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  Gordon, meanwhile, was watching the couple that were arguing, and Charlie tuned in to their low, harsh words.

  “It’s time to leave, Patricia,” the man demanded, grabbing her by the arm. “Nothing you can do for the poor bastard now. His sister will take care of things. Let’s go home!”

  “Don’t touch me, Steven, unless you want to end up in jail again. My business is my own now, and we’re done until I see you in court. Leave me alone and let me grieve in peace.”

  “You ungrateful … you’re still my wife, and you’re coming with me. I’ve had enough of your—”

  “Enough of what, tough guy?” Gordon interrupted, stepping forward within arm’s reach of the bully, who was a little older than Gordon but still very fit.

  Gordon’s tone got everyone’s attention, even the nurse behind the desk. Sergeant Kruger slipped the phone into his pocket and crossed his arms across his chest. “Let’s calm down, people, before someone steps over the line.”

  “Then what, cop? You gonna Tase me or some bull like that?” Steven snarled, letting go of the woman and raising his fists.

  In the blink of an eye Gordon reached out, grabbed the angry guy’s right fist, and pressed down on a key nerve center on the back of his hand. Steven groaned, his legs sagged, and he drew back his other fist and threw a punch.

  Gordon slide-slipped the punch, put on the pressure with his thumb, and Steven collapsed to his knees, yelling from the excruciating pain.

  “Men who abuse a woman make me angry, you bastard. It’s time for you to feel the pain,” Gordon announced, his voice soft but full of emotion.

  Steven groped with his free hand, trying to get hold of Gordon, but Charlie grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it high up behind his back. “Time for you to leave, Steve.”

  “Like the rhyme. Nod if you understand, asshole,” Gordon added.

  The man cursed, struggling for a moment, then yelled out again in pain. Finally, seeing two security guards standing by the cop, who now had his Taser out, Steven nodded.

  Charlie and Gordon released their grip on the man, and he stood, shaky at first, then straightened up and strode stiffly to the exit. He walked out of the hospital, never looking back.

  The woman Steven had called Patricia sat back down in a chair, her arms clinched tightly across her chest, trying to stop her shaking.

  Charlie stepped forward, realized he had no idea what to say, but finally managed a question. “I’m sorry for all the trouble, ma’am. Are you related to Nathan Whitaker?”

  The woman nodded. “Nathan was my first husband, but we had reconciled. We were planning on getting back together after my divorce. Now he’s dead,” she added, finally looking up at Charlie.

  Charlie glanced over at Sergeant Kruger.

  “Mr. Whitaker died several minutes ago,” Kruger replied. “This lady and his sister Janice were called in as last rites were given.”

  “I’m Patricia Azok, at least until Steven signs the divorce papers. Nathan was the love of my life, and I wish I could have been with him tonight. I made a terrible mistake letting him go. You’ve seen who I ended up with.”

  “A pig,” Gordon mumbled, then he looked over at Charlie, disgust turning to curiosity.

  “Did Steven know you planned to get together again with your ex?” Charlie asked.

  “Yes, but that was after I’d kicked him out of the apartment. Steven is cruel, possessive, controlling…” Patricia started to shake again, more angry than afraid now.

  “Excuse me, I need to make a call,” Sergeant Kruger said, stepping away and bringing out his phone.

  “Where were you when you heard about the shooting, ma’am?” Gordon asked the woman.

  “Were you with Steven?” Charlie added, following in the direction his pal was taking.

  “I was at my apartment, and I heard about the shooting from a news bulletin on TV. I drove here, met up with Janice, and then waited with her. Both of us were praying for Nathan.”

  “And Steven? When did he show up?” Charlie asked.

  “He was in the waiting room when Janice and I came back out. After…” She started with the tears and crying again, so Charlie and Gordon waited, exchanging glances.

  Finally Patricia calmed down, looking up at them. “He followed me here, is that what you’re thinking?”

  Charlie nodded. “Was he with you anytime today?”

