Torn Away (The Torn Series Book 1)

by Vincent Morrone

  The General shook his head. “Son, I do believe you’re trying to intimidate me. It’s hard to tell, as you’re doing a piss poor job of it. Instead, you’re just burying yourself.”

  Wilson and Harrington exchanged puzzled looks.

  “How’s that?” Harrington said.

  The General shook his head. “Your partner here just told me he knows all about McAlister Securities and Drew’s position in it, yet you never bothered to even check to see if he had an alibi.” The General tapped the folder of documents that were between him and Wilson. “That’s what I call shoddy detective work, which I suppose shouldn’t surprise me. You see, before I ever offered Drew a position at McAlister, I did my homework on him.” The General reached into his briefcase again, pulled out another folder, this one thicker than the first. “Knew all about the charges that were brought against him and then dropped as you had shit. I noticed back then, you had no other leads in Ms. Winter’s disappearance. What’s even more telling is you made no effort to generate any additional leads. Interesting how much of the physical evidence, such as the medical reports on what was in Drew’s system, seemed to disappear. Imagine that.”

  He pushed the folder forward, but Wilson ignored it and shrugged. “It’s been several years.”

  “But it didn’t take years for that evidence to go missing,” the General countered. “Cases are built on evidence. You had none back then, and as far as I can see, you’ve got even less now.”

  Wilson stood up, placed his hands on the table and glared. “You’re boy attacked me, took my weapon away from me.”

  The General, who looked bored, sat back and sighed. “Seems to me you should safeguard your weapon better, son. If one of my men allowed himself to be disarmed, I’d have his head.”

  “He had a weapon on him,” Harrington added.

  “All of my men have conceal and carry permits in all states,” the General countered. “But I’m assuming you knew that by now.”

  Slowly, Wilson sat back down. “Still doesn’t give Duncan the right to attack a police detective.”

  Stephanie leaned forward. “My client had no idea you were a police detective. You didn’t identify yourself. You simply put a gun to his head. He defended himself.”

  Wilson smirked. “We were loud and clear. I showed him my shield, told him who I was and to put his hands above his head and slowly turn around.”

  “You never identified yourself,” Drew said. “You put the gun to my head and threatened to blow me away.”

  Wilson shook his head. “You’re a liar and a murderer and I’m charging you.”

  “No,” Stephanie said. “You’re not. You’re going to apologize to my client and release him.”

  With a laugh, Wilson shook his head. “You’re nuts. Why would I even consider doing something like that?”

  Now it was Stephanie’s turn to smile. “Because if you don’t, you’ll regret it.”

  “Is that a threat?” Wilson said.

  “It’s a promise.” Stephanie leaned in and started to spout off legal jargon about self-defense, improper police tactics, illegal arrests, police brutality and court cases that were meant to illustrate Wilson didn’t have a leg to stand on.

  “Bullshit,” Wilson said, his face getting red. “It’ll be our word against his. Two detectives against a twice murder suspect. Who do you think a jury will believe?”

  “Well now,” Drew said, sitting back in his seat and smiling. “I’m guessing a jury will believe the tape.”

  Wilson started to respond, pointing a finger towards Drew with another accusation of the tip of his tongue, but hesitated as Drew’s statement sunk in. His eyes shifted to Harrington, and Drew could see them both begin to worry.

  There was a bead of sweat running down Harrington’s forehead, and there was a distinctive look of a panicked animal in his eyes. He rubbed his hand over his stubble and tried to put on his tough cop face, but it was too late.

  Wilson, however, was not quite ready to back down. “You’re a fucking liar. You killed Molly Winters and got away with it. You lied then and you’re lying now. You had no recorder on you and that bitch Rossi was up on the road when we found you. There was no way she could see you, much less record you.”

  Drew leaned forward, locked eyes with Wilson and narrowed his eyes. “That’s a fellow officer you’re talking about. You may want to watch your mouth, or someone’s going to have to teach you your manners.”

