The Only Witness: The Center City Series: Book One

by Shannon Flagg

  “Whatever it is needs to wait,” Will stepped up on the porch, adjusted his hat. “Couple of hikers came upon a body this morning, turns out it was Graham Caldwell. Also turns out that the gun was left with the body. The gun that had your fingerprints on it.”

  “The fuck it does,” Deacon set the bottle down on the table with a thump.

  “Oh, trust me it does.” Will looked pretty pleased by the fact. “Now, you come with me peacefully and I won't put the cuffs on you.”

  “Let me get this straight, you think that you're going to arrest me,” Deacon didn't know if he should be pissed or amused. Will was lucky that for now this was all pretty amusing. “First off, if I were to ever have reason to murder someone I'm quite sure that I'd be smart enough to take the gun with me or at the least wipe it off.”

  “I don't think, Deacon, I know. This is your last chance to do this peacefully. Otherwise we're going to go about this the hard way.” Will looked almost giddy at the prospect of the hard way.

  Deacon was happy to give it to him. “Guess it's going to be the hard way, then, Chief Will, because I don't know jack shit about what happened to Graham Caldwell.” Deacon picked up the whiskey bottle, took another sip and felt a now familiar tickle at the back of his mind. Vera was opened to him again, not just opened but reaching out to him. Deacon held firm, fortified the wall he'd been keeping up between them. There was no way he could deal with feeling her being scared of him again today, maybe not ever.

  “Deacon Hawke, you're under arrest for the murder of Graham Caldwell. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say may be used in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you can not afford an attorney one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?”

  “Fuck you,” Deacon replied.

  “I'm going to take that as a yes,” Will moved forward, grabbed Deacon's arm and twisted it hard before he shut cuffs tight around his wrist. Deacon hissed at the bite of the silver against his skin. What cop carried silver cuffs? The answer dawned on him, and it was the last thing he wanted to realize. If Will was using silver cuffs that meant he knew more than anyone had given him credit for.

  “You're making a mistake Will,” Deacon warned him.

  “Don't think so Deke,” Will let out a laugh as the phone began to ring on the table next to the whiskey bottle. “Looks like you're not going to need this.” Will snagged the bottle and tightened the cap before picking up the phone. “Hello. No, this isn't Deke. This is Chief Brothers. Who is this?” Will listened for a moment. “Well, I'm sorry, Vera, but Deacon can't talk right now. He's under arrest for murder.”

  Will ended the call and turned off the phone. “The guys in evidence will hold onto this for you.” He slid it into his pocket. “Get moving, Hawke, or I'll start to think that I didn't make the cuffs tight enough.”

  “You're going to regret this, Chief Will,” Deacon wasn't even bothered by the pain of Will tightening the cuff; it was worth it to have gotten under the man's skin. The silver handcuffs had tipped Will's hand. He knew the secret. The question that needed to be answered was how.

  Deacon didn't resist as Will shoved him in to the SUV. He was taken to the station, where he was booked, photographed, fingerprinted and charged with first degree murder. He knew his rights, he remained silent. He hadn't pulled the trigger on Graham Caldwell, didn't know who did, but it had nothing to do with him or The Vikings.

  Once he was in the holding cell, he turned to Will, who was gloating on the other side of the bars. “I want my phone call.”

  “Doesn't matter what lawyer you call, Deacon, I've got you dead to rights! The gun! Your prints! If you're smart, you'll admit it. It'll make the DA go easier on you. Hell, you might not get life. Maybe only twenty or thirty years.” Will was smiling ear to ear, Deacon was sure he'd have danced a jig if he could, or maybe he already had.

  Deacon didn't rise to the bait. “I want my phone call.” He repeated. He'd say nothing else until he got it. After a few moments of silence, Will reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

  “What's the number?”

  Deacon rattled off the number to Whiskey's registered phone. The older man would be awake while Master would be passed out still. Anytime Master was in charge, he partied, though he called it celebration. He took the phone from Will, listened to the ringing.

  “What's up, Kid?”

