Dead Air - By Robin Caroll Page 0,3
studio’s soundproof.”
The lawman settled his stare on her. “I understand that. Just trying to determine if you saw or heard anything. Maybe saw Mr. Ellison or Mr. Alspeed in the hall?”
“No, I didn’t see anything.”
The sheriff made further notes, then turned to Clark. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
Straightening, he looked at the lawman head-on. “I’m Clark McKay. I was told to be here at eight this morning to meet Mr. Ellison and the station staff.”
The sheriff huffed. “What about?”
How did he answer that? It seemed wrong just to blurt out the truth, considering the circumstances. “A business endeavor.”
“What, exactly, does that mean?”
All eyes burned into him. Might as well tell the truth. They’d all find out soon enough. “I’m the new owner of KLUV.”
Gabby gasped. Eric scowled. Kevin shrugged in that nonchalant way of his. “Cool.”
The sheriff scribbled furiously in his notebook. “I see. When did this take place?”
“We finalized the paperwork two days ago.”
“And where were you this morning?”
“At my house.” Clark straightened. “And yes, someone can verify that. My great-aunt stopped by with homemade cinnamon buns.”
Sheriff McGruder glanced at him, scraggly brows raised. “Who would your aunt be?”
“Beulah. McKay.”
The lawman let out a grunt as he scribbled again. “I know her address and phone number.”
The door squeaked open and a paramedic stuck his head inside. “We’re taking them to the hospital now.”
“Thank you.” The sheriff faced the group in the hallway. “After I conclude my examination of the crime scene, I’ll file my report and call each of you in to sign your statements.” Sheriff McGruder pocketed his notebook.
“Wait a minute. Are we, like, suspects?” Kevin straightened, tossing off his slouch like a bad suit jacket.
“Right now, everyone is suspect.”
TWO
DOA. Dead on arrival.
Gabby had caught a glimpse of Howard as EMS loaded him into the ambulance, still performing CPR. No response, and he’d been down for a long time. She knew it—he was dead.
Murdered. Gabby’s heart ached like it hadn’t since…well, in a long time.
She gathered her purse and stormed into the bright parking lot, climbed into her SUV and steered toward the hospital. Sending up a silent prayer for Robert, she ignored the tranquil beauty of her town. Instead, questions of who would want to hurt Howard and Robert plagued her. Lifting her cell phone, she punched in the speed-dial number for her best friend Imogene.
“Hello.” Imogene’s calm tone steadied Gabby’s thrumming heart immediately.
“Oh, Immy, Howard was shot at the station this morning. Robert’s unconscious. They were taken away by ambulance. I’m on my way to the hospital now.” She struggled to keep the tears at bay.
“Great day in the morning! A shooting? I’ll call Dr. Wright and tell him I’ll be a little late. I’ll meet you in the emergency room.”
Gabby whipped into the hospital’s lot, parked and jogged past the automatic glass doors. She stopped at the nurses’ desk. “I’m here with Robert Ellison and Howard Alspeed.”
The nurse nodded. “Someone will be with you shortly.”
Gabby wandered into the waiting room. An elderly lady with an ice pack on her arm offered her a shaky smile. Gabby returned it, then headed to the coffee station in the corner. She lifted the carafe and peered inside. The coffee resembled sludge and didn’t smell much better. She shoved the pot back on the warmer.
“Miss?”
She turned and faced the man in scrubs. “Yes?”
“Are you with Howard Alspeed?”
“Yes.” She walked to the doctor on wobbly knees. “I am.”
“I’m sorry, but we were unable to revive him. His heart was hit by the bullet.”
No words formed. Tears burned her eyes. She nodded.
“We’ll let you know about Mr. Ellison as soon as we can.” He rushed down the hallway toward the treatment rooms.
It was official. Howard had been murdered.
“Gabby.”
Turning, she spied Immy and rushed to her, letting the comfort of her friend’s embrace warm her. Together, they plopped onto metal chairs.
“What happened?”
As Gabby relayed the morning’s events, her own feelings mirrored in the expressions that crossed her best friend’s face—shock, a trace of fear, then outrage.
Imogene’s eyes were wide in her full face. “Great day in the morning! What do the police say?”
“Say?” Gabby shook her head. “They don’t say anything. McGruder doesn’t seem to have the first clue.”
“The police don’t have even one suspect?”
“Not that they’re sharing. Aside from all of us who work at the station, apparently.” Gabby hugged herself, willing the image of Howard’s dead face to flee. “Oh, and Mr. McKay.”
“Who’s he?”
“The new owner of the station. Robert had asked everyone to come in