26

"I guess I should start by telling you…I had reached a point in my career as a cop where a promotion was going to happen. I started doing ride-alongs with the detective units." At this Bailey smiled at Glen. He smiled back.

"Anyway…I drew a short straw. Pulled traffic duty on a Tuesday morning. Early week was the worst time for traffic duty…because there usually wasn't any. No one out, everyone working…boring. To most cops." Bailey rested her arms against the table and cupped her chin in one hand. "I was cruising a residential street, minding my own damn business, when this car shot through a stop sign. Didn't even tap his breaks. I might have let it go, the guy could have been late for work or something…but there were two boys standing at the corner, getting ready to cross the street. If they'd been in the intersection, the asshole would have hit them. So I called it in and turned on lights and siren. He pulled over easy enough. He didn't try to run."

Bailey paused for a breath. "I walked to his car. He rolled down his window. First thing that hit me…the guy was just a kid…had to be no more than twenty or so. I did the usual song and dance, where's the fire, blah, blah, blah. Got his license and registration. Took note of his name…Blaine Pennington…and his license number. I handed his stuff back and that's when he grabbed by arm and jerked me toward his car."

Mark reached out again, this time resting his hand on her leg. Bailey smiled in appreciation at the gesture. "I didn't even hear the gun shot. I made a stupid mistake…instead of walking back to the car to put his stuff in, I stood there and looked away from him. Gave him time to get his gun out. Rookie shit, they drill that stuff into your head a million times in training…but it was a fuckin' slow Tuesday."

"Jeez Coop." Glen said. He'd heard this story, but not told by Bailey. She didn't like to talk about it.

"What was funny…" Bailey continued as if she hadn't been interrupted.

"You found something funny about this?" Austin asked incredulously.

Bailey looked at her. "There is humor in everything if given the right point of view." She said, smiling. "The asshole squeezed the trigger before his gun cleared the door. The bullet went through the door and nailed me in the thigh. That hurt like a bitch, let me tell you, like getting slammed with a huge ass needle. Pennington actually let me go, like he was shocked the gun went off. Like an idiot, once again, instead of ducking or running, I stood there, trying to figure out what exactly had happened. He had time to bring the gun up. He shot me again. Aimed better but missed killin' me by a few inches. I fell down that time, not cuz it hurt, I wasn't really feelin' anything after the first shot…it was the force that knocked me back. He shot again, aiming down but not looking. Missed by about three feet. I just lay there until he drove off, playing dead."

"I heard him go, I crawled back to my car, I radioed in for help. Then I passed out. When I woke up, I was in a hospital surrounded by cops. They told me they had to dig to find the bullet…it had lodged close to my spine. The damn surgeon pretty much tore me in half to get to it. Captain Porter told me about the rest of that day…about the chase, the two other cops that got shot. One of them died. It was…it was awful. My fault. I guess I blamed myself, still blamed myself because I made such a stupid fuckin' mistake at the beginning."

"Coop…don't." Ken broke into her story. She looked at him.

"Why not? Hell, it's true."

"No it's not. We all fuck up from time to time, it's human nature. And yours was more understandable than some. The guy just looked too squeaky clean."

Bailey nodded. There was no arguing that point. "Yeah. He looked very Ivey League, very old money. Fancy car, nice clothes, clean cut. Found out later that the guy was actually twenty-six. His parents died in a car wreck and left him over a million dollars. He went through that money pretty fast, bought cars, a house, drugs. When he ran low on cash, he started dealing. Had a nice little cartel running, but we didn't know it at the time. He catered to the rich people in the area, the ones who didn't dare cause a scandal on themselves. Pennington was nuts, certifiable, but he had a very convincing act going."

Bailey paused again. She stood up and went to the fridge. She pulled out a bottle of water and took a long drink of it before returning to her seat. "So…the guy gets arrested. While he's in an interrogation room, he goes crazy. Screaming, yelling, spitting. He gets questioned for an hour, and he's braggin'...fuckin' braggin'…about killin' two or three cops. The detectives inform him that only one died. Pennington goes a little crazier, if that's even possible to imagine. He starts tellin' the cops how he should have got out of the car and put a bullet in my head, how he should have carried a bigger gun. He wanted us dead. He meant to kill a cop that day, and he just happened to see me stopped at the street corner. He figured I was a good place to start. He'd been arrested the week before that, something small time, PI maybe, I don't remember. But he was pissed."

