The man stepped between Andrea and the sergeant. “He’s six foot four and weighs approximately two hundred pounds. These physical attributes align with CSU’s estimations of the driver’s body type. Coleman is a new member to the Hellions and still climbing his way up.”
Coleman could just be making a false claim, trying to get in with them, seeking the approval of the top guy.
“Do we have any leads on his friend, the shooter?” Madison called out.
The Gangs detective looked at her. “None yet. And there’s no direct tie to Officer Weir. However, we will be surveilling the subject today and seeing if we can find any leads that way. In light of the claim, this is enough to substantiate an arrest warrant for Coleman and a search warrant for the Hellion hideout. He doesn’t have a current address on file, and it’s suspected that Coleman is residing there.”
The officer turned to Winston and Andrea, and they both nodded.
“And in the meantime, SWAT will be putting together an operations plan,” he continued. “They’ll strike the hideout tonight at midnight.”
-
Chapter 26
NICK BENSON WAS ALREADY IN the planning room, positioned behind a computer with a pile of folders to his left. “Hey,” he said when Troy walked in and gave a deep exhale. “Burying a brother never gets easy.”
Nick could speak from experience. He’d been serving with the Stiles PD for more than ten years and had come from a smaller department where he had worked for five years. His age was starting to show in the deep grooves that ran from his nostrils to the corners of his mouth and his balding head, but his gray eyes were full of light and life, and when he smiled, it was genuine.
“It’s always going to be one of the hardest things to face as a cop,” Nick added. “I wish I could say you learn to deal with it, but I’d be lying.”
Troy wasn’t going to get pulled into a variation of the same conversation he’d been having over and over since yesterday morning. He pointed to the ream of paper. “Is that the history associated with the Hellions’ hideout?”
“That it is. And backgrounds on the leaders, including everything from their addresses to dates of birth, photos, and charges previously pressed against them. Help yourself.”
The stack seemed overwhelming. There was a benefit to looking at things online; somehow on a computer screen, reports didn’t seem so long. “Why don’t you just give me the brief breakdown to start?”
“The leader is Lonnie Hogan.” Nick sorted through the folders and handed one to Troy.
Troy opened it and looked at the mug on the guy. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and a goatee with flecks of gray in it. Troy skimmed the summary page. Hogan was only twenty-seven. The set of his jaw and mouth spoke to a smug attitude. Even though the picture was a mug shot, the fire in the eyes told Troy this guy didn’t fear going to jail. And from the looks of it, he had faced charges for armed burglary, but there wasn’t enough evidence for the prosecution to convince a jury of his involvement.
Lonnie had probably toyed with the jury…
“Hogan’s mother was a meth addict and a hooker,” Nick added.
“No excuse for his lifestyle choices.”
Nick held up his hand. “And I never said there was.” He lowered his hand. There were a few seconds that Troy wondered if Nick had seen through him to the pain that was a constant ache in his chest since the news had come in about Barry. But if Nick had, he let the matter alone. “The deed for the Hellions’ hideout belongs to Hogan. Now, Hogan’s right-hand men are Saul Armstrong and Bernard Schultz.”
Nick pulled out a couple more folders and handed them to Troy. Troy put Hogan’s on the table and opened the one for Armstrong first. His photo was from the DMV and showed a man with a goatee and a mussed dark mane that reached his shoulders. A tattoo laced the left side of his neck.
“What about this Russell Coleman?”
Nick glanced past Troy to the clock on the wall. “When’s everyone else expected in? I’ll wait and go through it once, if that’s all right.”
“That’s fine. Everyone should be here any—” Troy stopped and gestured to Marc Copeland as he walked in the room. Right behind him was David Murphy.
Troy had worked with them and Nick for more than a decade. He’d worked with the other four members of his team less than that, but it averaged out to about five years, and Troy knew enough that he trusted any of these men with his life. Anyone who applied for SWAT had to go through rigorous physical testing, as well as grueling interviews. They also had to have a minimum of five years of service as a police officer.
“Hope we’re not too late,” Marc said.
“We’re just getting started,” Troy replied.
“Where’s everyone else?” David asked.
“Hey, watch your mouth, Murphy.” Jay Porter came into the room with the rest of the team. “I know you’re lost when I’m not here.”
“Shut it, Portly.”
Jay just laughed, letting the nickname roll over him. He was all of 170 pounds and six foot three.
Each member of his team was trained in specialized weaponry, such as automatic rifles, Tasers, flashbangs, and close-quarters defensive tactics, and were rappel masters, which came in handy when they had to jump from a roof and land on a balcony. The team knew how to coordinate and work with the K-9 unit, and SWAT members shot at the range weekly, with the exception of Jay, who was their sniper. He shot twice a week. While the average officer was trained to aim for center mass, members of SWAT were taught to target the triangular area that made up the eyes and nose if they had a sightline. This delivery would result in an immediate “lights out” for the subject. In addition to knowing a bit about everything, each member brought a different strength to the team.
