The Target
Page 113
"That's an enormous distance," Ramsey said.
"Is the nurse all right?"
"Took off a lot of her right ear; she bled all over everything, which made everyone believe that your father had been shot, but yeah, she's fine."
Ramsey squeezed Molly's hand. "I guess we'd better get to the hospital. Miles, will you make certain Emma is never out of your sight?"
"No problem, Ramsey." He'd been wringing his hands, but now at the mention of Emma, her need to be protected, he instantly calmed down. By the time Ramsey and Molly were out the front door, Miles had pulled himself together. Emma stood beside him. He was holding her hand.
Detective O'Connor from Oak Park and two detectives from the CPD were in Mason Lord's room when they arrived.
"Show them in," Detective O'Connor said. Introductions were made quickly. Miles was right. There was blood everywhere.
"Ears bleed like stink," one of the CPD detectives said. He pulled on his own ear and Molly realized the bottom part was gone. He'd never be able to wear pierced earrings. She nearly laughed. She was losing it.
She slipped her hand around Ramsey's. He looked at her briefly, saw her too-bright eyes, and slowly, very slowly, pulled her closer. "It's all right," he said quietly, his mouth nearly touching the top of her head. "It will be just fine. Breathe slowly, that's it."
The hospital window was shattered. Two technicians were busy very carefully extracting the bullet from the wall just about ten inches off the floor. The woman was using tweezers.
Detective O'Connor looked tired and harassed, but that wasn't anything new. She felt tension between him and the other cops. He told them in his concise way, "Nurse Thomas was standing right next to your father, taking his blood pressure. Suddenly he seemed to weaken and fall back against the pillow. Nurse Thomas immediately leaned over him, holding on to him, when the shooter fired. If your father hadn't gotten suddenly weak, if the nurse hadn't pressed him down even more, shielded him, all those things, then the chances are good that your father would have gone down this time, Mrs. Santera. At the very least he would have been wounded. The bullet went through Nurse Thomas's earlobe, downward. The bullet slammed into the wall less than a foot above the floor."
Molly leaned over her father. "Dad, Ramsey and I are here. You're all right, thank God."
"Yes," Mason said. "I'm fine, Molly. Actually, I've got to be the luckiest bastard in Chicago. As for Nurse Thomas, I'm going to cut her a nice check for her bravery."
They turned to see the technician holding up the bullet. "It's fairly intact," she called out. "Enough for identification."
"Excellent," one of the Chicago detectives said. "We'll do a comparison between this one and the one they found on the scene over on Jefferson after Mr. Lord was shot. Are you Judge Ramsey Hunt?"
"Yes," Ramsey said. "It seems likely the bullets will match, but unfortunately it won't tell us anything else."
"At least we'll verify that we've got just one perp here," Detective O'Connor said.
Molly, who was staring at that smashed window, said, "He blew out the window. I remember all of us mentioned the possibility, but the closest building is so far away. At least one hundred and fifty yards, probably more."
"I'm not blaming Gunther," Mason said, the first words he'd spoken in a good ten minutes. There were seven people in the room, most of them talking. The instant he spoke, everyone shut up and turned toward him. He continued in that calm cool voice of his, "I remember when you were looking out that window, Molly. I remember you were one of the people who brought up the possibility, but none of us considered it a threat. We underestimated him. Technology just keeps racing forward, and this time, our brains stayed behind. We're getting old and careless, Gunther. The guy had a clear shot at me through that damned window." He leaned back against the pillow, closing his eyes.
Gunther said, "That's why we've moved the bed away from the window." He was pale and tense, as close to distraught as Molly had ever seen him. He added, "One thing we do know is this guy has to be a world-class sniper. I've known of maybe half a dozen guys who could have made that shot through a closed window."
Detective O'Connor said, "We'd like you to provide us with the names of all the men you know who would k capable of such a shot." He paused a moment, running his palm over his bald head. "You know, if Mr. Lord hadn't fallen back on the pillow at that particular instant..."