  “No. Not unless he was watching my apartment. After he hit me and I had him put in jail, I got a restraining order against him. If he was anywhere near me that would be a violation,” she pointed out.

  “A piece of paper won’t always be enough to keep an abusive husband or boyfriend away,” Gordon interjected. “The guy knew about your plans to get together with Nathan again?”

  Patricia nodded. “Steven blamed Nathan for our breakup.”

  Charlie thought about his next question for a moment, then saw that he now had Sergeant Kruger’s undivided attention, so he decided to ask. “Does Steven Azok own any firearms? A rifle maybe?”

  “Of course, and pistols too. He’s a member of Firearms for Patriots and belongs to a local gun club. But, you don’t think Steven killed Nathan, do you?”

  Chapter Two

  “I’m passing this new information along to Detective DuPree,” Kruger announced. “Then I’m going to make sure Mrs. Azok gets home safely,” he added. “Thanks, guys.”

  While Kruger was back on the phone, Gordon and Charlie introduced themselves to Patricia. Then they exchanged phone numbers and she thanked them for their support. When she and Sergeant Kruger left, Charlie asked the nurse at the counter for information on the two other victims. Even if they couldn’t visit the wounded police officer and fireman, Charlie wanted to check on their condition and offer his support to the families.

  A half hour later they were in Gordon’s pickup, heading back to Gina and Nancy’s home. Charlie was describing the brief meeting he’d had with the families of the two men while Gordon had been talking to other first responders who’d also come to express their support.

  “None of the friends and relatives had been able to communicate with the wounded for more than a few minutes. They’d been sedated after treatment. The good news is that both men are expected to recover completely, the bad news is that neither of the guys, so far, have been able to add to what we already know. I’m sure that early tomorrow morning APD is going to be all over them with questions,” Charlie explained.

  “You think that the wounded just happened to be in the line of fire and were collateral damage? That whoever the shooter was—Steven Azok—came to take out his rival?” Gordon asked.

  “Well, there was no attempt to take out as many people as possible—the usual terrorist tactic. All the shots were clearly directed toward a target around the center of the front row, which included Ruth and the dead man’s sister.”

  “And you,” Gordon reminded.

  “Ruth and I were lucky, that’s for sure.”

  “You aren’t just lucky, you have skills and instincts. But I was really impressed with how you said Ruth handled herself. She’s quite a woman.”

  “Sure is. As soon as the shooting stopped, she worked her way back to help the others, then took charge and worked to comfort the sister.”

  “You both are fighters. She just might be the woman you need in your life.”

  Charlie smiled. He should be so lucky.

  * * *

  It was seven thirty the next morning when Charlie stepped into the small office of FOB Pawn, “FOB” standing for “forward observation base” in military terms. Jake Salazar, their other employee, and Gordon were already seated, drinking coffee.

  “Morning, other boss,” Jake greeted. “Sounds like you and Ruth had a scary first date.”

  “In other words, it was just like another day at work,” Gordon acknowledged.

  “That would be funny if it wasn’t so true,” Charlie said, then groaned, recalling the situations in the past two years, when th
ey’d all been in a world of hurt.

  “Is Ruth coming in today?” Gordon asked.

  “I suggested she take the day off when I drove her and Rene home last night, but she said that work was the kind of therapy she needed right now. She also didn’t want to worry her son,” Charlie said.

  “There she is now,” Jake announced, looking up at the section on the surveillance monitor that displayed the alley camera viewing field.

  Charlie watched as Ruth hurriedly climbed out of her white Camry, grabbed her purse, and then nearly ran up the steps. As she came into the office, key still in hand, she waved to the three men.

  “Turn on the news, boys, you won’t believe this!” she exclaimed, nearly out of breath.

  Gordon turned on the nineteen-inch television sitting on a shelf. He scrolled through channels until he found a “breaking news” report on a network morning show. They listened in silence as a local reporter, standing on the sidewalk outside the downtown Albuquerque federal building, began to read a prepared statement.

