Shaw’s mind went into a tailspin, but it always came back to how many coincidences it would require for a gangbanger in a hoodie like his to come along during that narrow window of time.
He remembered seeing Hickam’s dangling left hand, his expensive wristwatch drenched in blood still strapped to his wrist. “Was anything taken? Wallet? Weapon?”
“No.”
“Then I’m not buying it.” He knew Wiley wasn’t up to a debate right now, but precious time could be wasted on NOPD’s erroneous conclusion. “It was Panella,” he said.
“Told them that. Repeatedly. The detectives are leery.”
“Did you see the security camera video?”
“One of the investigators played it back for me on his iPad.” Wiley hesitated. “In the dark, jacked on adrenaline, having just given you that hoodie to put on, it’s conceivable that Hick could’ve mistaken the guy on the sidewalk for you.”
“But?”
“Wrong body type. Not nearly as tall as you.”
“It was Panella.”
“But he was favoring his left side. Walking fast but with a limp.”
Jordie made a small but startled sound.
Shaw homed in on her. He said to Wiley, “I’ll call you back.”
Joe sat on the waiting room sofa, elbows on his knees, head bowed, staring at the ugly carpet between his shoes, praying. Sort of. Because he knew that’s what Hick would be doing if their situations were reversed and he was the one whose life was hanging by a thread.
“Joe?”
He looked up and saw Marsha, and was furious enough to want to yell at her, but too glad to see her to do anything except stand up and open his arms. She walked into them, and for long moments they just held each other. He soaked her up, thinking how vital she was to him. Everything about her. Her sassy humor. Her soft, familiar body. Right now, her strength.
When they finally pulled apart, he wiped his eyes, but assumed a put-out tone. “You’re supposed to be locked in and under guard.”
Although Kinnard had hung up abruptly and without explanation, his insistence that Panella was their culprit worried Joe enough to order police protection for his family. If it was Panella, he’d made the fight personal, and he fought dirty. Joe was taking no chances with the security of his wife and children.
Marsha said, “I had to see you. There’s a policewoman inside the house. The kids are asleep and don’t know I’m gone. One of the officers drove me. He gave me fifteen minutes.” She kissed his face several times. “How’s Hick?”
He guided her to the sofa and they sat down. She pressed against his side, fortifying him. “At the last second, Hick must’ve seen it coming and tried to avert. The shooter missed his head, but got him in the neck. Staff here waited on a vascular specialist to do the surgery. Hick’s lost a lot of blood. Officers from every agency have shown up to donate. Even Morrow—the deputy I told you about?—drove up with some personnel from his department.”
“On TV they said they were looking for a suspect caught on security camera.”
“They’re trying to get an ID on him but—”
“You think it was Billy Panella.”
“The girl in Tobias said Royce Sherman’s killer spoke through a voice enhancer. Nobody had mentioned that to her. How could she have made up a detail like that? And Hick’s shooter was wearing a hoodie similar to the one Hick gave Kinnard. Like that was his little inside joke with us.”
“How would he know where you had sequestered Jordie Bennett? Or about Kinnard and the hoodie?”
“I’ve been asking myself that. Only thing I can figure, he returned to the scene of the crime in Tobias. To snicker. Gloat. Maybe he marked us while we were there. Followed us back to the hotel. My decoy caravan didn’t fool him. All he had to do was keep an eye on Hick’s car.”
He thumped his knee with his fist. “He’s nervy as hell, and he’s outsmarted me again, goddammit. Six months ago, he sensed that Hick and I were coming for him, and split in the nick of time. Am I ever gonna catch this fucker?”
She rubbed his spine. “Joe, don’t do this to yourself now. You don’t even know for sure it was Panella.”
“There’s no arguing it with Kinnard. He’s certain.”
“Where is he?”