  “I'm down at the police station. Get Master up and get a lawyer down here.”

  “Police station?” Whiskey chuckled. “What did you do to piss off Chief Will this time? One day the charges he throws at you are going to stick. What are you going to do then?”

  “Let's hope I don't have to find out this time. Get it done, will you?” Deacon wasn't in the mood to give details, couldn't even if he was so inclined. He just wanted to get out of the cell. Normally he had no problem with the size of any space, large or small, but he was so on edge that it made him feel like he was actually in a shrinking box.

  “That's enough,” Will held out his hand for the phone.

  Deacon ended the call, handed it over when he really wanted to smash it against the ground, but that would be stupid. “Thanks,” he said brightly, “really appreciate it.”

  “Fuck you, Deke.” Will told him. “You're going down for this.” The threat was typical of Will, unable to be really menacing even when he tried. Deacon ignored it, moved to sit down on the hard bench that was the only place to sit with the exception of the floor.

  The Vikings had used the same lawyer, Beau Worthington, for years. He was good, really good, and as crooked as they came. The club greased his palm, and he yanked their asses out of any legal fire. Deacon knew that Beau would figure out something, he wasn't worried about that.

  He was worried about the gun that Will claimed they found, the one that allegedly had his prints on it. For the past month or so he'd been pretty lax about cleaning guns he hadn't used, was it possible that there was one missing? Adelaide wasn't always reliable about locking the house or setting the alarm, so someone could have gotten in. The gun safe wouldn't have been easy to crack but he supposed that someone with the right skill set might be able to do it.

  Someone like Houdini, except he knew that his friend would never betray him. If he had to pick a Viking brother to trust with his life, it would be Houdini, although he'd only known him for a few years. They'd met by chance, at a rally organized for charity. It was a good way to keep up The Viking image and actually do some good in the world. After the event there had been a party.

  Deacon had first seen Houdini when the man punched another man, equally as large, in the face for grabbing the ass of a passing woman. He learned later that Houdini hadn't even known the woman, it had just pissed him off since she was obviously pregnant. The fight had been over quickly, Houdini getting and keeping the upper hand. Eventually it was broken up, and he'd stepped forward to move Houdini in the opposite direction of his victim.

  They'd ended up grabbing a beer, and talked for hours. Houdini left the rally with The Vikings and Deacon had offered to nominate him for a prospect spot. He'd earned his full patch exactly a year to the day later. He was an asset to the club and the best friend that he'd ever had.

  Deacon knew that he'd gone to check on Vera and Susan, and he was glad for it. Houdini would also keep her safe.

  Hours passed and he sat there, content enough in his thoughts. There were certainly enough to keep him busy until Beau showed up. He wondered about the gun, about who would have been skilled and determined enough to take it. He worried about Vera and was especially careful not to slip up and let anything get through the wall from either side.

  Finally the door to the room opened, Will stepped back in with a younger man at his side. A skinny little man wearing a suit two sizes too big for him; he was also sweating profusely. “Well, here he is Deke. Here's your lawyer.”

  “That is not my lawyer. Call Beau Worthington.” Deacon couldn't think of a
ny reason why this kid would be here. The little shit still had acne on his face. “What are you? Twelve?”

  “Twenty-eight,” the man swallowed hard. “My name is Kenneth Evers.”

  “No offense, but I really don't give a fuck what your name is. All you need to do is call Beau Worthington and tell him to get down here now.”

  “Mr. Worthington is the one who sent me. He's out of the country.” Kenneth stood up straighter, he was still damn short for a man. “I can help you, Mr. Hawke, if you'll let me.”

  Deacon realized he didn't have much of a choice. If Beau had sent him, there had to be more to him than his appearance. “Alright, fine. Get out, Will, let me talk to my lawyer.”

  <#<#>#>#>#

  The chairs in the waiting room were made of some kind of durable plastic and the most uncomfortable thing that Vera had ever sat on. She glanced at her phone to check the time and let out a frustrated sigh. She'd been waiting for Will at the station ever since he'd hung up on her. The sound of her boot heel tapping against the floor was starting to grate even on her own nerves.