"Is the nurse all right?"
"Took off a lot of her right ear; she bled all over everything, which made everyone believe that your father had been shot, but yeah, she's fine."
Ramsey squeezed Molly's hand. "I guess we'd better get to the hospital. Miles, will you make certain Emma is never out of your sight?"
"No problem, Ramsey." He'd been wringing his hands, but now at the mention of Emma, her need to be protected, he instantly calmed down. By the time Ramsey and Molly were out the front door, Miles had pulled himself together. Emma stood beside him. He was holding her hand.
Detective O'Connor from Oak Park and two detectives from the CPD were in Mason Lord's room when they arrived.
"Show them in," Detective O'Connor said. Introductions were made quickly. Miles was right. There was blood everywhere.
"Ears bleed like stink," one of the CPD detectives said. He pulled on his own ear and Molly realized the bottom part was gone. He'd never be able to wear pierced earrings. She nearly laughed. She was losing it.
She slipped her hand around Ramsey's. He looked at her briefly, saw her too-bright eyes, and slowly, very slowly, pulled her closer. "It's all right," he said quietly, his mouth nearly touching the top of her head. "It will be just fine. Breathe slowly, that's it."
The hospital window was shattered. Two technicians were busy very carefully extracting the bullet from the wall just about ten inches off the floor. The woman was using tweezers.
Detective O'Connor looked tired and harassed, but that wasn't anything new. She felt tension between him and the other cops. He told them in his concise way, "Nurse Thomas was standing right next to your father, taking his blood pressure. Suddenly he seemed to weaken and fall back against the pillow. Nurse Thomas immediately leaned over him, holding on to him, when the shooter fired. If your father hadn't gotten suddenly weak, if the nurse hadn't pressed him down even more, shielded him, all those things, then the chances are good that your father would have gone down this time, Mrs. Santera. At the very least he would have been wounded. The bullet went through Nurse Thomas's earlobe, downward. The bullet slammed into the wall less than a foot above the floor."
Molly leaned over her father. "Dad, Ramsey and I are here. You're all right, thank God."
"Yes," Mason said. "I'm fine, Molly. Actually, I've got to be the luckiest bastard in Chicago. As for Nurse Thomas, I'm going to cut her a nice check for her bravery."
They turned to see the technician holding up the bullet. "It's fairly intact," she called out. "Enough for identification."
"Excellent," one of the Chicago detectives said. "We'll do a comparison between this one and the one they found on the scene over on Jefferson after Mr. Lord was shot. Are you Judge Ramsey Hunt?"
"Yes," Ramsey said. "It seems likely the bullets will match, but unfortunately it won't tell us anything else."
"At least we'll verify that we've got just one perp here," Detective O'Connor said.
Molly, who was staring at that smashed window, said, "He blew out the window. I remember all of us mentioned the possibility, but the closest building is so far away. At least one hundred and fifty yards, probably more."
"I'm not blaming Gunther," Mason said, the first words he'd spoken in a good ten minutes. There were seven people in the room, most of them talking. The instant he spoke, everyone shut up and turned toward him. He continued in that calm cool voice of his, "I remember when you were looking out that window, Molly. I remember you were one of the people who brought up the possibility, but none of us considered it a threat. We underestimated him. Technology just keeps racing forward, and this time, our brains stayed behind. We're getting old and careless, Gunther. The guy had a clear shot at me through that damned window." He leaned back against the pillow, closing his eyes.
Gunther said, "That's why we've moved the bed away from the window." He was pale and tense, as close to distraught as Molly had ever seen him. He added, "One thing we do know is this guy has to be a world-class sniper. I've known of maybe half a dozen guys who could have made that shot through a closed window."
Detective O'Connor said, "We'd like you to provide us with the names of all the men you know who would k capable of such a shot." He paused a moment, running his palm over his bald head. "You know, if Mr. Lord hadn't fallen back on the pillow at that particular instant..."
