Tracking Shot, Colin Campbell [moboreader TXT] 📗

the paramedics arrived. The paramedics wouldn’t arrive until the police had ensured that the scene was safe and the gunman had left. McNulty needed to tell them that straightaway. These people needed immediate treatment.

The door behind the judge’s bench creaked open and a shuffling huddle peered through the gap. McNulty raised his head.

“Keep out.”

He waved a hand.

“Shut the door.”

Now he was thinking about scene-preservation. Emergency personnel would disturb enough evidence without having witnesses trampling all over it as well. The sirens echoed around the outside of the building. Blue lights flashed through the windows. Armed men would be deploying around the perimeter to seal off the building. They didn’t know the scene was secure. McNulty leaned down and whispered into the extra’s ear.

“It’s okay. They’re here.” Meaning the paramedics, once the police knew the gunman had left.

McNulty crossed the room and headed toward the main entrance. He paused and took a deep breath. Moving slowly and carefully, he opened the door and stepped outside. Half a dozen guns swung toward him. He stood on the orphanage steps, holding his hands high in the air.

THREE

“You came in with a fire extinguisher?”

McNulty looked at Amy and shrugged. “You were in trouble.”

Amy widened her eyes. “I wasn’t on fire.”

They were sitting in the staff canteen at Stephen’s Industrial Cleaners next door to the orphanage. All the witnesses were sitting in the canteen, a staging area the police were using until they’d taken statements from everyone who had been present during the shooting. The orphanage had been evacuated and was now a crime scene bigger than anything the Waltham Police Department had ever dealt with. Boston PD was sending help and the Middlesex County Sheriff’s Department were already on-scene. Jurisdiction issues could be sorted later. For now they were in the evidence-gathering phase.

McNulty leaned forward in his chair and hugged himself. He shuddered and let out a trembling sigh. The adrenaline was wearing off and the shock of what he’d seen was beginning to set in. He’d been a police officer for more than twenty years before Titanic Productions had hired him, but even cops had to let go sometime. Usually after the dust settled and realization dawned. Realization of just how stupid charging in with a fire extinguisher had been was dawning on him now. A shiver ran down his spine and robbed him of his voice.

Amy saw the look in his eyes and pulled her chair up beside his. She rested an arm across his shoulders. She was in shock as well. Making light of it was her way of dealing with that. McNulty smiled a sad little smile. Gallows humor. The cops’ get-out-of-jail card. He would use it himself later, once the shakes stopped and allowed him to get his mind straight. But not yet.

As with all major incidents there was an element of organized chaos at the beginning. First priority was the injured, so preserving the evidence took a backseat for the first hour or so. Things got moved out of the way. Footprints were trampled over. The usual medical detritus mingled with blood splatters and bullet holes. Shell casings were kicked around and furniture moved aside. The only thing that wasn’t moved was the Panavision camera, and that was only because the tripod was too heavy.

The witnesses were another case where best-case scenario had to be worked around available manpower and space. Ordinarily witnesses would be kept apart so their stories weren’t contaminated by other witnesses’ opinions. Descriptions could easily be tainted by herd mentality, everyone discussing what they saw and bending the facts to blend with the overall view.

Initial witness statements were brief and to the point. Time, date and location. Why you were there. What you saw. What you did. More in-depth statements would be taken later. Anyone who saw the shootings was flagged for special attention. Anyone who could describe the shooter or his vehicle was taken to police headquarters on Lexington Street. Generally they all said the same thing: White male. Between twenty and thirty. Short hair. Medium height. Medium build.

The only thing they all agreed on was the dark grey panel van, and the only reason McNulty knew it was the getaway vehicle was because the witnesses had been corralled in the staff canteen of Stephen’s Industrial Cleaners. It was the dark grey panel van that he had seen turn into the side street just beyond the western barrier.

Initial accounts took almost three hours, the witnesses being allowed to leave one at a time once they’d given their statements and provided contact information. McNulty was last to leave, even though he hadn’t seen the shooting. Being first on the scene gave him a unique perspective that not even the first responders had. By the time the police began recording the scene, all sorts of things had been moved or added. Crime scene photos weren’t taken until after emergency medical personnel had messed up the scene. Getting McNulty’s perspective on where everything had been immediately after the gunman fled was crucial.

“And then you came charging in with a fire extinguisher?” The lead detective didn’t sound as incredulous as Amy Moore had. “Ballsy move.”

McNulty didn’t feel ballsy. Right now he just wanted to find Amy and put the day behind him. He’d concentrated on everything he could remember and even drawn a diagram of where the victims had lain in relation to the doors and the focal point of the courtroom, the judge’s bench. Right where the actor playing the judge had been executed.

The detective glanced at his notes, gave the diagram a last once-over, and then looked at McNulty. “All you movie guys staying at the same place?”

McNulty pushed back from the table. “Yes.”

The detective stood up and waved for McNulty to go. “We’ll catch up with you tomorrow then.”

McNulty nodded then left the canteen. The person he wanted to catch up with had beaten him out by almost an hour.

Despite only being mid-afternoon, blue lights were still flashing on