  “This morning at around 7 AM an employee at Foraker Middle School in Albuquerque’s north valley discovered a large envelope attached to the main gate of the facility. Printed on the outside of the envelope were the words ‘Attention: Police Department.’ Although the exact contents of this envelope have not been disclosed, law enforcement agencies have revealed that a message inside contained threats that may be connected to last night’s deadly shooting at the Recognition Park dedication ceremony. It cannot be confirmed that yesterday’s cowardly ambush is an act of terrorism, but authorities are asking that anyone who has information concerning this attack, or the placing of this envelope at Foraker Middle School, contact law enforcement agencies immediately.”

  When the bulletin ended, Gordon put the broadcast on mute.

  “So they’re calling this a terrorist attack? Here in Albuquerque?” Jake was the first to speak.

  “Well, the targeting makes sense, I guess, shooting at those Americans who have been labeled heroes, and at a very public event,” Charlie said. “This certainly gets everyone’s attention.”

  “Whoever placed the envelope was smart, going low-tech and avoiding any chance of an electronic trace,” Gordon pointed out. “I doubt any cameras at the school got any usable images that far from the buildings. But maybe someone driving by saw something…”

  “Whatever was written must have sounded genuine, otherwise I don’t think the authorities would have released this to the media so soon. Apparently there are no suspects yet, so it’s possible there may be future attacks,” Ruth said. “We’re still in danger—”

  “Hey, check this out,” Gordon interrupted, turning the sound up on the TV as the image shifted to a breaking news header.

  “We’ve got company, people,” Jake announced, pointing to the surveillance monitor. An unmarked police car was pulling into one of the parking slots in the alley.

  Gordon looked over, then turned the mute back on the TV. “That’s Nancy. This can’t be good.”

  Charlie stepped over and opened the door just as Nancy walked up the steps to the small platform, that served as a porch and loading dock. “Detective Medina. You’re here on business, I’m guessing.”

  The thirty-year-old officer, dressed in civilian slacks and a matching jacket, had the looks and shape of a model, but the intelligent eyes of a smart cop—and a pistol at her hip. She held onto the open door and motioned Charlie back toward the office. “You and your staff are following the news, I see,” she said, walking with Charlie over to the entrance to the office cubbyhole, now crowded.

  “There’s a lot more happening than what we’ve seen and heard, isn’t there?” Gordon suggested.

  “That’s one of the reasons why I’m here, guys. Charlie, you’re probably on the shooter’s list—if this really was a terrorist attack. You too, Gordon. I know you weren’t there, but your name was on the guest list that was published in the local newspapers,” Nancy warned. “Homeland Security and the Bureau have come on board. All the major news networks already have their reporters hounding every law enforcement agency in the metro area.”

  “Sounds serious,” Charlie replied. “Do the experts think this was a lone-wolf attack? One shooter?”

  “And were any bombs or explosives found around the park?” Jake asked.

  “No. The only real evidence we have at the time is the single .223 shell casing and two recovered slugs. One came from the deceased, and the other from the fireman’s upper arm. The rounds are apparently surplus military issue, years old,” Nancy said.

  “That ammo could have been purchased almost anywhere. Not much help unless the weapon is found,” Gordon said.

  “In addition to the slugs, we have ejection marks on the casing. The FBI lab is working to determine the weapon used,” Nancy confirmed.

  “The news reports didn’t indicate exactly what was said, only that there might be more attacks. Did you see the message itself?” Ruth asked. “What can you tell us?”

  “I got permission to show you and Charlie the details, but it’s being kept from the press for the moment. This afternoon, I’ve been told the content will be released, and I’m guessing that the entire country will go ballistic. So don’t let anyone else know what I’ve shown you until it becomes public. You all willing to go along with that?” Nancy said, bringing out her smartphone.

  They all nodded. Nancy swept an image into view, and turned it around so they could all see the display.

