Читать книгу Lone Star Christmas Witness - Margaret Daley - Страница 13

Texas Ranger Taylor Blackburn strode toward the clinic, ducking under the crime scene tape. A northwest wind blew, a chill in the winter air. Dread threatened to slow his pace, but he couldn’t allow that. Forty-five minutes ago, a woman reported a shooting—a madman had entered this building right before it opened and shot the six employees on the staff. Five were dead, one critically injured.

When Taylor entered the Premier Medical Clinic, the smell of copper and gunpowder accosted him. Sadly, he’d smelled those aromas too many times in his sixteen years in law enforcement. His gaze swept the reception area, pausing for a few seconds on the downed pine tree with its multicolored tiny lights twinkling among the green foliage and the many ornaments lying on the floor. Tangled in the midst of the tree lay the first victim, a middle-aged woman dressed in her nurse’s scrubs—the vision making a mockery of what Christmas stood for.

Lieutenant Nash Cartwright with the San Antonio Police Department approached Taylor, who had been called in because it was a mass shooting. “It’s good to see you.”

Taylor shook his hand, glad that Nash was the SAPD’s lead on this case. He’d worked with the lieutenant several times. “I wish under different circumstances.”

“Me, too. We don’t know much yet. An unidentified man moved methodically through the building taking out the cameras as he went and killing anyone in his path. From what little we saw on the surveillance footage before it went black, the gun had a silencer on it.”

“There wasn’t anything that could identify the suspect?”

“He knew where the cameras were and made sure we didn’t see his face even during the brief time he was caught on tape. All we know is he’s approximately six feet tall with a slender build. His clothing was all black, with a hoodie to hide his face. Nothing else.”

“Was the door unlocked?” Taylor glanced at the security system pad near the front door.

“Don’t know. The alarm was off when we arrived.”

Taylor had briefly noticed a rear parking lot, most likely where the employees parked, which probably meant there was another entrance there. “Even with a silencer, you can hear the muffled shots. But no one escaped the building out the back door?”

“Right. It was blocked by a big trash bin. One male doctor was killed trying to leave.”

Taylor glanced down the hallway and saw another body by the exit, the door opened partially but a large garbage bin against the wall on the outside. “So, the killer came in and left by the front entrance. Any surveillance cameras outside in the parking lots in the back or front?”

“Yes, but taken down beforehand. I just sent some officers out to canvass the other businesses on the street, but with this clinic set back from the road and not surrounded by close neighbors, we might not get anything. And there are no traffic cams on this side street that could show us cars turning into the clinic. We’ll look later at other traffic cams in the general area during the time frame and try to identify the license numbers.”

“Who reported this shooting?”

“The first patient of the day, at eight. An older woman—Gladys Mills. She’s outside in a car with a female officer. She was shaken up and could only tell us she didn’t see anyone leaving the building or hanging around.”

Its location had made this place an easier target, Taylor knew. But he wondered whether this attack was random or targeted. “Any drugs taken?”

Nash frowned. “No. The drugs were locked up, and there are no signs the locks were tampered with, so we can rule that angle out.”

Taylor moved down the hall to the man by the rear door, dressed in a white coat. He stooped and examined the body, facedown, with an entry bullet hole in his back. “The only doctor here?”

“No, Dr. Noah Porter runs the clinic with one other doctor—a female, Dr. Kathleen Markham.”

“Is she one of the dead victims?”

“Yes. She was still in her office.” Nash gestured to a shorter corridor off the main one. “At the end.”

The door was open, but from this view Taylor couldn’t see the victim. “Are all the employees here today? Most clinics, even small ones, have more than six employees.”

“No. There are two not here if the information we’ve dug up is right. One is a male nurse, Colin Brewer, and the other is Sierra Walker, who manages the clinic. I have two officers tracking down the missing employees.”

