Framing the marshal, p.4
Framing the Marshal, page 4
“Eliana!” Riker dropped his overnight duffel and bolted into a run, Ammo keeping in step with him.
They rounded a concrete pillar and sprinted up the ramp. A black sedan with tinted windows sped toward Eliana, strolling casually with her suitcase trailing behind her. Riker’s hand flew to his hip and he withdrew his Glock, aiming for the car. “Eliana! Get down!”
She turned and her eyes widened at the quickly advancing sedan.
“Get down!” Gunshots drowned out Riker’s repeated order.
* * *
Rapid fire consumed the atmosphere, and Eliana dove for shelter behind the closest object, a parked Jaguar. She scurried to sit and yanked her rolling suitcase close, hugging the bag for comfort.
Bullets shattered the windows, raining glass on her and melding with the weapon’s rhythmic rat-a-tat-tat. Eliana tucked her face onto her knees, wrapping her arms over her head. Then, as fast as it began, the shooters sped away, screeching tires fading around the block.
Eliana crawled over the fragments of glass to peer around the quarter panel. Riker and Ammo rushed toward her, and she pushed to a standing position, exhaling relief.
“Are you ok—” A revving engine roared closer, cutting off Riker’s question.
They took cover behind the bullet-pierced Jaguar as a repeat rendition of bullets blasted around them.
Eliana ducked her face in Ammo’s neck, thankful he’d moved protectively in front of her. Riker returned fire and tires squealed as the second car sped away.
Her heart drummed in her rib cage. “Think they’re gone?”
“Yeah.” Riker dropped to a squat, pulling her into his arms. “Are you okay?”
Though her mind refused the comforting gesture, adrenaline shook her body and she succumbed to his touch. Eliana fought to breathe past the tightening of her chest.
“I’m here.” Riker’s breath was warm against her cheek.
She welcomed the embrace, absorbing his strength while processing the horrific events. Get a hold of yourself. Tears threatened. No. She would not show weakness. Eliana blinked them away. Placing her hands on Riker’s broad shoulders, she pushed back and got to her feet. “Thanks. I’m fine now.”
She refused to look at him, knowing if she saw kindness or compassion in his blue irises, she’d fall apart. Instead, she focused on her gray dress slacks, ripped from her dive into the pavement. Minor scrapes and cuts appeared on her palms, and she wiped them against the ruined garment.
Riker smoothed Ammo’s brindle fur. “Good job, dude.”
“They didn’t hurt him, did they?”
“Nope, but let’s move away from the glass so he doesn’t cut his paws.”
Eliana mutely complied and turned to face the lot located on the street corner. Gathering her rolling suitcase handle, she shuffled forward, and Riker strode beside her. The damage to her orange SUV became more apparent as she quickened her pace, closing the distance. Aghast, she slowed and inspected her vehicle. The shooters had blown out every window, and small holes pierced the metal in a strange case of bulleted chicken pox. A gasp escaped her lips.
She stumbled into Riker. “I’m so sorry.” He extended a hand to her, but Eliana stepped out of reach, refusing to turn and look at him. The tears welling in her eyes became harder to repress.
“Is there anything you need to get out of it right now?”
“No,” she whispered.
Numbly, she meandered toward the passenger side. It’s just a vehicle. Except it was also her only mode of transportation. How would she afford to fix the damage? Was it beyond repair?
Riker reported the incident to a 9-1-1 dispatcher, giving Eliana a few minutes of solitude. Her gaze traveled down the side of the SUV to her rolling suitcase, surprised she still gripped the handle. She exhaled a silent prayer of gratitude. The bag containing her laptop remained unharmed. That was a big win.
“Cops are en route, and Commander Walsh is on his way down to deal with the report,” Riker said, invading her thoughts.
She nodded, reaching into her purse to withdraw her key fob. She pressed the unlock button and the responding click jolted her into reality. The ludicrous action had her bursting into giggles. Not a window remained, gaping holes consumed the body, and she unlocked the door? The tears she’d held back streamed down her face.
