And then she heard the sound. The loud hollow crack.
50
It sounded like a melon exploding.The blood spatter fanning out all over the asphalt. All over Klinger’s Caprice in an ultra fine spray.
Lena jumped to her feet and stared at the body beside her. Felt someone grab her hand and looked up in horror. Met Rhodes’s eyes and finally noticed that the sound of the shot was still reverberating within the fallen clouds. Still streaming through the darkness.
It couldn’t have been a pistol.
And Klinger wasn’t lying before them with a small hole in his head. The skin from his face had peeled away in a thin layer that reminded her of a latex glove. The image was still there, his identity intact. But everything else was gone.
She jerked her head around and looked behind them. Caught the three figures standing on the overpass behind the Lincoln. The trunk was open and she could see Barrera peering through a pair of binoculars. The chief lifting a long rifle off the handrail and passing it to the man she had seen sitting in the passenger seat.
It took a moment to comprehend what had actually happened. Lag time before the meaning reached her and finally jelled.
Chief Logan had just saved their lives-the same man who kept an M21 rifle mounted on his office wall beside his medals from the Vietnam War. For whatever reason, the former sniper had selected his target in the gloom and wiped it out with a single shot.
She watched Rhodes raise his hand in the air. She saw Barrera signal back that help was on its way. The moment was real. And even though she didn’t trust it, it took her breath away.
She turned to Klinger, her stomach in her throat. Rolling his body over, she pulled his belt away and grabbed her.45 and Rhodes’s Glock. Then they charged back down the hill.
The limo was still here, and so was the Audi-both cars smoldering in the cold heat. But it looked like the rats had heard the rifle shot and run for cover. Rhodes moved around the limo to the trunk, grabbed a handful of cash out of the duffel bag and tossed it in the air. They couldn’t have run very far. And it was more than obvious that they had every intention of coming back.
She turned and counted twelve pillars supporting the overpass. Then she kept watch as Rhodes started working his way down the line toward the trees and brush bordering the freeway. Visibility was still less than twenty-five feet. The first two columns were clear. But when he swept past the third, something scurried out on two legs and made a run for it. Rhodes fired two shots at point-blank range, then ran forward as the figure collapsed on the ground.
The silence returned and Lena waited, keeping her eyes on the support columns with her Smith amp; Wesson ready. Rhodes turned the body over in the mist.
“Dobbs,” he called out. “He’s not gonna make it.”
Lena waved back but knew that she was losing sight of Rhodes in the clouds and wouldn’t be able to cover him from the limo. After a quick look around, she legged it across the grass to the first column on the far side. She could see Rhodes pocketing Dobbs’s gun and patting down the man. When she checked her back, she spotted Ragetti rising out of the muck and realized that he had been hiding underneath the limo guarding the cash. Now his gun was raised and pointed at Rhodes. Directly behind Rhodes she could see Justin Tremell pulling away from his father and stepping out from behind a tree with Jennifer Bloom.
Lena turned back to Ragetti and aimed her.45, but knew that she was late on it. Knew that she didn’t see it in time.
She shouted Rhodes’s name, pulled the trigger, and felt the recoil. She saw Ragetti’s pistol flash in the darkness and heard the loud pop. Bloom screamed and Ragetti fell down. And then Dean Tremell cried out.
Lena picked up Ragetti’s gun and moved closer. No one had screamed or cried out for Phil Ragetti. And no one seemed concerned about Rhodes. He was on his feet and brushing himself off after hitting the ground.
Ragetti had pulled the trigger, missing one life and hitting another. And everyone’s eyes were glued on the luckless target. Justin Tremell had been hit in the center of his chest as he tried to flee with Bloom. The kid was lying on a bed of grass. His eyes were open, his gaze stamped out.
Headlights began streaming down the hill, the space filling with a light so bright that the fog looked more like smoke now. Dean Tremell didn’t seem to notice and staggered toward his son’s dead body. Wilting onto the ground, the old man drew his only son into his arms and began rocking him on his knee.
Lena glanced over at Rhodes, then pulled Jennifer Bloom away and guided her toward the approaching headlights. She could hear Tremell weeping behind her. She could hear his sorrow cutting into the night. She knew the tone and cadence from personal experience. Knew what the agony felt like and looked like. Knew how much the loss of a loved one could weigh down the soul.
And so did Jennifer Bloom.
51
Lena watched two cops handcuff Tremell, read him his rights, and lead him away from his son’s body in the grass. Tremell stared at the ground as they passed through the darkness. His lips were quivering, his shoulders hunched. Dean Tremell had been ruined, so there was no real reason for anyone to say anything to him. No reason to call him a piece of shit. But someone from the crime scene team muttered it anyway. Lena doubted that he heard it though.
She looked up the hill and saw Rhodes interviewing Tremell’s driver, then turned back to Barrera. They were standing by the ambulance while the EMTs prepared Jennifer Bloom for the ride to the hospital. Lena had bummed a cigarette from one of the paramedics. She couldn’t help it.
“I knew that it was a bad idea,” Barrera said. “I knew that when you saw the chief in the car, you’d think the worst.”
“You were right,” she said. “I did.”
“I knew that you’d never believe me. That you wouldn’t pick up your cell. It was a mistake, but he wanted to be there. He insisted on it.”
“Where is he?”
“On his way downtown for the press conference.”
She checked her watch. It felt like four or five in the morning. When she saw that it was only 10:30 p.m. it threw her until she remembered that she hadn’t caught a decent night’s sleep in three days.
“The chief wanted to be the one who told you,” Barrera said. “He wanted you to hear it from him.”
“Hear what?”
“It doesn’t fucking matter anymore.”
She took a drag on the cigarette. “What did he want to say?”
Barrera flashed a wry smile, then pulled back on it. “He wanted to warn you about Klinger. He thought that you were in danger if you went home. Like I said, Lena, it doesn’t really matter anymore.”
“I guess it doesn’t,” she said. “Who was the guy in the passenger seat?”
“His new adjutant.”
“Hand picked from Internal Affairs?”
“No. Abe Hernandez from Pacific Division. I’ve known him for ten years. He’s a good man.”
Barrera’s cell started ringing and he stepped away to take the call. Lena turned back to Jennifer Bloom. She was strapped down on the gurney and about to be lifted into the ambulance. She reached out for Lena’s hand and held it. Bloom didn’t say anything. Just met her eyes.
“It’s okay,” Lena said. “Everything’s good now. I’ll stop by tomorrow so we can talk. You want me to call your brother?”
“It might be a shock if he hears my voice. He’s been through a lot.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
Bloom released her hand. Lena stayed until the ambulance drove off. Then she walked halfway up the hill and sat down in the grass. She was watching the criminalists from SID swarm the crime scene and trying not to think about what a hot shower might feel like. Trying not to think too much about climbing into bed. Her ears were still ringing from all the gunshots. Her body was so sore it felt like someone had tossed her out of a moving car.