“You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore,” he told her, closing his notebook and pocketing it.
She bit back her first response, her hands itching to shove him. But shoving him would involve actually touching him, and few things repulsed her more than making physical contact with Dusty Branson. Instead, she spat, “Yeah, but that doesn’t relieve you of your obligation to do your job, now does it?”
She held his flinty gaze until he looked away. “I gotta work,” he said, and meandered away like he had nothing to do at all.
Luckily, no one inside the Stop and Go had been seriously injured. One of the officers had turned the car’s engine off but its alarm continued in an angry, rhythmic series of honks that grated on her frayed nerves.
“Jo. Jesus Christ.”
It was Ray, in full uniform, except for his hat. He climbed into the ambulance with her and got close enough to pull her to him, but at the last minute decided to keep his distance. They hadn’t touched in almost a year. Part of her was relieved to see him and grateful that he had shown up to check on her, but the other part of her shivered at the thought. She never thought she’d feel that way; Ray had been a fixture in her life since middle school. They were friends long before they became high school sweethearts. He had always been good-looking in a sweet, boy-next-door kind of way with his thick, tousled blond hair, blue eyes and athletic body. She’d always been secretly pleased that he was hers. Women were drawn to him. They didn’t know he had issues.
“You okay?” he asked, taking a seat on the bench across from her. His gaze raked over her, searching for injuries.
“Yeah,” she said. “Just banged up.”
He nodded toward her leg. “That looks pretty bad.”
“It’s just a brush burn.”
“Listen, Jo, about earlier. I’m sorry I snapped at you. This Coleman case has us all on edge. I didn’t mean—”
A low voice boomed from the outside of the ambulance. “Josie, there you are!”
Luke appeared, also in full uniform. This was going to be awkward.
No matter how many times she saw him in his state police gray, Josie was always struck by how imposing he looked, and she knew Ray would be feeling it too as Luke pulled off his cap and bent to climb into the ambulance.
He was the opposite of Ray in almost every way, which was why she enjoyed him so much, she supposed. As a statie, Luke had to keep his black hair high and tight, shaved close to his head on the sides with a short cap of hair on the top. His face, clean and shaven, was smooth against her cheek when he leaned in to kiss her. He ignored Ray as he folded himself down beside her and slung an arm across her back.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She smiled. “Yes, I’m fine.”
She sensed Ray’s scowl before she even looked at him. An hour ago she’d been flaunting their engagement over the phone with Ray, and yet Luke’s display of affection in front of him made her uncomfortable. It shouldn’t—she hated that it did—but she wasn’t able to stop herself. He hated Luke. She knew that he made him feel inferior; he was taller, broader, in better shape. He was even hung better, although she had never told Ray. She was saving that one for a day when he really got under her skin.
She patted Luke’s hand and, after assuring him once more that she was fine, said, “Can I have a minute alone with Ray?”
A muscle in Luke’s jaw ticked, but he smiled, kissed her softly on the lips and said, “Sure.”
He made sure to bump Ray’s shoulder on his way out of the ambulance. Ray watched him go, looking both satisfied and wary. “Are you really going to marry that guy?” he asked.
She sighed and pressed the ice pack, now melted, against her left shoulder. “I’m not talking about this again.”
“Then why did you want to be alone?”
“Because I want to know why Isabelle Coleman’s history teacher was in the passenger seat of that Escalade out there.”
Chapter Four
Ray glanced toward the open ambulance doors as though he might be able to see Dirk, but he was already halfway to Geisinger Medical Center in critical condition. He had slipped into unconsciousness after saying that one word to Josie, and neither she nor the paramedics had been able to rouse him. He was the only living witness to the shootout, and he’d be lucky if he survived the next few hours.
“How do you know he was Isabelle Coleman’s teacher?”
Josie rolled her eyes. “He was on the news last night and again this morning talking about what a good student Isabelle is. Trinity Payne interviewed him. She interviewed everybody. I thought you were on this case.”
“Yeah, well, the chief’s got me searching the woods out by the Coleman house. I don’t have time to watch the news.”
“So, you found the phone?”
His eyes flicked to his lap. “No, a searcher did. It was kind of embarrassing since our guys had already taken a pass in that area right after Coleman went missing. Anyway, this lady found it and called it in. Dusty and I took it into evidence.”
“Well, a few minutes before the crash I saw Dirk Spencer on the news talking about what a great girl Isabelle is and how everyone just wants her to come home.”
“You think this…” he motioned toward the crash, “has something to do with Isabelle Coleman’s disappearance?”
“You mean abduction.”
“You know what I mean.”
Josie told him about Dirk Spencer whispering the name Ramona before he lapsed into unconsciousness. Three horizontal lines appeared on Ray’s forehead. It was the same look he got when she asked him to pick up tampons at the store. Puzzled consternation. “So what?” he replied. “It’s probably his girlfriend.”
She sighed. “Yeah, I guess. So what’s the chief holding back on the Coleman case?”
He stared at her, one eyebrow lifting. “You know I can’t tell you that.”
Josie’s head throbbed. “You think I won’t find out eventually?”
Exasperated, Ray said, “Why can’t you just follow the rules? Just one time? You’re asking me to put my own job in jeopardy, Jo.”
She couldn’t contain her incredulous “Puh.” She laughed. “Your job? You’re kidding me, right? You really think the chief would fire you for sharing information with someone in the department? I am your superior,” she reminded him.
It was a sore subject. He might have been promoted alongside her if the chief hadn’t kept finding empty whiskey bottles in the footwell of his patrol car. Turned out it wasn’t that easy to storm out of an ambulance. He stumbled and nearly fell to the asphalt outside. The last thing Josie heard was “Son of a bitch.”
Luke slid in beside her with a fresh ice pack, and this time she held it to her temple. Her headache was getting worse by the moment. She needed some ibuprofen. Her adrenaline was fading, leaving her entire body aching.
“What was that about?” he asked.
“Just trying to find out what he knows about the Coleman case.”
He put a hand on her knee. “Josie,” he began, but he didn’t lecture her. She liked that about him.
“What’ve you got on this mess?” she asked.
Luke sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Squat, that’s what we’ve got. All we know is that they came from the interstate. But it’s like they were shooting at an invisible car. We know there was another vehicle involved because of all the rounds shot into the Escalade, but all we’ve got are spent bullets.”
“What kind?”
“Nine millimeter, 30.06 and some 7.62 by 39s,” Luke said.
Josie moved the ice pack to her left shoulder. “A handgun and a hunting rifle? Well, that narrows it down. Practically every male in the state has those. The 7.62s are a little less common around here.”
“AK-47s take 7.62 by 39 rounds. Lots of inner-city gangs use those.”
“So you think this was a gang thing?”
“Vehicle is registered to one Carlos Garza of Philadelphia—the driver. He’s a known member of The 23, a Latino gang out of Philadelphia.”