  Another glance at her phone let Vera know she'd now wasted two hours sitting and waiting. Two hours of such emotional turmoil that all she wanted was a hug and a nap. Tears stung the back of her eyes, not because she was sad but because she was so fucking frustrated. She wanted to know what was going on. Just as Vera was going to say fuck it and go find Will on her own, he walked through the door.

  “Ah Vera, just the woman that I was hoping to see.” Will removed his hat. “Come with me, let's talk in my office. I've got a few things that I need to ask you, actually.”

  “What could you possibly want to ask me? And for the records, questions or statements about my personal life are none of your business, so don't even bother.”

  “I was thinking we could start with what happened in your parking lot on Tuesday night. And before you say that you don't know what I'm talking about you should know that I've just come from New To You with the crime scene techs, there's blood and brain matter mixed in with your gravel. They will match Graham Caldwell's DNA.”

  Vera's stomach lurched. Why hadn't she washed off the lot? Why hadn't there been a rain? “I can see there being blood in the lot, kids like to play out there. But brain matter? I don't know anything about that, Will.” Vera stood her ground especially when Will tried to stare her down. That was not going to happen.

  Her heart was racing, though. She hoped that the vein in her throat wasn't throbbing because it would be a clear sign that she wasn't being completely honest. In her mind she could still see that night, crouched in front of her window terrified to even breathe as she watched Deacon pull the trigger.

  “You've been living in the store, twenty feet away and you didn't hear a gunshot?” Will let out a snort of amusement. “Don't even try because I'm not buying it. Now, we're going into my office and you're going to tell me everything that you know.”

  “We don't have to go to your office, I can tell you right now.” Vera stopped walking, let her voice carry and didn't really give a damn who was listening or watching them. “You're an asshole, Will, an asshole with a chip on his shoulder over shit that happened in high school, which is why you dragged Deke in here!”

  “It's not a high school vendetta, Vera, I'm a sworn officer of the law. The reason Deacon Hawke is currently in custody is because his prints were all over the murder weapon which was found with Graham Caldwell's rotting corpse.” Will was no longer smiling, Vera couldn't remember ever seeing him so serious before. “I thought that might change your tune. Come on,” he reached out and grabbed her arm.

  “Don't you touch me, don't you ever touch me Chief Will.” Vera jerked her arm away from him.

  “Your hand just hit my chest,” Will smirked. “Vera Warren, you're under arrest for assaulting a law enforcement officer.”

  “Are you serious?” Vera got her answer as Will grabbed her arm, spun her around and pushed her into the wall. He twisted her arms behind her back, tightened the cuffs more than he needed to. “Hey! Take it easy!”

  Will replied by reciting her rights as he pushed her ahead of him down the hall. Vera stopped resisting when she realized he was already using enough force to be considered excessive on top of the fact it was a bullshit charge. “Where are you taking me?” Vera demanded, she knew that the holding cells, Center City had two, were in the opposite direction.

  Will marched her through an open door, shut it behind them. “This is my office, Vera,” he led her to a chair. “Sit.”

  “I'm not a dog,” Vera replied. “And I can't exactly sit with my hands cuffed behind my back. Oh, by the way I've pretty much lost all feeling in my left hand.”

  “Don't be dramatic,” Will seemed to soften a bit. Vera didn't know what to make of it, but figured that she wouldn't question it since he reached out and unhooked the cuff from her left wrist. “Sit, please.” Vera sat down on the visitor chair. Will grabbed the left cuff and hooked it to the arm. “Don't look at me like that, Vera. You are under arrest.”

  “Why are we in your office?”

  “I want to talk to you privately. I've known you a long time, Vera. A very long time. I've always considered you a friend.”

  “We were friendly.” Friends was a stretch but Vera didn't want to poke the bear any more than she had to. “I don't understand why you're doing this, Will. I don't know anything about what happened on Tuesday.”

