by Colin Conway
Ellis turned his palms upward. “He knows what we did.”
“He thinks he knows,” Garrett said as he crossed his arms. “What did you tell him?”
“Nothing, man. That’s why I left. So he couldn’t press me.”
“You could have called me about this. Instead, you went radio silent.”
Ellis glanced to the gun in Harjo’s hand. “I was afraid.”
“Weak,” Harjo muttered.
“Fuck you, man!” Ellis shouted. “You don’t know anything.”
“You weren’t afraid, Earl. What was the real reason?”
Ellis bowed his head. “I was afraid. I’m not lying.”
“Of Clint?”
He shook his head. “Of you, man. Of you.”
Garrett cocked his head. “You’ve got nothing to fear as long as you’re straight with me.”
“What we did to Strayer…” Ellis said.
“Leon?” Harjo asked. His brow furrowed.
“We set him up, G. Like a lamb for the slaughter.”
Harjo glanced to Garrett. “Wait. You set up that cop?”
Garrett shrugged.
“If you could do something like that to a cop,” Ellis said, “what could you do to me?”
“The detective,” Garrett said, “the one you said you left town for, he was watching this house.”
Ellis froze.
“Did he talk with your grandma?”
“He did.”
“Is that why you came home?”
“No.”
“Then why come back if you knew they were watching?”
Ellis shrugged. “She raised me and she’s alone now. She needs some help.”
Garrett scratched the side of his face. “You come home and suddenly the detective stops watching the house. Strange coincidence, don’t you think?” Garrett glanced to Harjo. “What do you think that means?”
Harjo grunted. “He talked. Now, they got what they wanted, so they no longer got to watch his crib.”
“That’s not what happened,” Ellis said. “I swear!”
“I don’t know,” Garrett said. “But I’m inclined to agree with you, Royal. Shoot him.”
Harjo extended his gun, but before he could fire, Ellis yelled, “Wait!”
Garrett said, “Hold on.”
Ellis held his hands in front of him as if they would somehow ward off an incoming bullet. “The detective! He took me to the station.”
“Clint did?”
Ellis nodded. “I didn’t say shit. I swear. He wanted me to, but I refused. You gotta believe me. He let me go. He had to. He had no other choice.”
“But now he knows you’re in town. He’ll keep after you. You should have stayed gone.”
Ellis glanced between the two men. “I’ll leave again. He’ll never find me. I swear—”
Garrett waved at Harjo and the gun fired. The boom echoed in the small house.
Earl Ellis grabbed his belly and moaned. He dropped to a single knee before collapsing to the floor. While Harjo moved in for a second shot, Garrett left the kitchen and returned to the entryway of the house. A second shot was fired as he returned.
“He used to be a good man,” Harjo said as he stood over the fallen Ellis.
“Used to be,” Garrett agreed.
Harjo knelt and pressed a couple fingers to Ellis’s neck. “I can’t believe you guys set up Leon to get a cop.” When Harjo stood, he faced Garrett with a smile of disbelief. “That’s a baller move.”
His smiled melted as Tyler Garrett shot him twice in the chest with Earl Ellis’s gun—the one Ellis had dropped in the entryway.
Royal Harjo dropped his gun, stumbled backwards a few steps before falling into a sitting position against a set of cabinets.
Garrett wiped his prints from the gun and stuck it in the limp hand of Ellis. He fired one more shot to ensure that some gunshot residue would be on the dead man’s hand. Then he checked Harjo’s pockets, found the burner phone he was using, and exited out the back door.
As he hurried out of the alley, thoughts of Angie and the kids again flooded his mind.
“Can I come in?”
“What for?” Angie asked.
Garrett cocked his head to pop a crick in his neck. “To see the kids.”
After leaving Earl Ellis, he’d driven directly to his former home. The images of Angie and the kids seemed to plague him now. Was it some sort of guilt trip he was on? If so, it had never happened to him before.
“They’re not home,” Angie said. “Besides, it’s not your day.”
“Not my day,” Garrett muttered. “No shit.”
Angie leaned against the door. “Have you been drinking?”
“What? No.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
Garrett shrugged. “Been thinking about you and the kids.”
She remained quiet as he shuffled back and forth on the front steps.
He glanced around. “Can I come in for a bit? Maybe talk?”
“It’s not a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve moved on. You have, too. You’ve got a girlfriend.”
“But I still…I love you. And the kids.”
She sighed with frustration. “I know that in your own weird way you love me. The kids, too. But that’s not why I left. I’ve already told you this.”
He shook his head. “But we could—”
“I don’t feel safe around you. No amount of love is going to change that.”
She stepped back and started to close the door. He held up a hand to stop it from shutting.
“We never even tried,” Garrett said.
“I did, Ty. You never even noticed how much I tried. That was part of the problem. Now, remove your hand from the door.”
He stayed there for a moment.
“If you want to cry on someone’s shoulder, go home to you know who. Remove your hand from the door.”
“Angie.”
“If you don’t, I’ll call the police.”
His mouth hung open. “You would?”
She shrugged. “You’re not respecting our boundaries.”
“But I haven’t done anything.”
