Killer Storm

by Jen Wright

  My mom had that same spunk. I allowed myself to miss her for a moment. I was the youngest of five, and the only girl, and my mom used to refer to me as "her baby girl." This did set me up a bit with my siblings, so I had to learn how to fight, or run fast. My mom used to spoil me rotten. She had waited so long for a girl. The problem was, I was a tomboy. She had to find it in her heart to forgive me that transgression, and to let go of her dreams of white dresses, pink hats, and the like when I hit five and began kindergarten. I hated dresses. How could I play baseball, tag, or anything fun in a dress and little black shoes? For the first week of school, my mom sent me off in a dress. By day two, I was packing a bag of jeans, tennis shoes, and a T-shirt to change into on the way to school. I don't know how she found out, but she let me dress myself after that first week. Perhaps she resigned herself to getting only five years of pretty. She never stopped calling me her baby girl, or loving me absolutely. I really did miss her.

  That got me thinking about the crush I had on my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Smyth. I didn't recognize it as such then, but I totally adored her. I would sit in the front row and just smile up at her. Then there was a student aide who helped out in first grade, etc., etc., etc. I theorized that some people are born gay, and some people have romantic feelings for both genders. I have always felt gay. I am totally clear about that. I remembered that mom hadn't figured it out until I told her. She was shocked, but you guessed it, supportive.

  Some of my friends were not so lucky. My dad, bless his still living soul, had me figured out long before I did. He asked me about my special friend once when I was about fifteen. I looked at him quizzically, and he let it go. He is an interesting man. He says some outright racist things. I think he was influenced in the navy during World War II somehow, but he is totally open in many other ways. He sometimes catches himself in his oppressive thoughts and works it out right in front of me. I give him points for trying.

  I can't help thinking about softball when I think about the time in my life when I was figuring out who I was. I went to college locally just so I could play softball. I had the honor of watching several teammates come out, or be outed, to parents. Some of them were disowned, some merely shamed, and others referred to therapists. I was very lucky in the parents lottery.

  Reminiscing about my supportive family brought on that too familiar pang of sadness about my brother Mark, who is not so supportive. We were closest in age, at fourteen months apart. We had a significant sibling rivalry going on all through high school, and our separate groups of friends sometimes overlapped. He played football and mostly hung out with guys from the team. I played basketball and softball, and a large number of my teammates dated his teammates. We ended up at some of the same parties. He wasn't thrilled. He did not want me to know what he was up to. He portrayed a "good boy" image with mom and dad at home, and a "bad boy" image at school.

  During his senior and my sophomore year, he got too drunk at a big party on the East End, and I had to cover his ass with mom and dad. When I got home, I wrote my parents a note informing them that Mark had had to take care of one of his friends who had been in a skating accident, and he had taken him to the hospital. He would be home as soon as he could and didn't want them to worry. We were on better terms after that, but I think he always felt like I had something to use on him. I never would have. When I came out to him, he just ignored me. I sensed he took some sick pleasure in being the more "normal kid," whatever that means. By now, the guy was forty-two years old! Maybe he would always be just a homophobe. I vowed to ask him about it someday.

  Chapter 7

  I called the local hardware store in Lakeside, inquiring about getting my window fixed. They couldn't come out to my home but gave me the name of a handyman who could. If he couldn't fix it on site, he would bring the whole window in. His name was Buddy Hinz. Why are most handymen named Buddy or Guy? Anyway, he would be out later that day to fix or remove it.

  For most of the afternoon, I worked on staff evaluations. My only interruption was about a possible lead in the case. Lou called to let me know that Don had questioned one of his probationers who had been in detention with Nichols. Don suspected that Nichols had bragged up his status while in there. Sure enough, he had.

  JT, a.k.a. Jimmy Tomlinson, had been in the same wing as Nichols. Nichols allegedly punched him while they were the only two in the shower, calling him a pretty girl. This happened away from the guards, but they knew something had happened.

  JT wouldn't talk about that but did tell Don that Nichols was known to his gangsta' buddies as "Nickel." He went on to imitate Nichols. "Nickel cause I always got five grand on me. Easy money for me. I'm gonna run the police, take a legitimate business, and make a small mint out of running drugs in Duluth." He had big plans. Said he would be "outta here soon, just you wait and see. They gonna open those doors right up for me. Have a limmo right out front." JT also said that Nickel was up one minute, thinking he was god or something, then down the next.

  "Weird," continued Lou. "But here is the good stuff. From what JT told him, Don thinks the Gangster Mob has been working out of an abandoned warehouse in the old steel mill complex in Morgan Park. The closest neighborhood is six blocks away, and there is a gate. If this is the place, it will be an easy raid."

  "When is it happening?"

  "Four o'clock. Do you want to come?" I thought about Kathy and my dad.

  "No, I'll just get in the way. Have fun, and stay safe. Don't make me break my word to the Chief, OK?"

  "No problem, boss."

  "So, when do you call me Jo, and when am I boss?"

  "Sorry, boss."

  "How are things at home?" I hoped to elicit thoughts of his loved ones in his mind. "You don't have to do this, you know."

  "Yes, I do."

