Page 79 of A Deeper Darkness
She stepped back and directly into Fletcher, who clutched on to her. “It worked?” he whispered.
“Yes. For now,” she answered.
“Thank you.”
She turned away from Hart, looked up at Fletcher. “What the hell?”
Fletcher shook his head, pointed at the car. They’d been hit at least six times, with Hart taking a shot, as well.
“If we hadn’t stopped…”
“They were behind us. He, I think, I only saw one. If we hadn’t stopped, they might have hit all of us, driven right up beside us and shot… Fuck.”
Fletcher weaved for a second, then sat down abruptly in the street crossed-legged.
Sam kneeled next to him. “Are you hit?”
“Yeah, I think so. No. I don’t know.”
“Where does it hurt?”
He pointed to his left arm. Sam thought that blood was Hart’s. She lifted Fletcher’s left hand gently, saw the tear in the fabric just above his elbow. He was wearing a white button-down—it was soaked nearly black in this spot.
“Hang tight, I’ve got to cut your sleeve off.”
He nodded and she went to the paramedics, who were sitting back on their heels over Hart, looking quite satisfied with themselves.
“He gonna be okay?” she asked.
A skinny guy with a flattop turned to her and nodded. “Yeah. You did good, getting him back in sinus. Where’d you learn that?”
“Georgetown Med. His partner’s hit, too. Can I borrow you?”
“Sure, Doc. Lead the way.”
She took him back to Fletcher. He was talking blankly to a large African-American man with a holster on his hip. As she drew closer she realized he was listening, not talking.
“The fuck you doing, Fletch? Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were gonna get shot tonight?”
“I’m shot?”
“He’s in shock,” Sam said to the man, rather unnecessarily. The paramedic excused himself and barreled in between the two of them, dropping to his knees and tearing Fletcher’s sleeve open. The wound was raw, but didn’t look life-threatening.
Sam turned to the newest addition to the scene. “And you are?”
He looked at her in surprise. “Captain Fred Roosevelt. Who are you?”
“Dr. Samantha Owens. You’re Fletcher’s boss?”
“Yes, ma’am. What in the hell is going on here? He tried to tell me, but you interrupted. Good thing you did, idiot didn’t say he’d been hit.”
Roosevelt looked both worried and like he wanted to boot Fletcher in the ass. It was menacingly sweet.
“It’s a through-and-through. He’s gonna be fine. Other guy’s gonna be okay, too. Good thing they had a doctor in the car with them,” the paramedic chimed in.
Roosevelt’s eyes closed briefly, then opened and focused intensely on Sam’s. “Good. Now talk.”
Sam took a deep breath. “It’s a long story. We are investigating a lead from the Edward Donovan murder case.”
