Games of Guilt: A Crime Thriller (Hidden Guilt Book 3 of 3)

by Terry Keys

  Deep down, I understood where she was coming from and, like most times, she was right. I’d been going way too hard for way too long, and if I wasn’t careful something would eventually give. I rolled over and kissed her on the forehead. How in the hell had I gone from this being just a cool job to a career that’d almost cost me everything? Something I had an appetite for, something I couldn’t get enough of. And how old would I be when I walked away from it? Would I ever be able to walk away from it? That’s what scared me the most. You gotta know when to fold ’em.

  “Hopefully after this is over we can get back to some sense of normalcy. I have to catch this kid first.”

  Miranda laughed. “I’ve been hearing that for almost a decade. We both know there’ll be another sooner or later. And probably sooner. No, definitely sooner.”

  I nodded. She was right. Again.

  It was only a little after 6 a.m., but laying there and pretending to be asleep was no longer helping me. My cell phone was buzzing. Who the hell could it be this time? I reached over and grabbed it off the dresser. It was DeLuca again.

  “Tell me you found them already. I need some good news.”

  Chapter 3

  The couple in Jamaica, Willie, and now Tom. Tom Patton, an officer I’d worked with for years on the force, was dead. Murdered. Just like that. When I joined the force Tom and I identified with each other from the start. He’d taken me in and kind of showed me the ropes. It made me think of Denzel and Ethan Hawke in training day without the King Kong ain’t got nothin on me line. As time had worn on Tom and I had drifted apart. And if I was being honest he’d done some things that I didn’t approve of. And if I were being even more honest I guessed I’d probably done a questionable thing or two also along the way. Overall though our careers had taken two vastly different paths. I listened closely to the details. They were sending a message, and I’d received it loud and clear. These cowards couldn’t understand that their vigilantism was doing more harm than good. Couldn’t understand that they were also the same bad guys they were trying to rid the world of. They wanted to show me that every person in my life was a suitable target. And that they’d been watching me for a long, long time.

  Early reports said Tom’s car had been wired with C-4, one of the most explosive substances known to man. The reports indicated he’d driven it into the median right in the middle of the 610 loop. If he knew the car was wired somehow, he probably saved a couple dozen lives too. What a disaster this was going to be.

  “How many other vehicles involved?” I said.

  “A few, as you can imagine a bomb on a freeway would cause. Only positive here is that this wasn’t five p.m. bumper-to-bumper traffic.”

  “Still terrible. You thinking what I’m thinking?” I said.

  “Probably. Be hard to prove. That car is bound to be burned to a crisp.”

  “Yeah, I know. Family been notified?”

  “Not yet. Cap wants us down there now. I’m about five minutes away from being ready to leave my house.”

  “Why didn’t he call me?”

  “You know why.”

  I disconnected with DeLuca and tried to soak in what I’d just heard. Captain Wilcrest and Chief Hill were both going to get a piece of my mind about leaving me out of the loop.

  I turned to Miranda. “Tom Patton was killed a few hours ago.”

  “Oh no! I’m sorry, David. What happened?”

  “Someone strapped his car full of C-4, and he drove it into the median on the 610 loop.”

  “Oh my God, honey! That’s awful. You don’t think . . .”

  I rolled over and stood up next to the bed. “That’s exactly what I think. Now I’ve just got to prove it and find them.”

  Chapter 4

  Tom Patton was a member of the same fraternity I was, albeit in different years. We both played on the department’s semipro football team a few years earlier. I saw Tom at least once every month or so when the guys got together for poker. HPD was over one thousand officers strong. There were literally hundreds of officers who I’d never had direct contact with. It was no shock to me that an officer like Tom was picked. They chose an officer I’d surely miss. Patton had his issues. Some thought he was the devil incarnate, actually. Nothing this pair did was an accident. Proving my theory to be true would be as difficult as turning an atheist into a Bible-thumping, fire and brimstone Baptist preacher. This angered me. So many wasted lives.

  As I pulled up to the blockade we had set up, the realness of it all hit me right in my face. I killed the truck, zipped up my jacket, and climbed down.

  What remained of Tom’s car was a burnt shell of what used to be a police cruiser. My God! I thought to myself. Traffic was backed up about two miles or so, because there was only one lane open. The other reason was rubberneckers. As I looked over at the cars passing by, many of them had their cell phones out, trying to get a picture of whatever they could. That made me mad too. But there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

  I was still about one hundred feet from the car, maybe a little further, but I could still see a whole lot more than I wanted. DeLuca was on the scene now too. I could see her in the distance.

  I walked around to each officer on the scene and shook their hand. I told them how appreciative I was of their work and how important it was. We were all hurting. I knew I had a case to work, but it wasn’t going anywhere, and this little gesture would only take a few minutes.

  It was still amazing to me, even after this many years of being on the force, how we could all come together so unified after something terrible like this happened. Guys who generally didn’t like each other for one silly reason or another found a way to put their petty differences aside when one of our own went down. I also knew that for many of these guys it was simply a matter of showing the thugs that police were off-limits. Ironically a lot of the rules and policies we swore to uphold were severely bent during times like this too.