  “I can understand why you'd say that, Vera. I know that you must be scared. Deacon Hawke is leaning hard on you, isn't he? I saw him with his hands on you when you were in your robe. Is he threatening you? Telling you that if you don't sleep with him something will happen to you? He's a bad man, Vera. He's a monster.”

  Something in his tone set the hair of the back of Vera's neck on edge. Of all the things he could have called Deacon, monster seemed too specific. Maybe it just seemed that way to her because she'd thought the same thing earlier, or maybe it was the instinct she'd always had when it came to reading people.

  “I want you to listen really carefully to me, Will. Deke has not forced me to do anything. He has not threatened me. He's not leaning on me and he is not the type of man who needs to use fear to get laid. I slept with him because I wanted him. Just like I never slept with you because I didn't want you. Now, I'd like to be taken to a proper cell and be allowed to contact my attorney.”

  “Got to get you booked before all that. Thing is, Tammy is out to lunch. She likes to take long lunches, so you just sit tight.” Will reached out and patted her shoulder. “I'll be back.”

  Chapter SIXTEEN

  Furious didn't begin to cover what Deacon was feeling as he paced back and forth the length of the small holding cell. First, there was the joke that was his legal representation. He'd probably be better off firing the sweaty little shit and speaking for himself. That was enough to have him ready to lose his mind. And then it just got worse. One of the officers, Raul Ortega, who he'd known since he was a kid, told him that Will was really on a tear. In fact, Will had arrested Vera for assault.

  Raul had promised to call Adelaide, tell her what happened with the lawyer. It was something. Not very much, but it was all he had. If Raul kept his word, Adelaide would move heaven and hell to get him out. To get both of them out. There was going to come a day when he and Will were alone and it wasn't about patches or badges, when it was just about the two of them. That was going to be a very satisfying day.

  Fuck! He turned and smashed his fist into the wall; it was pointless and just hurt like hell, but hurting was something. Something besides the fury that he couldn't do anything about. Deacon sat down on the hard bench, held his head in his hands and exhaled a deep sigh of frustration.

  At first he thought that he imagined the feeling of calm brushing against him but then he felt it again, stronger the second time. He kept his head in his hands and knew without question it was Vera that he was feeling.

  How had she gotten past the wall? Deacon didn't know the
answer to that or why she was so calm when she was locked in a cell. Except, he hadn't heard anyone being put into the other cell. If she was under arrest, where was she being held?

  The calm pressed against him this time, harder, as if trying to keep him from other thoughts. Deacon shut his eyes. As much as he hadn't wanted to admit their connection, he'd realized that he'd never doubted it. He realized the attraction had started earlier than the day he'd gone to buy Adelaide's gift.

  It had been at one of her parties. He'd been damn near bored out of his skull, and then he'd almost tripped Vera when he sprawled out in the one comfortable chair his sister owned. There had been a spark in her eye or smile, something that had made her the most beautiful woman in the room. The thought had surprised him; he'd ignored it. Sure, they'd made polite conversation, but he'd never let it get personal.

  Now he could only think about if he had, how would things be different if they'd been together for six months instead of just a matter of days?

  Once again questions overwhelmed his brain, the calm was drowned out and there was so much rage he thought that he would die from it. He pressed his hands against his head, could feel the change starting to take over. Deacon screamed; the sound echoed back off the walls at him. In that moment he knew what going mad felt like.

  And then it was all gone in an instant, and he felt the calm again. He felt Vera again. He didn't understand it but he wasn't going to question the sudden peace in his mind. Deacon shifted to lie down, laid his arm over his eyes.

  He pictured Vera, imagined her being right there with him. That was what it felt like, the longer that he floated in the calm that was her, the more he was able to pick up the things she was feeling. It was subtle; she was trying to hold back and doing a damn good job of it.

  She was scared, worried for him and hungry. All three pissed him off in equal measure especially because there was nothing that he could do about it. He was locked within four walls, unable to do anything. Deacon didn't do well with feeling helpless. Something had to happen and soon.