by R. A. McGee
Porter couldn’t help but laugh. The genuine moment had passed.
“Think it’s funny? Wait until I tell Tessa how you really feel. Should I get her now? Tessa. Tessa,” Porter said, getting louder.
The two had a good laugh and then were silent for several minutes.
“What are you actually going to do?” Ross said.
“I’ve been thinking about that. Talking to Smitty gave me an idea.”
“I love that guy,” Ross said.
“He was telling me about a time he was in Vietnam. Long story short, he had to work with his enemy to combat a greater threat. I think something like that may work out for us.”
“What do you mean? Isn’t Hector the enemy? You can’t work with that guy.”
“Use your imagination a little bit. Remember when I talked to Miss Leona?”
“Sure.”
“She told me the Acres was split in two and Hector’s crew was the worst. The older guys, Jamal and Terrell, looked out for the neighborhood. The only reason there wasn’t an all-out war was because they were holding to a truce. What if I gave them a reason to move against Hector? With Hector gone, those guys can take over the entire neighborhood again,” Porter said.
“Your big plan is to turn two street gangs into one super gang? That doesn’t make sense.”
“That’s because you aren’t being pragmatic. Someone is going to run the Acres, whether you like it or not. Would you rather have Hector—who’ll snatch a little girl off the streets—in charge, or the other guys? Easy decision for me,” Porter said.
“What are you going to use Jamal and his guys for? Are you planning to get a bunch of thugs to have a shootout?”
“Am I an idiot? Why would I get in a shootout?”
Ross gestured to his bandaged arm.
“That was different. That was a checkers game. I had no choice but to react. We’re playing chess now,” Porter said.
“All I’m saying is, if you don’t want them to shoot it out with Hector’s guys and you can’t get them to go to the cops, what good are Jamal’s people?” Ross said.
“I’m still working out the kinks.”
“Fine. You let me know when your genius plan comes together. I can’t sit here all day, I have a client in fifteen minutes.” Ross pushed away from the conference table. “You crashing with me tonight?”
Porter nodded.
Ross balled up his trash and stuffed it into the empty take-out sack. Then he opened the conference room door, and looked at Porter before he left. “Well, whatever you come up with, I’m helping. I have to do something.”
Ross shut the door behind him, and Porter was alone.
Thirty-Three
Porter wadded up his garbage. Before he got up, he took a good long look at Danny’s billboard. He would never understand how anyone could hurt a kid. He’d sat in federal court for years and listened to perverts, killers, and child pornographers explain why they had done what they’d done.
No one ever told the truth.
Your honor, I’m a sick bastard. Please send me to the lethal injection table. I deserve it, none of them ever said.
Instead, there was talk about rough childhoods, unstable relationships, and years of prior abuse. None of that ever worked on Porter. He didn’t feel the least bit bad when they threw the book at the child abusers. In fact, it was the opposite. He always wanted to have a party every time one of them went away.
Porter stepped out of the conference room and walked past Tessa’s desk. She was on the phone and gave him a look that said, ‘Don’t do anything stupid.’
He left the office, caught the elevator down, and waved at Smitty on his way out. He had a feeling it was going to be another long day. Porter walked through the front door and there it was. The heat. Always the heat.
He hated the heat.
The truck idled as it cooled the cab off, and Porter looked down when his phone rang.
“Hey, it’s me.”
“You’re a ‘me’ now? Seems like this relationship is moving fast, don’t you think, detective?”
“Everyone’s phone has caller ID. I might as well say ‘me’ because you know who I am. I talked to Ruas this morning. He got me the rest of that info on the Acres you were looking for.”
“I can be there in ten minutes. That work for you?” Porter said.
“I was going to go to lunch, but sure, I’ll wait and structure my whole day around you. Never mind any other actual work I need to get done,” Rivera said.
“Give me a break. You work the coldest of cold cases, remember? The hottest thing going is the Danny Hill case. It’s your gravy train. Trust me.”
“I’ll be here. Try not to piss off any of my guys this time,” Rivera said.
“I’ll be a perfect gentleman,” Porter said.
“I won’t believe that unless I see it,” Rivera said as she hung up.
It didn’t take long to get to her office. He opened the lockbox; he had no gun to stash away, but he dropped his pocketknife in. He fished around for a minute, moving the stolen gun he’d taken from Tattoo, then shut the box and slammed the tailgate.
Stepping into the lobby, he was again greeted by a powerful air conditioner, as well as Officers Fischer and Raymond. They looked like they hadn’t done a thing all day.
“You two again? Don’t they set you guys up on a rotation or something? You can’t be permanently assigned here.”
Officer Raymond spoke. “It’s a two-week rotation and this is our second week. I’ll be glad when it’s over. I’m sorry, sir, what was your name again?”
“Porter.”
“I’ll let Rivera know you’re here,” Raymond said.
Officer Fischer was at the walk-through metal detector again. “Look, it’s the asshole.”
“You’re learning new words,” Porter said. “That’s cute. Let’s try another one. Do you know what ‘philander’ means? Because Rivera does. So maybe you should knock it off.”
