window after window of academy athletic trophies. Her father nodded to familiar faces as they walked along. He didn’t touch her, didn’t talk to her, until they were out of the building and in the parking lot.
Decker restrained himself from hugging her for fear of breaking her bones with relief, simply asking, “Are you all right?”
“I’m… yes, I’m…”
“I knew I’d worry once you hit the streets.” He smiled grimly. “But I see you’re giving my heart attack a jump-start.”
Cindy hugged herself tightly. “That wasn’t my intention.”
“All that matters is that you’re in one piece.”
“At least physically.”
“Right now physically is all I care about.” He ran his hand over his face. “Come home with me. I’ll drive you back tomorrow.”
She nodded, followed her father to his reconstituted Porsche. Usually, he tore out of parking lots. Tonight he drove slowly, methodically. Neither of them spoke.
He passed up the freeway signs, headed into the dark hills of Chavez Ravine, the serpentine roadways rising and falling at regular intervals. Small bungalows lined the tarry asphalt, dots of light emanating from a few windows. He drove deeper into the area.
Cindy was puzzled. “Where are we going?”
Abruptly, Decker pulled the car over to the curb, turned off the ignition, and slumped down in the driver’s seat.
Cindy’s heart leaped. “Oh, my God! Dad!”
In a calm voice, Decker said, “I’ve been shot, Officer. You’ve got to radio it in. Where are we?”
Cindy was shaking, blind with anxiety.
Her father sat up, ran his hand through his hair. “I asked you a question. Where are we?”
Cindy’s mouth fell open. Her father was okay. More than okay. He was testing her. After all she’d been through today, he actually had the nerve to test her. Spontaneously, she erupted into tears.
Decker waited, doing nothing to comfort her. Then he started the car. “You need to think with your eyes as well as your brain,” he said.
“How could you do this to me after what-”
“That’s especially when you must be on your guard.” He handed her a tissue. “When you’ve been through hell and back and you’re zonked out, bone-tired, hungry, and frazzled. Because that’s when you’re ripe for a slipup. What you need to do is stop, take a deep breath, and make sure your brain’s working. The life you save may be your own.”
Feeling betrayed, she dried her eyes and said nothing. But as they rode on in silence, she realized she was looking at street signs.
“Want to talk about it?” her father asked finally.
“You didn’t have to come down and rescue me, you know.” Weakly, she asked, “Are they planning on expelling us?”
“Don’t know. They’ve got to sort through the details first.”
“You know the details?”
“I’d like to hear them from you.”
Cindy told the story yet another time. “Rigor was uniformly disliked,” she added when she’d finished. “Everyone made comments about wishing she were dead.”
“Including you?”
“Including me. But Dad, no one took them seriously. I don’t know what they’ve told you, but I don’t believe any of us murdered her.”
“Angelica Martinez was angry with her, stomped off the range-”
“She was frustrated.”
“She was alone when the shooting occurred. And this Holstetter guy. Rigor really had it in for him. Dressed him down whenever she could. Isn’t that true?”
“Yes, but I can’t believe…” Cindy paused. “Holstetter’s a jerk-but he’s no murderer. Besides, it’d be incredibly dumb to kill her there, out in the open.”
“It wasn’t in the open. No one saw anything. You didn’t see a thing, and you were standing about five feet from her.”
Cindy was quiet for a moment. “Guess my powers of observation need a little honing,” she said.
“Tell me the story again.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. Go on.”
Once again, Cindy recited automatically: Rigor walked up to the coffee machine, put money into the slot, got the coffee. As she turned to face them, something jerked her head back.
Decker interrupted. “Did you hear anything? You’ve told me what you saw. Did you hear anything?”
“No.”
“You were standing above a shooting range, Cindy,” Decker said. “You had to have heard the range officer’s instructions. You had to have heard gunfire pops.”
Cindy bit her lip. “I suppose I did. But at that point, they were just background noise.”
“A gun firing close enough to hit her. No glass to deaden the sound. You should’ve heard something louder than background noise.”
She thought, then shook her head.
“Close your eyes for a moment. Picture yourself back there… right before Lynne turns around.”
“Okay,” she said resignedly.
Decker spoke soothingly. “She’s about to turn around. Right as she’s doing it, her head jerks back. Do you hear anything that corresponds with Rigor’s movement?”
Cindy shook her head. “No… no.”
“Bullet just comes flying through the window?”
“I suppose. All I hear is that awful crack of her head smashing against the cement floor. I run over to her and put my hands on the wound, trying to-”
“Which way did she land? Faceup or facedown?”
“Face… faceup.”
“How would you explain that?”
Cindy stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“If she landed faceup, how do you explain the crack in her forehead?”
A long pause. “I don’t know.”
Decker said, “Rigor cracked her forehead, but she fell faceup. The people who were questioning you were thinking that you had to have flipped the body over.”
“But I didn’t! I swear I didn’t move her.”
“Could be the impact of the bullet spun her around, threw her face against the wall, and smashed her forehead. Then she bounced off the wall and fell backward, faceup. They question you any more, you tell them to take a look at the back of her head. Should be an indentation there as well.”
Cindy rubbed her eyes. “You know, they kept asking me if I’d moved the body. I kept telling them no. I didn’t understand. I’ve got a long way to go, don’t I?”
“ To get where?”
“ To get where you are.”
“Talk to me after twenty years.” Decker paused, then said, “You plan on shooting someone in the head, where do you aim?”
“I’ve never thought about it.” She shrugged. “Between the eyes, maybe the back of the head. Shoot when they’re not looking.”
“Bigger surface area. Less likely to miss. Rigor was shot in the temple, right?”
“Yes, she was. What’s troubling you?”
“I’m not sure.” Decker licked his lips. “You didn’t see anyone out the window, you didn’t hear a corresponding pop when Rigor dropped. She was hit in the temple. It’s odd-sounds like a stray bullet, almost. But Bootles is one of the safest ranges around. I don’t get it.” He tapped the steering wheel. “Maybe they’ll get a match from someone’s gun. Let’s hope it’s not your friend Angelicas’s.”
“Impossible!”