Wicked Break

Four

Detective John Wellton said, “Braddock. What a complete and utterly unpleasant surprise.”

We were standing in the parking lot and I watched as the EMTs loaded Rachel into the ambulance, ready to take her to Sharp Hospital. She’d been shot once. There was a lot of blood and I couldn’t tell how badly she was hurt.

“I’m missing a gnome in my garden,” I said. “You’d make a nice replacement.”

Wellton glared at me. He wore a light blue oxford open at the neck tucked into gray dress slacks. The sunglasses on his face were just slightly darker than his skin. And even in the thick-heeled loafers, he didn’t break five-four.

“Funny, asshole.” He turned back to the apartments. “What did you see?”

I watched a team of officers mill around the spot where she’d been shot. “Came out of the office. She was already standing there. Then she collapsed.”

He nodded and removed the sunglasses. “See the shooter?”

“Nope. I heard the shot, but that was it.” I pointed at Sam’s office. “I was in there.”

He nodded again. We watched Dana come out of the apartment with two officers. She was sobbing and each officer had an arm under an elbow to keep her steady.

“And your reason for being here?” Wellton asked.

“Is none of your business,” I said.

He snorted. “Well, whatever you were doing, nice work.”

I hadn’t seen him in a while and he was as irritating as I remembered.

“I was looking for the kid that lives in the apartment next to hers,” I said, deciding there was no reason to keep it from him. “Talked to both girls for maybe ten minutes, they didn’t know anything about where he is. Then I came out and talked to the manager.”

I thought about the guns that Peter had seen in Linc’s apartment. I hadn’t seen them yet, so I wasn’t sure they existed. At least, that’s how I rationalized not bringing them up.

“Rolovich is the manager?”

“Yeah. A piece of crap, but I don’t think he knows anything.”

“You two probably had a lot in common, then.”

Maybe Wellton was more irritating than I remembered.

“Santangelo should be here in a minute,” he said, glancing at me.

My stomach tightened at the mention of his partner’s name. I hadn’t seen her in a while and I didn’t have any plans to change that.

“She’s coming down?” I asked.

He looked at his watch. “Anytime now.”

A knot. It was now a definite knot in my stomach.

“You done with me?” I asked.

Wellton turned to me, his eyes steady. “Still on the outs with her, huh?”

“Wouldn’t know. Haven’t spoken to her in a long time.”

“Lucky her,” he said, the corners of his mouth flickering into a grin. “Yeah, I’m done with you. For now.”

“Can I take my Jeep?”

He smiled and shook his head. “That I’m not done with.”

“Why not?”

“It’s inside my crime scene.”

“When can I get it back?”

His smile got bigger. “When I say so.” He paused. “Maybe I’ll take it for a spin.”

“You should. It’s probably more fun than your Big Wheel.”

His smile disappeared. He glared at me for a moment, then turned and moved away.

I walked to the street and stood there, wondering how I was going to get home. I was contemplating the bus when a Yellow Cab came down El Cajon. I waved at him and he came over three lanes to meet me.

“Where to?” he asked out the passenger window, leaning across the passenger seat.

“Mission Beach.”

“You got cash?”

“Yeah.”

“All yours, then.”

As I opened the rear passenger door, I glanced up and saw Liz Santangelo stepping out of her car on the far side of the lot.

She shut the door and stood next to the car. She wore a bright green blouse and slim black pants. Her dark hair was pulled back over her shoulders and I could make out silver earrings on her ears. Her gun bulged on her hip.

I hadn’t seen her in about six months. The last time I’d seen her had been in a hospital hallway. She’d walked out on me, disappointed again in a choice I’d made, our always-sputtering relationship screeching to a halt. I’d done something impulsive against her wishes that had resulted in the deaths of two people and nearly mine as well.

I hadn’t called her and she hadn’t called me. My reason was stubbornness. I wasn’t sure what hers was.

But seeing her now, I realized how much I missed her.

She glanced in my direction, doing a double-take, and then the look on her face telling me that she wished she hadn’t done that. Or that she at least wished I hadn’t seen her do it.

We stood there for a moment, each of us looking at the other, she looking as unsure as I felt.

I finally held my hand up to Liz, a halfhearted, confused wave. Maybe a symbolic white flag of sorts.

She blinked once, turned her head, and walked over to the group of cops in the parking lot without acknowledging me.

“We going anytime soon, pal?” the driver asked from inside the idling cab.

I slid into the backseat, stung more than I wanted to be. “Yeah. We’re going right now.”