The Echo Killing: A gripping debut crime thriller you won’t be able to put down!. Christi Daugherty
considered your own safety for one minute. You could have done a lot of things, McClain, if you’d just thought it through.’
Harper flushed.
‘I did think it through,’ she insisted. ‘And I decided I wanted everyone to live. Jesus, Luke. Give it a rest, OK?’
She folded her arms tightly across her torso.
His eyes swept her pale face.
‘Are you OK?’ He took a step toward her, his face softening. ‘I was half a block away when they let rip on you guys. I thought …’
His voice trailed off.
‘I’m fine,’ she assured him. ‘They’re crappy shots.’
‘Not that crappy.’
Across the road, the cops were searching the shooters, emptying their pockets onto the dirty pavement. Fat rolls of money, a handful of tiny plastic bags of white powder, a comb, some change.
Harper had begun to piece the night together. Luke worked on the undercover squad – which meant he mostly handled drug-gang cases. She hadn’t seen him in more than a month, which usually meant he was working somewhere deeply unsavory.
‘Luke – did this blow your cover?’ she asked.
She was relieved when he shook his head.
‘I’ve been keeping an eye on these clowns for a few weeks. Had a tip-off they were making a move tonight against a rival group.’ He glanced at her. ‘I’m still not sure how you and Miles got caught in the middle.’
‘We heard the call that the killers had been spotted,’ she explained. ‘Came over to see it go down. We didn’t realize it was going to go down right on top of us.’
She gestured as she spoke, and only then noticed that glass had cut her hand at some point. A small trickle of blood traced across her skin. Harper stared at it.
‘Jesus, Luke,’ she said. ‘They actually shot at me. Is this what it’s like to be you?’
‘Every day,’ he said evenly.
She rubbed the blood away. ‘They don’t pay you enough.’
‘Tell me about it.’
He fell silent for a second, then suddenly, said, ‘“You’re surrounded?” God’s sake, Harper. How much TV do you watch?’
‘I didn’t have time to think of a better line,’ she said defensively. ‘What do you say in these circumstances?’
He considered this. ‘I usually go with “Drop the gun or I’ll blow your balls off.”’
She gave a short laugh. ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’
‘Next time,’ he said, glancing at her.
When he smiled, he looked more like the rookie she’d first met seven years ago. All chiseled jaw and clear blue eyes.
Time and work had done a number on him. His edges had sharpened and all the eager innocence she remembered from back then was gone.
She wondered if he thought the same about her.
In the years that followed the ride-along, their careers had shadowed each other. He’d been promoted to detective the year she became a full-time police reporter. He’d been on a fast-track to sergeant – working homicides at twenty-five.
They’d always had a connection – a holdover from that first night on the road. Whenever she saw him, it was a good night. This wasn’t the first time he’d melted out of the darkness at a crime scene to check on her.
Then, abruptly, eight months ago, everything changed. Luke left Homicide and joined the undercover squad. He’d refused to tell her why.
It didn’t make sense. Undercover was a lateral move – and a tough one. The work was dangerous and hard. When Harper first heard about it, she’d tried to find out why, but he ducked the question, refusing to be pinned down. Still, she could sense something was wrong.
Since then, she’d seen less of him. He disappeared for long stretches of time. He changed his appearance regularly and dramatically – and he kept his distance. On the rare occasions when she did see him, he didn’t seem happy.
‘How’ve you been?’ She shot him a sideways glance.
‘Busy,’ he said, looking away.
Across the road, the three handcuffed men were now on their feet, watching the police with identical expressions of dull disinterest, as if everything were happening to someone else.
By now, crowds of gawkers had appeared on the sidewalk – manifesting as if from thin air. In malevolent silence they watched the police walk the men to the van that would take them to jail.
‘Luke!’
Another undercover cop waved for him to come over.
Luke raised a hand in acknowledgment.
‘Wait here,’ he told Harper.
She watched him go, his stride long and unhurried. Like him, the other cop was in jeans and a plain T-shirt. He wore his badge on a chain around his neck.
The two conferred in low voices, looking at something taken from the suspects. After a minute, the cop left, holding a plastic bag of evidence.
When Luke returned, he stopped on the far side of the car and motioned for Harper.
‘Come here. You need to see something.’
She walked over to join him, her shoes crunching on the glass.
What she saw made her breath catch in her throat.
The car was destroyed. All the windows were gone. The spray of bullets had left an uneven pattern of jagged holes in the doors and hood. Some of the gunshot holes were bigger than quarters.
‘I wanted you to see how close you came.’ The humor was gone from his expression. ‘Seriously, Harper, you’ve got to be more careful. One of these days you’re going to get yourself killed.’
‘Come on, Luke,’ she said. ‘I was doing my job.’
‘Getting killed is not your job,’ he said sharply. ‘It’s my job.’
Harper stared. Before she could think of a good response, Miles walked up to join them.
‘Our hero,’ he said, holding out his hand to shake Luke’s. ‘Thanks for the rescue, man.’
‘Miles, don’t tell me you agreed to this.’ Luke gestured at the car.
‘As God is my witness, I had no idea she was going to do that,’ Miles said. ‘All I ask is that you don’t arrest her until after she files her story.’
Turning to Harper he tapped his watch. ‘On that note, and as pleasant as this evening has been …’
Harper checked the time. It was ten minutes to twelve.
‘Shit. We’ve got to get back.’
Whirling, she ran towards Miles’ car. At the last minute, she turned back.
Luke still stood by the ruined car, watching her.
‘Thanks for saving my life, Walker,’ she called to him. ‘I owe you one.’
‘Damn straight you do.’
Something in his voice told her he was serious.
Back in the newsroom, Harper wrote the story with Baxter leaning over her shoulder.
‘Change “ran” to “fled”,’ she said, tapping the screen with a short, unvarnished nail.
Harper corrected the line without argument.
‘Good, good, good,’ Baxter murmured,