The Right Call by Kathy Herman Read Free Book Online Page A

shaded the grounds around city hall. In the distance, beyond the ridge of rolling foothills, the silhouette of the Great Smoky Mountains seemed to fade in and out of the ghostly haze.
    She looked down at the cars parked at the meters. Fridays were always busy. Maybe people just wanted to get their business done before the weekend.
    She heard a knock at the door and turned around. Trent Norris filled the doorway.
    “Ballistics report came,” he said. “The nine-millimeter bullet that killed Tal Davison didn’t come from his father’s gun.”
    “Gee, what a surprise.” Brill hated the sarcasm in her voice.
    “Are you still stewing about Davison’s visit to the mayor last night?”
    “Yes. I don’t like being misrepresented or put in the middle.”
    “Are you going to apologize?”
    “And let Davison get away with insinuating that we bully people? No way. I told the mayor what I’m willing to do. I’ll issue a statement to the press and explain police procedures. I’ll make sure Davison doesn’t come off looking bad.”
    “How are you going to do that, Chief? He was totally obnoxious.”
    “Yes, but he was stressed. It was hard to think clearly under the circumstances, what with his grief over losing his only son and all.” There was that sarcasm again.
    Trent flashed a phony smile. “Yeah, right. I could tell how deeply troubled the guy was.”
    “Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that he just doesn’t know how to show it. It’s not uncommon for people to misdirect their anger when someone they love dies tragically.”
    “You’re being way too generous.”
    “I don’t want Davison Technologies to close the Sophie Trace plant.”
    “So what are you going to tell the media?”
    “I’m not sure yet. But I refuse to apologize for good police work. Now that we’ve eliminated Win Davison’s gun in the shooting, maybe he’ll realize we’re not out to get him.”
    “I don’t know, Chief. He strikes me as the type of guy that enjoys a good fight.”

    Ethan sat at the kitchen table at Drew’s house, the newspaper spread out in front of him. He heard the shuffling of bare feet on the wood floor and looked up just as Drew walked in, unkempt and unshaven, dressed in the same denim cutoffs and white T-shirt he wore the night before.
    “Hey, Cuz.” Drew stumbled over to the coffeepot. “I smelled coffee all the way upstairs.”
    “Help yourself. How’d you sleep?”
    “So-so. I couldn’t get the image of Tal out of my mind.”
    “The shooting made the headlines,” Ethan said. “I’m surprised, since it happened so late. They must’ve bumped another story and printed this one. According to the article, shots were reported a few blocks away right after Tal was shot.”
    Drew carried his cup of coffee over to the table and sat across from Ethan. “Did they mention my name?”
    “Several times. Here, you want to read it?”
    “So I can relive it? No thanks.”
    “The article told how you tried to resuscitate him.”
    “And yet … he’s dead, isn’t he?”
    Ethan folded the newspaper and drank the last of his coffee. “It took a lot of courage to attempt mouth-to-mouth on someone in that condition.”
    “Not really. I had to do something, and I couldn’t do CPR with his chest oozing blood.”
    Ethan reached across the table and gently gripped his cousin’s wrist. “No one could’ve saved him. You have to know that.”
    Drew stared at his cup. “Have you ever watched someone die?”
    “Not like that. I was there when my grandma Tremont died, but she was sleeping peacefully.”
    “Tal choked on his own blood. It was hard to watch.” Drew seemed withdrawn for a minute and then began tracing the rim of his cup with his finger. “He didn’t believe in God or a life after this one.”
    “Did he tell you that?”
    “Yeah. I invited him to a MercyMe concert shortly after he moved in. He left at intermission. We talked later, and he said that belief in a higher power