  I got about fifty feet from Tom’s charred body and realized I was close enough. A single tear rolled down my cheek, and I angrily wiped it off. The smell was strong. I didn’t need to see him any closer. Not today, anyway. The crime lab would take hundreds of pictures, and they did an incredible job of capturing anything and everything of consequence. I’d seen dozens of dead bodies but this was different.

  I took out my phone to dial DeLuca.

  “I’ve seen enough here, I’m about to head to Patton’s house and speak with his wife. Make sure the forensics team runs analysis on the explosives. Let’s see if we can narrow down where they were produced. And I mean every single component.”

  “Got it. You hear about Patton and Rodriguez’s little soirée in the locker room earlier today?”

  “No. What’s the relevancy there?”

  “Heard it got pretty heated. Rodriguez even yelled something about taking him out.”

  “What the hell were they fighting over?”

  “From what I was told, Patton being Patton, if you know what I mean. Nothing real serious. Everybody pretty much took the threat Rodriguez made as an idle one. It’s probably nothing, but it was worth mentioning.”

  “Okay. I’ll follow up on it. You send officers over to his girlfriend’s house yet? Do we know who she is?”

  “Amber Mullins age twenty-two. Student at U of H. Business major. Slew of minor traffic violations. We sent a few boys over about thirty minutes ago.”

  “Okay. Keep me posted.”

  Back when I was in college, I began studying rehabilitation techniques and strategies. Even as a twenty-something college student, I could see the penal system we had in place wasn’t working. Unless your plan was to mass incarcerate large numbers of blacks and Hispanics. Child molesters, murderers, rapists—some of them have severe mental issues. Locking them up behind metal bars for five or ten years wasn’t doing a damn thing for their mental health. Most days I loved my job, but as I stood staring over at my friend’s charred corpse, it went without saying that today wasn’t one o
f them. I wondered what would happen to Caleb and Marci when I did catch up with them. I imagined the same thing that happened with every other murderer here in Texas. They’d be put on death row, wait ten to fifteen years, and then finally have their date with destiny. We were simply band-aiding society. Nothing was changing or improving, just existing.

  I thumbed through my contacts for Rodriguez’s number and dialed him up.

  It only rang once before someone picked up.

  “Porter, ’bout time you called me. Been expecting to hear from you. What the hell took you so long?”

  “I’ve been a little tied up. But here I am. Talk to me.”

  “Not sure where to start. Whaddaya want to know?”

  “That how we gonna play it? You really gonna make me ask?”

  I heard the tension release through his breath.

  “Okay. No. And no, I didn’t kill Patton. There, I said it. He’s a cop, so I hate that he’s gone. As much as I hated his guts, he was still a boy in blue. I feel sorry for his wife and kid.”

  “That’s good to hear. Due to the circumstances here, I’m going to need you to go down and make a statement. Too many people heard your little lover’s quarrel earlier. This is the only way.”

  “Wait, you’re making me get on the record with this?”

  “No, I’m not making you do anything. You made that choice this morning when you threatened to kill an officer who is now dead.”

  Rodriguez was silent on the other end. I waited. I wasn’t going to bail him out on this.

  “Okay, I’ll go down and make a statement.”

  “You want to tell me what the hell you two clowns were arguing about?”

  “He started talking about my weight and I was mad but, okay, whatever. Then the prick starts talking about nailing my wife and my kid being his and shit, and I lost it.”

  “Are we back in the goddamn third grade now? Jesus. Okay. I get it. Guy starts talking about banging your wife, one thing leads to another—”

  “Yeah. Pretty stupid, huh?”

  “You think?”

  “Hey now, I didn’t say I wasn’t glad he’s gone, because I am. He was a freaking prick and you know it. The department is one bad cop light now. I’m glad someone else beat me to it. Saves me a few years in the slammer. Guy like that . . . as many people as he screwed over? He had it coming, Porter, and you know it. I’m surprised it took this long.”

  I wasn’t sure how much of his rant was serious or stupid, angry bravado.

  “Not a boy scout, I agree. But here’s some free advice—I’d leave those last three or four sentences out of your statement.”

  Patton would have taken a bullet for anyone, but he did have a special way of being an asshole at times as well. We all have a friend or two like that. Someone who you got along with but, for whatever reason, many utterly despised.

  Chapter 5

  I headed for Patton’s house. Speaking with his wife wasn’t going to be much fun at all. But even during this sensitive time, I needed to get everything I could out of her while it was fresh in her mind. Time had a magical way of watering down the details. And oftentimes clues were hidden in those very details.

  I turned into their middle-class suburban Pearland neighborhood, and everything seemed pretty normal at first. I liked Pearland. It had all the major shopping, but somehow it still had a small town feel. Miranda and I had spoken about possibly relocating to Pearland someday. The schools were excellent, and you could get a nice house for a decent price. The last ten years, the economy in the area had exploded.

  As I turned the corner, I realized I’d spoken too soon. Five cruisers were parked in front of the Patton residence. There were news vans—Channel 2 and 13—also.

  I got out of my truck and shook hands with the Pearland officers as I headed toward the house. From what I gathered, their work was about done, and it looked like they were heading out.

