Against The Odds (Anna Dawson #1) (22 page)

“Or…because you want to sleep with me again?”

He put his finger on my horseshoe pendant. My pulse picked up and I swear he felt it, because a smug smile crept up his face. “I don’t need a show of goodwill to get you back in bed.”

“Oh, no?” I said with challenge in my voice even though he was dead right.

“No,” he whispered, then leaned in to kiss me. Just as he was grazing my lips a dinging went off. “What was that?”

“Ben’s sliding glass door. I put a little bell on it so I could hear when Ben went outside. I have this irrational fear of him tripping his walker and falling into the pool and not being able to get his footing. So Lorelei installed it. Crazy I know, but –”
 

“So, he’s going outside?”

“Yes.”

He was already off the couch and headed out the door of the living room. “I thought I was clear about going outside.”

“I thought—we thought—you meant, like going out.”

He shot a look over his shoulder at me.

I rose and followed Jack out of the living room. “Down the hall and out the back,” I said to Jack’s back as he followed my instructions.

I started after him but froze in my tracks as I heard a gunshot.

Chapter Eighteen

J
ack was kneeling over Ben who lay sprawled on the patio stones.

A low groan escaped my lips. “Ben,” I shouted and started forward but Jack’s outstretched arm stopped me.

“He’s fine. He just fell. The bullet didn’t hit him. Stay in the house. Get away from the windows!”

“Like hell,” I said and ran out the sliding glass door to Ben, keeping my head low like they do in the movies. Holy shit, had it come to this? Dodging bullets?

But there were no more shots.

“Jesus, what are you doing?” Jack said to me, moving his body as I knelt over Ben so he shielded not only Ben but me too. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun. Not that a gunshot and Ben laying on the ground wasn’t enough to make this all too real to me, but Jack holding a gun and looking around the back of the yard sure did.

“Ben? Are you okay?” I asked.

He looked at me, fear in his brown eyes. “I’m fine, Hannah, go back inside.”

“Not without you,” I said which prompted a sound of disgust from Jack.

“Ben, are you hurt?” Jack asked while still scanning the landscape beyond our pool area.

The U shape of the house surrounded our patio and pool area which had a low fence along the back end. Beyond that was maybe twenty yards of lawn before the tree line that separated our subdivision from an elementary school playground.

It was late on Sunday night so—thankfully—no kids would have been on the playground. The tree line that ran along the back of our property was dark and still, but Jack’s eyes continued to scan over it, looking for movement.

“I’m fine,” Ben said weakly. “Just shaken from falling. Help me up, Hannah.”

Jack looked at Ben hard, assessing what he’d said. He nodded his head, as if assuring himself that Ben was indeed okay. He looked at me. “Help him inside. Call 911, tell them officer needs assistance.” Then he turned and ran to the back of the pool area, vaulted over the fence in one swift movement, and ran into the tree area.

My breath caught as I watched him run into the area where the shot had surely come from. Ben started to move and I quickly focused my attention onto getting him into the house and calling for backup for Jack.

It was slow going. Ben was sore and we were trying to stay as low as possible although I had to believe that whoever was out there had started running the minute Jack came out onto the patio.

Finally we got back into Ben’s room—the closest room that had access to the house—and I eased him into a chair and then hurried to the phone. I made the call—and suggested they contact Detective Frank Botz as well.

I went back to the sliding doors. And peered out into the darkness.
 

“Hannah, darling, come away from the window,” Ben said, but I stayed where I could see.

A moment later an out of breath Saul came rushing into Ben’s room from the hallway. “Was that gunshot? I was sleeping, and thought maybe I’d dreamed it. Then I heard commotion and came running.” It would have been a jaunt for poor Saul, going around the whole house. It would have been shorter to cut through the patio area, but I’m glad he hadn’t thought of that. One old man as target practice was enough.

Saul looked from me to Ben, looking so small in his chair, his hands shaking, his eyes wide with shock. Saul seemed startled to see his friend in such a state. It was startling to me as well. “Ben? You’re…you’re…you’re all right?” he finally got out, crossing the room to his best friend.

Ben nodded slowly. He took Saul’s hand. I grabbed a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around his scrawny frame, which seemed even frailer than it had two days ago.

“Where’s Jimmy?” Saul asked.
 

“He left,” I said.

“And Lorelei?”

“She’s out,” I said.

Saul looked at me pointedly. “How long ago did Jimmy leave?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Right after you went to your room, I guess.”

“And Lorelei?”

“Not too long before…before somebody shot at Ben,” I said quietly, not sure where Saul was going, if he was going anywhere.

“How long exactly?”

“I don’t know. Not long. Only a couple of minutes.”

Saul looked out the glass door of Ben’s room, looking across the back yard to the tree line where Jack was emerging.

We all watched in silence as Jack made a sweep of the yard and then came in through the door, shutting it and closing the blinds.

“Did you find anything?” Saul asked before I could.

Jack shook his head. “It’s too dark to see anything. And whoever was there is long gone. We’ll cordon the area off and search it tomorrow in the daylight. It doesn’t look like rain, so nothing should disturb any signs our shooter left.” He looked at me. “Did you call 911?”

I nodded. “They’re on the way. I had them contact Botz too.”

“Good. That’s good,” Jack said distractedly and I could tell he was already thinking about shell casings and trajectories and all that other stuff cops think about. “You okay, Ben?” he asked softly and then knelt in front of Ben, taking his shaking hand in his own steady one.

