“Thank you,” Rachel said.
Serrano leaned forward in his chair.
“Let me ask you a question, Ms. Marin,” he said. “Do you go looking for trouble on a daily basis?”
“Listen, Detective. Robles came to my house, armed with a gun and a knife big enough to cut the Rock in half.”
“And do you think there’s any chance he does all that if you don’t follow him home after the press conference?”
Rachel didn’t respond.
“I don’t know what your deal is. But tonight you just shot the brother-in-law of a murder victim’s ex-husband.”
“I feel like there’s a joke in there somewhere,” Rachel said. “You know, like a priest, a rabbi, and a shaman walk into a bar.”
“Laugh all you want, but this is serious.”
“I shot a man tonight, Detective. I know how serious it is. So why would Robles come after me?” Rachel asked. “And what he said. ‘I’m not gonna let you.’ I still don’t know what he meant.”
“Step back for a moment,” Serrano said. “You said your children went down to the basement. You told them they’d be safe there, that it was locked from the inside. Now if it was so safe, why didn’t you go with them?”
“Pardon?”
“If the intruder couldn’t get into the basement, why wouldn’t you wait down there with the kids until the police arrived?”
“Response time for our security system is up to six minutes. We both know that’s on a good day. I wasn’t willing to take a chance that whoever was in my house could leave and then come back for us another time. He was there to hurt someone. Maybe next time he comes to my office. Or the kids’ school. I had to make sure he’d be taken into custody. For that to happen, he couldn’t get away.”
Serrano nodded, but it was clear Rachel’s answer didn’t sit well with him.
“I’ll drive you all home; you can pack up; then I’ll take you over to the hotel.”
“Four star? Maybe somewhere with a spa where I can get a seaweed wrap?”
“Best Western,” Serrano said. “And even that’s stretching our budget. Let me ask you something, Ms. Marin.”
“Shoot.”
“Funny you should say that. The Mossberg you shot Robles with. That’s not a small gun. Most people I know keep a handgun for self-defense. The Mossberg has a hell of a recoil.”
“Don’t I know it. My shoulder feels like it got kicked by a mule. And I don’t think that was a question.”
“Where’d you learn to handle a shotgun?”
Rachel shrugged. “Spent some time on gun ranges. Wanted something for home defense. Something that would put somebody down quickly, if need be. The nine millimeter Robles carried would only put someone down if you hit them here or here.” Rachel pointed to her heart and then her head.
“Did someone get you into shooting? You were married, right? Husband teach you?”
Rachel glared at Serrano and said curtly, “Number one, I don’t need a man to teach me how to shoot. Number two, my personal life is none of your business.”
“Fair enough.”
Rachel knew Serrano wasn’t “just asking.” But she couldn’t answer that question. Still, something gnawed at her gut. A fear that this night had opened up a Pandora’s box she wouldn’t be able to close.
“Listen, Detective, I’d really like to try and get my kids settled the best I can right now. We’ve all had a hell of a night. If you want to talk about my romantic past, let’s do it another time.”
“Fair enough. Let’s go.”
Rachel gathered her belongings, and Serrano led her into an office where the kids were watching a rerun of Modern Family on a small TV. Eric was sipping a hot chocolate, and Megan was devouring a bag of cheddar-flavored Goldfish.
Serrano drove them home in his brown Crown Victoria. Rachel sat in the front with the kids in the back. Snow was coming down heavy. The roads would need to be plowed in the morning.
“How long have you been a cop?” Eric asked from the back seat.
“About eighteen years,” Serrano replied.
“Wow. Ever shoot anyone?”
“Eric!” Rachel scolded.
Serrano laughed. “It’s OK. But yes. I have. It’s not cool like you probably think. And you never want to hurt anyone unless you have to. There’s usually an alternative.”
“My mom shot a guy tonight. I guess there was no alternative.”
Serrano nodded. “No, doesn’t seem like there was. She did a good job protecting you two.”
As they approached their house, Rachel could spot the police vehicles from several blocks away. Red and blue lights bouncing off the snow-covered streets. By this time, the neighbors had left their houses and were congregating on their front steps to watch the scene unfold. Rachel did not look forward to having to deal with all the questions from local busybodies.
Serrano led them inside. Forensic techs were still doing blood-spatter analysis. There were several yellow tags stuck to the stairwell where some of the buckshot from the shotgun shells had embedded in the wall and stairs.
They laid a plastic tarp over the stairs so Rachel and the kids could get upstairs to pack. She grabbed a suitcase from her closet and packed several outfits for work and evening and toiletries, then went to each kid’s room and helped them do the same.
“Don’t forget your schoolbooks,” she said. “Take anything you might need for a few days.”
“Ugh,” Eric said. “I’m going to have to pack, like, eight books. They weigh a hundred pounds each.”
“Then pack eight books, and pretend you’re strength training.”
“I’ll help you carry them to the hotel,” Serrano said. He looked around Eric’s room. There was a wistful smile on his face. He went over to Eric’s bookshelf.
“Do you mind?” he asked. Eric shook his head. Serrano took out a tattered copy of each of the Lord of the Rings books and held them gently, delicately, like they were the Dead Sea Scrolls.
“How many times did you read this?” he asked, holding a dog-eared copy of The Fellowship of the Ring.
“Ten? Maybe eleven times?”
“Wonderful books.”
“You read them?”
“I have,” Serrano said. “My son . . . he loved them when he was your age.”
“Cool. How old is he now?”
Serrano ignored the question. “It’s late. Let’s get you settled.”
Serrano carried the luggage to the Crown Vic and drove to a Best Western off Lakeland Drive. Another officer followed in Rachel’s car, parked, and gave Rachel the keys. Serrano talked to the pimply clerk at the front desk and handed Rachel two keys.
“Officers Lowe and Chen are going to check on you from time to time. We may need you to answer some more questions about the shooting, so don’t leave the state without letting me know.”
“I have two children in school, Detective. I barely leave the house.”
Serrano laughed. “Get some rest, all of you. I’m glad you’re safe.”
“How is he?” Rachel asked. “Robles.”
“You shattered his collarbone into a jigsaw puzzle. He’ll live, but he’ll never do a full jumping jack again.”