Faye Kellerman - Blindman’s Bluff

She repeated the address back to him.

Decker told her yes. He wasn’t even aware that he had memorized the street numerals. But such was the force of habit after thirty-plus years on the job. He had always made it a point to know where he was, had done so unconsciously.

Five minutes later, Decker could hear the wail of the approaching sirens. Using Grant’s cell phone, he pinpointed his location to the uniformed cops. It took a while to secure the area and extract them from the foliage.

All around were blinking black-and-whites. Curious neighbors stood behind yellow crime tape. As the three of them brushed dirt off their clothes, Grant discovered that his pants were torn and he was bleeding from his leg. Decker took a flashlight from a uniformed officer, knelt down, and carefully parted the torn cloth on Grant’s pants leg.

Could be a nasty scrape or it could be a graze wound. In better light, he could have discerned if the skin had been burned or not. He could see that it was oozing-wet and shiny-but it wasn’t spurting.

He looped his arm around Grant’s waist and asked Cindy to help him carry Grant to a cruiser. The best thing to do was to keep him settled and let the professionals handle this one.

As soon as Kaffey was seated in a black-and-white, Decker radioed for an ambulance.

“I’M HUNG UP at work.” Decker was trying to keep his voice neutral. “Do me a favor and stay overnight with your parents.”

“How late are you going to be?” Rina asked him.

“I don’t know. I’m at a crime scene. Maybe pretty late.”

“What crime scene?”

“Can’t go into that right now. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Call me when you get to your parents’.”

“Peter, you sound very tense. What aren’t you telling me?”

“I can’t get into that.”

Rina could hear voices in the background. One of them sounded like her stepdaughter. “Is Cindy there?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Obviously I hear her. What are you doing in Hollywood?”

“Maybe she’s in West Valley. I’ve got to go.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on. I’ve been a cop’s wife for seventeen years. I’m not going to melt. Tell me right now!”

Decker gave her the abbreviated version, hoping that would satisfy her.

“But you and Cindy are okay?”

Her voice sounded shaky. “Rina, we’re both fine. My face got scratched a little, but other than that, I am completely whole.”

“Baruch Hashem. I’ll bench Gomel for you.”

The prayer for surviving a dire situation. “Do it for Cindy as well.”

“I will.” Now her voice sounded teary. “What are you doing right now?”

“We’re trying to find all the bullets and reconstructing the trajectory.”

“So you can know how lucky you were.”

Decker smiled. “I just wish I could have seen something. You know how dark it is in the hills, and I was literally hiding in the bushes.”

“Could you hear anything?”

“Receding footsteps and a car peeling rubber. I’ve called in a tech to see if we can lift a tire print from the skid marks. Maybe we’ll catch a break.”

Rina didn’t answer.

“Are you still there?” Decker asked.

“I was just thinking about the blue Saturn that was parked across the street.”

“The one with the tinted windows and Popper Motors license plate. I had Marge check it out. They do sell new and used Saturns. Marge spoke to a salesperson named Dean Reeves. They’re checking the records. If it came from them, they have a record of the tires on the car.”

“It would be interesting if the treads matched your skid marks.”

“It would be more than interesting, it would be downright scary. I’ve got to go. Call me when you’re at your parents.”

“I will. You’re not so far from them. Maybe you’ll get off earlier than you think.”

“I’ll come over whenever I can.”

“Good to hear,” Rina said. “I’ll keep the night-light on and the sheets warm.”

THE PAIR LOOKED like Marge and Oliver. The woman had on a gray sweater with the sleeves hiked up at the elbows, dark blue trousers, and sneakers, but the man’s dress was a giveaway-a spiffy blue sports jacket, khaki slacks, and oxfords. As they came closer, their faces took form.

“What are you doing here?” Decker said.

“I called up Marge,” Cindy said. “I thought she’d want to know.” To Oliver, she waved. “Hello, Scott, how have you been?”

“I’ve been dandy, Cynthia. How’s married life?”

“So far, it’s an excellent fit.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re well.”

“Thank you.”

Marge said, “Now that we got the pleasantries over with, you wanna tell us what the hell happened?” She looked at Cindy. “Either one of you.”

Although there was no reason for them to have come down, it was good to see friendly faces.

Decker said, “As we were leaving the house, someone took aim and fired. We’re here, we’re whole, but Grant went to the hospital with a gash in his leg.”

“He was shot?” Oliver asked.

“I don’t know. It was dark and I couldn’t tell. Maybe his leg was ripped open when I fell on him.”

“Did you discharge your gun?” Oliver asked.

“Nope.”

“That’s good,” Marge said. “Less paperwork.”

Cindy said, “They came, they shot, they left-”

“They?”

“They, he, she…I couldn’t see a thing,” Cindy said. “Last thing the Loo wanted was to accidentally pop a neighbor out walking the dog.”

Marge said, “If Grant was shot, that means every single Kaffey has had a close encounter with molten lead.”

Decker rubbed his forehead. “I was thinking the same thing. We’ve run out of family suspects.”

“And maybe that’s the point,” Marge said. “To confuse us. Because all three Kaffeys are all alive.”

“Maybe all three were in on the hit together,” Oliver said.

“Could be,” Marge said. “It appears that Grant got away with the least damage.”

“Mace’s wound was minor as far as shotgun wounds go,” Decker pointed out. “And don’t forget Antoine Resseur is still missing.”

“Why would he shoot Grant?” Oliver asked.

“To have Gil all to himself.” Decker held up his hands. “You asked for a motive, I gave you the first thing I thought of.”

Cindy checked her watch. It was almost ten. They’d been at the scene for three hours. “Luckily, I was off duty, and I didn’t discharge my weapon thanks to Papa’s instructions. Instead of doing extra paperwork, I get to go home.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Decker kissed his daughter’s cheek. “Until we know who the good guy is and who the bad guy is, keep an eye over your shoulder.”

Cindy pointed to her chest. “We’re the good guys.” Then she swept her hand across a twinkling L.A. basin. “Those are the bad guys.” She kissed Marge and Scott. “Take care of the Loo in my absence.”

Decker watched his daughter slide into the driver’s seat of her car and kept staring until her taillights faded into nothingness. “I’m ready to pack it in.”

“I told you we shouldn’t have bothered,” Oliver said to Marge.

“And I told you, you didn’t have to come with me,” she countered.

Decker said, “Since you two were nice enough to drive all the way out here, come to Beverly Hills with me. We can kick around a few ideas.” He exhaled forcefully. “My brain is still in overdrive, and I could use some fresh input.”

“What’s in Beverly Hills?” Oliver asked.

“Rina’s parents. We’re spending the night there.” He gave them the address. “It’s about twenty minutes from here.”