Read Online Deadly Aim by Patricia H. Rushford - Free Book Online
Authors: Patricia H. Rushford
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and headed down the hill to the waterfront. He couldn’t say for certain what prompted him to go down to the marina. Maybe he just needed to put some distance between himself and the crime scene—and the media. With two crime scenes to deal with, the place had turned into a three-ring circus.
It could have been nostalgia that brought him to the docks. He’d come here often as a kid and watched as the boats came in with their holds full of salmon to be cleaned, packed, and shipped to distributors. The condemned warehouse had once been a thriving cannery where boats could come right up to the private dock, but the dock was fenced off now to keep the public from injuring themselves on the rotting wood. The place had been empty for over ten years; laws protecting salmon had put a strain on the entire industry.
While he walked toward the water, Callen thought about the deadly force incident. Something about the shooting didn’t ring true, but he couldn’t say why. According to the officers involved, the gunmen had had an arsenal. So what on earth was the boy doing with a toy gun? Regardless of the reports he’d heard, he couldn’t seem to tie the woman he’d seen with the action. Worse, he couldn’t get the image of Angel Delaney out of his head. Sittingin that patrol car, she’d looked like a kid fresh out of college—her eyes wide and innocent and almost desperate. She wasn’t beautiful like Karen had been, but cute. She had that all-American girl look a guy couldn’t help but appreciate.
He pushed the image of her aside, pulling back into focus the job at hand. He had no time for women. After his wife’s death he’d decided not to get involved seriously with anyone again. He still hadn’t gotten over Karen or the child he’d never know.
Get your act together, Riley , he chastised. This is not the time to be licking your wounds. You have a job to do .
He’d spent hours that day checking out both crime scenes and making sure he had crime lab people working at both locations. With two crime scenes to cover, he’d had to call his supervisor to send out two crime lab crews. Each team was made up of a scientist and a lab tech or assistant. Since the crime lab folks didn’t work weekends, they’d be on overtime.
He’d put the first team from Lincoln City on the officer-involved shooting, and the second from Newport on the pharmacy. While he was waiting for the teams to get there, he questioned the various officers who’d responded to the armed robbery at the pharmacy and the ensuing chase.
The suspects had fled on foot, but Callen suspected they’d had a vehicle waiting for them not far away. Or maybe they had a preplanned meeting place. Which posed another question—what was the kid doing in the warehouse alone while his buddies were hotfooting it to the getaway vehicle?
Maybe the boy hadn’t been alone. And if not, why hadn’t his cohorts moved in to protect him? Had they all gone into the old warehouse and out the other side? With it being a condemned building, all entrances should have been boarded up, but since when did that stop anyone? Maybe they’d escaped by boat. Callen paused to jot the notation down in his notebook. He’d ask the other officers about that possibility and bring it up when he questioned Delaney.
Callen’s gaze wandered over the wharf and bay. Here in the downtown area, rocky cliffs held back the ocean, leavinga wide opening, about a hundred feet, that served as an entryway into the cove. The cove provided a perfect place for fishermen to moor their boats and bring in their catch for processing.
He wandered down one of the piers, where a man was hosing down his charter boat. Large red letters on the bow read R EEF C HARTERS . The guy wore a red-and-black flannel shirt with faded jeans and knee-high rubber boots—typical fishing apparel.
“This yours?” Callen asked as he approached the vessel.
Blue eyes warily looked him up and down. “Yep.”
Callen pulled his ID
It could have been nostalgia that brought him to the docks. He’d come here often as a kid and watched as the boats came in with their holds full of salmon to be cleaned, packed, and shipped to distributors. The condemned warehouse had once been a thriving cannery where boats could come right up to the private dock, but the dock was fenced off now to keep the public from injuring themselves on the rotting wood. The place had been empty for over ten years; laws protecting salmon had put a strain on the entire industry.
While he walked toward the water, Callen thought about the deadly force incident. Something about the shooting didn’t ring true, but he couldn’t say why. According to the officers involved, the gunmen had had an arsenal. So what on earth was the boy doing with a toy gun? Regardless of the reports he’d heard, he couldn’t seem to tie the woman he’d seen with the action. Worse, he couldn’t get the image of Angel Delaney out of his head. Sittingin that patrol car, she’d looked like a kid fresh out of college—her eyes wide and innocent and almost desperate. She wasn’t beautiful like Karen had been, but cute. She had that all-American girl look a guy couldn’t help but appreciate.
He pushed the image of her aside, pulling back into focus the job at hand. He had no time for women. After his wife’s death he’d decided not to get involved seriously with anyone again. He still hadn’t gotten over Karen or the child he’d never know.
Get your act together, Riley , he chastised. This is not the time to be licking your wounds. You have a job to do .
He’d spent hours that day checking out both crime scenes and making sure he had crime lab people working at both locations. With two crime scenes to cover, he’d had to call his supervisor to send out two crime lab crews. Each team was made up of a scientist and a lab tech or assistant. Since the crime lab folks didn’t work weekends, they’d be on overtime.
He’d put the first team from Lincoln City on the officer-involved shooting, and the second from Newport on the pharmacy. While he was waiting for the teams to get there, he questioned the various officers who’d responded to the armed robbery at the pharmacy and the ensuing chase.
The suspects had fled on foot, but Callen suspected they’d had a vehicle waiting for them not far away. Or maybe they had a preplanned meeting place. Which posed another question—what was the kid doing in the warehouse alone while his buddies were hotfooting it to the getaway vehicle?
Maybe the boy hadn’t been alone. And if not, why hadn’t his cohorts moved in to protect him? Had they all gone into the old warehouse and out the other side? With it being a condemned building, all entrances should have been boarded up, but since when did that stop anyone? Maybe they’d escaped by boat. Callen paused to jot the notation down in his notebook. He’d ask the other officers about that possibility and bring it up when he questioned Delaney.
Callen’s gaze wandered over the wharf and bay. Here in the downtown area, rocky cliffs held back the ocean, leavinga wide opening, about a hundred feet, that served as an entryway into the cove. The cove provided a perfect place for fishermen to moor their boats and bring in their catch for processing.
He wandered down one of the piers, where a man was hosing down his charter boat. Large red letters on the bow read R EEF C HARTERS . The guy wore a red-and-black flannel shirt with faded jeans and knee-high rubber boots—typical fishing apparel.
“This yours?” Callen asked as he approached the vessel.
Blue eyes warily looked him up and down. “Yep.”
Callen pulled his ID
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