“One way to find out.” I pushed a button activating the Bluetooth and dialed the number from my phone. When the phone on the other end of the line picked up, it was a man’s rough voice they heard.
“Dillard here,” the voice said in the way of a greeting.
“Uh, hello. I missed a call from this number earlier this evening.”
“And who am I speaking with?” The man asked, almost as if I were wasting his time.
“Porter Masters. Who am I speaking with?”
“My name is Detective Henry Dillard. I am investigating a crime and looking for a Ms. Ella Sinclair. This number was listed as a contact for her. Are you able to get ahold of her?”
“It’s Ella Masters now, and yes, I can get ahold of her. She’s my wife.”
“Great. Is she available?”
“I’m here, Detective,” Ella said, placing her hand on my thigh as we drove down the highway.
“Good evening, Mrs. Masters. Sorry for bothering you on a Saturday evening, but I was wondering if you could come down to the Portland police station. It’s a matter involving your open case.” My stomach tightened at the detective’s words. The shooting. Ella’s wide and worried eyes found mine and I knew I had to keep it together for her. She would feed off any panic I showed, so I took steady and calm breaths.
“Well, Detective Dillard, my husband and I were headed back to Salem for the evening. Can we make arrangements to meet tomorrow or even Monday perhaps?”
“I don’t want to alarm you, Ma’am, but it’s a matter of urgency for you to make it to the station as soon as possible.” Ella looked at me, waiting for me to make the decision.
“We’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” I stated flatly.
“See you then.” I heard his line go dead over our speakers and gave Ella’s hand a squeeze. Neither one of us said a word as we made our way to the station.
Twenty minutes later, Ella and I were seated in a stale room that looked like it came straight out of a cop drama: large mirror (one way, I was sure), aluminum table, three chairs. Nothing else. It was cold and I felt goose bumps as I rubbed my hand up and down Ella’s arm. The door opened and a tall, imposing man stepped in, looking us both over. Once the door was closed behind him, he reached his hand out to both Ella and me. We shook his hand and all three of us sat down.
“Thank you for meeting me on such short notice. As I alluded to over the phone, there have been some developments in your case.”
“What does that mean?” Ella’s voice shook as she asked the detective her question.
“Yesterday the Portland Swat Team took down a drug ring in the inner city. We took in a young man who is facing drug and weapon charges that are scaring him shitless. Pardon the language,” he said quickly, looking at Ella. She didn’t even blink at him so he continued on. “He’s young and it’s his first offense. Luckily for everyone involved, he’s scared and looking for a way out. He offered up some information that could possibly lead us to an arrest in your case.”
“What?” Ella said, disbelief and excitement evident in her voice.
“Yes. In exchange for information on a few cases we’re working on, he will be getting a lesser charge and stay out of jail. He claims to know of a man who was involved in a shooting about a year ago, in the area of your store, and the suspect matches the description of the man who shot you.”
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
“So you have the bastard in custody?” My blood boiled at the thought of the person who shot Ella being in the same building as I was. I would rip him apart.
“Well, it’s not that simple. We have a name and a general area he was last seen. But he could be anywhere. We’ve put out an APB, and we’ve got our eyes out for him, but it might be a while before we find him.”
“So, what? You brought us here to tell us you kind of, sort of, have news about our case, maybe?” I was beginning to feel my rage take over. What were they playing at?
“Mr. Masters, listen, I’m trying to solve this case too. I want nothing more than to lock this guy up, but it’s going to take some time. I brought you in here to bring you up to speed and give you information. It’s very possible that this kid, and he is just a kid—nineteen-year-old boy—who shot you is long gone. He could be on the other side of the country by now. Or he could have gotten word of the arrests made today, that our suspect ratted him out, and he could be waiting outside to finish the job he messed up last year.”