4 Shot Off The Presses (22 page)

All of a sudden, there was a flurry at the back of the room. Jake looked up. “What’s going on?”

“They’ve picked up a suspect,” Mohan informed him. “A man was sighted several blocks west of here. He had a rifle with a scope with him at the time of his arrest. It was in his vehicle. Uniformed officers searched the vehicle when he ran a red light.”

“Who is it?” I asked curiously.

“I don’t know that yet, ma’am,” Mohan answered curtly.

Jake glanced at Eliot. “Take her to your place. I’ll call you when I know more.”

Eliot nodded. “Good luck.”

Jake cast a dark look at me. “You’ll need the luck. She’s going to be a pain in the ass until we’re sure this is over. Watch her. She’ll try to trick you.”

“She’ll have to think of a new bag of tricks to do that,” Eliot replied. “I’m on to her usual ones.”

Derrick shook his head. “If she tries something, call her mother,” he said. “That will be enough to keep her in line.”

Eliot’s face brightened at the suggestion.

“I hate all three of you.”

Eliot was quiet for the bulk of the ride home. I caught him giving me a series of serious looks during the drive, but whatever was on the tip of his tongue stayed there. I couldn’t decide if he was fighting the urge to yell at me or tell me he was glad I was okay. Both scenarios irritated me, though, so I didn’t encourage him either way.

When we finally pulled up in front of his pawnshop, I moved to climb out of his truck but he stopped me with a hand on my arm. “Wait until I unlock the door and come to get you.”

I rolled my eyes dramatically. “You really think someone is going to take a shot at me in downtown Mount Clemens?”

“No,” Eliot said. “I didn’t think anyone would take a shot at you in front of a gay bar in Ferndale either, though.”

I was too tired to argue, so I waited in the truck until he pulled me out of the passenger seat and herded me towards the door that led upstairs to his apartment. I couldn’t help but notice that he was plastered to my backside in an effort to use his body as a human shield. The gesture should have been construed as sweet, but it was the last straw for me. I had the good sense to wait until we were safely in his apartment, though, before I unloaded.

“I am not a child.”

Eliot raised his eyes to my face briefly. “I didn’t say you were.”

“And yet you’re treating me like a child.”

“I’m not treating you like a child. I’m treating you like a woman that’s been shot at twice in the last week,” Eliot replied tiredly.

“Twice? I was shot at once.”

“Not if you include that teenage boy that died in Roseville because he was driving a car that looked exactly like yours,” Eliot challenged me. “I definitely count that, whether you do or not.”

His verbal assault was enough to make me take a step back. I felt as if I’d been punched in the stomach. I felt responsible for that kid’s death. I had forced the guilt down out of necessity, but exhaustion, anger and emotional discontent had paved a road straight through to the center of my heart.

The feeling roiling through my blood was anger. I expressed it by promptly bursting into tears. Eliot looked stunned. He took a step towards me but I pulled away angrily, swiping at the tears as they coursed down my cheeks.

“Don’t cry,” Eliot said quietly. “I can’t take it. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m tired. It’s not your fault that kid died.”

“It is my fault,” I countered. “If he was shot because he was driving a car like mine then it is my fault.”

“It was probably just a coincidence,” Eliot offered lamely.

I shook my head. “You don’t believe that.”

“You want to know what I believe? I believe we’re both so tired we don’t know what we’re saying. Now get in bed. We’ll get some sleep and finish the fight in the morning.”

“You promise?”

“That we’ll fight in the morning? I can pretty much guarantee it,” Eliot said tiredly.

“Good, because I hate to lose but I’m too tired to focus.”

“I think we both are.”

I FIGURED
that Eliot and I would only get a few hours of sleep before Jake or Derrick called us with an update. It was almost ten in the morning when my phone rang, though. I was still wrapped up in Eliot’s arms when my phone dragged me kicking and screaming into consciousness.

“Hello,” I mumbled.

“Are you asleep? It’s ten in the morning. Only drug abusers sleep this late.”

“Good morning to you, too, mom,” I grumbled.

“Are you on drugs?”

