When the code for an officer down came over the airwaves a few minutes later, Sam wanted to wail. “Shit,” she whispered, pressing the accelerator to the floor.

They arrived just as paramedics wheeled Freddie out of the house.

“Oh,” Jeannie gasped, taking a step back.

Freddie’s face was sheet white, and the paramedics running alongside the gurney were working frantically to stop the blood streaming from his shoulder.

“Jesus,” Tyrone muttered, slipping a supporting arm around Jeannie’s shoulders.

“What’ve we got?” Sam asked one of the officers in an effort to keep from shrieking at the sight of Freddie’s lifeless form.

The rattled officer took a deep breath. “Gunshot wound to the shoulder. Significant blood loss. We found a flashlight, still lit, in the hallway. It’s possible Cruz took the shooter by surprise.”

“No sign of the shooter?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Where’re they taking him?”

“GW Trauma.” He reached into his pocket. “Cruz’s cell phone has been ringing like crazy.”

Sam took the phone from him and checked the missed calls. “His mother,” she said, watching the ambulance pull away. “I’ll take care of it.” She gestured for Jeannie and Tyrone to follow her inside. They assessed the first floor and found the still-lit flashlight as well as the large pool of Cruz’s blood. Fixated on the blood, Sam said, “You two are in charge here. I want a full sweep of this entire neighborhood. First shift is retained. Recall third shift. Let’s find this scumbag.”

“Yes, Lieutenant,” Tyrone said, his eyes hot with fury. “Will you let us know about Cruz?”

She bit her lip and nodded.

Jeannie squeezed her arm. “He’s going to be fine. He’s young and strong.”

“Yeah.” Before she could embarrass herself by breaking down in front of her detectives, she left them and headed back to HQ. Her heart beat fast from the rage that overtook her, and her fingers were so tight around the steering wheel that her knuckles turned white.

Freddie’s cell phone rang again, and bracing herself, Sam answered it. “Mrs. Cruz, this is Lieutenant Holland.”

“Sam! Tell me what’s happening! I heard a gunshot! Freddie.”

“He was shot in the shoulder.”

“Oh no. Oh God.”

“They’re taking him to GW Trauma. Do you want me to send a car to take you there?”

“Is he going to live, Lieutenant? Please. Tell me the truth.”

“I don’t know, ma’am. He lost a lot of blood.”

The other woman’s wretched wails rattled Sam’s already frayed nerves. “I’ll send a car. Sit tight. They’ll be there in a few minutes, and I’ll meet you at GW, okay?”

“Thank you.”