Fischer’s face turned red and he stammered.
“What’s that?” Porter said.
Rivera opened the door and motioned Porter back. He looked at Fischer and strode past him, right past the metal detector. Rivera shut the door behind them. Together they made the walk back to her desk, where she paused to grab a thick file. Then she led Porter to a large conference room. The gray table was empty, save for a large black speakerphone.
No holding room this time, Porter thought. I’ve been upgraded.
“What did you do to Fischer? Why is he stuttering like an idiot?”
“Eh, nothing. Just giving him the business.”
“Whatever you said looked like you confused him,” Rivera said.
“I’m not even sure how the sheriff could hire a guy like that.”
“There’s no telling how he got hired, but he’s not alone. We have plenty of mouth breathers working here.”
Porter looked around the empty office. “Speaking of which, where is everybody?”
“They all got called to assist Narcotics with a huge seizure. Just admin stuff, bagging and tagging. Glad I’m not there,” Rivera said.
Porter could tell she wasn’t being honest. The paperwork in a law enforcement job was the worst part of the job. Everyone likes arresting bad guys, shooting guns, and driving fast. Nobody liked evidence collection or chain of custody vouchers. The fact that they would leave Rivera, the newest detective in the office, behind during a shit job meant they didn’t like her. Or trust her.
“What happened to your arm?” Rivera said.
Porter was tired of telling the story. Trisha and Ross were one thing; they got the full accounting. Rivera could get the Cliffs Notes. “Some guys broke into my house. I got shot. I shot back. Boom, here we are.”
“Wait, the home-invasion last night was you? I heard all about that this morning.”
“Really?” Porter said.
“During muster, the captain was telling us about a home invasion in Town and Country, how it seemed v
ery organized and premeditated. They said the homeowner was lucky to be alive,” Rivera said.
Porter scowled. “Lucky my ass. I had a better plan and was better prepared, so I won.”
Porter watched Rivera working things out in her head.
“These guys that broke into your house, they were from the Acres, right? Even you can’t have that many people that want to kill you.”
“You’d be surprised,” Porter said.
“Is this all related to Danisha Hill?” Rivera said.
“What do you think?” Porter said. He was getting exasperated and the throbbing in his arm was getting worse and worse.
“Okay. Is there something else going on that I need to know about?” Rivera said.
“Why are you asking me all these questions? You know what’s going on. Why would I lie to you about this stuff?” Porter said.
“Porter, I have to be honest with you.”
“Aren’t you usually?”
“I looked into why you got out of law enforcement.”
Porter suddenly understood Rivera’s new trust issues. “You’re a detective. I assumed eventually you would detect. Did you talk to Ruas about it?”
“I tried, this morning when I called him for information on the Acres boys. All he would say was that you were a great agent. So I called your old office. No one there wanted to talk about you, until I spoke with some guy named Ling.”
Ling was Porter’s old supervisor, a paper tiger if there ever was one. He’d done a few short years at headquarters in DC and kissed the right backsides. Once he got his own office to manage, he floundered. Ling’s massive ego had prevented him from learning from his subordinates and the office had suffered. He and Porter had gotten off on the wrong foot, and had never come to terms.
“Ling’s a tool.”
“He sounded like it, but he was happy to drop the dime on you. He told me about the evidence you… planted,” Rivera said.
Porter stared at the file on the table.
“Why would you risk your career? Hell, risk your freedom?”
Porter thought for a few moments. “The subject of the investigation was guilty and flat-out told me so. Just because we couldn’t prove it didn’t mean he shouldn’t have gone to jail. Honestly, he should have fried. If you’d seen the victims, you wouldn’t ask me why.”
“Ling said they weren’t going to fire you.”
“Our internal affairs concluded that it could’ve been an accident, and that evidence got mixed up due to my carelessness. They recommended I be suspended, but not terminated,” Porter said.
“Were you facing criminal charges?” Rivera said.
“Most of the prosecutors suspected what I had done. Refusing to prosecute me was their silent support,” Porter said.
“Then why quit? Why not just take the suspension?”
“I was finished as an agent. The prosecutors weren’t coming after me, sure, but they’d never take another one of my cases. They’d always wonder if I was being honest. I didn’t want to go through that, so I left.”
Rivera looked away. There was silence for a few moments before she spoke again. “Do you regret doing it?”
“I hate when people say they wouldn’t change a thing. If you wouldn’t change some of the bad times in your life then you’re a fool. Everything that happened ruined some great parts of my life, maybe the best parts. I can’t get that back. Still, I believed I was doing the right thing, and I still think so.”
“Now that I know this, it changes things,” Rivera said.
“Things don’t look too different from where I’m sitting,” Porter said.
“I have to wonder if what you’re telling me is true.”
“Why? You don’t have to believe me, but you believe your own ears, right? You heard the recording. You heard Abel Quintana admit that it was his brother who took Danny Hill.”
“I believe the recording.”
