Terminal 9

by Patricia H. Rushford

  “Those are Kevin’s bracelets. He hated carrying cuffs.” Mac offered a wan smile. “Kevin said that’s why he kept me around, in case there was any handcuffing to be done.”

  Dana smiled. “Hmm. I bet if those things could talk, they could tell a story or two.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure they’ve seen their share of action. Can you imagine all the murderers and rapists those have been on over the past two decades?”

  Dana tipped her head back. “I heard a story once about Kevin being kidnapped by a suspect once—back in the late ’70s . . .”

  “I know the one you mean. Kevin wasn’t kidnapped; that was Frank.”

  “Sarge?”

  “He was a corporal back then, when we still had that rank, and Kevin ended up rescuing him. Sarge was working a homicide and this woman was suspected of killing patients in a nursing home. She took a liking to Sarge and starting mailing him love letters during the investigation.”

  “Our Frank Evans? Are you kidding me?”

  Mac chuckled. “Remember, this was over twenty-five years ago. Sarge was walking out of the office when this gal’s husband nabs him at gunpoint and forces him to drive out to the Mt. Hood National Forest in his detective car while he’s sitting in the backseat with a gun in Frank’s ear. This guy thinks Frank is having an affair with his wife and plans to take him into the woods to shoot him.

  Once they got out of town, the guy forced Frank into the trunk.

  Fortunately, the guy got cold feet and drove back to town.Kevin sees this stranger driving Frank’s car and pulls traffic on him right out on 92nd Avenue. After taking the guy down, he lets Sarge out of the trunk and they hook the guy up. Strange thing is, they never ended up charging the wife with anything.”

  “You’re kidding me. That sounds like a made-for-television cop show or something.”

  “No kidding.” Mac shook his head. “Kevin’s not one to exaggerate, so you can bet it’s a true story. That’s why we have those emergency pull cords in our trunks now so we can pop them open from the inside. They started installing them in our police cars way before it was the industry standard. All thanks to Sergeant Evans and his two-hour ride in the trunk of a Dodge Diplomat.”

  “Wow, hopefully I’ll never have a similar story to tell.”

  “You and me both,” Mac said. “You want to grab your tape recorder so we can dictate the description of the house? I’ll grab the flashlight. I hate these short days. Can you believe it? Five o’clock and it’s already getting dark.”

  “You got it.” Dana stepped out of the car and grabbed a tape recorder from her duty bag in the backseat. Mac took his flashlight from the charger and slipped his portable radio into his jacket pocket.

  They walked to the front of the house, which faced the wide Columbia River. The lights coming from the terminal made a shimmering path on the water. They could see the lights on the other side. “What a view,” Mac said. “No wonder Clay didn’t want to sell.”

  “Test: one, two, three,” Dana said into the tape recorder, then played the message back to ensure she had good batteries. “Want me to go ahead with it, Mac?”

  “Sure, let’s do a description of the front of the house and work our way to the—” Mac stopped cold as he caught sight of a silver metal disk coming straight at him. It sliced into his shoulder, sending him to the ground. Struggling to sit up, he tried to fix his flashlight beam in the direction from which the disk had come. A dark figure descended on him like some kind of alien being.

  Mac held his right arm up at the last minute, protecting his face from the business end of a boot. The assailant stomped on his right hip and left leg before running toward the river.

  TWELVE

  YOU OKAY, MAC?” Dana hunkered down beside him.

  “Fine.” Mac grunted. “Let’s get him.”

  Dana tore off after the shadowy figure, still faintly visible in the dimming light. “Police officer! Stop!”

  Ignoring the pain, Mac struggled to his feet and ran after his partner. As he ran, he pulled the portable radio from his jacket. The antenna snagged on his pocket.

  “Police! You’d better stop!” Dana yelled as she bolted down the riverbank in pursuit.

