Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
Amanda called Malone on his cell phone but had to leave a voicemail.
It was a gift in disguise. If he didn’t like being at Central after nine PM, he was guaranteed to be hostile in the wee hours.
She met up with Trent at the station, and they headed to Joel Blackburn’s residence.
They brought along an officer as backup in case the night took a bad turn.
A background check on Blackburn didn’t give any cause for concern, but Amanda still tried to reach Dominique a few times while Trent drove.
Dominique never answered, and Amanda repeatedly met with a recorded professional greeting.
She didn’t leave a message. “Still no answer, and I have this sour feeling in the pit of my gut. Are we too late? I’m just sick that neither of us considered this before now. ”
“Don’t go down that road. We’ve only followed the evidence in front of us.”
Her head knew that, but her heart was refusing to grant her a pass. She tugged on the door handle to get out before the car stopped.
“Amanda,” Trent said. “Please just wait until I’ve parked. You don’t need to be rolling your ankle.”
“Hurry up then.”
Trent turned off the car, and she didn’t waste a second getting out and rushing up the front walk. Joel Blackburn lived in a beautiful house in a beautiful neighborhood. It all looked idyllic from the street.
She ignored the large sparkling brass knocker on the black door and pushed the doorbell. It took three rings before there was movement inside the house. Soon after, a light inside turned on, followed by one on the front porch.
“Who is it?” a man’s voice called out.
“Prince William County PD,” she said.
The deadbolt was unlocked, and the door was eased open. Blackburn’s face came into view through the opening, and she held up her badge to back up her claim.
“Detectives Steele and Stenson. We need to speak with you and Dominique Sharp. It’s urgent.” She made a small step forward, hoping the man would read the movement and ease back. He didn’t, and Amanda stiffened. “As I said it’s urgent.”
“What is this about?”
Amanda felt eyes on her back, but when she turned she saw no one. “Dominique Sharp is staying with you, yes?”
“Yes.” Dazed, confused, giving the first signs she had pulled him from bed.
“We believe she may be in danger. Let us inside, please,” Trent put in this time.
Blackburn hesitated for a few seconds but backed up. Amanda made sure the door was locked behind them.
“What do you mean, in danger?” Blackburn’s eyes narrowed, and his brow bunched up with wrinkles.
In the light of the entry, Amanda had her first proper look at Blackburn. Handsome, square jaw, black hair with a wavy strand curling over his forehead. He was wearing a navy-blue tracksuit, and his befuddled expression was only deepening. “Where is Ms. Sharp?” Amanda asked.
“She’s in bed, where I suspect most people are at this hour.”
Amanda didn’t care for how this man was blocking them from Dominique. It had her questioning his motives. “We need you to get her for us.”
“No need.” Dominique slinked down the stairs wrapped in a silk robe with her arms tightly crossed. “What can I do for you at this time of night?”
“This conversation is better suited for sitting down.” Amanda gestured toward the grand living room off the entry. With its coordinated grouping of chairs it resembled a lounge alcove in a luxury hotel.
“Why not? Should I put on some coffee too?”
“That’s not necessary.” Amanda responded as if the offer were genuine and not riddled with sarcasm. Once everyone was seated, she spoke. “Christine Lane has been identified as the person found in your home, but we have reason to suspect she may not have been the intended target.”
Dominique’s eyes widened a fraction. “What are you saying? That the killer was after me? That somehow Christine was mistaken as me?”
“You must admit that the two of you look similar,” Trent said.
“I guess, but we’re completely different people.” This was spoken with the same condescending attitude she’d demonstrated when talking about Christine the first time.
“We haven’t been able to find anyone who had reason to want Christine dead.
There are also no explanations for why anyone would kill her at your house.
We need to consider the possibility that you were the intended target.
” As Amanda said this it crossed her mind again that the killer would have realized their mistake when they wrapped up Christine’s body, but by that point, it was too late.
Dominique shook her head. “Nah. What’s to say she didn’t interrupt a robbery in progress when she turned up to prepare for the showing. You said the sliding door was open.”
Amanda had to admit that it was a solid argument from the attorney except that it held no merit. “There is nothing to suggest that was the case.”
Dominique angled her head, smiled tightly. “How could you know that with any certainty? You haven’t consulted with me for an inventory of my things.”
Amanda recalled all the opulence housed in that walk-in closet.
Where would they even begin to catalog everything?
And was it even necessary? Everything looked in order.
More to the point, a fatal robbery doesn’t result in the culprits wrapping their victims in tarps.
A valid argument raised more than once. “Details of the scene sway us from believing any of this pertained to a robbery.”
“The details of which I assume you’re not at liberty to share?”
“Correct,” Amanda confirmed.
“Well, if this person came for me, they failed big-time. It’s tragic they got Christine in my place, but I’m still not sure how this brings you here at this hour.”
“This killer will know they got the wrong person by now.” Technically, from the moment they wrapped Christine’s body in a tarp… “The threat on your life may not be over,” Amanda stressed.
“Then you believe they’ll come back for me?” Dominique looked at Blackburn, who smirked at her. “As you can see, Detective, I’m perfectly safe.”
And arrogant… “For now. But whoever killed Christine is to be taken seriously. She was shot three times. Twice to the chest, once to the head.” Amanda felt comfortable disclosing that much if that was what it took to convince Dominique of the threat hanging over her.
Blackburn shifted his position on the couch and cleared his throat. “Dom, that sounds like an execution.”
“I’m perfectly safe, darling.” The word darling dripped off her tongue like thick caramel.
“I’m not so sure you are,” Blackburn said, and it had Dominique firing him a hot glare. “Can you protect her?” He was looking at Amanda as he asked the question.
