Page 40 of Chasing a Kidnapper

“This is Detective Cole. Have any black Chevy four-door sedans been reported stolen?”

“Just a moment.” He could hear the female dispatcher typing on the computer keyboard. “No, detective, there have not been any reports of a stolen vehicle matching that description.”

That figured. Maybe this guy recently stole the sedan and the owner hadn’t noticed yet. “Okay, I need a BOLO put out for a black Chevy sedan with a temporary plate note taped to the rear window. No rear license plate.”

“Absolutely.” He heard more key clicking. “I’m sure someone will spot it.”

He hoped and prayed that was the case. “Will you please call me ASAP if a report of a stolen vehicle with that description comes in? Thanks.” As he ended the call, screaming sirens from the PCPD police response filled the air.

The arrival of the officers helped ease his tension. “I’ll show you where the shooter was standing.” He gestured for one of the officers to follow him to the corner of the apartment building. “We need to search for shell casings.”

They split up, and it only took a minute for West to find one of the shell casings.

“A 9 mm,” the officer noted, without touching it.

West knew the perp had used a handgun. “That doesn’t narrow the type of weapon by much, but maybe we’ll get a match in the system.” Shell casings and bullets were entered into a forensic database.

“Why were you and Officer McCord here?” the officer asked.

“This is the last known address of her ex-husband, Bryan Little, who is a person of interest.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “The manager wasn’t much help, but he did mention a guy had shown up shortly after Little had left, looking for him. Makes me wonder if Little stole something that didn’t belong to him and this perp wants it back.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Trisha said, coming up to stand beside them. “I never imagined Bryan would do anything illegal, especially after being married to a cop, but based on everything that’s happened, that’s the only theory that makes sense.”

West frowned. “His actions are not a reflection on you, Trish.”

“Aren’t they?” Her gaze clung to his for a heartbeat before she looked away. “It doesn’t feel good knowing a man I married would commit a crime.”

“That’s his failure, Trish. Not yours.” He longed to pull her into his arms to comfort and reassure her, but this wasn’t the time or place. She wouldn’t want to appear weak in front of her fellow officers. “Besides, you’re better off without him.”

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Yes, I am.”

Their gazes locked and held. He wanted to tell her how glad he was that she wasn’t married, but the words stuck in his throat.

“I found another shell casing,” the officer interrupted them. “It’s wedged in the ground as if someone stepped on it.”

“Could have been me,” West admitted. “Or the perp himself. I chased him, but he escaped in a black Chevy sedan with no license plate, just a temporary sign taped to the back window. I’ve already requested a BOLO for the vehicle.”

“Sounds good. I’ll get this evidence tagged and bagged. Is there anything else you can tell me about this guy?”

He thought for a moment. “Nothing other than he’s roughly the same height and weight as the masked kidnapper reported yesterday by Officer McCord, brown hair and no visible tattoos or piercings.” He glanced at Trisha as he spoke. “Is that your impression, too?”

“Yes. Although I honestly didn’t get a good look at him, either. Dressed in black, and the same ski mask.” She frowned. “I have to wonder why that ski mask isn’t getting more attention from the general public. It’s not January with wind chills of minus twenty degrees. It’s April. Chilly in the morning but above freezing during the day. Most of the time,” she amended.

“That’s a good question,” West agreed. “Maybe Captain Ross needs to do a news conference, stressing the importance to the public that if they see something, they should say something.”

“Can’t hurt.” Trisha sighed. “I really wish we could grab this guy.”

“Me, too.” He reached out to touch her arm. “Let’s get out of here and head back to the police station. I don’t want to miss the autopsies.”

She turned and fell into step beside him. “It feels like we’ve been working this case for weeks rather than a couple of days. And that we’re getting nowhere fast.”

“I hear you.” He shared her concern, not liking that her son was still in danger. Trisha wasn’t used to the investigating side of things, but he was. He offered a reassuring smile. “Trust me, the gunman will make a mistake. They always do.”

She nodded, without saying anything more. As they headed back to the SUV, where Peanut was patiently waiting, their hands brushed. When her fingers tangled with his, he was in no hurry to let them go.

At the SUV, he opened the car door for her. She caught him completely off guard by giving him a quick hug and a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Thanks,” she whispered, before sliding into the passenger seat.

He stood frozen for a moment, before he managed to close her door. Then he slid in behind the wheel, his cheek still tingling from her kiss.

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