“Eliana?”
She stifled the badly timed laughter and swiped away the moisture on her cheeks. Unable to speak through her giggles, she turned and showed the key fob to Riker. He grinned. “Probably don’t need that now.”
“Right?” Still chuckling, she tucked the key back into her purse.
Riker and Ammo watched her with curiosity and confusion written in their expressions. “I’m sorry you’re caught up in this tangled web.”
“It’s not your fault,” Eliana said, sincerity in the words. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
“I’m just glad you responded as fast as you did. Ducking behind that car was smart.”
She lifted a shoulder in a dismissive shrug. “Do you think they were targeting me or was it random?”
“Sadly, drive-by shootings are a little too common thanks to the Nites sweeping through Omaha with the force of a plague. But today’s incident wasn’t coincidence.”
“They meant to kill me.” Eliana surveyed the area. Most of the cars parked in the lot had sustained some damage. “They certainly attacked with a broad brush.”
“This is an example of why we have to get the criminals behind bars. You’re in danger until we do.” He winced. “Sorry, the team is always harping on me about my delivery technique. I have a way of blurting the truth in a not-very-compassionate way. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”
The vulnerability in his eyes chipped at her defenses. “I appreciate your candidness.” She pressed a hand against his upper arm, surprised by the solid muscle. Warmth radiated up her cheeks, betraying her emotions, and she quickly withdrew from him. “You’re not safe until they find the killer. That puts us in the same predicament.”
“Can’t argue against that.”
Siren screams drew closer.
“We’d better get moving,” Eliana suggested, lifting her rolling bag’s handle.
They crossed the parking lot and headed for the underground garage, where Beckham stood shadowed beneath the building’s ceiling. “Are you both okay?”
“A little shook up but alive,” Riker said, providing an exceptional summary of the events leading up to and following the shooting.
“I had a great view from my office of the entire thing,” Beckham said. “They could’ve killed an innocent bystander.”
Eliana looked down, the words hitting her in the face like a cold glass of water. She couldn’t agree more. Innocent people died in drive-by shootings too often. She should know. That’s how she’d lost her brother, Hunter. All the more reason to ensure the task force endorsed PHACE.
“Eliana, I’ll handle your vehicle’s towing,” Beckham said, regaining her attention. “Is there anything else I can do to help you?”
Yes, please give me a full-time position with the task force so I can pay for repairs. “No, sir, but thank you,” she replied. “Thanks to Riker’s quick response, we survived to battle another day with the Nites.”
He shot her what she surmised was an appreciative grin, revealing the dimples in his cheek before glancing at Ammo.
“Are you certain they weren’t targeting you in the drive-by shooting, Riker?” Beckham asked.
“Sir, I was in the parking garage when it began,” Riker replied. “No doubt the Nites will try to keep Eliana from testifying to PHACE’s contribution in the last sting.”
Beckham sighed, surveying the area. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“This is proof she’s on their kill list.” Riker winced again and mouthed, Sorry, before continuing. “It’s no coincidence the drive-by shooting happened when it did.”
“Then you’re both sporting targets on your backs,” Beckham said.
“Agreed, and the Nites are persistent. They won’t stop, no matter what it takes,” Riker related. “As much as I like my freedom, sir, it’s not about the seventy-two hours anymore. Finding Moneyman’s killer is about our survival.”
Eliana clenched her jaw, regretting that she’d encouraged Riker’s candidness. Cloud cover darkened the sky and a breeze fluttered her hair. But the discussion and his last comment sent an icy shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the weather conditions.
Riker lifted Ammo’s leash. “We’re headed to Eliana’s place in Fremont now.”
As the men discussed details, Eliana studied Riker. At an estimated six-foot-four, his broad shoulders and black combat boots made him appear taller. He practically oozed masculinity in everything he did and the way he handled himself. He’d grown up a lot since high school, but Eliana still saw the younger Riker behind his mature chiseled features.