“Good.” It was possible one of them or both were involved in the shooting or at the very least might have information that could help this investigation. “I especially want to talk to the office manager. This could have been done by a disgruntled employee—past or present. Knowing why will help us find this guy. Where are the other two dead victims?”

“There.” Nash pointed to the counter in the middle of the building where the nurses probably worked.

Taylor walked around a large booth to find two women on the tiled floor—one shot in the back, the other in the chest. From what he had seen so far, the shooter was swift and accurate—possibly methodical in his execution of the crime, as though he’d planned it for a while.

Nash received a call. His frown deepened the longer he listened to the caller. When it ended, he took a few seconds to gather himself, then said, “The sixth victim died on the way to the hospital. She never regained consciousness. Mindy Carson worked the front desk where she was found alive.” He started to walk away, then turned back to Taylor. “Look around. I’ll be in the lobby.”

As Taylor walked toward the female doctor’s office, he couldn’t shake his bad feeling, a growing hollowness in his gut. If this wasn’t a current or former disgruntled employee, then what drove a person to kill all these people who were healers trying to help others get well? The shooter hadn’t come in while patients were here. He’d done this before they opened the clinic. This wasn’t a random choice. The shooter wanted one or all of these people dead.

He stepped into Dr. Markham’s office, noting the lock on the door had been shot out, and paused a few feet inside, scanning the medium-sized room. A woman in her thirties, wearing a white coat, lay on the floor near a bank of windows that didn’t open. Trapped in her office with no way out. He covered the distance to the doctor, who lay faceup, an entry wound to her heart. She hadn’t suffered at least.

As he gazed at a face caught in a look of terror, he whispered, “Who wanted you dead?” He wished the victim could tell him.

The sound of faint whimpers wafted to Taylor. He stiffened and whirled around, every part of him on alert. But the room was empty. His gaze swept more carefully over the office, stopping at a framed picture on Dr. Markham’s desk of her and a little boy.

Did he imagine the noise?

Again, he surveyed the area, looking for any place to hide. The only furniture was a desk with two chairs in front and one behind, as well as a sideboard along the opposite wall with more photos of the doctor and the boy with a few including another woman. He strode over to the piece of furniture for a closer look. The sideboard had drawers down the middle, and cabinets on the sides with louvered doors. He opened the nearest cupboard. Files, books and magazines were crammed inside. He moved to the other one on the left and swung the door wide.

A child was curled into a tight ball, his head buried against his knees. Another whimper escaped the kid’s mouth as he tried to crouch even more into a protective cocoon.

Taylor squatted in front of the child. “You’re safe. I’m Texas Ranger Blackburn, and I won’t let anything happen to you.” A lance pierced his heart as he waited for the boy to trust him. Finally, the child looked up, and Taylor recognized him as the boy from the photographs. Dr. Markham’s son probably. He could only imagine the horror this young child went through when the killer came into the office. Did he see or hear anything through the slats in the cabinet door?

Taylor wondered who the other woman in a couple of the photographs was. She looked like Dr. Markham. She looked too old to be her child. A sister maybe?

“No one is going to hurt you. I promise. You’re safe.” Taylor held out his hand.

The brown-haired child didn’t move.

Taylor withdrew his cell phone and called Nash rather than leave the child alone to find the lieutenant. “Will you send a police officer to find Kathleen Markham’s residence and see if there’s a family member there?”

“Why?”

“I found Dr. Markham’s son in her office.”

“Alive?”

“Yes.” As Taylor disconnected, he held out his hand again toward the child. “Come on out. You’re safe.”

But the kid quickly turned his face away from Taylor.

He settled himself on the floor by the child. He didn’t want him to feel he was alone nor did he want to force him out of the cabinet. Taylor glanced up at the photo of Dr. Markham, the boy and a young woman who had long blond hair and a smile that lit her whole face. She had her arm around the kid, looking down at him. Suddenly a thought struck him. What if the boy was this lady’s son, not Dr. Markham’s?

