Page 12 of Donovan's Men

The crime scene tape had been removed this morning by the police, apparently, but a little piece fluttered against a lamppost. The brisk wind cut through my corduroy pants, and I regretted not having worn my parka. I’d lived in Winnipeg—also known as Winterpeg—in the middle of winter during my childhood, but I was still a west coast boy at heart. We rarely had more than a few days go below freezing in January.

Today was the coldest so far, and snow was predicted.

Donovan stood and met our gazes. “Cole and Julie were here. I was here.”

A mere foot away, if not closer—so the three were clustered together.

He pointed. “Elouise and Kelci were over there…” He gestured to a spot around the corner. “And Seamus and Tanya were…” He flapped his hand in the opposite direction. “But none of them had a direct line of sight.”

Which matched what Seamus, Elouise, and the others had reported.

“And…” He pointed. “Cole raised his coffee mug. He’s such a gracious guy, and he’s always thanking catering, even though he prefers the coffee our production assistant, Thomas, makes.”

I’d read about Thomas in the report Alessandra sent me. He’d also been on-site but farther away and therefore slower to respond.

“Anyway, I turned…” Donovan did so again.

As I watched his face, I read pain. He hadn’t said anything about his arm this morning, so this anguish was likely emotional. Although it could be both. I wanted to ask, but something so personal in front of the police officer didn’t feel right.

“She stood there.” He pointed to a spot about three or four feet away. “And she pulled the gun from the pocket of her trench coat and raised it. I…” He rubbed his forehead. His hand was ungloved, and it must be so cold. “I didn’t even have time to react…she just shot. It happened so fast. I knew Cole’d been hit, but I lunged for her. She got off two more shots…” He shifted his right arm.

“The other bullet hit the wall over there.” Tyson pointed.

I could barely see the disturbance.

Donovan nodded. “I’m lucky she didn’t hit me again. Anyway, I tackled her. And she went down. Hard. I know her head hit the ground, and I remember thinkinggood, maybe she’ll die. I was…” He drew in a deep breath, and when he let it out, a puff of air appeared. “Angry.” He looked up, meeting my gaze. “I don’t ever remember being so angry in my life. And I’ve had shit happen. Had people hurt me. Endured some bad stuff…but…yeah. In that moment, I wanted her dead.” He rubbed his forehead. “Or maybe I thought that later. It’s a jumbled mess.”

“Understandable that you wanted her dead.” Tyson nodded. “I’d still say it’s probably a good thing you didn’t kill her. Might’ve been an accident, but you would’ve had to live with that.”

“I’d have been totally fine with that.”

A cavalier thing to say—and I believed he believed it. Those thoughts might wind up being fleeting, though, and the guilt might’ve eventually set in.

At least that wasn’t the reality.

Donovan indicated the ground. “Larry, our security guard, came and held her down while I backed away. The gun…I guess she dropped it. And it lay a few feet away, and I thought I should secure it, but then Julie called out, and I realized Cole needed me.” He pivoted over to another spot. Then he waved his hand back in the previous direction. “Tanya took care of the gun. And I…” He frowned. “Julie wriggled out from underneath Cole—he’s a big guy—I knelt down. His shirt…” He gulped. “So much blood. And then Seamus was there with the first aid kit. Did I tell him to get it, or did he just do it?”

I started to provide an answer.

He continued on, and I decided he didn’t need me interrupting.

“And then I was pressing against the wound. With the gauze. And it’d be soaked within moments, but then Seamus wouldhand me more. And I kept thinking where are the sirens, right? Because someone’s had to have called. And I found out Elouise did…”

Suddenly, he looked up and met my gaze. “Is she going to be okay? I mean…and Julie?” He rubbed his face. “And Seamus and Tanya and…” He began to pace back and forth. He would take three steps, pivot, and then come back three steps. “I suppose I should be asking if I’ll be okay.”

“You all will.” I said the words with a surety I likely didn’t have the right to use. But in this moment, he needed to hear it. The truth was most people eventually moved on. The sooner they sought counseling after the trauma, often the lesser the ongoing symptoms. On the other hand, we could do everything right and a victim might still develop post-traumatic stress disorder.

“That’s it.” He waved his left hand in the air. “The paramedics came and took over. Some firefighters were on the scene—for reasons I don’t understand—”

“They were closer. They often have advanced lifesaving training.” Tyson said the words quietly.

I also knew them to be true. We also often had a paramedic shortage in Vancouver. They would have prioritized the shooting victim, but an ambulatory patient would’ve been less of a priority.

“Yeah, so this firefighter…Ford…” Donovan rubbed his forehead again. Almost like he was trying to massage the memories from his mind. “Like, he took care of me, and…that’s it. I went to the hospital, they stitched me up, and I had to wait to see how Cole was.”

“Do you remember anything else? Did Meggibeth say anything, either before or when you tackled her or after…”

Donovan shook his head. “Not that I remember—and I’m pretty sure that’s something I would remember.” He shivered. “I’m cold. Can we go to a coffee shop or something?”