“Oana, I should have known you’d be mixed up in this somehow.”
Mano’s head was clearing. “You can put your gun away, Rambo. The guy’s gone.”
Sam scowled but holstered his gun. “What happened here?”
“You tell me.” Mano gestured toward the window. “Someone decided to use me for target practice.”
Sam drew near the bed and glanced at Mano’s temple. “Looks like he didn’t miss.”
“I think he was aiming about four inches closer in.” Mano dabbed at his temple again. He looked at the wadded tissue, but it was nearly clean of blood now. The wound was beginning to stop bleeding.
Sam’s lips tightened. “Check him out,” he barked to the paramedics. He glanced around the room.
Mano looked around, trying to see the scene through Sam’s eyes. The funky walls were an aqua-on-steroids color. The bedspread was just as gaudy, a mess of garish oranges and greens. This place must not have been updated since the sixties. “A bullet hit the floor there.” Mano pointed. “And one went into the wall there.” He showed Sam the hole by the desk, a blond piece of furniture marred by numerous nicks and cuts. The place was clean and that was all he’d cared about.
“Any idea why you’d be a target?”
Mano hesitated. His gut told him Noah had been the target, not him. But Sam was liable to scare Noah off, and Mano wanted to find out more about the casino deal and whether it might be linked to Tomi. “I have no idea.”
“There were quite a few shots, so whoever it was meant business.” Sam stooped and peered at the bullet fragment on the floor. “Looks like .357.”
Mano didn’t reply. If he had to confess to Noah’s presence later, he would. Right now, he needed to find Noah. He flinched when the paramedic dabbed a stinging liquid on his wound.
“That’s going to need stitches,” the man told him. “It wouldn’t hurt to get an X-ray.”
“Slap a butterfly bandage on it, and let me out of here,” Mano said. He glanced at Sam, but the detective was intent on gathering the evidence. Maybe he wouldn’t notice if Mano stepped around outside to the window where the bullets came in. Mano’s head was clearer now.
The paramedic turned him loose, and he went to the door. Another car with flashing lights on top pulled into the lot. Sam had called for backup. Mano needed to act fast. He grabbed a flashlight from his car and rounded the corner of the building.
“Don’t touch anything,” Sam called after him.
Mano flipped on the flashlight and shone it on the ground. The light touched crumpled candy and gum wrappers, soda tabs, and a shave ice cup. He could barely see the imprint of where someone had stood in the grass, but it didn’t tell him anything.
He swept the light back and forth across the area one more time and then caught a glint of metal. Probably another soda tab. He knelt and parted the grass carefully. A ring winked up at him. He started to pick it up, then realized he’d be in trouble for tampering with the evidence. He dug a pen out of his pocket and lifted it so he could see it more clearly.
It was a man’s ring. The onyx stone was topped with a gold “A.” A bit from one of the prongs was missing. Mano dropped it back into the grass and put away his pen. “Sam, out here,” he called through the broken window. Once the detective joined him, he pointed out the ring. “It could have been here for a while, but it might be evidence.”
“I told you to leave this to me,” Sam growled. “We’ll handle the investigation.” He picked up the ring, his hand clad in latex gloves, and stared at it. “Are you sure it isn’t yours?”
“Positive,” Mano said. He took a step back.
“You’re hiding something, Oana,” Sam said. “I’m going to find out what it is. You might as well tell me now.”
“Is that your usual manner—to harass the victim?” Mano was ready to get out of there. He’d had all of Sam’s attitude he could take. “Look, let’s put our history behind us and focus on the problems.” He stalked off toward his car. Noah knew better than to go to his rental. Maybe Jillian would know where he might be.
Annie’s covers were in a tangle. Wilson growled as she thrashed once again and rolled over in the bed. “Sorry, sweetie.” She wiggled her fingers, and he nibbled on them. She stroked his head, deriving some comfort from his warm little body. She fluffed her pillow and propped it against the headboard. She flipped on the light. Sleep wasn’t coming so she might as well do something useful.