Chapter 44 The Shooter
\-Lucien-
An identified shooter under forty-eight hours? The words echoed as my hands tightened on my steering wheel.
It sounded too easy, and something about that ease felt wrong. Cases didn’t move that fast unless someone wanted them to, or wanted them buried.
Just as I arrived at the station, I received another call from Jackson. His voice was panicked.
“Sir,” he breathed before I could utter a word. “There’s a protest outside the office. Construction workers. They want you fired.”
My jaws clenched, brows knitting in confusion. “What construction workers?” I demanded.
He said something, but I couldn’t hear him because the noise had grown frantic.
“I’ll handle things here.” With that, he hung up.
When I entered the police station, I met the officer in charge of the case, and he quickly led me to his office.
He quickly explained how they had found the shooter. “An anonymous call came hours after the shooting,” the officer said. “They gave us everything.”
“An anonymous tip, huh? Strange.” I murmured.
How could it have been so effortless, as if he wanted to be found?
With that, the man slid a series of mug shots over the desk. “Do you know this man?”
My eyes hovered over the image, scanning, deciding if I had seen this man before. He had a glare that could kill, hair that needed a cut and a scruffy beard.
I thought long and hard, perhaps I’d seen him in passing? I wondered. No, I hadn’t. If I had, I would have recognized him.
“I’ve never seen him,” I concluded.
His brows creased like he didn’t believe me. “Are you sure, Mr. Blackwell? The suspect claims he’s worked for your firm.”
“If we'd met, I would have known. I never forget a face.” I said, flat.
He studied my face, then placed another file in front of me. A petition. My name sat at the top. Echelon Properties—Head of Acquisitions.
My offense? Unjust termination. Abuse of power.
There were dozens of signatures. So these were the protesters. Whoever did this probably wants me gone completely.
“These were all signed by construction workers. They claim you fired them unfairly,” he said.
“Legally,” I replied.
He scoffed, leaning forward. “Head of Acquisitions, huh? Do you even have such power?”
“Well, my role represents the company’s investment. I’m in charge of quality and risk, therefore it’s my duty to act fast if there’s a problem.” I told him in a matter of fact way.
He leaned back in his seat, he didn’t argue. Instead, he just stood. “You should see him.”
I followed as he led me to the holding room. It was quiet in there until the door opened and we walked in.
The man inside was shackled at the wrists, seated, head bowed. He looked smaller than in the photo, and tired. But the moment his gaze lifted and landed on me, something snapped.
He surged forward wildly, chains rattling. An officer caught him instantly, slamming him back into the chair.
“Son of a—!” he spat, struggling violently. “You think you can just ruin lives and walk free?”
I didn’t react.
I still didn’t recognize him.
The office led me out of the room to a glass partition on the other side of the room.
The questioning started.
He identified himself as Simon Walker, a senior supervisor who worked at one of our construction sites. “I had been on sick leave that day, only to get a call that the entire team had been fired!”
My mind went to that day. I’d been on edge from those flashy headlines about Celeste. Jackson said I’d gone too far, but in all honesty, they were doing a sloppy job.
His voice dropped and he spoke calmly. “I gave everything to that job, losing it broke me.” He sighed. “That petition wasn’t enough. I wanted revenge.”
“So you’re saying this was an independent attempt,” I said. “You weren’t aided by anyone.”
He nodded.
“I followed him for a few days,” he said. “Watched his routine. That evening at the company, I got under his car and cut the brake line—just enough so it would fail later. I didn’t want it to happen until he was on the road.”
He swallowed.
“That night, I followed him again. I thought he was going to drop the lady. I waited for when he’d come back on the road again. I thought I could do it clean. I thought I could get away with it.”
He paused.
“But I went too far. I didn’t think about the consequences. I didn’t think about what would happen if he survived. I didn’t think about what I was doing.”
He looked up at the detective, his voice cracking. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for any trouble I caused.”
Every detail lined up. Almost.
But something about it didn’t sit right. The anger felt too fast and neat, the story packaged like it’d been rehearsed over and over.
“What’s he going to be charged with?” I asked without thinking.
“Attempted murder, assault with a deadly weapon, and reckless endangerment,” the officer told me.
My jaw flexed as I thought long and hard.
Was James Ashford behind him? Perhaps that was the reason he had so much confidence?
But the thought didn’t stop there. How did James even know this man existed? Did he know my hidden identity as CEO?
The connection didn’t make sense. A former employee of my company shouldn’t be in James Ashford’s orbit.
Unless someone put them there.
Unless James had been watching me—
“Mr. Blackwell.” The officer called sharply.
I turned to him, blank.
“I said we need your statement as a key witness in this case,” he held out a form to me. “So the DA can proceed.”
I didn’t take the pen. Not when I suddenly felt like I’d been cornered.
“I want nothing to do with this case,” I said.
His eyes narrowed. “You can’t just—”
“I can,” I interrupted. “I have the right to.” I reminded him.
He stared at me, waiting for the moment I’d crack.
I didn’t.
He nodded. “Fine,” he finally said, “We’ll press charges anyway.”
With that, I walked out of the station without another word.
James Ashford, what the hell do you think you’re doing?
Outside the station, Jackson was waiting. When I reached him, the first thing I noticed was his split lip, fresh, still swollen.
“You okay?” I asked.
He quickly smiled. “Yeah, a protester punched me in the face for being a bad boss.”
He said it like it was nothing. Like he was used to taking the blame for things that weren’t his. And I couldn’t decide if I felt grateful or guilty.
“Come on, don’t give me that look.” He grinned. “I’m fine. You?”
“Fine,” I said, though I didn’t sound it. “The shooter, I think it’s a setup.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, a tip that came too fast,” I said. “A confession that clean? He was too confident to have acted independently. I think James knows who I am or at least has been watching.”
He nodded slowly, like he was absorbing each word carefully.
“Listen,” he said, voice low and steady, “don’t dig.”
“Why?” I asked.
He hesitated, then answered as if he was choosing his words with care. “Because if he knows that much… he’s not just dangerous. He’s connected.”
I frowned. “Connected to who?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. That’s the point.”
He looked at me, concern clear in his eyes.
“I’m telling you this because I don’t want you to be dragged into something way deeper than this.”
He paused, then added, almost quietly, “You know… I found out Edward’s wife and son died in a car crash a few years ago. No explanations. What do you think happened?”
I blinked. “What does that have to do with anything?”
He shrugged like it was nothing. “Nothing. Just… it’s a reminder of how fast things can spiral.”
He stepped closer. “I know you need to know the truth about your mother, but from the looks of things, you’re endangering yourself and the lives of the people around you.”
I couldn’t tell if he was just scared or concerned, either way, I nodded. “Alright.”
I said a silent apology as I watched him return to his car.
He was right about one thing: I couldn’t keep endangering people.
So, no more involving people. No more putting others at risk. Whatever this was, I’d handle it myself.
I would find the truth.
And I would deal with it—alone.