  Mac sprinted after Dana, but she continued to outdistance him. Mac felt like a first-class klutz, juggling the radio with his flashlight beam bouncing up and down. Mac indexed his Glock as he pumped his elbows and knees trying to gain on them. “Eleven-fifty-four, foot pursuit,” he panted into the radio. Then, releasing the mike, he barked out orders. “Stick him, Dana. Stick him.” Dispatch answered on the portable. “Fifty-four in foot pursuit downriver from Terminal 9, St. Helens,” he said between breaths.

  Some fifty feet away, Dana approached his attacker. She snapped open her expandable police baton, its shiny metal shaft and heavy round tip reflecting in Mac’s flashlight beam. Dana swung and the steel nightstick connected with her target’s upper right thigh.

  Grabbing his crotch, the suspect hit the dirt with a scream.

  “Get on the ground!” Dana yelled.

  Mac winced. Poor guy.

  “I’m down, I’m down,” the suspect howled as Mac caught up to the pair. Dana stood over him like Superwoman, her nightstick cocked and ready to deliver another blow.

  “On your belly.” Not waiting for the suspect to comply, Mac pulled the cuffs from his belt before pushing him prone to the ground and placing a sharp knee firmly into his lower back. Mac cuffed the suspect’s right wrist before pulling his left hand down and snapping the other cuff cradle into place.

  Dana picked up the flashlight Mac had dropped on the sandy beach, still keeping her weapon at the ready on her right shoulder.

  “Roll him over, Mac.” Dana blew her hair off her forehead. “I want to get a look at this guy.”

  Their collar muttered something that was totally unsuitable for mixed company.

  Mac yanked the suspect to his knees. “You want another trip to the batter’s box?”

  “N-no sir,” the shaky voice replied.

  “Then you do as you’re told.” Mac helped him stand up for a pat-down.

  Dana shined the light in the guy’s face as Mac took a step back, pulling the suspect’s jacket down off his shoulders. “He’s just a kid.”

  “I’m twenty.” The kid gritted his teeth. “I want an ambulance, and I want my lawyer.”

  Mac leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees, still trying to catch his breath. “You got a name, kid?”

  “I don’t have to say anything without a lawyer. I suggest you get on it, pig.” He stared at Mac in defiance, his blue eyes full of hatred.

  “I want these cuffs loosened up too.”

  “Hey, Mac. Take a look at this.” Dana pointed to a small brown leather case that looked like a travel bag or shaving kit. “He dropped the bag when I hit him.”

  “You steal that from the Mullins’s place?” Mac asked.

  “I’m not telling you nothin’.”

  Mac picked up the radio he’d dropped in the sand. “Looks like our death investigation just got a little more interesting, wouldn’t you say, Detective Bennett?”

  “I’d say so.” Dana lowered her metal baton, snapped it closed, and placed it back inside her leather belt case.

  “Nice stick.” Mac whispered to Dana as he brushed past her.

  “Thanks. On top of assault on a public safety officer, we can add burglary and attempted escape third-degree.” Dana raised her voice for the suspect’s benefit.

  “Yeah.” Mac crossed his arms. “I’m glad you’re not a juvie, pal. I’d hate for you to get by with a slap on the wrist. See, I don’t take kindly to guys who try to clobber me with a deadly weapon.”

  “What deadly weapon?” The kid spat sand out of his mouth.

  “That was a garbage can lid.”

  “Looked pretty deadly to me.” Sirens sliced into the growing fog. Mac waited for some dead air and held his portable up as high as he could, so he would get good reception, then called
a code four into dispatch. “Eleven-fifty-four, we have one detained and we’re all clear.”

  The dispatcher acknowledged, then repeated the message to responding troopers. The sirens instantly cut off, though one of the cars was close enough for Mac to hear the engine’s four-barrel carburetor open up. Even though they’d caught their assailant, these guys were still coming to their aid.

  Still high on adrenaline from the hard run, Mac again gave a 12-94, or the OSP code saying he and Dana were all right. He told the responding trooper where to meet them with their custody.

  Dana picked up the brown leather case, sliding a stick under the handle so as not to smudge any fingerprints or destroy evidence.

