by Jonas Saul
“Okay, give me ten minutes. I’ll be there. In the meantime, can you call that judge, Mallory, the one that likes us. Tell him we have an emergency and all we need is the New York Hotel to give us the room number of my brother. We have reason to believe he’s in danger.”
“Already did that.”
“Really?”
“Right after you left. What, you thought I would just sit here and stare at elevators? Too boring. I’ve been on the phone non-stop since you left me here.”
“You’re the best. I knew there was a reason you’re my partner.”
“Just get here,” Munro said.
Bruce tossed the phone on the seat beside him and looked at Sarah in the mirror.
“So what’s your story?”
“Don’t have one,” she said.
“Sure you do. Everybody’s got a story.”
“Not this girl.”
“Why are you in Vegas, then? Tell me that.”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
Sarah met his eyes in the mirror. “My sister told me to come here and stop that torture at the warehouse. I was sent to save that dick who tried to say I was helping those other assholes. The thanks I get.” She shook her head.
“Your sister?”
“Yup.”
“Your dead sister?”
Sarah’s eyes narrowed. For a moment he thought she was going to attack him.
“You know who I am?” Each word was spoken as if it was drawn out through her teeth.
“Yeah, I know your name. Some of your exploits too. You’re in the papers every now and then. I remember the FLDS compound bust-up. Haven’t you been in Europe and then Canada for some time?”
“Why the fuck were you giving me shit back there at the warehouse then? If you know who I am, that we’re on the same side, why fuck with me?”
“You always swear this much?”
“Role-playing as my father doesn’t suit you.”
“You gonna answer my question?”
“It’s just a sound. Lighten up. Would you rather I say darn you to the bad guys? Doesn’t wash in my world. I’ve seen too many people die, get shot, watched teenage girls being trafficked for sex at that FLDS compound and had to kill more people than I ever wanted to to worry about a fucking word. Get a life. Get over it. Grow up. It’s just a sound.”
“Okay, okay, I get it. So why stop that torture?” he asked. A red light was coming up. He slowed, made sure it was clear, then raced through and turned into the hotel entrance.
“Probably because my sister made me send that text. After that, the guy’s getting tortured. Leads me to believe it’s connected.”
Her voice had taken on an are you stupid tone. He hated to be patronized. His ego was taking a hit, too. Most people respected the fact that he was a cop. That garnered a little respect, but evidently the only thing this girl respected was the survival of the fittest. In her world, it was every man or woman for themselves and everyone was equal, badge or no badge.
He parked on the curb where people were in queue at a taxi stand. A valet came over. Bruce waved him off. Then he spun around in the front seat, an arm up on the back and faced her.
“Can I trust you to sit here quietly while I go in and get my brother, Jake?”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“I won’t be here when you come out.”
“I could arrest you. We’ll have a huge investigation about what happened at the warehouse and finally a judge would decide your fate. Or you could sit here quietly and when I come back, we figure everything out quietly.”
“I’ll be long gone by the time you come back out.”
He flipped his hands in the air. “What the hell do you want then?”
“I go in with you. I got a glimpse of the four men sent here to harm your brother. I can help. If you know my name, you know this is my area of expertise. You will also know that cop cars never contain me. In fact, they’re the most popular vehicle I steal.”
He thought about it for a moment.
“Okay, you can come in. But will you stick around long enough for me to get the whole story from Jake and Russell Anderson?”
“Who’s Russell Anderson?”
“The man with the scar. His name is Russell Anderson.”
“Yeah, I’ll stick around. I want to learn more about this Russell Anderson. He’s been following me all night and I want to thank him for helping me out at the warehouse.”
“Good. Sounds like we each have something the other wants. When my brother is safe, we sit, we have coffee, and we figure everything out. Deal?”
“Deal.”
He turned to get out of the car, then stopped and looked at her in the mirror. “I get from you that you keep your word. That true?”
“I never lie or bluff. If you can’t keep your word, then what the hell good are you?”
He nodded, got out and opened her door. Sarah got out and fiddled with the back of her pants.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
They entered the casino and headed for Munro. He spied her at the corner of the bar.
“This Sarah?” Munro asked.
Bruce nodded. “Let me introduce to you Sarah Roberts.”
Munro looked her up and down. “You’re the Sarah Roberts?”
“What is this?” Sarah asked. “I thought we were coming to stop your brother from being put into the ICU?”
“Yeah,” Munro said. “You’re Sarah Roberts. I can already tell. Let’s go.”