The compassionate sight warmed me and it must have been too much for Saul as well, because he reached for the other side chair in the room and lowered himself heavily into it. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Jack and Ben. I walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He shook his head and lowered it to his hands, resting his elbows on his knees, covering his face. “Too close,” he whispered. “Too close.”

“I’m fine,” Ben said after Jack asked him again. “I just turned too quickly. My walker leg got caught on one of the chairs and I slipped. If I hadn’t fallen…” He didn’t finish the thought no one wanted to finish.

I squeezed Saul’s shoulder once more then crossed to Ben. I knelt next to Jack and placed my hand on both of theirs. “It’s okay, Ben. You’re okay.”

He only nodded, still in some form of shock I suppose.

“Maybe we should take him to the hospital and have him looked over,” I said quietly to Jack.

“No,” Ben said with more force than I thought his stunned body had in it. “No more hospitals. Gus leaves tomorrow. And that will be all of hospitals for us. Right, Saul?”

Saul got out of his chair, came across the room, sat on the bed next to our little group. “Right, Ben, no more hospitals.”

I heard the sirens coming down the street.

F
our hours later I sat with Jack and Frank Botz at the dining room table. Saul and Ben had finally gone to bed. Lorelei, after initially freaking out when she’d gotten home, had calmed herself with true Lorelei behavior—putting together an impromptu buffet for the police officers. The patrolmen had appreciated it, too, after taping off the area and doing as much work as they could do in the dark with portable lights.

A Terrible Towel with a Pittsburgh Steelers logo was found in the woods and was taken away as evidence. I wasn’t sure if you could get fingerprints or DNA or anything like that from a towel. Fibers of some kind, I guessed.

But it confirmed to Jack and Frank that the attempts on Ben’s and Gus’ lives and Danny’s death were all connected.

Not that any of us had any thought that somebody else was just randomly shooting at Ben outside his own home. But still, it seemed to give the detectives a small pleasure that the shooter had left his calling card.

Jimmy had been notified, but had been told to stay put. A patrol car was going to stay outside of his home for the rest of the night. I didn’t think Jimmy would stay there unless he’d talked to Ben, so I’d brought the phone to Ben who reassured Jimmy that he was okay.

I refilled Jack and Frank’s coffee cups while they both talked to various people on their phones. It was a way of being able to hear them, although after Pittsburgh, I assumed that Jack would keep me in the loop—as much as he was able to—about the case.

And not because we’d slept together. Because I put it together the same way he had and showed up at the same game he did. I think my investigative skills stock soared with him for that one.

They both got off their phones at the same time, and continued writing notes in the their notebooks. After a few moments, they both looked up at each other, then Jack turned to me.

“First off, you need to tell me if any of this can in any way have a connection to you and Paulie Gonads.”

I shook my head. “No. Not possible.”

“You’re sure? I’m only trying to help. This is your business, but if it’s…”

“It’s not,” I said. “If this was about me, they’d come after me.”

That seemed to jive with what Jack must have already thought, because after looking at me closely for longer than felt comfortable, he nodded and turned to Botz. “What do you have?”
 

Botz cast a glance in my direction. Jack looked at me but didn’t say anything. He had to know I’d put up a holy stink about being kept in the dark, and he looked pretty tired. Not up to a holy stink tonight. He looked back at Botz, raised a brow.

Botz shrugged. “Uniforms stopped by the homes of Ralph Stankowski, Leonard Martin and Charles Godwin. They were all there, all were woken up by the officers.”

It was late here, it would be even later in Pittsburgh.
 

Jack nodded. “It would have been cutting it pretty close for them to get out here, and set up so quickly when I just saw them last night.”

“We made it back,” I said, and then regretted it. Jack might not have told Frank about me being in Pittsburgh.

“True,” Jack said. “By the way, I told Frank about you being at the game.”
 

I looked at Frank. “Good piece of detective work, there, Anna,” he said. I noticed he’d dropped the Ms. Dawson and I wondered if Jack had told him about the entire trip.

“I also told him about…well…that we’re together,” Jack confirmed. This time I couldn’t look at Frank, only nodded in his general direction.
 

“Good piece of—”

“All right. All right,” Jack said, cutting Frank off which only gained him a chuckle from his partner. “What else did you find out?” Jack asked. He looked at me and shrugged, his silent apology for his partner, I guessed.

Frank looked back at his notes, I looked at Frank’s Fred Flintstone tie.

“Not much else. The three names you came back from Pittsburgh with all check out for tonight at least. Locals there are going to question them about the O’Hern and Morgan shooting dates tomorrow.” He looked at his notes again. “We’re checking on Terrible Towels and where they can be purchased here in Vegas, but with online shopping…who knows,” he said with a shrug. “If that doesn’t lead anywhere, then we’ll have the Pittsburgh PD start with the Towels…but that’s going to be pretty common in that town.”

It made me wonder if the internet and internet shopping had put a severe disadvantage on good old fashioned detective work. In some ways, it probably helped. Like if you had a suspect, and then got their home computer and the site for Steelers memorabilia was bookmarked—that would certainly be incriminating. But, probably gone were the days when detectives would count on a clerk at a—in this case—a sports memorabilia place be able to help detectives with a description.

It was mid-February, well past football season. The purchase of several—or at least five—Terrible Towels in Las Vegas would probably be something a clerk would remember. But not if they were bought online.

Or if they were bought in Pittsburgh and brought here.

“Jimmy says he was at home and Lorelei was running errands at the time of the shooting, neither of which are confirmed,” Jack read from his notes, not willing to meet my eye. Smart man.
 

Still, thinking my friends could somehow be involved in this didn’t sit well with me and I tried to make the Pittsburgh slant more feasible.