  The St. Helens officer from the house approached. The guy had been running and was barely able to talk. “I got here as soon as I could,” he puffed. “I don’t have your frequency on my primary channel, just picked up your troopers on scan. You guys okay?”

  “Yeah, we’re fine now,” Dana answered. “You know this skinny burglar? He tried to brain my partner.”

  The officer shined his light in the kid’s face. “Yeah, I know him.

  Tyler Cohen. We are all too familiar with him around here.”

  “Says he’s twenty. Is that right?” Mac asked, taking Tyler’s arm to propel him forward. “Looks younger to me.”

  “Naw, I’d say more like seventeen. Kid’s been in and out of juvie since he was fourteen. Started with minor in possession of booze and smoking, worked his way up through petty theft, and now is up to burglary and stealing cars. All to pay for his meth addiction.”

  Mac dusted Tyler off and pulled his camo jacket up on his shoulders before moving behind him. “Any idea how he managed to get into the house you were supposed to be watching?” Mac didn’t bother to hide his annoyance.

  “Sorry about that. He must have come up from the riverside.” He frowned at Tyler. “Hard to keep an eye on both sides of the house at once.”

  “Maybe we need a second officer out here.”

  “Good luck. The chief isn’t about to release another officer for this gig.”

  Annoyed, Mac grabbed the kid’s arm to pull him forward.

  “Hey, take it easy!”Tyler winced when Mac steered him. “These cuffs are too tight. I’ll tell my lawyer you were harassing me.”

  “Do I look worried, Tyler?” Mac loosened the cuffs a bit. “You don’t mind if I call you Tyler, do you?”

  “I don’t care what you call me.” Tyler trudged up the hill ahead of him.

  “Well, Tyler, you can call me Mac. I’m a detective with the Oregon State Police. And this nice lady with the homerun swing is Detective Dana Bennett. I’ll tell you what, Tyler. My partner and I are homicide investigators for the state. I don’t care what you are involved with as long as you’re not a murderer. You understand?”

  “Murder?” He glanced from Mac to Dana. “I didn’t kill anybody.”

  “That so? Tell you what. I can call a lawyer and a doctor—if that’s what you want. I doubt you need a doctor. It looks like you are standing okay, probably just some bruises. And as for the lawyer— well, I doubt an attorney will be able to get you out of the charges we’ll be bringing against you. Now Tyler, we might be willing to work with you and maybe let you off the hook so long as we get the right answers.”

  “Keep talking,”Tyler said, his voice softening.

  “We’d like to know what you were doing here. If you aren’t directly involved in my investigation, then I may forget about the garbage can lid and the fact that you ran from an officer in an attempt to escape.”

  “Like I said, I got scared and ran. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “This is Oregon,Tyler. Once an officer tells you to stop, you are under arrest. But you kept running. That’s attempted escape.

  Bummer, isn’t it? I definitely heard my partner yell for you to stop.”

  The kid bobbed his head in acknowledgment. “So what do you want to know?”

  “I want the truth. Are you willing to talk to me?”

  “I don’t know. Ask your questions.”

  “Not here. I’ll get one of the troopers to take you in their police car and we’ll talk once everyone settles down. Cool with you?”

  “Guess it has to be,”Tyler answered.

  Mac led the teenager back to the house and passed him off to a uniformed trooper. “Don’t ask him any questions since we haven’t read him his Miranda rights yet.” Mac didn’t want to read the kid his rights until he calmed down. “Take notes if Tyler makes any statements to you though.”

  “You got it.” The trooper helped Tyler into the backseat of his car and shut the door.

  Once he’d gone, Mac asked the officer on watch to beef up his security methods. With a promise to keep a closer watch on the house, the local officer went back to his vehicle.

  Dana placed the leather bag that Tyler had dropped in the backseat of the car. They would not open the case until they determined ownership. Mac hoped they wouldn’t need a separate warrant to examine the contents.

  The two detectives then went back to their original task, taking notes on the outside of the home for their warrant. Mac called Darren to let him know they’d been held up but would get there as soon as they could. “Sorry about this, but we really need to get this kid’s statement.”