  Without words, I lumbered over and gave Julie a hug. The oversized Longhorns T-shirt, obviously Tom’s, was soaked in tears. Julie’s eyes were sagging, and heavy bags sat under each of them. It was obvious she hadn’t slept all night. But why? She’d only just learned of Tom’s death a few hours earlier. I didn’t press it but this bothered me.

  I guided her over to the couch and sat her down next to me. I reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I am terribly sorry, and I’m going to get these guys. You can take that to the bank.”

  Now wasn’t the time to hit her with a bunch of cliché it’s-going-to-be-all-right spiels. That’s the shit some of the guys used on me, and it made me madder than hell. Losing your spouse was never going to be all right. Over time you just learned to live without them, much in the same way you’d learned to live with them.

  Julie looked up at me with a blank expression when I mentioned catching them. Did she know something? It was an odd look that I hadn’t seen before from her.

  Julie wiped tears from her face. “Thank you, David. Catching them would be a start. I won’t make it without him here. I just know I won’t.”

  I grabbed her hands. I gently reached under her chin and tilted her face so she’d look at me. “You will make it. You’re a strong woman. Just take it one day at a time. You know I know exactly what you’re going through.” I pulled her tight and gave her a hug. About the best thing anyone could give her right now was the comfort of simply knowing people cared.

  I also knew that, unlike in my situation, Tom wasn’t coming back.

  I tried to focus on the secondary reason I came over to Patton’s house. I looked around the room; nothing seemed out of place. Not at first. And then I noticed some furniture looked as if it had been recently moved.

  “There used to be a coffee table there in the middle of the room,” I said, pointing.

  Julie paused for a moment. “Uh, yes. I was tired of it, so I got rid of it awhile back.”

  The carpet was still indented. Eight indentions where there should have only been four, per the standard coffee table. Like chairs maybe that had been back to back, where there should have been none.

  I pointed down at them. “Something was there.”

  “Oh yes, I brought some chairs over to change a burned out bulb,” she said looking up at the overhead light fixture.

  Made sense, I thought. But why on earth had she needed two chairs?

  “Did you notice anything strange or out of the ordinary with Tom’s behavior the last few days?”

  “No.”

  “He take any phone calls or get any visitors that didn’t seem strange at the time but maybe do now? Did he mention anything?”

  She paused for a moment. I could tell she was thinking—almost overthinking, if I’d pegged it correctly.

  “No, I don’t think so,” she finally spoke up.

  I stood up to leave. “I’m going to get out of your hair. How’s the little guy doing?”

  “’Bout as good as he can, I suppose.”

  “If you think of anything, don’t hesitate to pick up the phone. I could use a little help here. I want these guys bad. I’m going to make them pay for this.”

  I left a card on the counter and shut the door behind me.

  If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Julie was lying to me. I didn’t know what it was, but something was off. But interrogating her right now with everything that’d happened would need to wait.

  Chapter 6

  I knocked on a few doors on the Patton’s side of the street, but nothing of note turned up. I hit the houses across the street as well—still nothing. Everyone was being extremely cooperative, but no one had seen a thing. Or if they had they weren’t telling me, which was also a possibility.

  I noticed a car approaching and it appeared to be slowing. The man driving the car stopped and rolled down his window.

  “You the cop that’s been going up and down our street asking questions?”

  I couldn’t tell if he was on my side and looking to help or if he was an asshole trying to run
me off.

  “Yes. My name is David Porter. Have you seen any cars in this neighborhood that I don’t know don’t belong? Or anyone on foot that doesn’t live here in this neighborhood?”

  “No. I’m a realtor for two homes that are for sale on this street. I have a number of potential buyers that will be here in less than an hour.”

  “Let me guess. You want all of us cops and the news van gone before they arrive?”

  “Precisely, bud.”

  “You do realize I’m investigating the murder of someone who lived there?” I jerked my head in the direction of the Patton’s house.

  “So the guys dead, right?”

  I was pretty sure I’d said “murder,” which would imply someone was indeed dead.

  “Someone was killed in the house, or is that just where he lived?”

  I was done with the questions. This guy had some nerve. All he could think about was selling houses.

  “Listen, bud, if you were the dead guy wouldn’t you want me to investigate and find your killer?”

  “Well, if I was dead, wouldn’t matter to me one way or another. I’m just trying to do my job. That too much to ask?”

  “I’m just trying to catch a killer, which trumps your house sales. I’ll be gone soon enough. Please move along, and let me do my job. Is that too much to ask?”

  He slammed on the accelerator and skidded off down the street. What a freaking prick, I thought.

  In a last ditch effort—and a desperate one, I admitted—I started knocking on the doors of the homes behind the Patton’s house.

  The house directly behind them was the only two-story home on the block. I rang the doorbell twice before a young attractive woman, baby in tow, answered the door. I immediately held up my badge and stated why I was making the visit. To my surprise, she invited me in.

  She gestured for me to take a seat on the couch. “Please, Detective Porter, wait right here. I didn’t see anything, but I believe my son may have.”

  I took a seat on the couch as she moseyed over to the bottom of the staircase and called up for her son. “Care for anything to drink?”