Anna Albertini and a witness, Mr. Taylor,” Aiden said.
Pierce was probably in his early forties with just a hint of gray at his otherwise dark blond temples. His eyes were a light green that all but sizzled with intelligence, and his lanky form nicely filled out a dark brown suit. He looked at me and then back at Aiden, and his jaw tightened hard enough that it had to hurt. “Who shot at you this time?” he snapped.
I blinked. He was talking to Aiden. “What’s going on?” I asked.
Aiden tilted his head to Randy. “Shooter aimed for him.”
“Randy. Randy Taylor,” Randy said, sniffing loudly. Uniformed cops spilled around, marking off spaces, and Randy seemed to wilt.
“What happened?” Pierce yanked out a battered notepad that looked like it had floated the river more than once and tapped a shiny Silverville Cross pen on the paper.
“There was a pattering sound from a car, and I was tackled,” I said, my voice trembling.
“What kind of car?” Pierce scribbled a couple of notes.
“It was brown.” My memory was blank. Completely. I drew the sides of my ruined jacket together with shaking hands.
Pierce lifted his head and turned toward Aiden; his gaze accusatory.
Aiden rested a heavy hand on my shoulder, and I realized I’d swayed forward. He tightened his hold. “Brown Range Rover, 2005 model, no plates. Two men inside. Driver about forty, pocked skin, faded black leather jacket. Shooter was thin, twenties, goatee and blond wearing a jean jacket and shooting an AK-47. Crappy shot.” He tilted his head toward Randy. “The possible target.”
Pierce scribbled some more, lifting his head to pin Randy with a hard gaze. “Who wants you dead, kid?”
“Nobody. I mean, nobody.” Randy’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as if it too, wanted to make a run for it. “This is just a possession charge. It was just some pot, man.” He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his white shirt. “I got the drugs from my Uncle Melvin. Melvin Whitaker.”
I gasped, my wide gaze slashing to Randy. Melvin Whitaker? The same neighbor the elderly ladies had tried to rob? Did the guy supply the whole town, or what? “Tell me more,” I said quietly.
Randy took a step back, obviously realizing he shouldn’t be confessing to us. “Uh, sorry. Oops.”
Pierce grinned, making him look more like an older male model than a cop. He glanced back at Randy. “How much pot?”
“Just a joint—one tiny little joint. Misdemeanor charge.” Randy sank down next to me, running a shaking hand through his hair. The kid smelled like smoke and had quite smartly forgotten to report that he’d hit a cop. I stayed quiet for now.
“Any chance Uncle Melvin is pissed you stole his pot?” Pierce asked.
“No.” Randy shook his head. “It was just a joint—the guy’s like a total nerd. He wouldn’t shoot at me.”
“Where does Uncle Melvin get his pot?” Pierce’s voice remained casual, but those eyes narrowed in like a coyote spotting dinner.
I listened carefully. If Randy was dumb enough to talk, I wasn’t going to stop him.
Randy shrugged. “Dunno. He works out at that seed company on the border, and his stuff is always the best.” He turned red, his gaze shifting to me. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard. I mean, this was my first joint.”
Aiden didn’t even attempt to hide his chuckle at that.
I struggled to unfreeze my brain.
Pierce had to be an inch shorter than Aiden, which still made him tall. “Did you recognize the shooters?”
“No.” Randy shook his head. “I saw the gun, and then this guy shoved me to the ground before landing on top of this lady lawyer.” He flipped his shaggy hair toward Aiden.
I glared. “I think you mean to say thanks for saving my life.” Ugh. I sounded like a mom correcting a toddler.
“Oh. Yeah. Thanks, man.” Randy stood. “Can I go now?”
“No.” Pierce curled his lip. “I need a list of who’d want to kill you.”
“Nobody, man. Really.” Randy eyed the cops swarming the grounds and taking witness statements. “If I think of anyone, I’ll call you.”
Pierce exhaled slowly and turned his focus on Aiden. “We all know you were the target. Too bad they missed.”
Randy’s head swung around, his mouth dropping open. “Hey—yeah. You were right in the line of fire.” He brushed dirt off his skinny jeans. “Maybe this had nothin’ to do with me, dude. It’s all about the big man in black.”
Aiden crossed his arms. “I can’t be sure.” His eyes darkened.