Marc specialized in breaching, and it was fitting, as the guy was built like a tank. Nick was a trained shield operator and the front of the line when it came to entry. The backup officers would flank him, using his shield as partial cover. David was trained in explosives. Troy was particularly skilled in negotiations. The remaining four were certified in Tasers and rifles.
Jay took a seat at the table and clasped his hands. “What’s the plan, boss?” He turned to Troy.
Troy nodded to Nick. “We were just discussing the leader of the Hellions and his two right-hand men.”
Nick proceeded to fill them in on what they had missed.
“We were just about to discuss Russell Coleman,” Troy said. “As most of you know from the briefing this morning, he’s bragging about his involvement with the shooting. He’s saying he was the driver.” Troy looked at Nick to take over again.
“As the gangs unit informed us, Coleman’s believed to be a new member of the Hellions, but it’s also believed that he may live at their hideout. Surveillance will be put in place to see if they can confirm this, and we’re hoping that he’ll lead us to the shooter.”
“In the meantime, we consider Coleman to be a high threat, armed, and dangerous,” Troy summarized. “The plan is to strike the Hellions’ hideout at midnight, so we’ve got a lot of work to do. Everyone in?”
The room came alive as each member of Troy’s SWAT team confirmed their eagerness to nail the son of a bitch.
Troy turned to Nick, who connected his laptop to a television at the front of the room to display the screen for everyone to see. It showed images of the hideout. “These pictures were taken yesterday.” Troy provided his team with their approach to the house from a geographical standpoint, explaining how to get close while drawing the least attention. “You can see that the structure is two stories. There is no basement. The primary entry point is going to be the front door, and the secondary entry is the back door. The potential hazard with the front is that it’s in the open, no real means for cover and concealment. But in the backyard, there are some bushes for concealment and a shed for cover.” Troy pointed to
the front of the house. “To clarify, this side will be referred to as A, and the backside is C.” To prevent anyone outside of law enforcement from interpreting directions on scene, letters were assigned starting with the primary entry point, working clockwise. “Is everyone with me?”
Heads nodded.
“Nick, David, Charlie, Derek, and myself will take a position at point A. Marc, Jay, and Clayton, you’ll be at C. You will be responsible for providing a distraction so the primary team can enter more easily and safely.”
“And that distraction will be…?” Clayton asked.
Troy smiled at him. “I was just about to say. I am certain the warrant will stipulate the use of a flashbang. You’ll bust in the back door and toss one in on sighted delivery.”
Troy added the last part even though that condition should be a given for his men. Simply tossing a flashbang into a room was irresponsible and just asking for trouble. While a flashbang was considered a higher use of force, the intention of deploying one was to distract, not injure. It would emit a deafening sound of greater than 170 decibels, as well as a brilliant flash of white. Its purpose was to overcome the sight and hearing of the subjects, opening up a short window to make entry. Failure to have a sighted delivery had dire consequences. For example, one time an officer had tossed a flashbang into a window and it had landed in a crib. The baby had been badly injured, and rightfully, the department had been sued and lost.
“We’ll all be wearing hearing protection and obviously our communication pieces. All right, let’s talk about the outer and inner perimeters we’ll need to have set up.” Troy paused to look over his team. It was an honor to serve with them, and pride struck his heart. Barry had the best men hunting his killer.
-
Chapter 27
MADISON LEFT THE SQUAD ROOM, and she and Terry put in the requests for comprehensive reports on Sommer, Godfrey, Cousins, and Snyder. It would take some time for all the details to come back—at least an hour—and then they’d have a look through them and see if any of their relatives were connected to the ownership of a BMW 3 series.
While they waited for the reports, they headed out of the station for Sommer’s residence. It was time to question the man himself again.
Sommer answered the door and stepped back to let them inside. Apparently his threat about needing a lawyer was just that.
The front door opened to the left of the living room, and inside, a flat-screen TV was mounted to the wall. Beneath it were a bunch of electronics—a Blu-ray player, an amp, a couple of video game consoles. One of the games was paused on-screen. The house was clearly home to three single men. When they did pick up women, they’d probably have better luck going back to the woman’s place or renting a hotel room.
There was no sign of Cousins, but another man was on the couch across from the media area. Given his long, dark hair and skinny build, Madison figured he was Mike Godfrey.
“Hey,” the guy on the couch said.
Sommer gestured toward the guy. “That’s Mike.”
Madison nodded, her attention on Sommer. “You lied to us.”
Sommer’s eyes shot to her but then drifted to Terry.
“We know about your friends, about the Devil’s Rebels,” she continued, glancing at Godfrey, who looked away. She turned back to Sommer.
He curled his lips and shook his head. “I told you that I’m no longer with them.”
There was no sign of shock or surprise that she knew about the group’s name. “You’re not curious where I got the name of your little gang?”
“Why should I be? You’re detectives. It’s not my gang, though.”
“See, I believe otherwise.”