Sierra Walker left the Premier Medical Clinic’s accountant’s office, relieved to get the necessary paperwork to him for the end of the year. She hurried toward her car, the cold wind whipping her long blond hair about her face and sending a shiver down her spine. Reaching her Mustang, she opened the driver’s side door and slipped behind the steering wheel.

She hoped Kat could figure out what was wrong with Ben. Probably a cold or possibly the flu. After her nephew had spent yesterday at the clinic, sleeping most of the time in one of the exam rooms, Sierra had told her sister that she’d take Ben with her today and work at home when she finished meeting with the accountant.

When she turned onto the street that led to work, the sight of police cruisers parked along the street in front of the clinic with lights flashing sent terror snaking down her spine. A small crowd stood behind a makeshift barricade.

She parked along the street, then dug her cell phone out of her purse. Her hands shook as she called her sister, her full attention glued to the police going in and out of the building. When Kat didn’t answer, she stuffed her phone back into her handbag and scrambled from her car.

Her pace, matching her pounding heartbeat, quickened with each step she took toward the barricade. She fought her way through the throng, praying everyone was all right, especially Kat and Ben. They were her only family. Her sister was the one who rescued her when she started down the wrong path. She owed her so much.

She reached the cordoned-off area and ducked under the barrier. A police officer immediately confronted her. “Ma’am, you aren’t supposed to be here. Please stay behind the barricade.”

“I work here. What happened? Is everyone all right?”

“Who are you?”

“Sierra Walker. I’m the office manager, and my sister, Dr. Markham, works here, too.”

“Can I see some identification?”

With trembling hands Sierra dug into her purse and presented her wallet with her driver’s license.

“Come this way.”

As she walked beside the officer, she scanned the scene and realized that something really bad had happened for this kind of all-out response and interest from bystanders. The nearer she came to the entrance, the more distress wrapped around her and squeezed the breath from her lungs, making her chest hurt.

The officer stopped while a gurney with a closed body bag was wheeled from the building.

“Please tell me if my sister and her son are okay.” She didn’t know how the words passed her tight throat.

He didn’t answer but continued to make his way into the clinic as the gurney was rolled toward a waiting vehicle. Sweat popped out on Sierra’s forehead in spite of the cold weather. The stench assailed her senses as she moved farther inside. Her stomach roiled.

When the sight of a body’s shape taped on the bloodstained floor by the Christmas tree across from the receptionist’s desk transfixed Sierra, she stopped as though frozen in place. Who was dead? Mindy, the receptionist? Mindy was one of her best friends. They often shared lunch here at the clinic or the café across the street. Then Sierra thought of all the other people she worked with who could be on that gurney, and her heart broke into pieces.

The officer glanced back. “I’m taking you to someone who can answer your questions.”

She heard the words he said, but they seemed to come to her as if she were in a long tunnel and he was at the other end.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

Sierra closed her eyes for a few seconds, and when she opened them again, a man over six feet tall, dressed in a long-sleeve white shirt, with a blue tie, an off-white cowboy hat and tan pants, headed toward her. Her focus latched onto the circular star badge he wore slightly to the left, over his heart. A Texas Ranger—which usually meant not a routine crime.

The Texas Ranger with deep green eyes and dark brown hair held out his arm. “Sierra Walker?”

She shook his hand. “Yes. What has happened here?” Her voice quavered, and she swallowed hard, trying to prepare herself for the worst—Mindy was in the body bag.

“There’s no good way to say this. A shooter came to the clinic right before it opened and shot everyone who was here. Is Dr. Kathleen Markham your sister? That’s what the officer said.”

Fear froze her lungs. “Yes. Is she hurt bad?” Please don’t let her be the person in the body bag.

“I’m Texas Ranger Taylor Blackburn. Let’s go in here.” He motioned toward a room behind the receptionist desk.

Part of the area was partitioned for her workplace. “My office is back there.” Moving forward, Sierra made the mistake of glancing down the main hallway, and when her eyes lit on a male body by the back door, she stumbled.