“You got the room number?” Bruce asked.
“One minute ago,” she said as she led the way to the elevators. “That bitch Rose from behind the counter wouldn’t budge, even after a courtesy call from the judge. Her clerk slipped it into my hand on her lunch break.”
“Good to hear.”
Munro pushed the up button and turned to size up Sarah. Bruce thought it funny how women had to do that.
“I’m not a lesbian,” Sarah said.
Bruce smiled for the first time in a few hours.
“Why would you say that?” Munro asked.
“The way you’re staring at me. You’re either rude and don’t know social boundaries, or you’re interested in getting me into bed. I just thought I’d be clear at the get-go that I have no problem with your lifestyle, I’m just not down for the carpet.”
“Holy shit,” Munro said. “You are a piece of work.”
The elevator dinged. The door opened. At least ten people exited, heading for the tables, a few of them already quite drunk. The trio stepped on. Munro hit the buttons and they began to ascend.
“I would think with your profile you wouldn’t offend that easy,” Munro said.
“First, I’m not offended. I just wanted to be clear so you don’t get your hopes up and then get disappointed. Second, I don’t have a profile. You can’t profile what no one understands.”
Munro whistled. “What would Freud have made of you?”
“He would’ve debated it with Jung, who would have tried to sleep with me and in the end, they would’ve both been disappointed and never filed a paper in any psychiatric journal because nothing would be conclusive. I would probably end up in an asylum in those days. But then I would break out and no one would hear from me again.”
The elevator slowed.
“Okay, back on, ladies. Enough of the cat fighting.”
“Oh, we’re not cat fighting,” Munro said. “We’re just getting acquainted.”
The door opened. Bruce held his arm out for the two women to stay back. With his other hand on the butt of his weapon, he edged out and peeked into the hallway. After he saw it was clear, he motioned for them to follow him.
The hallway twisted to the left and to the right on each side. The design of this hotel was unique to match the outside, which was built to resemble multiple buildings in downtown New York.
Munro pointed
to the right and whispered Jake’s room number to Bruce. The detectives took the lead, with Sarah following close behind. After two turns in the corridor, there was an open stretch. Midway down, he thought he heard a grunt of some kind from up ahead. He stopped them with a raised hand.
The noise came again.
He started running, watching the room numbers as they raced by. Three doors down, two doors. He slowed as he came upon his brother’s room.
Another grunt came from behind the door. Then he heard voices. He put his ear close to the door to try to figure out how many were in there.
“Where’s the money, asshole?” someone asked.
“I told you, I gave it to the girl.” Jake’s voice. “All of it.”
Another voice joined in. “I can’t find his wallet anywhere.”
“I told you,” Jake shouted. “She fucking stole my wallet. Pickpocketed me.”
Someone got slapped.
“My boss told me to come here looking for money and we can’t leave until we get some. Or you get a free ride in an ambulance and a week stay in the ICU. Your choice. So which will it be?”
Bruce had heard enough. He motioned for the two women to step back. Then he brought his gun around to aim at the doorknob. In case someone was near the door, he made sure his aim went sideways. Once the bullet entered the room, it would go into the wall by the door and possibly the bathroom.
He pulled the trigger twice, fast and hard.
The second the bullets left the barrel, he stepped back and then charged the door. His shoulder bounced it open easily, but he lost his balance and fell. When he landed, he spun around to take the room in, his gun up and ready to continue firing if he needed to.
Munro stepped over him and moved farther inside.
That’s what partners are for, he thought.
No one moved. There were three men standing around his brother who sat in the chair by the desk. Blood trickled from his brother’s mouth and it looked like he had a fat lip already growing.
“I was wondering when you would get here,” Jake said.
Bruce got to his feet while Munro covered the three perps.
“This your brother?” Munro asked.
“Yeah,” Bruce said. “How’s it going, Bro?”
“We were having a nice chat until you rudely interrupted us,” Jake said and smiled.
“Oh, sorry about that. How come I always have to rescue you from bullies? Ever since we were kids and you were being beat up in the school yard, I’ve had to break it up. Getting tired of that, Jake.”
“You think you could read these idiots their rights?” Jake asked.
“I’ll do one better.”
The one closest to Jake looked worried. The other two looked too stupid to be worried. One had a scowl on his face and the other, a blank stare.
People would be coming into the hallway to see what that noise was when he shot the door handle. Commotion was less than a minute away.
