Triple Double. James Lewis

never even heard of an incident like this except in the movies. To be shot while recovering from injuries—he shouldn’t have survived in the first place. Imagine how quickly his mind and body had to react to save himself from his attacker! Abron had an IV in his arm attached to the metal stand he used.

      “Add to that a neck and head brace screwed into his skull. Fortunately, the new bullet hole to his hand is the least of his injuries. Kelsey summoned so much strength for that strike it opened his midsection wound and twisted the head brace beyond repair. He went through a refitting with no painkillers, just a local deadener. Amazingly, he’s none worse for the wear. As far as being able to begin his duties, Dr. Marsh said he expects him to stay on the same schedule he had until fully recovered, just like the attack never happened. Officer Hollander, you can quote me on this—Abron Kelsey will be at his desk, working, in less than four weeks no matter how hard we try to keep him away from the station.”

      “When we ID his attacker, it should lead to who’s behind our unsolved double homicides.”

      “I’m guessing the assassin is either Union or an acquaintance of the Nelsons and/or McCoys.” Terry Hollander and Ron Rowe had a lot on their plates: Rose Lake, Newman Lake, and Abron’s attackers. Both detectives wondered about the hiring of Lieutenant Jake Monroe. Making the new deputy the lead investigator of the Newman Lake incident left them scratching their heads. They both liked the personality, but he was an unknown when it came time for working in the trenches.

      *****

      Hollander had never met the Nelsons or McCoys. His and Ron’s thoroughness in studying their backgrounds and case files would come in handy many times over the course of their investigation. The second attempt on Abron’s life left a body and little else. The dead assassin was dark-skinned, probably of Mexican descent. No tats, no scars, clean-shaven. Hollander wondered if the attempt was caused by something as simple as a dispute with a neighbor. More likely, somebody paid the perp to finish up what they started at Rose Lake. The investigation would take months. Terry muttered to himself, “I’d best pay attention.” Cynthia Berdot, Spokane’s assistant DA, had phoned the station the morning she was told of a head-to-head with the CDA sheriff’s office and Segeant Terry Hollander. “Ms. Berdot, this is Terry Hollander from the Spokane Sheriff’s Office returning your call.”

      “Deputy Hollander, I’m in charge of the Nelson files that have to do with Washington.” Cynthia was to the point and abrupt. In her forties, she had no time for small talk. “I need a report on your meeting with the CDA people on my desk tomorrow morning. Can you handle that?”

      What an asshole, Terry thought to himself. “I’ll have Captain Saunders fax it over after he reads it.”

      “I said, it needs to be on my desk first thing.”

      Hollander quickly decided his course of action. “Take it up with the captain. Anything else?” The phone clicked off in his ear. That was interesting, he thought to himself. Nelsons instead of the McCoy homicides? Seeking an opinion, Sergeant Hollander phoned the hospital. Abron Kelsey was the department’s underground railway to legal information.

      “Shouldn’t she be talking to Shawn or Croop or the Idaho DA’s office?” Abron’s answer was sketchy, at best. “To my knowledge, there are no laws covering her asking for details. I think it’s odd to put you on the spot like that without the consent of either captain. I hope this helps, but I’ve read nothing to the contrary.”

      “Thanks, Abron, get well.” Terry ended the call.

      Kelsey’s mind was unstoppable. Now, new fodder had been presented with this information. Along with everything else the case consisted of, a theory was beginning to take shape. His patience and diligence were just what the captain needed from him at this stage of the game.

      *****

      Communicating in a Bump Inn atmosphere was far different from the confines of the Spokane office. Since Terry had been promoted to lieutenant, another new name was assigned to their team, Detective Pat Price. The trio had been invited into the evidence room at CDASD. Idaho’s crime scene investigators were making it available to them after the Kelsey incident. Lieutenant Bara would meet them, offering an overview of his detectives’ findings. North Idaho’s CSI team was blessed with several cerebral civilians, or eggheads as law enforcement liked to call them. The evidence room offered up at least a dozen boxes involved with the Nelson killings. A new shelf in the room was dedicated to Officer Kelsey’s attack. Ron, Terry, and Pat would need more time. Interviewing Tony and the CSI people took most of the day. Officer Bara gave his approval for the next morning, allowing them entrance into the evidence room on their own. Captain Saunders had set up a meeting with all of his department detectives involved with both double homicides. Kelsey would be available by phone for questions from his hospital bed. Captain Sean Saunders was beginning to feel some pressure from above.

      *****

      “Come on, Abron, where’s your grit?” questioned Scott. Abron’s rehab trainer was trying a touch of mental pressure to get the most out of his charge. Abron was finally free of his headgear three weeks ahead of schedule. Lack of neck movement except for the second attack three weeks earlier had Scott pushing Kelsey, albeit slowly, to regain better side-to-side and up/down movement of his head. Abron’s abdominal wound had healed fast enough to allow him to work on physical training for his shoulders and legs. The hand and head holes had healed enough to where the wounds were closed. “We can’t get to heavy with your midsection yet. Slow stationary bicycling for no more than ten minutes a day will have to do for the next week. Don’t blow it and jump the gun. Keep it slow and steady.” Scott was a former police officer from Walla Walla. “I was injured on the job,” he answered Abron. Officer Kelsey was curious about how Scott became interested in physical therapy. “Being injured in a high-speed chase, while in service, pretty much changed things for me in an instant. I did get lucky though when my rehab boss ended up my wife.”

      “That says it all,” replied Abron. “How long was your therapy? And schooling?” he asked.

      “Thanks to Julie, a career change morphed into reality. The schooling took a while but was worth the fight. The job affords me more time off and the freedom of movement. I do a lot of work with clients in their home. How about you? Married?”

      Abron said, “Never have been. Marine corps then college. Haven’t had the time. There is a POI for the first time. Here name is Isabel.”

      “Izzy?” Scott replied. Seeing the look of astonishment on Abron’s face painted a picture, forcing Scott to do some fast background history. “Short blond hair, keen mind, and in-charge attitude?”

      To which Abron replied, “I guess she gets around.”

      “No, no, no, Abron, she is a great young lady. I met her when she was just thirteen years old and in rehab with me. Izzy was there because of a skiing accident. Did you know, she was being touted as an aspiring Olympic hopeful in downhill and slalom? Isabel had won or placed in just about every major junior competition throughout the Northwest. Her injury was so severe it took three or four operations on her hip and leg to put her back together again. Her competitive skiing was over. Julie and I enjoy talking to her now and again at the Davenport Hotel, downtown. Did you know she’s back to bartending, on crutches?”