“Not today,” I replied tiredly. “I’m not ruling it out for the rest of the week, though.”

“Do you think that’s funny?”

“Maybe,” I said. “I’m not fully awake yet, so my senses are still a little dull. I’ll tell you in an hour.”

“Well, it’s not going to be funny in an hour either.” God, she sounded like she was in a mood.

“What do you want, mom?”

“Can’t a mother just call to say hi?”

“Not generally.”

“Well, I just called to say hi.”

“Hi,” I sighed. I could feel Eliot shifting next to me. He hadn’t opened his eyes, but I could tell he was listening.

“So, you’re grandfather is getting out of jail today,” my mom started.

I knew it!

“And we’re planning on having a big family dinner tonight to welcome him home,” my mom said. “I thought you would want to come.”

“We’ll see,” I said noncommittally.

“We’ll see?”

“I have a lot going on today, mom.”

“That man is your grandfather,” my mother started. “He isn’t going to be around forever.”

“I think he’ll still be around until family dinner next week,” I replied dryly.

“Are you telling me you’re not coming to family dinner?”

“No,” I said wearily. “I’m telling you I’ll try to make it to family dinner, but I don’t know what’s going on today so I can’t promise anything.”

“Avery Shaw, I don’t ask a lot of you,” my mother started one of her patented tirades. I pulled the phone away from my ear and turned to Eliot.

“My grandfather is out of jail.”

Eliot looked at the phone curiously. He could still hear my mom rambling as I held the phone against the comforter. ”And you’re supposed to go to family dinner tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“So? We’ll go. What’s the big deal?”

“Well, if they’ve got the freeway shooter in custody it’s going to be a long day,” I said pragmatically.  “I’m not letting the big break in the story go so someone else can write it.”

“You mean get the glory,” Eliot replied sagely.

“No, it’s my story. It’s not about glory.”

“Well, tell her we’ll be at dinner and if things get out of control then you can cancel and blame me,” Eliot said pragmatically.

“Oh, I’m definitely going to blame you.” I picked the phone back up and pressed it to my ear. My mom was still going strong.

“You know what’s right and you know what’s wrong,” my mom continued. “You do what you know is right in your heart.”

“We’ll be there, mom,” I interjected hurriedly.

“See, I knew you would see reason.”

I disconnected wearily a few minutes later. “You don’t have to worry about a sniper getting me. My mother is going to be the death of me.”

SEVEN HOURS
later Eliot and I were on our way to the family restaurant. I had managed to file a story from Eliot’s apartment after a series of phone calls that started with Jake and ended with the Ferndale Police Department.

Unfortunately, the individual in custody wasn’t answering any questions and, since he hadn’t been charged with anything, his name wasn’t being released to the media. Eliot had been frustrated by the delay, but Jake didn’t have any answers.

“I just don’t know,” Jake said. “I can’t find a tie between him and any of the victims and it’s going to at least be twenty-four hours until we have a ballistics match from the gun he was carrying and the bullets used in the shooting.”

“What about on the preliminary level?” Eliot was pressing.

“It’s the same caliber of shell, a twenty-two,” Jake replied. Well, at least that was one new little tidbit.

“That could go with anything, though,” Eliot said.

“It could,” Jake agreed.

So that was where we were. A short story saying the police had a suspect in custody, but no charges had been levied and they couldn’t be sure they actually had the real perpetrator off the streets. I had no reason to legitimately avoid dinner – so we were on our way to Oakland County and a night of hellish family conversation. I had offered to go by myself, to save Eliot the aggravation of my family, but he had declined.

“I like your family.”

“They’re still on their best behavior with you,” I shot back.

“You mean it gets worse?”

“You haven’t had the pleasure of seeing my grandfather naked yet,” I reminded him. “You’re not truly a member of the family until you’ve had that picturesque sight.”

“Well, maybe tonight will be the night,” Eliot mused.

“We can only hope.”

When we got to the family restaurant, I jumped out of the truck before Eliot could make it to the other side of the vehicle. He gave me a dirty look, but let it go. He didn’t want to create a scene with my family if he could help it – but he wasn’t above using my close call from the night before against me if he had to. I knew that.

