Chapter 37

DENNIS HARUTYUN WAS standing over the gurney Kathryn Dance lay on, face down.

The medic was on the opposite side from the deputy, laboring away on her back.

“No leads yet,” the detective said.

With her perpendicular view of the scene, Dance could see the ever-efficient CSU team scouring the grounds where the attacker had nearly killed Sheri Towne … and Dance herself. But there wasn’t much left; the fire had spread and taken out some of the trees and brush where he’d been standing.

“That hurt?” the med tech asked.

“A bit.”

“Hm.” He continued working on her, without otherwise acknowledging her answer.

After a few minutes: “You almost through there?” Dance asked, irritated that the doctor was taking so long and that he hadn’t responded to her comment about the pain. She should have said, “Yeah, hurts like hell, butcher.”

“I think that’ll do it.”

She pulled her shirt down.

“Just a scratch. Wasn’t deep at all.”

Dance was sure she’d been shot in the back—her immediate thought was of her friend, the crime scene expert, Lincoln Rhyme, who was a quadriplegic, paralyzed from the neck down. How can I be a good mother if I can’t walk? she’d thought, tumbling over Sheri Towne from the impact. In fact, what had happened was that the fire extinguisher she’d tossed aside had landed in the burning grass and exploded, sending either a rock or a piece of its own casing flying into her back. She’d lain stunned for a moment then had turned to see on the ground a big disk of white foam or powder from the detonated extinguisher. And she’d understood, then crawled on to the SUV and retrieved her phone and—giving up on Madigan—called 911. A quarter hour later the police and fire and medical teams arrived.

The medic took his bad bedside manner and wandered off to tend to his other patient—Sheri Towne, who was sitting next to her husband. She was breathing oxygen and staring at her bandaged hand. Her long nails were, coincidentally, the color of fresh blood.

“It’s a real mess,” Harutyun said. He explained that Edwin had complained to the state DOJ about his detention and the illegal search. Madigan and Miguel Lopez had just been arrested, though released right away, no bail required, but they were no longer active-duty law enforcers.

“Oh, no,” Dance said in a harsh whisper. “He’s out of commission?”

“Sure is.” Harutyun added bitterly, “The perp took out Gabriel Fuentes, stealing his gun. Now it’s the Chief and Miguel. The whole team now’s Crystal, me and you.”

“Any sightings of Edwin?” Dance asked.

“No sign of him or that bull’s-eye-red car of his. The luncheon went on as scheduled. Kayleigh didn’t look too good, to hear the stories. She sang a few songs, had lunch with the fan and then left. People were saying she wasn’t really there. Not mentally.”

Dance nodded toward the smoldering Mercedes. “Pretty dangerous to be on Kayleigh’s bad side.”