Their discoveries, photographed by Shelby on her tablet, included tire tracks that indicated a motorcycle with knobby motocross tires had been standing on a patch of grassless soil behind the garage and had subsequently crossed the lawn, descended the slope, and turned onto the lower street—confirming Hollis Vitter’s claim. Also behind the garage were boot prints next to the tire marks—and similar prints in the soil at the base of the slope, suggesting that the rider had stopped there, perhaps for passing traffic, before turning onto the street.
At the edge of the lawn by the slope, Gurney spotted a Bic pen. Shelby photographed it in situ before he picked it up, careful not to smudge any prints, and placed it in an evidence bag. As he was filling out the required item-location-date information, his phone was ringing. By the time he got to it, the message was already in voicemail.
On playback it was so broken up it was barely understandable. After listening to it three times, he could be sure only that the caller was Heather Loomis and she wanted him to come to the hospital. The reason was indecipherable, but the urgency was clear.
He called back but just got voicemail. He considered trying to reach her through the hospital number but changed his mind when he recalled the time-consuming runaround involved in his earlier effort. Assuming he’d end up driving there anyway, he decided to just go.
After explaining the situation to Shelby, he jogged the four blocks down the hill to where he’d left his car in front of the Loomis house on Oak Street. The groups of neighbors had dispersed. The yellow police tape and the darkened red stain on the grass were the only signs that something unnatural had occurred.
He got in the Outback and followed the route he’d taken to the hospital with Heather. The traffic was moving more slowly now with people coming home from work. It gave him time to think, a mixed blessing at that time of day, nearing dusk, when his concerns seemed to intensify.
Near the top of his present list was his worrisome position in the investigation of the Loomis shooting. Revealing that Loomis was shot as he set out to discuss his and John Steele’s efforts to probe corruption in the department would likely abort any progress in that direction and perhaps even expose other individuals to retaliation. On the other hand, the phone company would have records of Loomis’s call to Gurney to set up their meeting and his subsequent call to the diner to change the meeting time. If those records were discovered, and if the waitress identified Gurney, he could be charged with withholding evidence in the investigation of a felony—itself a felony.
Complicating his decision was the larger question of whether the attempt on Loomis’s life was a calculated effort to keep that meeting from happening or a mindless shoot-a-cop retaliation for the playground murders. He was pretty sure it was the former.
As Gurney got out of the car at the hospital parking lot he felt, for the first time that day, a chill in the air.
The building’s entrance was sheltered under a broad portico. A RAM van was parked next to it, and a small crowd had gathered. A media crew was adjusting TV lights around two central figures. One, in a short red skirt and white blouse, was the news personality he’d seen on
A crew member by the open rear doors of the van called out, “Light and sound levels good. Recording and transmitting. You’re on!”
The reporter’s expression switched from bitchy boredom to the standard RAM-TV expression of concern with the worrisome state of the world. She was holding a wireless microphone. “I’m Stacey Kilbrick at Mercy Hospital in White River, New York, where Detective Rick Loomis is barely hanging on to life after being shot by a sniper in his own front yard—raising the tension in this upstate city to the breaking point. I’m talking to Chief Dell Beckert, who just emerged from the hospital. What can you tell us, Chief?”
Beckert’s face was a picture of rock-solid determination. “First, let me assure everyone that we have the tense situation in White River under control. Second, we’re making rapid progress toward the identification and apprehension of the coward who tried to kill this fine officer, a servant of our community, a man with a spotless record. Third, you have my personal assurance that law and order will prevail. To the tiny deluded minority who incite violence for their own selfish ends, I say this: you will be brought to justice. Finally, I ask for your prayers for the full recovery of Detective Rick Loomis. Thank you.”
