Free Gatekeeper by Archer Mayor

a couple of times to adjust to the darkness, and found himself staring straight at Roger Novelle.
    Novelle was hanging halfway out his car's shattered windshield, his face bloody and torn, one arm looking absurdly twisted. But he was alive. And in his good hand, he held a gun.
    The two men watched one another for a long couple of seconds. Overhead, the tree branches reflected the blue and white lights of the two cruisers that ground to a halt on the road above. Over the water's rush and the hum in his head, Jordan could barely hear the familiar chatter from the distant two-way radios.
    Then a huge, bright flash exploded from the end of Novelle's gun, and Jordan felt the impact of a sledgehammer smash him in midchest. 

Chapter 6
    "Hi, Tony. What the hell happened?"
    Police Chief Tony Brandt rubbed the side of his nose thoughtfully. Despite the late hour, he was neatly turned out as usual, looking like a slightly bemused college professor on leave from some midwestern ivory tower. A lifelong cop, he'd never managed to affect any of the typical cop trappings, from his manner to his taste in clothes.
    "Real mess, Joe. High-speed chase, police shooting, one man dead. Shades of Dodge City."
    "The dead man one of yours?" Joe asked, feeling a sudden dread.
    Tony waved his hand dismissively. "Henry Jordan caught a round in the vest. He's being kept for observation with a really good-looking bruise. If the shooter had aimed higher—or used a Teflon bullet—we'd be looking at a whole different story."
    "Who was the shooter?"
    Brandt looked at him curiously. "That's why I called you down here. Sam dropped by this afternoon and asked us to bring the guy in so you could have a chat with him. Apparently, Gail found him hanging out in Laurie Davis's apartment—Roger Novelle?"
    Gunther's brow furrowed. He'd tried contacting Gail several times tonight to ask her about that encounter. All he'd gotten was her answering machine, and when he'd driven by her house, none of the lights had been on.
    "You call her about this?"
    Brandt shook his head. "Didn't have a reason to. After Novelle took his potshot at Jordan, two other officers opened up and killed him. I didn't see what Gail could do for us, not right now, in the middle of the night. The state police will be running the investigation, and I don't doubt they'll want to have a chat—with her and you both, for that matter, given your relationship—but I don't think it's too complicated in any case. We found heroin in Novelle's car, and we've tracked down the user who was buying from him when Jordan surprised them."
    Gunther nodded at the sound of the magic word. "Heroin again," he murmured. "Well, I guess that guarantees the cat getting out of the bag."
    Tony Brandt gave his ex-chief of detectives a questioning look.
    "The headlines will tell you," Gunther partly explained. "The governor's going to try to milk this for all it's worth."
     
    * * *
     
    Gail's house was still dark when Joe pulled up opposite it a second time. Of course, at three in the morning, he wasn't expecting otherwise. He'd called again from the hospital, hadn't bothered leaving a message, and this time was determined to be less delicately self-effacing.
    He left his car, crossed the driveway to the kitchen door, igniting the battery of motion detection lights Gail had had installed following her attack, and applied his two keys to the locks she carefully set every night.
    He felt odd entering the house, and not just because of the circumstances. He'd once lived here with her, although he'd never felt truly at home. It had been bought with her money and decorated according to her taste, but his lack of comfort had stemmed more from the incentive than from the decor. She had needed him to be nearby, to watch her back emotionally and physically as she struggled to rebuild. He'd been happy to help, of course, had considered it a privilege and a natural extension of his love for her, but he'd also known it wouldn't last,