  “‘We will kill the American dogs you call heroes. Know that this is only the beginning,’” Gordon read. “Pretty clear photo of the ISIS black flag, but taken somewhere in the Middle East. Looks like the image was a screen grab.”

  “No slogans, except what’s printed below the flag. Short and to the point. Is this it?” Charlie asked.

  “Yes. Just two typed sentences and their banner, printed on a single piece of generic computer paper. The techs are working to determine what brand of printer was used. That won’t help much either, not until we find the printer,” Nancy said.

  “If this was an actual terrorist attack and not a jealous husband who decided to shoot his competition, does that mean Steven Azok is in the clear?” Charlie commented.

  “I interviewed Azok late last night at his apartment, Charlie. He claims he was at his place, working out with his weights. No alibi that can be verified, unfortunately,” Nancy said. “It turns out Azok has three registered firearms, a pistol and two rifles. None of them is a .223.”

  “Azok wouldn’t use a weapon that could be traced to him. Not unless he’s an idiot as well as a coward. The guy could have bought the murder weapon and ammo out of some guy’s trunk at a gun show parking lot,” Gordon said. “Or on the street. If he does have some shooting skills, this terrorist angle could be a smoke screen.”

  “Good point. From everything I’ve seen or heard about this kind of assault, they’re usually carried out by suicidal maniacs who come out blasting, using large magazines that can spray twenty or more rounds at a time without reloading,” Jake said. “They’re ready to die, and are usually strapped with explosives to set themselves off when confronted.”

  “This does suggest a lone-wolf, do-it-yourself attack with no outside support or budget,” Charlie said. “Until assault-type weapons became available everywhere in the country, almost all center-fire rifles, except for a couple of World War Two weapons, were limited to five rounds. That’s all that were fired last night. Maybe the guy saw he scored some hits, but didn’t have time to reload with armed cops already moving in his direction.”

  Nancy nodded. “Well, whoever the shooter was, radical or not, he wasn’t suicidal. There were no religious epithets, war cries, or explosive vests. Those of us who were armed reacted quickly to what was clearly an active shooter situation. As soon as the first two shots were fired, I jumped out of my seat and moved in the direction Charlie indicated. I had to circle around some vehicles to get there, but I reached his likely position in
less than thirty seconds. He got off five shots in about that many seconds, then split. Clearly this guy intended on making his escape.”

  “So he could do it again today, or tomorrow? Three people were shot, one killed. And he’s still out there, waiting for the next opportunity. If this warning means anything, we already know who his next targets might be. What can we do about a sniper, Charlie?” Ruth asked, touching him gently on the arm.

  “Avoid getting out in the open unless you’re on the move, and stay away from windows and doorways,” Nancy offered. “Charlie and Gordon are trained to watch for threats like this.”

  “So now what?” Charlie asked.

  “I’m supposed to stay close to you guys until we get a better handle on what the situation is,” Nancy answered.

  “Then let’s try a little investigating at the same time. I want to keep the shooter guessing on where I’ll be next. Can we go back to the park and take another look around in broad daylight? You’ve still got officers working the area, right?”

  “DuPree is there now, and I think he’d like an expert witness’s take on what went down last night. Getting away from here for a while might be a good idea anyway, Charlie. The press will come looking for you now that word is out, and the less they show your face the harder it’ll be for a potential sniper to identify and target you,” Nancy said. “Worse-case scenario, of course. How about you, Gordon? Can you get away for an hour or so this morning, maybe do the driving for Charlie?”

  “I guess, at least for a while. I’m working on something new here in the shop, but as long as I’m back in a few hours it should work out. Can you guys handle things if we take off until, say, ten thirty?” Gordon asked, looking from Jake to Ruth.

  “Ruth?” Jake asked.

  “Of course. And you’d better get going,” she added, pointing to the monitor. “Check the sidewalk camera out front.”

  A local TV station’s van had just driven up to the curb.

  “Follow me, guys,” Nancy said, nodding toward the back door.