Free Before She Dies by Steven F. Havill

Trujillo Sr. Remember? Sal and his cousin were the ones…” I held up a hand.
    “Please, Marty. I’m not ready for this. What you’re saying is that this woman, whoever she is, has crawled out of the woodwork and is yelping that her one and only, her brilliant and talented son, was murdered by the gestapo. Is that about it?”
    Holman leaned back in my chair and hooked his hands behind his head. “Basically, yes.” As a sudden dawning spread through his brain, Holman’s eyes grew large and bright and he lunged out of my chair. “Do you suppose…”
    “No, Martin.”
    He waved a hand wildly. “No, no. Hear me out. Do you think that somehow…”
    “One of Sonny Trujillo’s friends decided to avenge his death and saw the opportunity out on State Fifty-six somehow? No.”
    “You don’t think there’s a chance of that?”
    “No.”
    Holman deflated slowly as he scanned my face for signs that I might give in.
    “Why not? It’s as good as anything else you’ve got.”
    “I’ll grant you that, Martin.” I shook my head. “First of all, Sonny didn’t run around with the kind of friends who’d have enough brains to pull something like this. Whoever did it was a cold son of a bitch, Martin. The killer took the time to pick up his damn shell casings, for God’s sake. He shot Paul once from across the highway, then walked up and pumped another into him while Paul was lying on the ground. And then he shot Linda Real, shot her right through the driver’s window. If the glass hadn’t deflected some of the pellets, he’d have blown her head off.”
    “Christ, Bill.”
    I picked up the newspaper, idly folding it. “And then he picked up his casings, Martin. All except one that he couldn’t find.”
    “And you did?”
    “Estelle found it, yes.”
    “Then that’s something, isn’t it?”
    I shrugged. “Damn little.”
    Holman made his way around my desk and headed toward the door. “You’ve been over to the hospital?”
    “No. Estelle said her husband would let us know if there was any change.”
    “Is someone assigned to the hospital?”
    “Peggy Mears is over there. And I asked for some assistance from the state police. Ray Galiston will be there until four.” I glanced at my watch. “And they’ll send someone else then if they can spring somebody.”
    “If Linda regains consciousness, she might be able to tell us what we need to know.”
    “Maybe.”
    “She’s the only witness, Bill.”
    “So far, yes.”
    Holman stopped at the door with his hand on the knob. “Will there be someone there to question her at any time? I mean, if she should surface for even a minute, whatever she knows might be really valuable.”
    “Right now, that’s not our highest priority, sheriff.”
    Holman looked confused. “I don’t follow.”
    “Paul Enciños is dead. Nothing we do is going to bring him back. Much as I’d like to catch the son of a bitch who killed him, I don’t want to do anything that might jeopardize Linda Real’s life. I don’t want two dead. So we’re going to let the doctors alone to do their best. Later, if she can…”
    “She’s got to know, Bill. She’s the key witness.”
    “Only if she’s alive, sheriff.”
    Holman nodded and turned to go. I had a stack of patrol logs and radio logs I wanted to sift through in peace and quiet, but Holman wasn’t finished.
    “Will you give the eulogy?” I stopped short, and Holman added, “At the service. It’s Thursday morning at ten.”
    “I’m not very good at that sort of thing, sheriff.”
    “You don’t have to be good at it, Bill. And I hope that you never get enough practice that you become good at it. But it will mean more coming from you than from me. I mean, I’ll say a little something, but the official department sentiments should come from you. You’ve been in this business for a long time.”
    I nodded.
    “Thanks. Let me know if there’s anything else you want me to do.”
    “There is,” I said, and Holman