He gave a nonchalant shrug. “People are free to believe as they wish.”
Madison had to admit that Sommer was definitely calm in the face of law enforcement. She remembered how Snyder had said he’d been beating a man one instant and taking her out on a date the next.
“Well, let’s talk about your friends, then.” Madison headed into the living area and sat on the couch next Godfrey, looking at him while she spoke to Sommer. “You said they were a dangerous crowd.”
Godfrey was avoiding eye contact.
“I’m not sure I said that,” Sommer said.
Madison cocked her head. “You acted like you were going to be sick, like they’d come after you to kill you.”
A thick layer of disdain washed over Sommer’s face.
Madison leaned forward. “You said they hurt animals and alluded to them killing people. There is no statute of limitations on the latter.” She wished she could say the same of animal abuse.
“I’ve had a night to sleep on this, and I don’t think I should have said anything.”
Madison mocked laughter. “You need to start talking to us and providing us with something of real substance right now, because it’s looking like you’re involved with the shooting of an officer.”
“What?” Sommer yelled, smacking a hand to his chest. “Because of a decal on an old car?”
“If you have nothing to hide, then I don’t see why this is a big deal,” Madison pressured. “Just tell us where you were yesterday between four thirty and five thirty in the morning.”
“I was sleeping.”
“And who can verify that?”
Sommer gestured to Godfrey. “Him.”
Godfrey’s head snapped in Sommer’s direction.
“It doesn’t look like he’s willing to lie for you, Travis. Besides, your friend here is a fellow Devil’s Rebel. Do you really think he’s a good alibi?”
Godfrey looked at Madison. “I’m not—”
“Mike, come on, man,” Sommer said, a desperate tone to his voice. “You know I was sleeping here.”
Godfrey’s eyes briefly slipped to Madison’s. Just when she was thinking they’d have to talk to him away from Sommer, Godfrey shook his head.
“Man, you know I can’t lie to the police,” he said.
“Since when?” Sommer scoffed.
Godfrey turned to Madison. “I’ve made some bad choices in life, ones I’m not proud of.”
“Like the Devil’s Rebels.” Madison stated it matter-of-factly.
Godfrey was the one of the three roommates who had been bumped from foster home to foster home and had even spent time in juvie. Life hadn’t dealt him a fair hand—at least at the beginning. While his background didn’t show any charges as an adult, Madison didn’t put entire faith in his being a changed man, especially after what she’d learned from Snyder. And how changed could Godfrey be to live with Sommer, a man who he allegedly collaborated with in beating another man?
“Are you still with them?” she asked Godfrey.
He averted his eyes. “What does any of this have to do with anything?”
Madison sank her shoulder deeper into the couch, her torso still facing Godfrey. “A police officer was murdered, and there was a decal on the shooter’s vehicle. Can you guess what it looked like?”
Godfrey smacked his lips. “Why don’t you humor me?”
“A goat’s head inside a pentagram with a rebel flag background.” She stamped out each word slowly, almost allowing one full second for each syllable. “Do you know anyone who has a black BMW 3 series sedan?”
“No,” he said quickly.
“You’re positive of that?” She was always more than willing to provide the rope for suspects to hang themselves with.
“Tell them, Mike. I was here,” Sommer interjected, obviously not willing to give up on his contrived alibi.
Madison didn’t even acknowledge him but kept her attention on Godfrey. His eyes were blazing and looking straight ahead at the TV; he was probably anxious to get back to his video game. After a few seconds, Mike said, “Travis might be unhinged—”
Sommer threw his arms in the air. “Seriously?�
��
“But a cop killer?” Godfrey continued, ignoring his roommate. “I don’t see it.”
Madison angled her head to the right. “So were you with him yesterday from four thirty to five thirty?”
“No.” Godfrey’s gaze slid to Sommer.
“Wow, thanks for your support.”
“Like I said, I’m not lying to the police.” Godfrey’s voice was sulky.
“Where were you at that time?” Madison asked.
“Now I’m a suspect? You’ve gotta be shitting me.” Godfrey stood.
“Sit.” Madison stared him down.
Terry took a step toward Godfrey, and he complied. Godfrey wasn’t looking at her when he spoke again. “I was at this girl’s place until around six when she kicked me out.”
“What’s her name and number?” Terry asked, his pen and notepad in hand, ready to write the information down.
Godfrey swiped a hand down his face. “I just met her at a club and came home on the bus. I was still plastered from the night before so I don’t know where she lives, either.”
“That’s convenient,” Madison said. “And you never saw Sommer yesterday morning between—”
Godfrey’s eyes snapped to hers. “No, I told you.”
“What about this guy?” Madison pulled out a photo of Russell Coleman and extended it to Godfrey. “Do you know him?”
Godfrey barely looked at it. “No.”
“What about you?” Madison got up and showed the image to Sommer.
He shook his head. “Never saw him before.”
Or at least that’s the story he was going with…
In the Line of Duty Page 16
