There was no question about it. Vince had been the target of this assault.
The next few hours passed quickly. They were questioned briefly by the airport police and then the Irvine Police Department. Detectives came and scurried about, retrieving shell casings and examining the damage. In addition to the tremendous damage to Tracy’s BMW, thirteen other vehicles had been hit, three of them severely. Some of the owners of those vehicles began showing up during the preliminary investigation, and they were made to wait behind the yellow crime scene tape that had been strung up until it was complete. In the meantime, after an initial questioning by Irvine Homicide detectives, they were whisked away to the police station.
They rode to the station in the same squad car and Tracy clutched his hand during the entire trip. He could tell she was deeply disturbed by what had happened. She stopped crying, but her eyes were dark, her brow furrowed with lines of worry. She kept telling him over and over that she just couldn’t believe what’d happened. He stroked her hand and told her he couldn’t believe it either. He tried to comfort her as best as he could, but the more he tried, the more scared and confused he became.
Once at the station, they were led to separate rooms. The room Vince was led in was small and barren, with a single table and two chairs. Unlike crime dramas on television, there were no two-way mirrors. He mentioned this to the detective that accompanied him in the room. The detective, a burly man in his forties with dark hair smirked. “Well, you aren’t a suspect, Vince. Just a witness. We save those rooms for guys like the ones that shot at you and your girlfriend.”
Vince guessed Tracy was in a similar room being questioned too, so the best thing to do was cooperate and try to remember as many of the details as he could. The detective began by asking him what happened, telling him to take his time, to try to remember as much of the incident as possible. Vince thought hard and went slowly, starting with how he and Tracy were walking through the parking garage to their car, how she’d dropped her keys and he’d bent down to retrieve them and that first shot came zinging at him. The detective nodded. “Count yourself lucky, Mr. Walters. Count yourself very lucky.”
Vince nodded and continued. He told the detective that the gunman had fired at least two single shots at them, but once they started running he’d let loose with automatic fire. The detective nodded, jotting notes down in a small spiral notebook. He told the detective how scared he was, how strong the instinct of flight had been, and that he was fairly positive the gunman popped out of his hiding place to pursue them briefly. Then the gunfire stopped and he thought he heard running feet just as he and Tracy slipped under a car, but he didn’t know where the gunman was running. He thought he was running toward them, and that’s what propelled him to keep him and Tracy moving. The next thing he remembered was the first police officers arriving on the scene.
The detective asked him to repeat the story one more time. Then he asked Vince if he’d gotten a look at the gunman. Vince shook his head.
“Do you know why you might have been the target, Mr. Walters?”
Vince sighed. “No. Until lately, nothing like this has ever happened to me.”
“What do you mean, ‘until lately’?”
Figuring they were going to find out sooner or later, Vince told the detective about the trip he’d just returned from and the details of the murder of his mother. The detective looked real interested in this and jotted down notes. He asked Vince the name of the Police Chief in Lititz. “And they don’t have any suspects yet in your mother’s murder?”
Vince shook his head. “No.”
“And you say that the detectives in Pennsylvania think it’s a robbery gone bad?”
“That’s what they think.”
“What do you think?”
Vince shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Will you excuse me for a moment?” Vince nodded, and the detective left the room for a few minutes. Vince sat silently, his mind twisting and turning, going over the events of the last few days. It was obvious somebody had targeted his mother; it hadn’t been a robbery gone bad. Somebody had wanted her dead and now they wanted him dead as well.
The detective returned ten minutes later. “Just got off the phone with the Lititz P.D., and told them what just happened to you. They tell me that all indications in their investigation points to a robbery. I asked a detective there, a guy I believe you spoke with named Jacobs, if he had any reasons to believe that what happened with you today might be related to your mother’s murder and he told me probably not. Just the same, I think we’re going to check things out on our end just to be sure. Why don’t you tell me a little about your mother?”
For the next two hours, Vince told the detective—Rob Staley—everything he knew about his mother’s murder, how she’d lived as a religious recluse. After awhile, another detective joined them. Detective Staley asked Vince if his mother had any enemies. “As far as I know she didn’t,” he said, telling him what he’d told the detectives in Lititz. When he was finished they started over again, taking him through the last few days. Vince didn’t alter his story in any way, nor did recurring narratives bring to light anything he might have forgotten.
Detective Staley mustered a smile. “Sorry this all seems so rigorous, but we do this for several reasons. Sometimes talking about what happened can bring certain things back that the subconscious has buried. You remember more when you relive it.”
“Sorry.” Vince shrugged.
“Don’t worry about it. Sometimes it takes a few days. If you remember anything later, be sure to call me.” He handed Vince his card. Vince pocketed it quickly.
There was a knock on the door and the detective whom Vince wasn’t introduced to answered it. After conferring for a few minutes with somebody outside, he motioned to Detective Staley, who rose and joined him. Both men exited and closed the door, but Vince could tell they were standing right outside the door. Probably comparing notes, he thought. I wonder if they think we have anything to do with this. Vince thought it weird that he was thinking this way. He had always been a law-abiding citizen. Why would the police consider him a suspect in anything? Especially in what happened today at the airport? He and Tracy had clearly been the victims.
After a few minutes, Detective Staley and his unknown partner returned. “Tracy’s outside waiting for you. Her car’s been towed so we can continue our investigation into what happened, but your luggage was retrieved. I’ve got an officer lined up to drive you home.”
Vince rose to his feet and held out his hand. “Thanks. And I’m sorry I wasn’t much help.”
“You were a great help,” Detective Staley said. “Just get in touch with us if you remember any more details. And, between you and me, if I were you I’d get out of town for a few days. It’s obvious somebody has a grudge against you and until we can ascertain otherwise, it’s probably best that you lay low. Do you have any place you can stay for awhile?”
Vince shrugged. “I guess I can see if Tracy can put me up.”
“We’ll have you driven to her place then,” Detective Staley said. He clapped Vince on the back as he escorted him out. “And we’ll have your house checked out as well. I can’t guarantee you twenty-four hour police protection, but I can make sure you aren’t being followed to Ms. Harris’s place and that your place isn’t under surveillance.”