Page 4 of Donovan's Men

I leapt up.

To my frustration, Mariah rose slowly, almost like working was a burden that took her away from her phone.

“Shooting on the set ofVigilante Justice.”

My ears perked. I’d interviewed the friend of the star of the show last year. Cole Hamilton had only sat in on the interview with Caressa Klein, but his presence hadn’t gone unnoticed. And their other friend, Michael Dubois, had been in attendance. Several times, I sensed something more between the three. Since our case had been interviewing Caressa about her work and the death of a toddler, her relationship—or relationships—with the men hadn’t been relevant.

Oh, and Mariah had fawned over Cole. It’d been embarrassing.

“Cole Hamilton?” Mariah’s voice went high.

Sergeant nodded. “Apparently, he’s the victim. He’s heading into surgery. Several witnesses are at the hospital, and I want them interviewed.”

“Do we know who did it? Was it an accident?” Shootings were pretty uncommon in Vancouver and tended to be either gang related or domestic issues.

“A crew member. She was injured as well. Patrol has taken her to Vancouver General for treatment.”

“Is that where they took Hamilton?” Right, because using the guy’s last name would hide my obvious interest in the man who was not only gorgeous but apparently a really great guy.

“Nah. They took Hamilton to St. Paul’s.” Sergeant cast her gaze between the two of us. “When the suspect’s in better shape, we’ll look at interrogating her. An obvious motive has yet to emerge.”

My first thought was the shooting had something to do with Cole appearing Saturday night at a charity gala with Caressa. The perpetually single man had staked a claim that he now had a girlfriend, and the entertainment media buzzed with the news. I’d admired his moxie. I’d also wondered because I’d always seen him as possibly bi or even gay. But those were fleeting impressions I couldn’t put my finger on. And since I was bi, maybe the thoughts were wish fulfillment.

We grabbed our coats and headed to our car. Generally, I tended to drive. Ostensibly so Mariah could keep up with whatever digital files our current caseload contended with.

I drove the short distance from our offices on Cambie Street over to St. Paul’s.

As I pulled into the parking lot, Mariah said, “Suspect is Meggibeth Smythe. She’s worked on the show for five years and, apparently, was at the gala on Saturday night. You know what gala?”

“Hamilton does a charity event every year.”Please don’t ask me how I know this.I did not want my partner knowing how closely I followed Cole’s career.

“We don’t have much to go on.” Mariah released her seat belt once I cut the engine.

“Yeah, but we’ll figure it out.” Early reports were often inaccurate anyway. As long as we found witnesses, we could figure things out as we went.

After parking, I led Mariah inside.

The warm air blasted us, offering a bit of relief from the cold.

“We’re looking for Donovan Riggs.” Mariah checked her phone. “And Julie Reyes, if she happens to be here. Apparently, Donovan was shot.”

“As well as Hamilton?”

She nodded.

I showed my badge at the triage desk. Pro forma, as the nurse knew me well.

She shook her head. “Donovan Riggs has been discharged. They stitched him up pretty quickly. VIP treatment.” She consulted her computer. “Cole Hamilton is in surgery. Maybe Mr. Riggs is in the waiting room?”

She provided me with directions, and within moments Mariah and I were at the elevators.

“If this Riggs guy’s been patched up already, it can’t have been serious.” Mariah frowned.

“Yeah.” I agreed with her assertion. “Hopefully, he’s here.”

We arrived at the surgical waiting room, and I immediately spotted Caressa next to Michael.

“Tyson.” Caressa nodded when our gazes caught. “Uh, everyone, this is…” She pressed a hand to her forehead.