A hand grasped her arm, and the Texas Ranger stopped her from falling. Heat flushed her cheeks. “I wasn’t expecting that. Who is it? Dr. Porter?”

He looked down at her. “Yes, it’s him.”

She stared into those green eyes, and in that moment, she knew no one survived the mass shooting. Kathleen! Ben! Mindy and the others. Tears sprang into her eyes and blurred her vision. “Is my sister’s body still here?”

“No. It was the first one removed. Let’s go to your office.” He gestured to the room filled with file cabinets.

Sierra nodded. As she made her way there, she averted her face and wiped the wet tracks from her cheeks. She couldn’t even bring herself to ask about Ben. She’d helped raise her seven-year-old nephew since he was born, especially while Kathleen was a resident with long hours then when she started the clinic. For his first few years, Sierra’s life had revolved around him.

As Texas Ranger Blackburn closed the door, she leaned against her desk to help support her. A huge lump clogged her throat, and she gulped—several times—before she felt she could ask him the question she’d never thought she would say. “My nephew, Ben, was here with his mom. Is he—”

The Texas Ranger closed the space between them, his green eyes softening. “Ben is the only person who survived.”

At first, she thought she hadn’t heard correctly. She started to question him, but his look of compassion gave her hope. “How?”

“He hid in a cupboard in your sister’s office. Most likely the shooter didn’t know he was there.”

Opposite emotions—happiness for Ben and a deep sadness for Kat—assailed her. She shut her eyes and tried to compose her thoughts. “Where is he? Can I see him?”

“Soon. First, you and I need to talk.”

“But he has to be frightened. What has he said?”

“Nothing. Since I took him from the cupboard, he hasn’t cried or said anything.”

“He’s in shock.”

“Yes, and we have someone with him right now.” He gestured toward a chair nearby. “Sit. Let’s talk. The child psychologist I called will be through soon.”

Everything around Sierra vanished, and all she saw was the law enforcement officer, taking a seat across from her. How had she ended up sitting down? She didn’t even remember doing that. She had to be dreaming. Any moment she would wake up and see Kathleen and Ben.

“Ms. Walker, are you okay?” Concern laced the Texas Ranger’s deep voice.

She blinked, and reality zoomed into focus. “No. What do you want to ask me? I want to be with Ben as soon as possible. He has to feel...” As numb and lost as I am?

“Were you at the clinic at any time this morning?”

“No. I left our house and went right to an eight o’clock meeting with the clinic’s accounting firm. The meeting was over at ten thirty, and I came straight here.”

“What’s the name of the accounting firm?”

For a few seconds, she became defensive, her hands curling into a ball. How in the world could he think she might have something to do with the killings? She cared for everyone at the clinic, especially Mindy, and her sister had been more like a mother to her since their mom died when Sierra was twelve.

“Jones Smith Accounting. We’ve been a client for the past five years. Zachery Jones was the partner I met with this morning. He’ll verify I was there between eight and ten thirty.”

The Texas Ranger wrote down the information she gave him, then glanced up.

She rose partway. “Now can I see Ben?”

“I know this is hard, but I have a few more questions. Have there been any threats against the clinic or one of the employees recently?”

She sat back down, trying to remember, but her mind felt as though it were on overload. She shook her head. “I don’t think...” Something nagged at her, but the thought stayed at the back of her mind, vague and muddy.

“What is it?” the Texas Ranger prompted.

She tried to focus, rubbing her forehead, and then she recalled. “It was last summer. There was a father who blamed Dr. Porter for his daughter’s death, but he was grieving at the sudden turn of events. Dr. Porter did everything he could.”

“Who?”

“I’d have to look back through the files.”

“Anyone else?”

