Page 42 of Child In Jeopardy

He also lifted his head enough to try to see if the shooter was coming for them. One last-ditch effort to kill them before the cops arrived. But he didn’t see anyone. Nor did he hear anything other than the sirens.

The shots had stopped.

Slater cursed, because that probably meant the shooter was trying to get away, but he intended to have Leonard, Taylor, Marsh and the assistant all tested for gunshot residue. If one of them had fired all these shots, then the test might prove it.

“Two SAPD cruisers,” Slater relayed to Sonya and Lana.

“I called them,” Sonya said, and he heard her make a call, no doubt to fill the responding officers in on the situation.

The cops in the cruisers didn’t drive toward the house. They stayed at the gate, maybe waiting until Sonya had given them a picture of what had happened. And what could possibly happen if the shooter started firing again.

“Unknown number of people inside the house,” Sonya said, responding to a question she’d been asked. “But, yes, the owner, Leonard Walsh, is here. Or rather he was. And, no, I don’t have eyes on him.” Sonya paused. “What?” she blurted. “You’re sure?”

That got Slater’s attention, and the alarm shot through him when Sonya looked at him. He could tell from her expression that something was wrong.

“It’s Taylor,” Sonya said. “She’s in her car. And she’s dead.”

LANASATINthe interview room at SAPD headquarters and read through the statement she’d just given Detective Josh O’Malley about the shooting. Slater’s brother, Ruston, was there, standing with his back against the wall, but he hadn’t participated in the interview because it could have been construed as a conflict of interest.

Because of where the shooting had taken place, everything was being done by the book. Her father had a lot of political pull, and it was obvious no one here wanted that pull used against them. But even her father couldn’t stop himself from being interviewed.

And interrogated.

From what Slater and Ruston had said, Leonard had been treated just as anyone else in his position would have been. As a possible suspect or at least someone who might have key information. A woman had been murdered; the shooter had attempted to kill Lana and two cops.

That wasn’t going to be swept under the rug.

“This is accurate,” Lana said after reading the statement that she then signed. She figured Slater was doing something similar in the interview room across the hall. Now that they’d gotten the formality of the interview out of the way, she needed to see him. She needed to make sure he was truly okay.

They’d both been examined by EMTs, and their cuts and scrapes from the shrubs had been treated. Ditto for Sonya, who’d gotten nicked by some of the glass when it’d been shotout in the cruiser. But Lana knew none of their injuries were serious, which meant they’d gotten lucky.

Unlike Taylor.

As Lana, Slater and Sonya had been driven away from the estate in one of a patrol cars, she had gotten a glimpse of Taylor. The woman had been slumped against the steering wheel of her Jag, and she had a gunshot wound to the head. It hadn’t looked self-inflicted to Lana, and she would be surprised if it had been, because Taylor didn’t seem the type to take her own life.

“Can I get you some water or something to eat?” Detective O’Malley asked Lana as they stood.

She shook her head. Lana figured she should be hungry since she hadn’t eaten since lunch, but there was no way she wanted to try to eat. Not with her stomach still churning.

When O’Malley walked out, Ruston went to her, and maybe because she looked ready to collapse, he put his arm around her and led her out of the room. Thankfully, Slater was right there, waiting, and Lana went to him, slipping right into his welcoming embrace. He brushed a kiss on her forehead, and while it was such a simple gesture, it took away some of the ice that had seemingly seeped all the way to her bones.

Mercy, it was wrong to need Slater like this, but Lana couldn’t seem to stop herself. Maybe it was a combination of the intense attraction, the memories of that kiss, grief over her sister’s murder and the spent adrenaline from coming so close to dying. If that was it, then it was a potent blend that made her want to hold on to him and never let go.

“Did everything go okay in there?” Slater asked his brother.

Ruston nodded but didn’t get a chance to add anything before his phone rang. “I need to take this,” he said, stepping away from them.

Lana eased back enough so she could look up at Slater. “What updates do you have?” Because she knew he’d beencommunicating with both Duncan and Detective Thayer in Austin. Communicating with the cops here, too, since so many of them knew him through his brother.

“Taylor was murdered,” Slater said after he drew in a long breath. “The shot that killed her came from the window on the passenger side of her car.”

Lana considered that for a moment, thinking of the placement of trees and shrubs by the gate. It was possible her killer had been able to make that shot without Taylor even seeing him.

But who had killed her?

“They tested my gun,” Slater went on, “and the shot didn’t come from me.”

She hadn’t thought for a second that it had. Slater had fired into the trees, not in the direction of the gate.