“Be careful and watch for tails,” Beckham said, jerking her to the current reality. “I’ll make sure an officer is waiting for you.”
“Roger that,” Riker said.
The sirens grew closer. “Get out of here. I’ll handle the report,” Beckham said.
“We’ll be in touch.” Riker placed a palm against the small of her back and guided her deeper into the garage.
Eliana lifted her hand in a slight wave and strode with Riker through the empty space. Her favorite black pumps—scraped beyond repair, thanks to the drive-by fiasco—clicked in a staccato rhythm on the cement. Riker gathered his duffel bag lying on the floor.
When they reached a white F-150, he opened the rear doors, placing Eliana’s rolling suitcase on the floorboard as she settled into the passenger seat. She flipped down the visor mirror, cringing at her wildly out-of-place auburn strands, and quickly fingered through the knots before straightening her blouse. A hole in the pale pink silk and the destruction to her slacks testified both were goners.
Riker loaded Ammo and then slid in behind the wheel. He seemed to survey her for several long minutes.
“I didn’t dress for a danger dash through the Old Market,” she quipped, brushing off her pants though no dirt lingered there.
“You still look great.”
Surprised by the compliment, she looked up, but Riker started the engine and averted his gaze to the windshield. Within seconds, they rumbled out, using an alternative garage exit, avoiding the police presence on the opposite street.
They remained silent until Riker merged onto the highway, leaving Omaha city limits. His cell rang and he answered using his hands-free Bluetooth device.
“Report is done, and Eliana’s SUV is en route to Cody’s Body Repair,” Beckham advised.
“Thank you,” Eliana replied.
“Sir, I’m sure whomever is assigned to Eliana’s protective detail will do a good job. But they should be aware that the Nites are relentless. They’ll blindside an unprepared small-town cop—”
“Riker, discussion closed. It’s handled.” The finality with which the commander responded to Riker’s question said he’d made up his mind.
Regardless, if she’d had any doubt before the drive-by shooting, their conversation confirmed what Eliana dreaded.
Someone wanted her dead.
THREE
It’s handled. Commander Beckham Walsh’s not-so-subtle expression of leave it alone grated Riker’s cheese. Pride might be obstructing his reasoning, but he couldn’t stop obsessing about his boss’s underlying meaning. Was Beckham implying he didn’t trust Riker? Even though he’d claimed to believe in Riker’s innocence, were these words an unspoken inference about his doubts? Or did he blame Riker for Eliana’s near-death experience outside headquarters? Whatever the reason, real or imagined, the bottom line remained the same.
Riker had to find Moneyman’s killer, and Eliana needed competent protection. The sooner he handed her over to the care of an officer, the sooner he’d get busy working his case.
“Turn here.” Eliana’s voice jerked him out of his contemplations.
Riker yanked the wheel, narrowly missing the merge off Highway 275 into Fremont. “Sorry about that. My brain is all over the place.”
“It’s been quite a day.” Eliana leaned back in the seat. “I’m glad to be out of Omaha, though. I seriously doubt a gang member will drive all this way to hurt me.”
Except geography was no obstacle for the Nites. They spanned the country with members both identified and covert. He glanced at Eliana, loath to disturb her softened features and the false sense of peace with the truth. It was his job to worry about her so that she didn’t live in fear. She might appreciate his candor, but she didn’t need to hear it over and over. Riker clamped his jaw shut to refrain from speaking.
“Once we get through the night without incident, it’ll prove I don’t need protective detail.”
He struggled to maintain a noncommittal expression.
“No offense,” she quickly added.
“None taken. However, that’ll be between you and Commander Walsh. I’m not into disregarding his orders.” He gave her a sideways grin. “You’ve never seen the man angry.”
They entered a residential area and he slowed, surveying the neighborhood. Mature elm trees bordered the older, well-maintained homes in perfect rows on either side of the street. Referring to the place as quaint made him sound too much like his mother, but the term adequately described the scene.
