Hold On (Page 127)

He looked at Mike’s text and texted back his ETA considering shower time, dressing, and getting to the location.

He was there before Mike even though Mike’s house was closer. Then again, Garrett didn’t have a woman in his bed to slow things down, even for a morning kiss.

This reminded him that day was the day Cher’s time was up on making a decision.

Ryker was MIA. Even Tanner couldn’t get a lock on him.

This did not make Garrett happy and it made Tanner worried.

Without Ryker to explain, none of them had any idea what Jaden Cutler had to do with Carlito Gutierrez—Ryker being their usual informant on all things Carlito—or what Robert Paxton had to do with either of them.

And Colt having a conversation with Ryan the day before didn’t shed any light on the situation either. Ryan had been on the job for approximately two hours before Cher spotted him. He’d planted his bugs but hadn’t heard anything since Cutler hadn’t returned home.

A mystery.

And cops didn’t like mysteries.

But all this going down on Cher’s street, Garrett really didn’t like this particular mystery.

He approached the address Mike texted and saw uniforms at the scene, crime tape already up. Marty, plus Marty’s new partner (a rookie), Abe, and Adam were milling around. Ellen, Adam’s partner, wasn’t, which meant she was likely talking to a witness somewhere.

It was early. School and work traffic hadn’t even started, so the scene was deserted except for police presence.

And the scene was right at the mouth of a cul-de-sac in a lower-middle-income development that had been so hard hit by the recession the country was just pulling itself out of, half the houses in the development were abandoned, and they looked it, or they were for sale, and that didn’t look much better.

Empty was empty. There was a feel to it, and no matter what it was that was empty, it didn’t feel good.

Garrett parked, got out, gave a chin lift to Adam and Abe, then moved toward Marty, who had seniority over all the uniforms, and he was closer to a blue Ford Fiesta, the lone car parked on the street. Also the scene of the crime.

“ME’s on his way,” Marty announced when Garrett got near. “Ellen’s inside with the lady who called it in. Mike comin’?”

“Should be here soon,” Garrett muttered, his eyes on the driver’s side of the car. “Fuck,” he whispered.

It was a woman.

He hated homicide because he was a human being.

But he hated it worse when it was a woman.

This one young. Too fucking young.

Then again, they always were.

“Far’s I can see, she took three. The one to the throat did it, though,” Marty said.

He was right. She had a bullet hole in her thigh, one in her chest, but the one in her throat had left a stream of blood down her chest—so much blood, it had pooled in her lap.

GSWs meant blood, obviously, but not that much blood.

The shooter hit an artery.

Good news, she bled out in seconds.

Bad news, she bled out at all.

Shooter also did her from above. She was a mess, but he could see the angle of all the entry wounds. She was in the car, the shooter either standing outside it and he was tall, or he’d shot down from another vehicle.

Her seatbelt was on, but her car was wheels to the curb like she’d parked, not like she’d been done on the go.

“Shot through the window,” Garrett muttered, observing the glass littering her hair and clothes.

“Yup,” Marty said.

His eyes scanned the interior of the car and Garrett saw her purse on the floor, stuff that was supposed to be in it not, since it was on the floor and on the passenger seat. He also saw the key in the ignition.

That meant she hadn’t had time to get the belt off. Window up, she hadn’t rolled it down to chat with someone she knew in the early morning dark.

Either she was coming to this location or going, but the purse told him whichever way it was, she was doing it in a hurry. Either she threw the purse in and the shit inside scattered or she was driving fast and erratically and the shit inside scattered.

Garrett heard a car approach and twisted to see Mike pulling up.

He lifted a hand to Mike and turned back to Marty.

“Got an ID?”

“Yup, though haven’t touched anything,” Marty told him. He jerked his head to the house the Fiesta was parked in front of. “Woman in there is her sister. Says vic’s name is Wendy Derian. Didn’t get more from her ’cause she was freakin’ out, shoutin’, carryin’ on. Ellen’s with her, hopefully calmin’ her down.”

“You catch anything from her?”

Marty shook his head. “Nope. Except a lot of cursing and ‘I knew its.’”

Garrett felt his spine straighten. “‘I knew it?’”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m hopin’ Ellen’s calmin’ her down so she can explain what she knew.”

“Fuck, a woman,” Mike said as he approached.

Garrett looked to him to see his partner’s eyes on the car.

“Sister’s inside, Mike. She called it in. Take in what you gotta take in, then we’ll go talk to her,” Garrett said.

Mike nodded, moved closer to the car, and Garrett gave his attention back to Marty.

“Crime scene comin’?” he asked.

“Yup.”

“Neighborhood’s gonna wake up. Not much population but word travels. Might be a good idea to get another cruiser out here,” Garrett instructed.

Marty nodded and turned to Abe. “Yo. Get dispatch to send another cruiser.”