“The big guy with the deep voice back at the linen warehouse …” Bruce saw recognition in their eyes. “He’s dead. The other two that were left behind at the fabric warehouse are dead, too. The guy you were torturing, well, he’s fine. I know because I was just there. Now, the question is, which one of you wants to die first. Or, if you get on the floor slowly and place your hands on the back of your heads, I’ll have no choice but to simply arrest you. I’m a Las Vegas police officer bound by the confines of my badge after all. That means, any sudden movement will scare me and you could join your friends in the dirt motel. Make a choice. Get down or go down.”
Something clicked behind him. It sounded like a gun.
Then he remembered. Sarah had said four men came to hurt Jake.
Shit.
He turned around slowly. The fourth man stood a foot away, his gun one inch from the tip of Bruce’s nose.
“Drop the gun, fucking pig.”
In a blur of movement, someone rammed into the fourth guy’s arm, knocking it in the air so fast that the arm snapped at the elbow. The gun he had been holding flipped harmlessly across the room landing by the door to the next room.
Sarah Roberts shoved the guy to the floor.
“The man said, either get down or go down.” She looked at Bruce and then at the others in the room. “That’s one down. Who’s next?”
Blessed Sarah.
The man at her feet howled and stared at his elbow where a tiny bit of white bone stuck out of his flesh.
Sarah lifted her leg high like she wanted to step on a large spider and drove it down into the guy’s right shoulder laying him out flat.
She landed on him, handcuffs snapping over the wrist of the unbroken arm, the other cuff slapping onto the leg of the heavy desk.
“Pointing a gun at an officer of the law,” Sarah said as she looked at the man below her, shaking her head, “while he is trying to perform his sworn duties will get you fucked up every time.”
Munro had kept the trio by Jake covered with her weapon. Bruce faced Sarah.
“The cuffs …” he said and then got it. “Those were the ones I put on you and then tossed the keys to you.”
She smiled.
“You stole my cuffs.”
“There a problem with that?” she asked.
“No, no, I just wanted to thank you.”
“Then thank me.”
He nodded and smiled back. She was so impressive.
“Thank you, Sarah.”
He turned back to the trio. “Let’s go, on the ground. All of you.”
The men got down without any more convincing and were secured quickly. Munro called for backup as Bruce handled hotel security who showed up a minute later.
Jake wanted to explain his side of the story, but Bruce told him to wait until they got to the station. There would be lots of time to talk.
An hour later, Bruce and Munro sat in the front seat of their cruiser with Jake and Sarah in the back as Bruce drove them to the police station.
They entered the building through a side door. Bruce led them all to a conference room. Sarah expected an interrogation room. Maybe Bruce wanted it less intimidating since Jake was family.
Once settled, Munro grabbed four coffees while Bruce stepped out to take a call. She put on another pot and brought a box of leftover donuts from the lunch room.
“Whose are those?” Bruce asked as he reentered the room.
“No idea,” Munro said between mouthfuls. “I just grabbed them. We have to eat something.”
Sarah took a pass on the donuts. On her second coffee, she started the meeting by telling them who she was and what she does.
“Whether you believe in what I do or not, that’s how it is. One of my closest friends is a cop. His name is Parkman. He’s in Santa Rosa with my parents, last I heard. Call him. He’ll verify who I am.”
She went on to say that she was supposed to text the message Jake received.
Jake piped in to explain that he got the text and thought it was the girl he was supposed to meet.
“What girl?” Bruce asked. “The one who stole your wallet?”
“Yeah, how did you know about that?”
“I heard you say it through the door at the hotel. Also, your wallet turned up at a murder scene earlier tonight.”
“What?” Jake’s face paled. After a moment, he rested his head on the table. “What have I gotten myself into?”
“Look, whatever has happened tonight, Munro and I saw you enter that elevator. Then Munro staked the elevator banks out until we broke into your room. I’m sure once they establish time of death, the investigators will use us as your alibi.”
Jake kept his head down.
“Also, the call I just took,” Bruce continued, “was from homicide. The girl who found her boyfriend dead was the girl who took the ten thousand from you.”
That got Jake’s head up.
“She confessed to the whole scam.”
“She did? It was a scam?” Jake asked.
“Yea
h. She told the homicide detectives that she felt Tyrone’s murder was punishment for going after you. Karma or something. Who knows? The good thing is, she’s not pregnant and never was, according to homicide. She only did this scam because she got you to think you slept with her, which according to her statement, you didn’t. After I told them where you were all night and that I’m talking to you here in the station, homicide told me on the phone that you’re guilty of being an idiot, that’s all.”