“Unreal. If you think I’m going to be okay with a babysitter, you’re sorely mistaken.” Dominique flushed and crossed her arms.
“Don’t be foolish, Dom,” Blackburn petitioned. “This is your life we’re talking about.”
“That’s right. My life. And it’s always in jeopardy.” She turned toward Amanda and Trent. “I’m a defense attorney. The job entails making enemies. If I didn’t have them, I wouldn’t be doing my job right.”
“And that makes you feel safe and secure while you sleep at night?” Amanda raised her eyebrows, skeptical.
“It’s just par for the course.”
Trent took out his notepad and pen. “Do you have any names for us?”
“I have a lot. At my office. I don’t bother myself with keeping track.”
“We’ll need those names,” Amanda stated firmly.
“I’ll get them for you. Just not right this minute.”
It made sense Dominique wouldn’t have a list handy, but she didn’t even seem shaken by the request. Moving on, Amanda turned her focus elsewhere.
Additional due diligence. Blackburn wasn’t a big man.
Through obscured glass he could be taken for the size of a woman.
“Mr. Blackburn, where were you on Friday night?”
“You can’t seriously think that…” Dominique chuckled. “There’s no way Joel wants to kill me.”
“She’s right, though there are times I could strangle you.” He gave her a mischievous smile.
She batted her hand. “The feeling’s mutual.”
Now they were both making light of the situation?
“Your whereabouts, Mr. Blackburn?” she prompted.
While they needed to follow through on the mystery jogger, they couldn’t let assumptions block out other possibilities or they could miss something crucial.
For all they knew the woman could have just been out for fresh air and exercise.
“He was in Washington with me.”
Amanda stiffened. It rankled that Dominique answered on his behalf. “Is that true?” She made a point of leveling her gaze at Blackburn.
“It is.”
Amanda was formulating another question when there was a thump followed by shattering glass.
“Did anyone else hear that?” Blackburn’s eyes grew large.
Amanda jumped off her chair, as did Trent. Dominique and Blackburn appeared frozen in place. It sounded like it came from downstairs. “How do we get to the basement?”
Blackburn whispered his response and pointed the way.
“Okay, both of you stay right here. Don’t move.” Amanda felt it necessary to stress the importance of that request.
Amanda and Trent headed toward the staircase, with their hands ready over their holsters. She withdrew her Glock and flashlight, and Trent did the same. They used the beams to guide their steps.
There was more ruckus coming from the back end of the basement, and Amanda headed toward it. She went to the doorway of what looked like a guest room. She ran her flashlight over the window. A shadowed form was crawling through. They froze for an instant before raising their arm.
Amanda pushed Trent down and followed through herself just as a burst of light ignited.
The gun report was a dampened thwack. It was followed by two more rounds.
By the time Amanda was prepared to return fire, the person was gone.
“Go!” she yelled at Trent, as she scurried from the room.
There was a fourth thwack. Blackburn cried out.
“It sounds like Blackburn was hit,” she said.
“You see to him, and I’ll pursue the suspect.” Trent raced up the stairs and out the front door while Amanda ran toward the back.
The sliding door was open, and Blackburn was lying on the deck bleeding from his chest.
Amanda holstered her gun and put away her flashlight and dropped next to him. She pressed down on the wound with one hand and punched in 911 on her phone with the other.
There was nothing but silence.
She pulled it back and looked at the screen. No bars.
Blackburn was panting loudly and groaning. Over him, she heard Trent’s voice ringing out through the neighborhood, yelling at the backup officers.
“Where’s Dominique?” she asked Blackburn.
He raised an arm but quickly dropped it. “Upstairs.” There was a raspy, gurgling noise in his throat. Blood bubbled from the corners of his mouth.
Shit! All you had to do was stay put! Amanda looked at her phone again. Still no bars. Blackburn needed an ambulance now. His blood was hot against her palm and seeped through her fingers.
“Do you have a landline?”
Blackburn shook his head and winced.
“Just stay still, okay. Hang in there.” She wanted to assure him that help was coming, but she’d feel more confident in saying that if she had a way of reaching 911. She could only hope that Trent told the officer to radio in.
Just as she thought all was lost, ambulance sirens pierced the night air. With the dense humidity, the sound was amplified.
“Help is on the way.” Please, let them get here fast enough…
Trent’s calves and thighs were burning as he ran through the subdivision.
The mystery figure had a good start on him and was lithe and lean.
Based on the size and how they moved, he’d say it was a woman of average height, somewhere around five-foot-five.
Her hair was short, tucked into a skullcap or tied back into a bun.
He made out other things too. She was wearing spandex shorts, an oversized T-shirt, and a backpack.
The mystery jogger?
She was smart and mostly stuck to the shadows, but Trent was afforded brief glimpses of the perp where the streetlights had a farther reach.
His heart pounding, he dug in deeper, searching for the resolve to keep going. But as they rounded the street corner, and Trent followed, he lost her path. It was like she just vaporized into thin air.
The backup officer, a man named Kendall, came up next to Trent and worked to catch his breath. Every part of Trent’s body was ready to move. His muscles were pulsing, awaiting directions, but he had none to give them.
“We lost eyes on the suspect. I repeat, we lost eyes on the suspect,” Kendall said into his radio.
A PWCPD cruiser drove by, lights flashing, and slowed next to them. The officer put the window down.
“Call in more units to search the area,” Trent told him.
“Already done.”
As if on cue, more cruisers with their strobing lights appeared along the street.
“All we know is she went that way.” Trent pointed in the direction he’d last seen her go.
“She, sir?” Kendall asked.
“Yes, I’m sure it was a woman.”
The officers spoke to each other, and the cruisers set out. Some parked down the street before getting out on foot to start the search. Trent headed back to Blackburn’s house to check on the situation there.