  Wilson mirrored Drew’s posture, lifting his chin as he leaned in, tempting Drew to strike out. “You going to teach it to me? All because I said a mean word about that lesbo? I’d like to see you try.” The dare in his eyes was evident, his smirk showcasing his arrogance.

  Drew realized Wilson was getting desperate, wanting him to strike out, to commit assault on an officer right here in the precinct while being observed and probably recorded. It would give Wilson a reason to charge Drew, not to mention an excuse to hit Drew back.

  Oh yeah, Wilson’s ego was still sore since he had his service weapon taken from him so easily. That alone was enough to make Drew not take the bait. Stephanie was rubbing his arm, trying to keep him from leaping over the table while at the same time taking Wilson apart verbally, and Drew watched his face grow redder by the moment.

  Man didn’t like a woman speaking to him that way.

  “Let me guess. You hit on Officer Rossi and she told you to shove it, and that’s why you’re calling her a lesbo,” Drew said in an almost amused voice. He sent a glance to his right, winking at Stephanie to let her know he was still in control. “Isn’t that what guys with more ego than balls say when they strike out?”

  Stephanie smiled. “It’s been my experience.”

  Drew turned back to Wilson, who looked ready to charge, as if he was a bull eager to be let out of the box.

  “Of course,” Drew added for good measure, “my impression is that Officer Rossi doesn’t need me to defend her. My guess is that she could hand your ass to you without working up a sweat. She’s certainly smarter than you.”

  Wilson forced a smile. “Oh? How do you figure that punk?”

  “Because,” Drew said, now enjoying himself. “She was smart enough to pull the recorder I was using to take notes for myself when I asked her to take my cell phone. It was in my shirt pocket and I’m fairly certain it picked up every fucking word you said.”

  Again, Wilson looked to Harrington, who now had a sheen of sweat on his balding head. Harrington cracked his knuckles, not in any sort of pathetic attempt to look tough as that possibility was long gone, but out of edginess.

  Wilson, however, was not ready to give up the pretense he’d been nothing but professional during their encounter. Drew wondered if he was the type that could lie about things so effectively they themselves started to believe it.

  “You’re a lying piece of shit,” Wilson said. He was nearly shaking with rage, incensed at the idea anyone might believe someone like Drew over him. “You got away with Molly Winters, but you’re not going to skate on this one. Everyone in this town knows you killed Molly and got rid of the body. And before long, they’re going to know you fuckin’ killed you own sister. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was for the same reason. Neither of them would spread their legs for you, you sick fuck.”

  Stephanie grabbed Drew’s arm, knowing that Wilson was still trying to provoke a reaction. “You’re out of line,” she said. “You’ve not only got no proof, but you’re willfully ignoring evidence that we’ve presented to you.”

  She pushed the folder of affidavits forward.

  “As far as the tape goes,” Stephanie continued. “I’ve heard it myself. You and your partner did not identify yourselves. Instead, you threatened my client, putting a gun to his head. My client disarmed you which I’m sure pisses you off to no end. And when Officer Rossi did identify both of you as Detectives, Mr. Duncan returned your firearm. So if there are any charges as a result of today’s altercation, they’ll be directed at you.”

&nbs
p; Wilson stood again, leaning on the table, pushing his face close to Stephanie, clearly trying to make her uncomfortable by invading her personal space. Stephanie didn’t blink. “You better watch your mouth bitch, or you’ll be sorry.”

  Drew started to get up himself, but the General gently pushed Drew back into a seated position. “Son,” he addressed Wilson. “I don’t take kindly to idiots who threaten my people and I’m not someone you want to piss off. You’re already in over your head and you’re only digging yourself deeper.”

  Wilson turned on the General, his lip curling in disgust. “Listen Grandpa, I’m not even sure why you’re in here as opposed to getting your diaper changed in some nursing home, but if you know what’s good for you—”

  “You moron,” Drew said, as he fought the urge to give Wilson exactly what he wanted. “You’re speaking to a decorated Marine General. He was in combat situations and running ops while you were in diapers, and he could still kick your ass today.”