"So one public drunk and he goes on a killing rampage." Glen said to no one in particular. "I heard those tapes they made of his original interview. Creepy."

"Creepy as fuck." Bailey agreed. She'd heard them too. She wasn't supposed to but…cops shared things, that was how it went. "He threatened to hunt me down, finish what he started. He seemed especially fixated on me for some reason. He barely mentioned the other cops he'd shot at."

"But…why?" Austin whispered.

Bailey gave her a half-smile. "Because above all else, he wanted a female cop to die. A woman arrested him the week before. Turned suspicion on him. His…clientele…tapered off because they thought he was a risk. So he was pissed. He took it out on me."

She sighed. "He called his lawyer. Then he retracted his entire statement. The lawyer said it was inadmissible because Pennington was on drugs…some mix of alcohol and cocaine and fuck all what else he put into his system. He was a dealer that used, and that's a very bad combination. They got a new statement from him, where he claimed to not remember anything. We went to trial. I had to testify against him, but they went easy on me because I had just quit the force, I was still hurting, I was a mess. The jury wasn't fooled by his sudden memory loss. They convicted him. Death penalty because his tirade was witnessed by so many people."

"Obviously they haven't juiced him yet." Ken said with a sigh when Bailey stopped to gather her thoughts.

"No. He decided to turn repentant." Bailey huffed. "Before his formal sentencing, he ASKED the police commissioner to sue him on behalf of the officers who were involved. That's what he did. The judge found that commendable and dropped the sentence to life in jail, no parole."

"So he's in jail?" Mark asked softly.

Bailey looked at him. "Locked up tight as can be. Maximum security, solitary confinement. He's been on suicide watch for as long as he's been there. The guy is not balanced, as you can guess."

"I figured that out. That doesn't explain why he would hire someone to kill you." Mark said.

"Oh, I'm getting to that. This guy was obsessive. He had a girlfriend. She dumped him as soon as he was arrested. The cop that actually arrested him…lets just say he wouldn't invite her in for tea any time soon. He hates us, because we all denied him something. I think the only reason I'm targeted is because I testified against him. He hates m because I had him locked up. He hates m because he had to give me some money for my pain and suffering. Most of all he hates me because all he wanted was to watch a cop die, and I didn't do that for him. And since he can't get to me himself…"

"He hires a little outside help." Glen said, shaking his head. "But…how the hell would he get in touch with Copeland?"

"You know as well as I do that there are ways." Bailey stated. "We know Copeland went to jail a few times but nothing ever stuck. It's possible while he was in, he got wind of a lifer needing an assist. Even after the payouts, the settlements, the court costs, Pennington still had quite a bit of money stashed away. He used it to hire himself the best contract guy around…and all just to get me since I didn't die the way he wanted me to."

Bailey was silent. The rest digested her story, her theory, not wanting to dispute her.

"So is it just dumb, blind luck that led Copeland here…where Payge and I are?"

"Partially." Bailey said with a nod. "Another part…you told him at some point you were from here. He thought it would be a good cover story, searching for his lost family. He didn't know at the time that I had already met you. My guess is…he figured out that I knew that his claims were bullshit…because I refused to play ball with him. He broke into the office to snatch the files. He hid there after the glass was found busted waiting for a chance to get me. I stopped him. Briefly. Obviously he's not done yet. Pennington found himself a nice little errand boy…with a familiar problem…"

Ken was smiling, his eyes cold. "Obsessive nature. Can't take failure, always has to be number one, and absolutely HAS to get his way."

"Very good." Bailey nodded at him. Ken's smile was more natural that time.

"Well…obviously we're not going to let Copeland get a second shot at you." Ken stated.

Bailey cocked an eyebrow. "I beg to differ. I think giving him another shot is going to be the only way to draw him out and end this thing once and for all." Her statement was met with stunned silence. Bailey smiled sweetly. "I'm starving. Hospital food sucks. What's there to eat in this place?" Just like that, she steered the subject away before an argument could begin. Her mind was made up. They were just going to have to see she was right.