  "Call me if you need anything."

  "Same for you."

  The hardest part about being the boss is standing back and letting others do what they are supposed to do. Man, I wanted to get in there. I called Kathy and Donna to see if I could pick up takeout, and they took me up on the offer. The only bummer about living on the edge of town was being out of delivery range. No pizza delivery, no Cantonese, no Chinese, etc. I picked up takeout pizza for us and for the surveillance team at Lou's. That was a big hit. I also swung by my house to inspect the window situation. Buddy had taken the entire window out and boarded up the opening. It felt good to have that under way. I also took time to wipe up the footprints throughout my house. Soon things would be back to normal. Soon we would have our city back. I felt a pang of guilt for bringing such slime into the Valley. I was pissed off all over again. There were no signs of additional violation in my neighborhood or house. I hoped the raid was going well.

  My cell phone rang just as I walked into Kathy and Donna's. I checked the caller I.D., put the pizza box on the table, and took the call in the bathroom.

  "Jo, it's Lou. Here's the scoop. We got in and found one guy guarding the place with a machine gun. He opened fire, so the cops had to return it. The kid is dead. He was only fifteen or sixteen years old. We don't have an I.D. yet. We found an arsenal of guns, including some automatics, and a truckload of crack, powder cocaine, and pot. Huge amounts. The cops are still going through it. It looks to me like they received shipments here in moving vans, and this is the distribution center. It doesn't look like anyone but the guard lives here. There is a pool table, a video room filled with porn, action flicks, and some home videos of the gang.

  That's what I'm going to focus on. I'm taking the tapes back to the Police Department. We'll digitize them, blow up the pictures, and work on I.D.s. Hopefully, the search of this place will turn up an address. The police are a little maxed out about all the drugs. This is the biggest bust in the Midwest. They're having trouble focusing on anything else. I'll call you when I know anything more."

  "Lou, tell me where you were when the raid happened."

  "In the car, boss."

  "Really?"

  "Really
!"

  "Thanks."

  "It was for you."

  "And your family."

  "Good point."

  "Get some sleep tonight."

  "Yes, boss."

  By the time I hung up, dinner was on the table.

  "So, how was work today, Jo?" Kathy's question sounded a tad dubious to me.

  "Funny! We're making progress. Big drug bust today. You'll hear about it on the news. Don't worry, I was nowhere near it. In fact, it went down while I was on the way home. I made a conscious decision not to go." I hated how defensive I sounded. I felt like I was seven again.

  "Excellent! We are proud of you."

  I rolled my eyes and thought, This must be how Lou feels. While it was nice to be cared about, I couldn't really talk to them about this. Shit! I changed the subject.

  "I arranged to get my window fixed today. Fields Hardware gave me the name of a guy. Should be fixed tomorrow or the next day."

  "Great!"

  "I also talked to my dad. He read about the intruder at my house in the newspaper. I can't believe they used my name. I don't need that."

  "Why? Do you think it will mean more trouble?"

  "I hadn't thought about that. Did you see the coverage? Did they give my address?"

  "They didn't, just that you live in the Valley, and they gave your job title."

  "Well, at least that part is good. I just don't like my work and home mixing. I don't want people worrying."

  "Speaking of that, Dar called here today looking for you. I told her you were fine and that you were staying with us for now. Her number is on the phone board."

  "Oh, great, how did she sound?"

  "Concerned." I did not want to have to deal with Dar at all right then.

  "Kathy, do you have headlamps? I could really use a walk. I'll take all of the pups."

  "In the front hall, help yourself. The batteries are fresh in all of them, so you shouldn't need a backup. Mind if I go along?"

  "Cool. Let's go."

  We walked up the old railroad grade to the river and back in near silence. That was one thing I really loved about Kathy, her ability to share comfortable silences. It was a great trait to have in a friend. She did ask me if I was ready to begin dating yet. I told her I didn't know. I hadn't really done the closure thing with Dar, even though I was glad it was over. I didn't ask why she was asking.

  Besides the grade, Kathy and Donna have a circular trail that connects to the west branch of the Little Knife River; the same river that borders my land and trail. The ski down the river from my house to theirs is incredible every time. It is especially incredible right after a heavy snowfall. The river is narrow and curving. There are sinewy cedar trees growing through dark shale rocks, pine trees of every variety, a few birch, and poplar trees. Heavy snow on the branches causes them to hang over the river. The effect is spectacular. My favorite time to ski or snowshoe is after dark, with a moon bright enough to navigate by. At the end of most skis, we have a hot sauna and run around naked in the snow until we are ready to heat up again. I couldn't wait for more snow. The snowfall we had so far was barely enough to cover the ground. Just a tease.

  When we got back to the house, I called Dar. She had been worried after hearing about the intruder at my house and the likely attempted murder of Juvenile Probation Supervisor Jo Spence. I told her the story had been exaggerated. There had been an intruder, but the dogs had alerted me, and the police chased him off. I did not tell her about the gun or my little rock-throwing idea. We made a date to go to lunch the following day at the Lift Bridge Café. I could not tell how she was feeling about "us." If lunch didn't go well, I would still have a good view of the lake.