Her eyes flicked to his hand on her front door.
Garrett dropped his hand then.
He stayed on the steps long enough to hear the deadbolt lock.
Chapter 49
“Ms. Berg?” Clint spoke into the phone receiver. “Did you hear my question?”
Angela Berg was quiet on the other end of the line. Then she asked, “Why are you calling me? I told you—”
“Have you seen Garrett?” Clint repeated.
“No. Why?”
“It’s all coming to a head,” Clint told her. “Today. Now.”
Angela made a sound that Clint couldn’t quite interpret. He pressed on.
“You’ve told me since the beginning that all you care about is protecting your kids. Is that true?”
“Of course, it is.”
“Then you know there’s only one way to do that now, right?”
She fell silent. Clint waited, his limbs humming with nervous energy. He wanted to be in his car, going after Garrett. But he knew this would be important later.
Finally, Angela said, “Yes. Okay. If you need me to come in and talk with you, I will.”
“I’ll be in touch,” Clint said, and hung up.
He left the detectives’ bullpen, walking past Marty Hill’s unoccupied desk. If he had to guess, the detective was probably already at the prosecutor’s office, securing an arrest warrant for Garrett. If he followed his stated plan, his next stop would be the chief’s office. That didn’t worry him. Baumgartner would handle that. Clint had a single-minded purpose now.
Find and arrest Garrett.
He made it out of the building without having to speak to anyone. When he reached his Impala, he slid behind the wheel and started the engine. He waited the nine seconds required for his police radio to boot up and hi
s Bluetooth to connect. When it had, he called Zielinski.
“Not at the wife’s,” he told him. He put the car in gear and started driving out of the parking area.
“Could she be lying?”
Clint considered. “I doubt it. She booted his ass, remember?”
“All right. I’m a couple blocks from the girlfriend’s condo.”
“When you get there, park—” A beeping sound interrupted him. He glanced down to see he had an incoming call. He immediately recognized Angela Berg’s number. “Hold on,” he told Zielinski, and switched over. “This is Clint.”
“How’d you know?” she asked him. “How’d you know he’d come here?”
Clint’s eyes narrowed. Had she lied to him before? “He was there?”
“Just now. Barely a minute after you called me.”
“Is he still there?”
“No, he’s gone. I called you right away.”
“What did he want?”
“To see the kids. And maybe me, too, I think.” She paused, her tone thoughtful. “Something was off about him.”
“Something has always been off about him,” Clint said. “Most people just can’t see it.”
“Maybe so.”
Her voice sounded sad to Clint, but he couldn’t be certain. “Do you know where he went?”
“No.”
“Thank you, Angela,” Clint said. He hung up, switching back to Zielinski. “You there?”
“I’m here and I’m outside the condo.”
Clint told him what Angela had said.
Zielinski let out a low whistle. “You know what it sounds like, right?”
“That he’s getting ready to run.”
“Yep. One last goodbye to the kiddos and he’s gonzo. That was his intention, at least.”
“Wait for me at the building entrance. We’ll go up togeth—” He stopped suddenly and turned up the police radio.
“What is it?”
“Shhh. Listen.”
Normally, the hum and rhythm of the patrol radio was something Clint only listened to passively. But he’d heard an elevated tone in the dispatcher’s voice, and as he listened to the details of the call for service, he understood why.
“—turned from the grocery store to find two men shot to death in her kitchen. She states one is her grandson, Earl James Ellis, a thirty-one-year-old black male who is in locally with drug charges. Complainant does not recognize the other individual, though she stated he appears to be Native American. She saw at least two guns and is unsure if anyone else in the home.” The dispatcher paused for a moment, then continued. “Complainant is standing by on her neighbor’s porch. All units exercise caution.”
Clint turned down the radio.
“Holy shit,” Zielinski said over the phone. “That had to be Garrett, right?”
Clint didn’t bother answering. His mind clicked through possibilities. There was no way Garrett would return to Tiana Kennedy’s condo now. She was a luxury he couldn’t afford. He had to be planning an escape. Where to? Another state? Canada?
“You want to me to pull off here and head over to the Ellis house?” Zielinski asked.
Clint frowned. “Why? Garrett’s not there.”
“I just thought—”
“That scene is static now. Let patrol and the detectives handle it. We need to find Garrett before he leaves town.”
Zielinski sighed. “This may not be New York, but it’s a big town. Where are we supposed to look?”
Clint smiled grimly. For the first time that day, he felt a small sense of satisfaction. All of those many long nights he spent trailing Garrett were finally going to pay off. He knew the man’s haunts.
“I have an idea,” he said.
Chapter 50
Chief Robert Baumgartner sat as his desk, staring out the window at the uninspiring view of the juvenile courts building and the employee parking lot. He had spent more than a few lonely moments in his office, contemplating difficult choices, but nothing had ever prepared him for this.
Tyler Garrett.
He didn’t even want to delve into the psychology of a man like that. All he could do at this point was contemplate the repercussions of everything he now knew. Garrett was what DOJ would doubtlessly call a “bad actor.” They’d be right, too, if making an understatement. But Garrett was a single man. No matter how corrupt, he didn’t represent the other three hundred plus officers on the Spokane Police Department. His department was clean. Even Farrell’s colossal mistakes were made in pursuit of a noble cause. It was a case of noble cause corruption, still in its purest form.