  Wilson made a dismissive jut of his chin towards the General, before turning his attention back to Drew. “Let me tell you what I see. I see a guy who’s killed before and gotten away with it, coming back and doing it again. A lawyer who’s clearly fucking her client. And an old man too feeble minded to know not to be talked into giving false statements and phony alibis to a piece of shit like you. You’re a killer and a rapist and you’re going down.”

  Drew leaned forward, this time offering his own chin in a challenge to Wilson to strike out physically. He planted his most obnoxious smirk on his face and glared at Wilson. “Well then let me tell you what I see. I see a cop who never should have been given a badge. You’ve already admitted that you saw Officer Rossi on the road, but instead of approaching her and asking what was going on, you decided to sneak up on me, which if it weren’t for the noise of that passing train, you’d never have been able to do.

  “My guess is that if Officer Rossi wasn’t so close by, you would have simply shot me on site, assuming you have the balls for it. You’ve come up with some pitiful theory as to what happened with my sister, making little attempt to get to the truth. You’ve also been very insistent that you identified yourself as a Detective, but you and especially your partner over here are sweating bullets, hoping and praying I’m lying about that recording, which I’m not, and that’s gonna get your asses burned. You’ve given us more information on you than you’ve been able to get from me, which tells me you just plain old suck at your job and you wouldn’t be seen fit to scrub the toilets at McAlister Securities. My guess is, whatever game you’re playing, you’re just too damn dumb to get it right on your own. So I’m wondering who told you to try and pin this on me. Someone smarter than you, not that that’s saying much.”

  Stephanie snickered and Wilson tensed, like he wanted to hit her.

  “You’ve also shown a tremendous amount of hostility towards women, directed both at my attorney Miss Howard and Officer Rossi,” Drew continued. “It’s gotta burn your ass to be under the command of Sheriff Miller. You can’t stand the idea of a woman giving you orders.”

  Drew grinned, leaning in just a little closer. “Me? I’m gonna have me a good laugh when it happens.”

  Wilson fumed, his eyes locked with Drew’s. Harrington, sensing danger, was trying to signal Wilson to leave the interrogation room, and for the briefest of moments, it looked like Wilson was going to go.

  Instead he launched out of his chair, his fist was a hammer aimed at Drew’s jaw.

  Drew knew it was coming and the original thought in his mind was to let Wilson’s fist connect, but there was something inside of him that just wouldn’t give a bastard like Wilson a free hit.

  With reflexes honed in hand to hand combat in the most dangerous places in the world, Drew grabbed Wilson’s hand, twisted and slammed him face down onto the table. Wilson yelled out like a wounded animal, but Drew held him down. Stephanie screamed, yelling out Drew’s name while Harrington rushed over to assist his partner, but jumped back when the door opened and a commanding voice started to speak.

  “That’s enough, Mr. Duncan,” Sheriff Miller said as she walked over to the table. “Let him go now.”

  With a nod, Drew released him as if he were throwing away a piece of smelly trash. Wilson sprang up off the table, ready to leap over it and continue the fight, but Harrington pulled him back. Drew stayed on his feet, standing between Stephanie, her hand over her heart and the General, whose face was all business.

  “Stand down, Detective,” Sheriff Miller said. Her voice was low, but stern. Clearly, she was a woman who didn’t need to yell to be heard. She wore an air of no nonsense like it was a comfortable pair of pajamas. “I’ve heard enough. I allowed this little ‘interrogation’ to go on further than I should have.”

  Wilson was breathing heavily, trying to calm down. Harrington stepped up, trying to smooth things over. “Sheriff, we were interviewing Mr. Duncan who’s a person of interest in one homicide from years back and was found at the scene of the murder of his sister, interfering—”

  Sheriff Miller held up a hand, silencing Harrington who flushed red. “You and your partner should know that I was in the observation room for the entire interview. I saw and heard everything, including Detective Wilson’s extremely unprofessional conduct. I’ve also listened to the recording Mr. Duncan made, listened to his notes and heard the interaction on it between Detective Wilson and Mr. Duncan and at no point did Detective Wilson identify himself. Mr. Duncan is a licensed investigator, and the area is no longer considered an active crime scene, so it’s only natural he'd want to take a look at where his sister’s body was found.”

