Page 3 of In Cold Blood
Frantically, she pushed him ever so slightly to reach the radio attached to his chest. She’d seen them speak into it enough times.
Trinity pressed the side button and brought it up to her lips.
“Hello. Anyone there?” She released her thumb. The radio squawked, and she pressed again. “Officer down. Officer down. I’ve got an officer down on a highway. I repeat, officer down in the middle of the road.”
The radio crackled.
Dispatch replied. “What’s the location?”
“What?”
“I need a location.”
“State Route 73. Maybe ten minutes west of Underwood.” Static came over. “I was driving toward town. I don’t know what’s happened.”
“Is he conscious?”
“No. The blood is cold. He's dead.”
“Ma’am, who are you?”
Trinity hesitated to reply. A series of worrisome thoughts went through her mind. The repercussions. The questions. This didn’t look good. A dead officer. A remote highway. One in the morning. A cut lip, a bruised face, red eyes, and heroin flowing through her system. No matter what she said, she envisioned it only ending one way, with her in a jail cell. No one would believe her.
“Ma’am, I need a name,” the dispatch asked again.
Panic overwhelmed her.
Trinity dropped the radio. It landed with a clatter on the asphalt as she broke away, racing back to her truck. Behind her, the dispatch continued to ask for a name. Damn it. “Why here? Why me?” she spat through gritted teeth. This night couldn’t get any worse. Although driving away was not good, right now, it was the only option.
1
Three days later
Florida Keys
Noah Sutherland eyed the human silhouettes with numbered kill zones as he entered the firing range. After slipping off a thin blue windbreaker, he unholstered a Glock 21 ACP handgun, palmed in a magazine, and stepped up to the red line.
A slight position adjustment. He shifted. Stretched and cracked his neck.
This was straightforward, nothing but routine.
He noticed a slight tremble in his hand. Almost unnoticeable. He braced himself then drew with lighting speed — crack, the sound was deafening in the closed room.
A single round.
The first of the day.
A tidy hole appeared.
He pressed the button to the left and watchedthe target zoom up to meet him. Noah smiled at the headshot. A perfect third eye. He holstered the gun and stepped away, heading to the outside range.
This was where it would all happen. The real deal.
None of this stagnant, slow firing from one spot, shooting down range.
He’d be moving fast, shooting faster.
The USPSA was all about engaging with targets as accurately and as fast as possible. The practical shooting match had drawn a large crowd of young and old to a firing range in the Florida Keys. He was five days into a badly overdue three-week vacation. If he’d had his way, he wouldn’t even be here but his lieutenant in upstate New York had all but kicked him out the door.Go. Relax. Blow off some steam and come back when you’re in a better frame of mind.By that he meant, not obsessed with the last case.
