A Killing in China Basin - By Kirk Russell Page 0,58
communications command and drove straight to the hospital. He badged the officer guarding the door and walked in carrying his laptop.
‘Elizabeth?’ He took her hand and she opened her eyes.
‘You,’ she said.
‘Yeah.’
‘Man, my head and neck hurt.’ She touched her forehead then the pillow. ‘I hit the sidewalk.’ Her voice was slowed, groggy. She could hear herself. ‘I’m fine. I’m lucky, right?’
‘Very lucky.’
‘I know, I screwed up.’
‘You didn’t screw up.’
‘I’ve got some stitches.’
‘I heard.’
‘It grazed me, my skull.’
She closed her eyes again. She’d been unable to get to her feet afterwards. She felt blood streaming from her head, heard a man talking to her and faraway sirens as she lay on the sidewalk. She knew the man with her was trying to help, but she couldn’t quite understand what he was saying. She remembered the ride here and the doctor telling her how lucky she was as he stitched her up. She opened her eyes again, stared at Raveneau.
‘What do we do now?’ she asked.
The coverage had gone national. Raveneau listened to local radio on the way here. KCBS reported, ‘Police are looking for a male assailant who shot and wounded a San Francisco homicide inspector tonight. The suspect is believed to have fled in a blue Volvo station wagon with license plates beginning with the letters T and F. He is armed and dangerous and anyone spotting the vehicle should keep their distance and call this number . . .’
‘Elizabeth?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘I want to ask you a couple of questions.’
‘OK, sure, let’s go.’
Her face was very pale. She needed to just rest here in the dark. He knew that.
‘Are you sure the shooter was male?’
‘Ninety percent.’ She mustered. She opened her eyes and said, ‘Wearing a dark-colored mask, like one of those they have now for extreme cold. It covered his head down to his collar bone. Bulky coat.’
‘How do you know he was male?’
‘I think he started to say something as he shot me. His arm, size of his head.’
‘Stoltz?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Heilbron.’
She didn’t answer. She faded on him, then said, ‘Maybe Heilbron. Something about his build.’
‘Or neither?’
‘I don’t know.’
She closed her eyes again. Raveneau waited several minutes.
‘Ben?’
‘I’m here.’
Her eyes still closed, she said, ‘He roared up and hit the brakes hard.’
Which was probably why he missed.
‘What about the gun?’
‘You’re telling me we haven’t caught him.’
‘That’s right. It’s gone statewide.’ It went statewide and became a bad night locally for Volvo drivers. ‘Remember anything more about the car? Cracked windshield, faded paint, a rack on top, anything.’
She kept her eyes closed but spoke more clearly.
‘Definitely Volvo, wagon type I rode in as a kid, kind of square looking, a black bumper, chrome wheels.’
Raveneau booted up his laptop to find images of older model Volvo wagons. As the screen came up, la Rosa opened her eyes.
‘Put the laptop on my stomach when you find something.’
He rested it on her and held it steady as she scrolled between two photos and then said, ‘That’s it, that’s the car, a Volvo 240 with the bumper wrapping around in back.’
‘One idea floating is that it’s Stoltz and he went after you because you’re the spokesperson for the task force. But that seems unlikely to me because the task force just happened and you’ve only had one press conference. How often do you run that same route?’
Slower answering again and closing her eyes, saying, ‘Vary the runs, but generally the same direction.’
‘At about the same time of night?’
‘Erratic since I started at homicide, but, yeah, I like that route.’ She smiled with her eyes closed, adding, ‘Or used to.’
She was religious about her exercise. Raveneau’s guess was she ran the route often enough for someone to get a sense of her pattern. He didn’t go there now. He didn’t push her on it, except to ask, ‘Have you run it since joining this cobbled together task force?’
‘Excuse me,’ a woman said from behind Raveneau. He turned. He’d missed Deputy-chief Grainer walking in.
‘What did you just say?’
‘We’re talking about the shooter,’ he said, but Grainer ignored him now. She took la Rosa’s hand and said, ‘I’m so relieved you’re OK.’
Then she turned to Raveneau and asked, ‘Is that your laptop, Inspector?’
‘It is.’
‘Please take it off Elizabeth.’
She touched la Rosa’s face, withdrew her hand, and stood looking down at her as Raveneau turned the computer off.
‘Have you got your phone, Elizabeth?’ Raveneau asked.
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll call you.’
In the hallway he ran into Captain Ramirez.
‘How is she?’
‘She’s OK. I talked to the doctor who stitched her up and he said the bullet grazed