It didn’t matter, though. What mattered was that DOJ wasn’t finished with them. If there hadn’t been enough information to merit a consent decree before, there would be once Garrett was caught and arrested. Maybe he could somehow manage to convince Justice to proceed with a technical assistance letter instead, but he doubted it. The odds weren’t great before the Garrett revelation, but now?
No. A consent decree was coming.
He had to accept that. Not only accept it but embrace it. Take the good from it and try to mitigate the pain. That was the reality he faced.
Of course, I might not survive. Sikes might use this as an opportunity to do what he’s been aching to do for years—fire me.
“Let him,” Baumgartner muttered.
A knock came at his door.
“Later!” he hollered.
There was a silence, and then another knock.
“I said, later!”
The door cracked open. Detective Marty Hill peered in. “Chief?”
“Are you deaf?” Baumgartner rumbled. “I said I’m busy.”
Hill nodded in understanding. “I know. But trust me—you’re going to want to hear this. Nothing is more important.”
Baumgartner almost snapped back Wanna bet? but stopped himself. Instead, he motioned to the chair in front of his desk.
Hill lumbered in, closing the door behind himself. He sat and fixed Baumgartner with a steely gaze. “Chief, I don’t know how to say this other than to just say it. I have an arrest warrant for Tyler Garrett.”
Baumgartner stared at him in astonishment.
Hill misunderstood the reason for the expression on his face. “I know, it’s a shock, but let me tell you how I got here.”
Baumgartner listened with rapt, surprised attention as Hill detailed his investigation into the Ocampo quadruple homicide, Clint’s odd behavior at the scene, as well as his interest in the Anti-Crime Team. Then he dropped the bombshell about the bullet match, Clint’s trip to Liberty Lake, and the shakily drawn circle Nona Henry had made around Garrett’s photograph.
“I’ve been to the prosecutor already,” Hill said. “I know I should have come here first, but I also knew that time was a factor. I have the warrant, so we can notify patrol and scramble SWAT—”
The chief raised his hand, stopping Hill. “Marty, I need you to stand down.”
It was Hill’s turn to be surprised. “Sir?”
“I found out most of what you’ve told me less than an hour ago,” Baumgartner explained. “I put things in motion to deal with it. I need you to wait for that to run its course.”
Hill looked hesitant and uncomfortable. “Chief, I…”
“I’m not covering anything up, Marty,” Baumgartner assured him. “Don’t worry. But we need to make this arrest before anyone else hears about it. There are other factors in play here.”
Hill stared at him, his expression thoughtful. “You mean DOJ,” he stated.
“For one, yes.” Baumgartner shifted forward, resting his arms on the top of his desk. “Once Garrett is in custody, you bring your case forward. Hell, if he isn’t in custody in the next few hours, we might as well make it public. But until then, we’ve got a shot at cleaning up our own mess, and that matters for something.”
Hill didn’t answer. Baumgartner let him sit and think. He knew he had the authority to order what he wanted done, but he also knew that he’
d have no recourse if Hill refused. He couldn’t discipline a whistleblower, even if he wanted to.
Another knock came at the door. Before he could answer, it opened halfway. Marilyn stood in the doorway. “Chief, there’s been a double homicide in East Central.”
He almost sighed. When it rained, it poured. “Domestic?” he asked. “Gangs?”
“I’m not sure, but one of the victims has a drug record.” She glanced down at the note in her hand. “Earl Ellis.”
He heard a sharp intake of breath from Hill and looked over for an explanation.
“It’s in Clint’s file,” Hill said. “His notes are all in some kind of code, but some of the paperwork is official records. Ellis was one of those, and he was near the front of the file.”
Baumgartner nodded to Marilyn, dismissing her. When she’d closed the door, he said, “Marty, I need you on that scene.”
Hill hesitated again. Finally, he said, “All right. I trust you, Chief.”
“Thank you.”
Hill got up to leave.
As the detective neared the door, Baumgartner said, “Call me directly if you need anything.”
Hill nodded without looking back and left the office.
There goes a good man. Probably one of the best, but he believed that most of his officers were cut from that same cloth. Now, it was his duty to do right by them. Leadership was easy when the seas were calm. The real test came when it was time to ride out the storm.
Baumgartner stood and began pacing the length of his office. His hip caught a corner of his small conference table. The chief grunted. The pain was sharp but faded almost immediately. Frustrated, he pushed the entire table, chairs and all, to the side, leaving the path between the door and his desk wide open. Then he started walking again, back and forth.
Maybe I should call Clint for an update.
He knew that was a bad idea. He’d sent his man into battle. Now he had to wait for him to fight it. No one gets anything done with a boss looking over his shoulder, asking for updates.
Garrett was the immediate problem, but he’d made his decision on how to deal with that. There was nothing more he could do, at least for now. The gamble he took made his stomach tighten, but he still believed it was the right call. If there was any son of a bitch who could catch Garrett, it was Wardell Clint.
