As the day wore on, my mind seemed to clear. I didn't have to shift my mind out of neutral to carry on a conversation. I had put off calling the detective, but now that my mind-fog was beginning to dissipate, the idea of talking to him didn't seem so daunting. I still didn't think my brain was working to its capacity, but the call was necessary.
Ray Collins, the Portland detective assigned to the shooting at the Japanese parking area, answered the phone. After responding to his inquiry about my health, he got to work. He asked that I tell the story as I remembered it, not adding details that others had shared with me. I related the story beginning with meeting Steve Hunter in the parking lot and walking in the park. I then related the details of the attack by describing the sound of a revving engine, squealing tires, and gunshots.
"How many gunshots do you remember?" he asked.
"Three."
"Did you see the car?"
"Only a blur. Stan jumped out of the way, taking me with him. We ended up on the ground, and I got a concussion."
"Do you have any idea why you were targeted?"
I couldn't answer that question without going into a lot of detail, and I wasn't convinced the two incidents were related. After all, how many drive-by shootings happen in Portland, or any large city for that matter, in a year? I felt like asking him but decided it wouldn't be productive.
"You saw the damage to my car?" I asked.
"I saw pictures of the scene. As I remember, your car was hit on the driver's side."
"Yes. That happened Tuesday evening as I was fleeing my home. I had received a warning by phone: 'They're coming. Leave now.' So, I did. My son and I weren't far out of town when someone in an SUV plowed into the back of my car after pulling alongside and motioning me to stop. I didn't, so he drove into my car twice. He lost control of his car, and it went off the road."
"Did you report the incident?"
"No, I fled to my sister's home in Vancouver."
"Do you have any idea who was in the car?"
"That's what frightens me the most. I don't know why I'm a target, and I don't know who the driver was. One more thing: my husband was tortured and murdered three weeks ago. His body was found alongside a National Forest road."
He then asked for the details, such as the police case number for my husband's murder, the detective handling the investigation, my address, and my brother and sister's phone numbers.
"Do you have any idea who murdered your husband?"
"No, I thought we were just ordinary people running a construction company in Compton Hills. My brother is the co-owner of the business. He told me yesterday that perhaps up to 150k was embezzled from our company this calendar year. Sadly, my husband's initials appear on most bogus statements authorizing their payment. Unfortunately, my initials also appear on some, which makes me a suspect."
"I'll contact the Compton Hills department to discuss exchanging information. The shooting may or may not be related to what's happened in Compton Hills."
"If you look close, you'll see a bullet hole in the rear window on the driver's side of my car. I think we can say that the person who assaulted me with his car had violence in mind."
أنت تقرأ
No Fault of Mine
العاطفيةMia and her son, Brant, are on the run, but who is she running from? Suspicious calls, drive-bys, and a threat on her life propelled her to leave all behind and flee. But to where? Where will she find safety for herself and her nine-year-old son? Th...