“Then things haven’t changed. You don’t have to be on board with my methods or even trust me. I couldn’t care less. As long as I can prove what I’m claiming, then you don’t have to worry about it. You’re on this ride for a big case stat. You may be a new detective, but you know there’s something here that needs looking into. Who’s gonna do it? You? Your team won’t even let you tag evidence with them. They’re not going to follow you on a ‘hunch’ about a girl that’s been missing for so long. If you ever want to figure this out, you need me.”
They sat there, Rivera staring at a rap sheet and Porter leaning back in the faux leather conference chair.
“Things are complicated with the other detectives. It’s not fair for you to throw that in my face,” Rivera said.
“Maybe not, but I’m just laying it out for you. If you want this case closed, if you want out of this shitty assignment, I’m your guy. That hasn’t changed. So help me.”
Porter knew Christina Rivera wasn’t a dumb person. She knew he was right, and besides, she was already deep in this. “Fine, Porter, but don’t make me doubt anything you say. I need to trust you.”
“Then trust me,” Porter said.
Rivera pulled some papers out of the file. “What do you want with this stuff? How does any of it help us?”
Porter sensed the trust issue was closed, at least for the time being. He shuffled through the papers until he found a particular mugshot. “What can you tell me about this guy?”
Rivera looked at the FBI number on the mugshot and then matched it up with a rap sheet. “Jamal Hughes. He has a history of possession with intent to distribute, assault, and illegal possession of a firearm. He hasn’t been in trouble for a while.”
“When was the last time?” Porter said as he fished for another mugshot.
“Three years ago. He was convicted of possession and got sentenced to time served. He has an outstanding warrant for driving with no license,” Rivera said.
“What about this one?”
“Terrell White,” Rivera said. “He has no convictions for anything. Looks like he has one arrest for battery, but the assistant district attorney dropped the charges. He’s clean.”
“Or he’s good at hiding his dirt. Either way, I think they’ll do just fine.”
“Fine for what?”
“I’m going to help them take the Acres back from Hector, but first, you need to arrest Jamal Hughes,” Porter said.
Thirty-Four
“What are you talking about, Porter? Arrest him for what? You saw his record, he’s pretty clean.”
“You said he had an outstanding warrant, didn’t you? Pick him up on that.”
“It’s driving with no license. No one arrests people for that,” Rivera said.
“You have to. I need to talk to him.”
“So go talk to him. What’s stopping you?”
“Did you forget what happened last time I went to the Acres? If you want me to go back, I will, but you should tell those dopey detectives from last night to be ready for more bodies. I’m sure Jacobs would love a chance to pin something else on me,” Porter said.
“Jacobs is working your home invasion?”
“With his partner,” Porter said.
“Arrington isn’t too bad. Jacobs is a moron.”
“Okay, so do you want me dealing with them again? This time I’ll definitely be booked in and processed while they try to figure out why bodies keep stacking up around me. That’ll take time. You want this case closed, don’t you?” Porter said.
Rivera thought for a few moments. “What’s the point of arresting Hughes?”
“You get him down here, then I let him listen to the Abel Quintana recording. Once he knows I’m legit, I think he’ll listen. I have an idea that’ll work for both of us,” Porter said.
Rivera was quiet for a few more moments. Porter could see her weighing her options, probably a lengthy pro and con math problem going on in her head. He knew that at some point Rivera would decide none of this was worth it. Probably best to let the dead stay dead and just stick
it out on the Long Term Missing Unit. She wanted to get promoted, but she didn’t want to get herself any further on the radar by doing anything dumb. “Fine. I’ll go arrest Jamal Hughes. But I swear to God, Porter you’d better be right about this. If you aren’t, I’ll be severely pissed off.”
Something told Porter he didn’t want to see that. “When are you going to sack him up? Who are you taking with you?” Sometimes Porter couldn’t turn it off. Now that there was an arrest taking place, he felt a tingle of excitement and he couldn’t help but try to game-plan it.
“No one from this unit. They don’t like me much and I don’t want to tip them off that I’m working on this.”
“You could call Ruas. He and his guys could help you. They’re the gang unit, it makes sense for them to be arresting gang members,” Porter offered.
“No, I don’t want him involved. He may talk. I better just do it myself. I’ll drive over to the Acres and have a couple of patrol units in the area back me up. That way no detectives are wise to it. The patrol guys are always looking for a reason to do anything other than sit at accident sites and write paperwork,” Rivera said.
“Smart plan. Safer with backup, plus the uniformed guys are always hard chargers. They want a promotion.”
“That’s what they think, until they come to the LTMU and rot.”
“We’re working on that. Don’t forget, at the end of all this is a pot of gold. When are you going to the Acres?” Porter said.
“How about now? It’s not too late in the day. Might as well get it over with.”
Porter had assumed this would wait until tomorrow, but the idea of getting it done today was appealing. “That works. Where do you want me? I can stay here or I can ride along if you want.”
“Get real. The captain would chew my ass if he found out I left you here with no escort. And there’s no way in hell I can bring you with me like you’re some kind of college kid on a ride-along. Imagine someone finding out a disgraced fed was riding shotgun with me. I’d be working at McDonald’s by the weekend,” Rivera said.