  I couldn't find a comfortable spot in the unfamiliar bed and didn't sleep well. When I did fall asleep, I dreamed that someone else was living in my house. I drove up to come home, and there was a minivan in my garage. Inside, I could see someone washing dishes. I didn't know what to do about it. I just stood there. The stranger began looking out the window, and I ran and woke up.

  In the next dream, I woke up happy to have a dog at my side, only to realize that it was a man. The man yelled, "Get out of my house! Get out of here!" Once again, I ran and woke up.

  I tried one more time to sleep. I was standing in front of my coffeemaker about to pour a cup of French roast. The entire floor began to turn like a treadmill. I ran faster and faster, and all I could think was, "Damn, can't I get a fucking cup of coffee?" I woke up sweating. I finally gave up at 4:30 A.M., showered in the basement, made a pot of coffee, and began a note for Kathy and Donna. Before I had finished, Donna came down the stairs.

  "Are you OK?"

  "I couldn't sleep. It's not the bed or your place or anything. I think I'm just stressed out. I need to get a security system or something. Thanks, though."

  She just walked over and gave me a hug, looked me in the eyes, and hugged me again. I thought about how lucky I was to have her in my life. She is secure enough to respect the friendship between Kathy and me, and also to be there for me herself. Amazing. She is such a fem, too. That morning she was wearing her tiny white house robe with lavender fuzz around the collar.

  With Kathy and me, the rules are simple. I help her with stuff; she helps me with stuff. We talk to each other about our relationships. We kick each other in the butt once in a while when the other is being a selfish jerk, or when we see the other giving up too much. Donna knows that Kathy talks to me about her. She doesn't try to be my best friend, or to put me in the middle. I know she is glad Kathy has me. I found myself wondering if I give Donna half as much as she gives to me. I wished that she could have a close friend, too. I knew of no one.

  Chapter 8

  My cell rang on the way to work. I pulled over because there were too many dead spots along the way to permit an uninterrupted conversation. Nate filled me in on the activities of the Gangster Mob from the previous night.

  He said that the surveillance van in front of Lou's had been shot to hell. They used it for drive-by target practice at 3 A.M. "Thank god, it was bulletproof. The guys inside didn't get off a shot. The good news is they didn't get shot, either. They couldn't pursue the shooters, though, because the engine compartment was not bulletproof. Suspects then evidently drove from Lou's to the Detention Center. It looked like they tried to shoot their way in, but they didn't make it."

  The police found some blood near the entry doors, and they thought that the gang members shot at the bulletproof glass straight on, got hit by a ricochet, and gave up. The place was swarming with squads in under three minutes, but they were gone. They must have thought that Nichols was still in there. Even if they had penetrated the first door, the second door would have taken time. There is no way they would have had time to break anyone out. It took some guts to try, though. For sure, it took stupidity. Add a kid brain on drugs to firepower and money, and you have a very dangerous situation.

  Nate relayed Lou's thoughts on the utter unpredictability of this gang, "They really think they're something. According to Lou, if we watched a couple of Rambo movies back to back, we might be able to predict their next move."

  Lou was going over their little home videos and planned to develop a diagram about the structure of the gang and how many members we were dealing with.

  After the attack on the surveillance van, the police were going to put Lou and his wife somewhere else and offered to do the same for me. I declined, telling Nate I'd be at my office for the whole morning.

  By ten o'clock, Lou had digitized pictures of the gang members. They were clear and straight on. They were posing with guns. If there were no members who were not on the videos, we were dealing with seven primary players and about thirty runners. The seven were Smithy; Nickel; the fifteen-year-old guard, now deceased; and four unknowns. The structure was lieutenant, sergeants, and chief arms specialist. The runners were all soldiers. Nickel was lieutenant, Smithy was chief arms specialist, and the guard was one of the soldiers. Lou sent this new packet
out to the same distribution list as the gang information packet. He would be over to brief our staff at eleven.

  Lou looked a little haggard when he arrived. He was wearing a bulletproof vest. He asked me for a cup of my coffee, so I knew he was tired. He did a great job of presenting the update to the staff. Charlene, an adult felony PO, recognized one of the pictures. She had Steve Latrell on open probation. She said she would have a last known address. Char is known for her meticulous chronological records. She also regularly does home visits on her clients. She checked her computer and was back in front of the large group in under a minute. She had printed out a picture from Crim Net for comparison and had printed Latrell's chronological record. He was on probation for felony assault for taking a pool cue to a guy at a bar because the poor guy talked to his girlfriend. The victim ended up with a broken nose and several broken facial bones. The police took Latrell into custody on the original arrest, so he also had a history at the jail where the presentence investigation was completed. He served the first ninety days of his sentence, was released, and never showed up for his first report.

  There was a good chance the address he had given was a fake, but it was worth a try. Probation has the authority to search an open client's home without a search warrant, so we had to be involved. Char and Lou requested police backup. The address was in the West Hillside, less than a mile away.

  I glanced at my watch. 11:55 A.M. I was supposed to meet Dar at noon. Shit! I called her on her cell. She was generous about canceling and told me to call her if things changed.