“You two get going, and I’ll front the media when you call me from the car.”
Nick watched Rachel and Jean exit the hospital with the normal ebb and flow of people entering and exiting. He considered putting the hood up on his windbreaker and trying to sneak by, but he would look stupid if any of them recognized him. It wasn’t like he had robbed a bank. He wasn’t under arrest and being frog marched out to a patrol car. It was a real blessing the cops hadn’t left behind a guard to question him. He made a mental note to call the police in the morning. His cell-phone vibrated, and he answered.
“There seem to be a dozen out here with camera people, Nick,” Rachel said.
“Thanks. I’ll join you as soon as possible.” Nick disconnected and walked out the front entrance. He was immediately surrounded by reporters and cameras, blocking his way. Passersby stopped too, curious as to what the media were doing. Nick looked stricken, as if the media were harassing an invalid, keeping silent while letting them jostle him around. “Please… folks… could you back off a bit?”
The shouted ménage of questions stopped momentarily, and Nick seized the moment. “You all know as many facts as I do by now. What is it you want from me? I’m happy to answer any questions you have, but could you ask them one at a time. My head feels like it’s going to explode.”
“Are you having an affair with Dimah Kader, the teacher?” A woman asked in front, dressed like she was the mainstream reporter for one of the television networks, because a cameraman angled to get the exchange. Some of the passersby didn’t like that question as they realized who it was being interviewed. By the time Nick left the hospital, everyone knew about the school incident and Nick’s part in it.
“No,” Nick squinted into the light. “I’m sure you people have to ask idiot questions like that, but I hope you can limit the insulting garbage bytes to a minimum. I walk my stepdaughter, Jean, to school every day with our dog Deke. She loves her teacher, Ms. Kader. Jean was upset when Ms. Kader’s Uncle and his son started a heated exchange at the school, ending with security being called to escort them away from school grounds. Ms. Kader confided in me that because of her engagement to a United States Marine stationed overseas, her Uncle Naseer Kader had threatened Dimah because of the relationship. That’s the only background I know concerning what appears to be an attempted honor killing.”
“Then you are denying rumors you are having an affair with the teacher?” The same woman followed up.
“Are you stupid? I just answered that in detail.” People not with the media laughed at Nick’s abrupt stinging comment. Nick glared at the other reporters. “Is there anyone else with a brain who would like to ask a question? I’m as compassionate to the mentally challenged as the next guy, but I won’t be answering the same moronic question again.”
“You’re being hailed as a hero by every one of the witnesses to the incident, Mr. McCarty,” a man back a few feet into the crowd called out. “Was there any other action you could have taken other than a physical confrontation?”
“Saif Kader ran at us, firing at Dimah Kader with his revolver. I pushed her down, causing him to miss. I then threw my keys at his face to distract him. They hit Kader in the forehead, but his second shot struck me. I tackled him, trying to get the revolver away from him while we wrestled on the floor. I remember it firing, but I lost consciousness shortly after. That’s the end to my knowledge of the incident. I was informed he died, but everyone else is okay. I didn’t give anything else beyond that any thought.”
“You are a bestselling novelist with a string of New York Times Bestseller List novels involving an assassin named Diego. Do you feel as if your character’s fictional life and your reality are intersecting?” Another woman reporter further back in the crowd called out the question.
“Nope. I write fiction. Any resemblance between real life events and my books are strictly coincidence.”
“But you were in the army’s elite special-forces group, Delta Force,” a male reporter continued the questioning from next to the woman. “Were you not trained to handle these types of incidents without loss of life?”
“I guess we’re back to the same dopey Monday morning quarterback questions. Only people who have never been in combat think, that in a combat situation, a soldier, cop, or even a trained civilian can wave their hands at a gunman in some kind of unarmed ruse to miraculously disarm him or her. It doesn’t work that way. The gunman arrives with the purpose to take a life or lives. Anyone opposing them must be willing to use deadly force to stop them.”
Murmuring agreement and a smattering of applause let the reporters know which side the observers to their interrogation were on.