  “Not to worry,” Darren said, agreeing to wait for them. “I’ll grab a bite to eat and get caught up on some paperwork.”

  Mac and Dana met up with Tyler back at the county courthouse where they used an interview room in the sheriff ’s office, which occupied the ground floor of the building. When they came in, the trooper greeted Mac and Dana, then excused himself from the interview room. Tyler was seated behind a small table, now handcuffed in the front.

  “You guys care if I smoke?”Tyler asked.

  “Yes, we do,” Mac said, but gave no further explanation. He took a chair on the other side of the table. Dana set the leather bag Tyler had dropped on the table then leaned against the wall near the door.

  Tyler sat back in his chair, the chains from the handcuffs scraping across the table as he moved.

  “What do you guys want?” He looked scared, which would hopefully work to their advantage.

  “Let me explain a couple of things to you.” Mac opened the briefcase he’d brought in and pulled out a legal pad. “First of all, I’m sure you’ll have a lot of questions. I don’t feel comfortable answering your questions without advising you of your rights.”

  Tyler frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re not charged at this time, but you are definitely not free to leave. That means you are in custody as far as the law reads. If you’re in custody, that means we have to read you your rights. Got that?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Good.” Taking a play right out of his former partner’s playbook— surprise the rookie detective with a lead in a key interview to see how he reacts—Mac turned to his partner. “Detective Bennett, go ahead with the rights and consequences,” Mac said.

  Dana handled the transition like a pro. Mac thought he recognized a curl on her lips that indicated she was actually amused by his move. “Thank you, Detective McAllister.” Dana pulled a laminated card from the breast pocket on her jacket. “Mr. Cohen, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. If you cannot afford to hire a lawyer, one will be appointed to represent you without cost. Do you understand these rights of which I have advised you?”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard them a time or two.”

  Dana was experiencing a new kind of adrenaline rush, different than the kind you get from fights or chases. Mac was taking notes, relieving her of the responsibility so she could establish rapport with the kid. Things had started clicking between her and Mac on this case, and for once Dana felt like they were becoming a real team and not just two people assigned to work together.

  Dana moved to a chair at Tyler’s left and cleared h
er throat, trying to remember Mac’s style for making suspects feel comfortable. His was good, shifting from smooth and kind to serious and even menacing. She had a few tricks up her sleeve as well.

  “Do you need anything,Tyler? Water or coffee?” Dana smiled and lightly touched the young man’s hand when she asked the question.

  “Um . . .No, no thanks. I’m cool.”Tyler’s wary gaze followed her.

  His shoulder slumped and softened a little.

  “I’m sorry you can’t smoke in here,” she said. “The building’s rules, not ours.”

  His Adam’s apple rose up and down when he swallowed. “I can handle it.”

  “Good.” Dana tipped her head to one side. “Do you have any questions for me? I know you’ve been arrested a time or two, but I bet you’ve never been involved in a death investigation before.”

  His head snapped up. “What death investigation?”

  “Clay Mullins. The man whose house you were in when we showed up.”

  “Oh, him. I heard the old dude got whacked by a train. The guys at the pool hall were talking about it.”

  “Did you know Clay Mullins?”

  “Everyone knew about him. I didn’t know the guy personally.”

  “Hmm.” Dana pursed her lips and frowned. “Okay. Help me understand what you were doing at his house.”

  “I heard he had a lot of cool things in his house—stuff that might be worth a lot of money. I figured nobody would miss a few things, and he sure didn’t need the stuff any more.”

  “Where’d you hear that?”

  “One of my buds. His mom worked for the old guy. You know, cleaned the place up and bought his groceries and stuff. I needed a little cash and thought I could help myself to some of the things in the house.”

  “So you broke in and then we came along and spoiled the party?”

  She smiled at him. “Tell me, how did you manage to get by the police officer?”

  She said it in a way that made Mac sit up straighter. Had he been the bad guy, he’d have confessed to anything just to please her.