“Another patient was mad because he was still in pain and wanted more medication. My sister wouldn’t write a prescription. She’s especially careful about that because of the opiate crisis. That situation happened last month. The guy’s name was Bruce Lockhart.” Tension pounded against her temples. Her nerves were stretched so tight she wondered if they would snap in two. “I can’t think of anyone else right now. I need to look through the appointment log and possibly the records. But even then, I might not be able to come up with more. I work all day in here, and don’t have a lot to do with the patients. Something could have happened, and I might not know about it.” She paused. “Although Mindy usually kept me informed, even about the employees’ personal life, but nothing to warrant this.”

“Are the doors to the clinic kept locked until it opens?”

“Yes. It gives the staff time to meet if needed.”

“Who has a key to the building?”

“I do. Also my sister, Dr. Porter and Colin Brewer. He’s a nurse and he’s been here from the beginning. Everyone who has a key also has the alarm system code. After the employees who don’t have a key arrive, the front door is locked until it’s time to open.”

He wrote down the names, the lines on his face deepening. “Where is Ben’s father?”

When Sierra thought about Kalvin and what he’d done, she couldn’t help but frown. “He left Kathleen a few months after Ben was born. He gave her full custody and walked away. He’s never contacted her. The last she knew he was overseas. That was a couple of years ago.”

“What does he do?”

“I don’t know. He was in security. That’s what he called it.”

“What is Ben’s father’s name?”

“Kalvin Markham.”

“When you say overseas, where?”

“The Middle East. I got the impression he moved around a lot.” Sierra massaged her temples, trying to rid her head of the increasing pain.

“What kind of arrangements did your sister have for Ben if anything happened to her?”

The conversation she and Kathleen had several years ago flooded her thoughts. She hadn’t wanted to discuss the issue, but her older sister had insisted. Kat had been practical about things while Sierra had wanted to avoid the what-ifs. She’d learned to live for the moment, although with her job and her part in Ben’s life that had been changing.

“I’m Ben’s guardian if anything happened to Kathleen. She has a will leaving everything to her son, with me being the executor of her will and his trustee until Ben turns twenty-one. She wanted to make sure Kalvin could never get ahold of her money, especially now that she was an established doctor.”

“How long has this clinic been open?”

“Five years.” She was done answering questions. She needed to see for herself that Ben was alive. She needed to hold him. “I’m sorry, but right now, I want to see my nephew. I don’t want him to think something happened to me, too.”

“Yes, I understand. We can continue this conversation later. I have some information to help me proceed with the investigation. I’ll be working with the SAPD on this case.” He rose. “The child psychologist should be through talking to Ben by now.”

Sierra grasped the arms of the chair and pushed herself to a standing position, her legs feeling as though she’d just finished a marathon run carrying twenty-pound weights. Following the Texas Ranger from her office, she kept her eyes forward, doing her best to avoid looking at Dr. Porter’s body. She was thankful two officers were blocking her view this time.

Texas Ranger Blackburn clasped the knob to one of the exam rooms. “Ben’s in here, and I would like him to remain here until all the bodies are removed. Dr. Porter is the last one. The child psychologist is Dr. John Yates.”

How did this officer deal with something like what happened at the clinic and remain so composed? She wanted to fall apart and cry until there was nothing left in her. But for Ben’s sake, she couldn’t.

She walked into the exam room first, immediately seeing her nephew huddled into a ball, his head buried against his knees. Her broken heart further shattered into thousands of pieces. She hurried to his side and placed her hand on his hunched back. “Ben, I’m here. You aren’t alone.”

Nothing.

She stroked his back, something she did when he was upset. “Ben, we’ll be able to leave here in a few minutes.”

Still not a word.

She glanced over her shoulder at the child psychologist. He signaled he wanted to talk with her outside in the hall. “I love you, Ben. I’ll be right back.”

She stepped outside with the man while the Texas Ranger stayed in the exam room. “Did he say anything to you?”

Dr. Yates shook his head. “No. Not one word. I was with him forty-five minutes. When he’s upset, does he refuse to talk?”

“Never. He can talk your ear off. What does this mean?”

“It’s possible he has traumatic muteness.”

“Will he ever talk again?”