The first person I saw when I entered the diner was my grandfather holding court on a stool at the counter with a bevy of regulars congregated around him to hear about his county jail exploits.

“And then I told that judge that I would rather die than go to jury duty,” my grandfather said, rubbing his hands together with obvious glee. “Now, sir, he had to save face so he threw me in jail. I decided to go on a hunger strike, though, and he gave in, like I knew he would.”

I glanced over at Derrick, who was sitting in the family booth watching the spectacle with a frown on his face. “He went on a hunger strike?”

“He didn’t eat the donuts they offered him in the morning.”

“Oh, well, I guess that counts.”

I slid into the booth next to Derrick, forcing him to slide over to make room for both Eliot and me. “So, anything else new?”

“Nope.”

“Would you tell me if there was?”

“Nope.”

He was obviously still angry from the night before. “Have you seen Lexie today?”

“No, but I talked to her. She says that Carly’s family is crazier than ours,” Derrick replied.

“They’re not crazier,” I countered. “They’re just a different type of crazy.”

“You mean they don’t skinny dip and put on a show for the neighbors?”

“They don’t skinny dip, but I’ve seen Carly’s mom hold entire conversations with a cement duck on her front porch. It’s just a different kind of show.”

“I guess it takes all kinds,” Derrick mused.

“Pretty much.”

Derrick watched our grandfather with a cross of consternation and affection. “He likes being the center of attention.”

“He does,” I agreed.

“That must be where you get it from,” Derrick said pointedly.

Eliot laughed quietly beside me. I didn’t appreciate the comment, but I decided to let it go. I wasn’t in the mood to throw down with Derrick at the moment. Thankfully, I was distracted by the arrival of more family members. Pretty soon, we were all wedged into the rectangular booth together.

“So, how does it feel to be out of jail?” Mario asked our grandfather curiously. “No one made you their bitch, did they?”

“He wasn’t really in jail,” Derrick countered, ignoring the “bitch” comment.

“The hell I wasn’t,” my grandfather challenged Derrick. “I was behind bars for days. I was on a hunger strike. I could have died for my beliefs – and I was ready to.”

“Not eating donuts doesn’t equal a hunger strike,” Derrick retorted. “Plus, I heard you were allowed out of your cell most of the day to play cards with the other police officers because they needed a fourth for euchre.”

“So?”

“That’s not jail,” Derrick said stiffly. “You got lucky – and apparently you cheated at cards.”

“I had the law on my side,” my grandfather argued.

“No,” Derrick argued. “You broke the law. You did not have the law on your side.”

“Are you calling me a liar?” My grandfather narrowed his eyes in Derrick’s direction. The truth is, Derrick was his favorite grandchild – we all knew that – but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t cause a scene with his favorite grandchild if he thought he was in the right. And, here’s a tip about my family: We always think we’re in the right.

“A liar? No,” Derrick shook his head ruefully. “I think you think you’re telling the truth. That doesn’t mean it’s the truth, though.”

Uh-oh.

“Listen here, son,” my grandfather said with faux patience. “You should learn to respect your elders.”

Derrick must have been spoiling for a fight. Any other time he would have backed down. That wasn’t the case this time, though. “I do respect my elders,” Derrick said. “I just think my elders should respect what I do for a living.”

“What? Being a cop?” My grandfather was incensed now. “That was your decision. I told you to pick another career.”

“I wanted to be a police officer,” Derrick argued quietly.

I was starting to get distinctly uncomfortable. “I want the special spaghetti tonight,” I announced.

Eliot eyed me curiously. I usually enjoyed a good family free-for-all. I wasn’t the one that usually broke up a family fight, but I wasn’t in the mood for a screaming match tonight.

“It’s not on the menu tonight,” my grandfather said stiffly.

“Isn’t there sauce out in the back freezer, though?” I asked pointedly.

My grandfather nodded.

I grabbed Derrick’s arm and pulled him out of the booth. “Why don’t you help me get the sauce?” I suggested.