Page 63 of The Last Grift
Lundin shot Gabe a sideways glance. “Yeah, but the non-park parts of the island are Rizzi’s jurisdiction, and he’ll already be pissed that I got here first.”
In a hallway that led to another area of the house, a signed and framed Patti Smith concert poster had been knocked off the wall and lay on the tile floor, the glass shattered. Casey took another picture, presumably to send to the homeowners.
“Should be salvageable,” Gabe commented.
It was in a bathroom on the main floor that they found evidence that someone with an injury had been there, and recently. A first aid kit sat open on the counter, and in the trash were wads of bloody bandages and medical tape.
“Gordon, you think?”
“I assume so. He must have been hurt when his truck went over.”
“Well, at least he’s not dead,” Gabe commented, looking at the mess.
“Not yet,” agreed Lundin, “but that does seem like a lot of blood. There’s an entire roll of bandages missing from the kit, which is worrying. Where is he now? Are you sure that wasn’t him who ran into you?”
Gabe replayed what had happened outside and shook his head. “It was too dark. I couldn’t really see anything except a shadowy figure. But”—he gestured at the trash bin stuffed with the bloodied bandages—“if he is badly hurt, would he have been able to move as fast as whoever that was?”
“If he was scared, maybe?” Lundin didn’t sound convinced. “But I think he would’ve recognized me.”
Quickly, they walked through the rest of the house. Upstairs, in what looked like a spare bedroom, they discovered the bed’s covers messed up and the pillow dented as if someone had slept in it. Pulling the sheet back, Gabe noted a couple places where Gordon’s wound had seeped through thebandages. Assuming it was Gordon, which was what he was going with until he knew better.
“Dammit,” said Lundin. “Where has he gotten to?” He glanced around the room again, but Gordon wasn’t hiding under the bed or in the closet. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll call Greta from the car.”
“And the Sheriff’s Office.”
“Them too.”
After Lundin called the incident in, they departed. The house was exactly as they’d found it, except for the sliding door, which they’d secured the best they could.
“That should do it until somebody gets out here to replace it,” Lundin said.
Back in the Jeep, Lundin had started the engine and was reversing down the drive when the cell phone he’d dumped into the drink holder lit up. Because he was nosey, Gabe glanced at it.
“It says Twana Medical,” he told Lundin. “Shit, what if it’s about Elton?”
The car jerked to a halt, causing the seat belt to jerk across Gabe’s injured ribs.
“Motherfucker, give a guy some warning.”
Lundin ignored him and snatched up the phone.
“Hello?” he said. “Elton.” Casey’s relief was palatable. “Damn good to hear your voice.”
“Put the phone on speaker,” Gabe ordered. He wanted to hear what Elton had to say from the man himself.
Lundin huffed irritably but must have realized that Gabe would be persistent. He jammed his finger against the correct button and Elton’s voice was loud and clear.
“—center.”
“What, Elton? Say again? You’re on speaker.”
“I’m at the medical center with Gordon. You need to getover here and hear what he has to say. Hurry, the doc had to call the Sheriff’s Office because it’s a bullet wound.”
Casey nodded and glanced at Gabe. The bloody bandages.
“Shit, that’s not good. Karne’s with me, we’ll be right there. But, one second. Do you know what happened?”
“Gordon hasn’t said a whole lot. It was a job just convincing him to go to the hospital. Took us longer than it should’ve. But he needed stitches and some antibiotic, just in case.”
