AS SOON ASthe gun went off, I instinctively crouched and drew my duty weapon from my shoulder holster. The crowd that had been gathering around us instantly turned and fled. People were running in every direction. And most of them were screaming.
I scanned the area quickly. Valerie had disappeared. No one right around us seemed to be a threat. Tex was still lying prone on the concrete. That’s when I noticed Alain.
It looked like he was on his knees, pinning Tex to the ground. I instantly realized something was wrong. It was the way Alain was bent forward. Then I saw blood start to appear on the front of his colorful shirt.
Alain collapsed on top of the big man. I wanted to check Alain’s wound, but first I had to locate the shooter. I looked up and spotted a thin man standing at the main entrance to the hotel. He held a semiautomatic pistol in his right hand.
I pointed my Glock at the man in the doorway. I shouted, “San Francisco PD. Drop the gun. Do it now.” My voice had cracked at the end. These situations could be overwhelming.
The man in the doorway looked shocked. He was frozen in position. The gun was pointing at the concrete in front of him. Even an accidental discharge could send fragments flying in every direction.
I started walking toward him with my gun aimed at his chest. My finger was on the trigger now. The finger seemed to tighten on its own. The man still hadn’t moved. I shouted, “Police! Drop the gun now or I will shoot you.”
I was less than twenty feet from where he stood at the door. It was a moment of truth. Too many cops were forced into this position.
I started to squeeze the trigger.
Just then, the man dropped his pistol. The sound of it clattering onto the hard concrete broke through my tunnel vision. I eased off the trigger. I quickly shuttled forward, at the same time telling the man to lie down on the ground in front of the doorway. I scooped up his pistol and stuck it in my waistband.
I yanked out the handcuffs I had stuffed in one of the sweatshirt’s pockets. I had the man on the ground handcuffed and patted down in record time. I jerked him to his feet and shoved him along so I could go back and check on Alain.
I pushed the man onto the ground near the garden bed. I held on to his arm so he didn’t fall face first. By now, Tex was sitting up, trying to figure out what had happened. I barked at him, “Get out of the way.” He looked at me with groggy eyes. I shouted, “Move!”
I holstered my pistol, grabbed my phone, and checked Alain. It felt like I did all three things at exactly the same time. When I rolled Alain over to face up, I saw he was still breathing. But there was a lot of blood soaking his shirt.
I ripped open his shirt and saw the sucking chest wound. I didn’tlike it, but the only thing available was the palm of my hand. I needed to stop the bleeding. I pulled out my phone with the other hand and tapped the speed-dial button I used all too often. As soon as the dispatcher came on, I gave our exact location and said, “Officer down. Officer needs assistance.”
I knew that would get a quick response.
CHAPTER82
LIZZIE NUNEZ HADto stop and catch her breath about halfway to the Garden Spot. It may have only been a couple of blocks, but she was trotting as best she could in hiking boots. When Lizzie was leaving the runaways shelter, she’d seen the boots in the back corner of the closet. They fit her perfectly. Nice red and black Columbia boots that went over her ankle. But she hadn’t accounted for the extra weight. She figured that’s why she was so winded.
Soon she was back on track. The front of the Garden Spot always looked like a music festival at night, with a lot of young people around and usually music blaring from somewhere.
As she hurried along, a rowdy group of guys in their early twenties rolled out of an Irish pub. At least that’s what it looked like. They were laughing when they stepped onto the sidewalk. They looked up and saw Lizzie.
The tallest of the men, a blond guy in a nice, casual jacket held out his hands to stop his friends. He looked at Lizzie and said, “Well, hello, beautiful.” He looked to each of his friends and said,“We gotta take this one with us to Hooligan’s for our next round of beers.” He waggled his eyebrows at Lizzie.
Lizzie said, “Sorry. Can’t.” She tried to squeeze past them.
The guy closest to her moved to block her path.
Lizzie backed up a step, getting ready to try the other side. Then all the frustration in her built up. Instead of moving to the side, she kicked the man who blocked her path between the legs.
He instantly doubled over and she skittered past him quickly. She didn’t turn around to answer any of the shouts being directed at her. She almost wanted one of them to follow her so she could deliver another kick. It revitalized her. It made her feel powerful. At least for a few seconds.
She finally made it to the block of the Garden Spot. But when she turned the corner, she noticed people running. A lot of them were shouting.
What’s going on?
She realized, in this wild melee of people, she wouldn’t be able to find Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. She’d failed once again.
She might as well see what was going on at the Garden Spot. Lizzie waited in the doorway of a hipster clothing store, with tie-dyed tees and bowling shirts in the window, watching as the flood of people ran past her. When it slowed to a trickle, she stepped onto the sidewalk.
Lizzie saw a girl about her age walking by and asked her what had happened.
“Someone shot up the Garden Spot. It was crazy!” Then the girl just walked on.
