Chapter
One
While waiting at the checkout counter, Chenoa Campbell’s gaze traveled
out the storefront window where a familiar face caught her attention. Jeremy Abbott, her former partner was standing near a bench outside
Radio Shack with both hands stuck deep inside the front pockets of
his denim jacket. A frown bunched her forehead as she watched
his eyes darting rapidly from side to side. He appeared nervous
and slightly agitated.
Chenoa searched his face, and tried to
reach into his thoughts. Watching him with keenly observant
eyes, she quickly determined he was waiting for someone.
She
handed the cashier her money then stole another look in his direction. Jeremy glanced down at his watch, shook his head then began to pace
a small path in front of the store. The mall was busy, so several
times he was blocked from her line of vision but when she caught sight
of him again, he was still there, waiting. For whom, she wondered.
“Six
ninety-five is your change,” a voice said breaking into her thoughts.
With
a start, Chenoa glanced over at the cashier. “I’m sorry. I was thinking about something.” She stuck her change in her
purse, reached for the bag, and headed out the store.
Maneuvering around
a bunch of teenage boys, she strolled across to where Jeremy was standing. He was so distracted he didn’t hear her calling his name until she
was upon him.
He stopped in his tracks then turned and gave her an
absent smile. “Hey,
Chenoa
gave him a curious look. “I was about to ask you the same. I’m doing a little shopping. What about you?”
“I…um was waiting
for someone, but it doesn’t look like they’re coming.” Nervously,
a set of keys slipped from his fingers. He reached down and
retrieved them then glanced over his shoulder before returning his
gaze to Chenoa. Something was wrong. She had worked with Jeremy
for over three years. That was long enough to know when he was
acting unusual.
She shifted her weight to her other leg and placed
a hand to her hip. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,”
he said all too quickly. He gave her a weak smile as if to reassure
her then glanced down at his watch again. “Look, I got to go. I’ll see you in the office tomorrow.” Then he added as an afterthought. “It’s my turn to pick up donuts.” Before she had a chance to
remind him to remember chocolate sprinkles, he turned, and walked
away.
Dumbfounded, Chenoa watched him leave. Jeremy looked over
his shoulder every other step. With her lips pressed firmly
together, she stood there until he was out of sight. Finally, she
shrugged her shoulders. She wasn’t about to spend her evening
worrying about him. Nevertheless, first thing tomorrow morning
they were going to have a long talk.
The smell of fresh baked pretzels
fluttered under her nose. She followed the scent to a stand
to her right. Chenoa knew she didn’t need a pretzel, not after
the scale topped at one hundred and twenty-five pounds at her last
doctor’s appointment but right now she was too hungry to care.
She
had just stepped into the long line when sounds exploded. Gunshots. Running feet. Women and children screaming. Immediately,
she reached inside her purse for a nine millimeter Glock.
“Police,
get down!” she cried as she pushed her way through the crowd toward
the direction of the shots. Lying on the floor near the top
of the escalator was Jeremy. His right hand clutched at his
chest, the front of his shirt was covered in blood.
“Jeremy!” she cried,
sinking to her knees beside him. Her eyes quickly darted through
the crowd looking for the shooter but no one stood out.
“Someone, call
an ambulance!” she screamed at the people gathering around her. “Hold on, Jeremy.” She reached into her bag for the silk blouse
she had just purchased and pressed it firmly to his wound, hoping
to slow down the loss of blood.
He greedily gasped for air then turned
his face toward her and his hand came up to touch her arm. His
fingers were cold against her skin. With a great deal of effort,
he shoved a small piece of paper into her hand.
“He’s…the one.” The words were garbled, loud enough for only Chenoa to hear. A fit of coughing overtook him and blood bubbled at the corner of
his mouth. “Be…careful.” His eyes shone hard as steel
for the flicker of a moment before his body went limp, and his head
rolled to the side.
“No. Jeremy, wake up!” She pounded
on his chest trying to keep his heart pumping just a few minutes longer. “Dammit, you can’t die on me.”
Someone stepped forward from behind
her, coming to one knee beside Jeremy. “Excuse me, Miss. I’m a doctor.”
Chenoa stumbled out of the way and allowed the young
woman room. “Please, stay back!” she said to the growing crowd. While she watched the woman check for a pulse, she snatched her cell
phone from her hip and dialed headquarters. She reported the
homicide and asked for officers to secure the scene.
By the
time she ended the call the woman rose and gave her a grim look. “I’m sorry, but he’s gone.”
Tears stung the backs of Chenoa’s eyes
as she shook her head in denial. She hadn’t witnessed a homicide
in two years, yet, even then it had been a complete stranger, not
a dear friend.
“Oh, no!” Chenoa heard from somewhere over
her left shoulder. She swung around to see her sister Chante
standing in the crowd. She dropped her bags and gasped. “That’s Jeremy, isn’t it?”
Chenoa nodded then moved to stand beside
her older sister. Instantly, Chante curved an arm protectively
around her waist.
“What happened?” Chante asked.
Chenoa closed
her eyes for several seconds and when she opened them again, she returned
her gaze to Jeremy’s lifeless body. “I don’t know but I’m definitely
going to find out.”