Ricochet by Sandra Brown Page B

Detective Hatcher. I told you that last night.”
    Duncan nodded slowly. “Right. You did. But you spoke to him, correct? You ordered him to leave.”
    “Yes.”
    “Did he make a move toward the window?”
    “No. He didn’t move at all except to raise his arm. Suddenly. Like a string attached to his elbow had been yanked.”
    “Like this?” DeeDee demonstrated the motion.
    “Something like that, yes. And before it even registered with me that he was holding a pistol, he fired it.” She placed a hand at her throat as though suddenly finding it difficult to breathe.
    The judge moved closer and slid his arm around her waist.
    Duncan asked, “Mrs. Laird, is it possible that he was firing a warning shot, meant only to try and scare you?”
    “I suppose it’s possible.”
    “Did you feel in mortal danger?”
    “I assumed I was. It all happened very fast.”
    “But not so fast that you didn’t have time to ‘assume’ that you were in mortal danger.”
    “That’s a reasonable assumption, isn’t it, Detective?” the judge asked, sounding vexed. “If a man who’s broken into your house fires a pistol, even if his aim is lousy, isn’t it logical to assume that your life is in danger and to act accordingly?”
    “It seems logical, yes,” DeeDee said. “But Dr. Brooks had another theory worth considering. He suggested that maybe Trotter was falling backward when he fired his pistol, that reflexively his finger clenched on the trigger. That would explain his aim being so far off.”
    Duncan was staring hard at Elise. “But that would mean that you had shot at him first.”
    “But she didn’t,” the judge said. “She’s told you that a dozen times. Why do you keep hammering away at this?”
    Duncan tore his gaze from Elise Laird’s stricken face and looked at the judge. “Because I’ve got to have a clear understanding of what happened. I dislike having to put these questions to Mrs. Laird. But I was there this morning when the autopsy was performed on Gary Ray Trotter’s corpse. I feel I owe it to him, crook or not, to determine how and why he wound up like that. You’re a public official, Judge. You have an obligation to the public to do your duty. So do I. Sometimes it’s no fun at all. In fact, most of the time it’s not.”
    He turned back to Elise. “Are you absolutely certain that Trotter fired at you first?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “There. That ends it.” The judge’s statement was followed by a tense stretch of silence. Finally he said, “I admire your sense of duty, Detective Hatcher. I appreciate your quest for the truth. Elise and I have done everything within our power to help you perform your unpleasant duties.
    “Haven’t you stopped to consider that we would like a full explanation for what happened here last night, too? We would like that perhaps even more than you and Detective Bowen. Elise has been as straightforward as she could possibly be. Are you now satisfied that it was a break-in that went awry?”
    Duncan let the question hover there for at least fifteen seconds before answering, “I believe so, yes.”
    My ass, thought DeeDee.
    The judge said, “Good. Then if that’s all, I hope you’ll excuse us.” He turned, ready to escort them out, when Elise forestalled him.
    “I’d like to know…” Her voice cracked. She swallowed, tried again. “I’d like to know if Trotter had a family. A wife, children?”
    “No,” Duncan said. “His closest relative was an uncle up in Maryland.”
    “I’m glad of that. I would have hated… that.”
    “May I show you out now?” The judge started down the hall, expecting them to follow.
    DeeDee came from behind the desk. As she moved past Elise, Elise reached for her hand. “Detective Bowen, I want to echo what my husband said. I know you’re only doing your job.”
    Surprised by the move, DeeDee tried to think of something neutral to say that would be a fitting response, whether Elise was lying or telling the truth.