Though a hundred topics besides Beckham’s approval entered his mind, the biggest one Riker refused to ask about—namely, his and Eliana’s past—remained unspoken. They both had more than enough to contend with and discussing ancient history changed none of it.
Instead, Riker had spent the forty-five-minute commute silently developing his plan to secretly contribute to his investigation. The only hindrance was the unfamiliar protective anxiety he felt for Eliana’s safety. Once he’d assessed the protective officer’s level of preparedness, he’d feel better about leaving her.
“It’s the little blue one on the right.” Eliana gestured toward a squatty clapboard house.
A Fremont PD cruiser sat in front of the home. Okay. Here we go. Riker parked in the driveway and left the engine running. He turned to Eliana. “Stay here with Ammo while I talk with the officer and clear the house.”
“The back door is always unlocked.”
He did a double take. “That changes now, starting with this truck as soon as I step out. No unlocked doors.”
She smiled sweetly. “Will do.”
Riker exited the vehicle and strode to the patrol car, surprised when the officer rolled down the window. The gesture, though friendly, showed the guy wasn’t protection-duty-detail material. Proper protocol called for an offensive approach. What if Riker had been a Nite?
The driver’s door swung open and Riker instinctively reached for his weapon.
“Well, ain’t this something?”
Riker instantly recognized the baritone rumble before his friend unfolded all six feet six inches, two hundred fifty pounds of himself from the police cruiser. “Nelson VanMuse, is that really you?”
In one stride, Nelson met him. “Bro, like they made two such fine specimens? Please, I’m an original.” With a hearty guffaw, he snagged Riker’s hand, pumping his arm with gusto and a wide grin.
“Good to see you.” Riker glanced at the house. “Gimme a second.” He withdrew his Glock. “I need to clear the residence.”
“I’ve got your six.” Nelson reached for his duty weapon.
“Thanks.” Rounding the front of the cruiser, Riker hurried toward the house, scanning the area for any unforeseen dangers. With an affirmative glance over his shoulder to Nelson, Riker entered through the unlocked back door.
Cinnamon and cloves assailed his senses as he maneuvered expertly through the single-floor home. Eliana’s taste included white Victorian lace on just about everything from curtains to bedspreads, while varying shades of pink paint covered every wall. His mom would love her. Three bedrooms—the smallest of which she’d converted into an office—a compact kitchen and dining room combination, one bathroom, and a medium-sized living room comprised the spotless home.
Riker exited the house through the back door and crossed the yard, admiring the mature maple trees that bordered the far side. He peered between the massive trunks where a creek ran parallel to Eliana’s property. The high-water level was too wide to cross without the assistance of a bridge or plank to the opposite side where tall cornstalks, thick with leaves, consumed the land in a sea of green. Satisfied the area was safe, he strode through the well-manicured grass and rounded the house, while holstering his weapon.
Nelson remained on guard and visibly relaxed at Riker’s return. “All clear.”
“Alrighty.”
Awareness hit Riker at his friend’s mischievous grin. “You already did it before I got here.”
“Maybe.” Nelson shrugged. “You probably did a better job.”
Riker laughed and slapped his friend on the back. “So good to see you! How long has it been?”
“Long enough that you think I’ve forgotten it’s your turn to pay for the fries.” Nelson chuckled.
“Right.” Riker grinned. “When all this is over, let’s definitely catch up over a couple of burgers.”
Nelson led the way, and Riker studied the cruiser. “I thought you were with Lincoln PD?”
“Once we found out baby number seven was joining our crew, my beautiful bride insisted we return to Fremont to be closer to her family.”
“Still hoping for a boy?” Riker teased.
Nelson chortled. “Healthy is my only request.”
“Fair enough.”
“You still married to the job?”
Unbidden thoughts of Eliana intruded Riker’s mind. “Always.”