  “With all due respect, Sheriff Miller,” Wilson said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “Harrington and I went over that place ourselves. It was nothing but a place for the killer,” His eyes slanted towards Drew, trying to reinforce the idea that he still believed his theory that Drew murdered his own sister, “to dump his trash.”

  Without realizing it, Drew tensed and started moving forward, ready to rip the young detective’s head off, until he felt Stephanie’s hands on his chest, holding him back.

  “Don’t, Drew.” Stephanie turned her body towards Drew, her face inches away from his. “He’s not worth it.”

  Drew nodded, unclenched his fists and took a step back, but kept staring daggers at Wilson.

  “What he was probably doing was making sure he didn’t leave anything behind,” Wilson added. “A killer always returns the scene of the crime.”

  The General stepped forward and in front of Drew, in part to keep Drew from reacting himself. “Let me make sure I understand you, son. After all, I seem to be a feeble old man who’s just waiting for the early bird special.”

  Drew turned his head to hide his grin, knowing that tone in the General’s voice.

  “You believe that there’s no chance you and your partner could have missed anything?” The General asked. “No clue that might have been missed?”

  Wilson drew himself up, his self-importance in full display like a peacock showing off its feathers. “Not a chance. I don’t make mistakes.”

  The General folded his arms, narrowing his eyes as if he were struggling to understand. “And in your opinion, Mr. Duncan was looking for something that would indicate his own guilt in the matter?”

  Wilson, feeling a little more confident, placed his hands on his hips and returned pressed on. “You bet your ass, old man. Wanting to cover his tracks. Bastard dumped his own sister there.”

  “Is that right?” The General rubbed his fingers over his chin as if he was contemplating the situation, his head slowly nodding. “Interesting.” He slowly made his way around the table. “So what was he looking for?”

  Wilson started to answer, his mouth froze as he formed his first word, but then his brow furrowed in confusion. He glanced at Harrington, who seemed at a loss as well. Finally, he turned back to the General, annoyance clear on his face. “How the fu—” his eyes slid to Sheriff Miller for a m
oment. “How am I supposed to know what he was looking for, Grandpa? What am I, psychic?”

  The General shook his head and tapped his index finger on his lower lip. “No, of course not. If you were a psychic, or for that matter a half way decent detective, you’d have understood the implications of my question.”

  Wilson glared at the General and looked like he might try and take a swing at him. Drew almost wished he would. He’d love to see the General kick his ass.

  “What are you talking about, Grandpa?”

  The General smiled, but it wasn’t a friendly smile. It was the type of smile that let you know you were getting close to having your head ripped off if you didn’t remember your place.

  Wilson either didn’t understand or didn’t care. “Look, Grandpa—”

  “Do you like your teeth?” the General said.

  Wilson started to blink. “Do I… what? ”

  “Do. You. Like. Your. Teeth,” the General asked again. “Because I’ve got to be honest with you, if you call me grandpa one more time, you’re going to lose a few.”

  Wilson goggled at the General. “Now look…” Wilson started.

  “Save it,” the General barked. His tone changed from friendly to someone who was getting ready to order you into combat. “For over four decades, every soul on this Earth with a lick of sense has addressed me as General or Sir with two exceptions. My mother, who you are not, and complete morons. So next time you address me, you’ll address me with respect. I’ve been patient because quite frankly, watching you make an ass out of yourself has held a certain amount of amusement for me, but that’s getting old, real fast.

  “As far as your substandard job, let’s be clear here. You royally fucked up. You’re an embarrassment to your shield. You stand there and tell me that you checked that area thoroughly, that there’s no way you and your partner here who looks like he’s about to piss in his pants, missed anything, yet you don’t know what my man was looking for? If he was looking for something, surely you would have found it. Yes?”