“Hopefully. But he’s witnessed a horrific crime,” Dr. Yates said. “He was hiding in a cabinet. Your sister most likely put him there and told him not to say a word.”

Sierra paced toward the reception area, spied the bloodstain on the floor and turned back around. “What can we do, Dr. Yates? We’ve got to help him.”

“Please call me John. I would like to work with him.”

“Yes, anything to help him cope with this.” She couldn’t imagine what her nephew was going through. She was an adult, and she was struggling to deal with what happened to Kat.

“For the first couple of sessions, I’d like to come to his house. I’m hoping a familiar place will help him. I will tell you he didn’t curl up into a ball until Taylor left the room to talk to you.”

“Have you worked with Texas Ranger Blackburn before?”

“Yes, whenever a child is involved in a case. Now, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to have our first session today. From what Taylor told me, Ben’s the only one who might have seen or heard something that could help the case. In fact, perhaps it would be best if Taylor was at the session, too.”

“Anything you think will help Ben and find the killer. Holding it inside only makes the situation worse.” She’d found that out the hard way when as teenager she’d kept a secret that ate at her soul until she finally turned to the Lord with her sister’s help. Kat was the only other person who knew about it.

“Good.” John swung around and opened the door to the exam room.

When she went inside, Ben sat on the edge of the exam bed, his legs hanging down. His chin rested on his chest, but he wasn’t in a ball like before. Taylor Blackburn leaned against the piece of furniture next to Ben as if he was in deep thought.

“Ben, I want to take you home. I don’t know about you, but I’m getting hungry. We can stop and get some hamburgers at your favorite place. Okay?”

Her nephew lifted his head and nodded once, then returned his stare to the floor.

For a moment, panic set in. She wasn’t prepared to take her sister’s place and become Ben’s full-time caregiver. What if I make a mistake? Lord, I need help. Where do I start?

She kept her focus on God, and slowly calmness overtook the anxiousness. Sierra held out her hand. “Let’s go home.”

Ben took it and slid off the exam table, the whole time still staring at the floor. At the door, her nephew spun around and threw himself at Taylor, clinging to him. The Texas Ranger’s eyes widened, connecting with hers. Ben’s reaction confirmed what Dr. Yates had pointed out, that Taylor had a calming effect on her nephew. That made sense to her. In Ben’s eyes, Taylor had saved him when he found him hiding in Kat’s office.

She clasped one of Ben’s shoulders. “Let’s go home.”

Her nephew released his hold and stepped away from Taylor with hesitation. Ben took Sierra’s hand but kept his gaze on Taylor. What was she supposed to do? She tried to remember what she’d felt when her mother died.

She headed toward the front exit, trying her best to block Ben’s view of the bloodstains on the reception floor. As she reached to pull the door open, Taylor and John appeared right behind them.

“We’ll follow you to your house,” Taylor said as he opened the door for them and they left the clinic.

Relief blanketed her. “Thanks.”

In the short time she had been inside, the crowd outside had doubled, and more media had arrived. She hadn’t thought about that. She didn’t want to talk to a reporter, nor did she want Ben to be questioned by them.

As they neared the barricades, Taylor came around her. “I’ll take the lead. You don’t have to talk to the press. In fact, I’d recommend you don’t.”

“I’m not going to.” The eagerness she glimpsed on the reporters’ faces made her feel as though she was the prey and they were waiting to devour her to get their story.

“Where’s your car?”

“It’s the red Mustang to the right down the street.”

“Good. It’s not that far from my SUV.”

Two police officers moved the barricade, so they could leave. As they plunged into the crowd, Sierra and Ben were immediately surrounded by reporters shouting questions at them, a lot of them holding microphones while cameramen angled for a good shot of her and her nephew. Panic shot through her at the thought the whole world would see their picture on the news—and realize Ben survived the attack.

As she dodged the media, she wondered how in the world she was going to protect Ben from his memories of today—and from the killer.