The Russian pulled on the latch and slowly pushed the driver’s door open. As he started to get out, he raised his weapon and pulled the trigger. The officer had no time to react. He was dead before he hit the ground. The Russian then turned his aim toward the second detective who was now running toward them and reaching for his weapon. The Russian squeezed off two shots. The second detective went down.
Seconds later, the Russian heard tires peeling against pavement. A vehicle came into view about two hundred yards away, and the Russian saw that it was Detective Hayden. He took aim and squeezed off as many shots as he could.
Fifteen
I heard the shots. They sounded like loud firecrackers going off. The first two came quick. Then there was a slight pause, and the next two came just as quick. I was out of sight of Torrez, but I knew the shots had to have been coming from there. When Torrez said that the black Lincoln was following him, I’d immediately gotten dispatch on the line and had them send over a squad car to make the stop.
I made a quick U-turn and pushed the pedal to the floor. I reported that shots had been fired. When I got into view of the black Lincoln, I saw a man standing behind an opened driver’s door aiming a gun at me. I ducked and slammed on the brakes. I turned the car so that it was now my shield. Gunfire rattled again, only this time it was louder. Then the bullets pierced my windshield.
Once my car came to a stop, I jumped out with my head low. My sidearm was now in my hands. I moved around the car enough to get a peek at the black Lincoln. The man was still there. I looked toward the ground and saw the body of a uniformed officer lying motionless in the middle of the street. I searched for Torrez and saw him lying on the ground about fifty yards away.
“Shit, Torrez.”
In the distance, police sirens blared from all angles. People walking on the sidewalks ducked for cover behind parked cars. I peeked around the corner again and saw the man aiming his gun at me. I quickly ducked back behind the car.
“Put the weapon down,” I yelled. “You have no place to go.”
The man didn’t respond, and I didn’t expect him to.
I attempted to peek around the corner again, but the sound of three shots made me pull back. My car was hit two times, but I heard three shots. Then I heard tires screech against pavement. I looked around the corner and saw that the black Lincoln was still there, but the man who was shooting was no longer standing, he was lying on the ground on his back.
I cautiously stood up and then sprinted toward Torrez, all the while keeping my eyes and gun trained on the man from the black Lincoln.
“Torrez! Torrez!” I said in a hurried voice.
Torrez was lying on his back and wasn’t moving. I placed two fingers on his neck and felt a slight pulse. I breathed a little easier knowing he wasn’t dead, but judging by his stillness, I knew that he was in trouble.
Seconds later, squad cars skidded to a stop from various directions. Uniformed officers stepped out of their cars with their weapons drawn. I told them that the shooter was lying by the black Lincoln. I told one of the officers to call for an ambulance.
We all cautiously approached the shooter with our weapons aimed, but the closer we got it was evident by the vacant look in his eyes that he was dead. The black pavement underneath his head was covered with blood.
I took in a deep breath and lowered my aim. My body was tense. My nerves felt like they were skyrocketing to the moon.
An officer approached me and asked who shot the dead guy.
“I didn’t see who it was,” I said. “I was taking cover behind my car.”
I looked around the sidewalks and noticed that people were moving around again.
“Talk to the people. They had to have seen something.”
A few of the officers started talking to potential witnesses. I stood over the dead guy and then looked around the area. Why would someone kill him and then leave the scene? I shook my head because I didn’t know the answer.
Sixteen
Viktor Borovsky quickly turned the steering wheel left, and the white Lexus moved with ease. He pushed down on the gas pedal and felt the engine rev and cause the Lexus to accelerate. He checked the rearview mirror. No police in sight. He then turned right and pushed the gas pedal again. Still no police in sight. The Beretta he used to kill Boris Valery was still in his right hand. A few blocks later, he turned left. He’d distanced himself enough from the police that he eased up his tension.
He hadn’t been far from Boris Valery when he received the call to kill him. He’d been apprised of the situation. He was told that no matter what, Boris was not to leave there alive. Even if it meant risking his own life. Viktor followed instructions well and never questioned them.
He pulled out his cell phone from his front pocket, found the phone number, and pushed the dial button. Three rings later, the familiar voice answered in Russian.
“Yes.”
“He’s dead,” Viktor said.
“Good. Where are you?”
“On Wisconsin Avenue.”
“Come back home. We’ll wait for the night, and then we’ll go to the detective’s house.”
The line went dead.
Viktor hung up and pushed his cell phone back into his pocket. He checked the rearview mirror once again. Still no cops behind him. He lifted the center console and placed the Beretta inside it. He then raised his foot off of the gas and cruised back to his place.
Seventeen
The reports were mixed as to the type of car that was seen speeding away from the crime scene. The few people who actually saw a car driving away said it could have been a gray Ford Taurus, or a blue Nissan Altima, or a white BMW. I wasn’t surprised by the color disparity or that the cars were totally different models and brands. Throughout my career, there have been dozens of times when two or more people witness the same crime but give totally different accounts of what happened or what a suspect looks like or was wearing. It’s frustrating to say the least, but something that we as police officers must deal with. Nonetheless, due to the inconsistency of the witness accounts, we basically had no leads as to the kind of car that sped away.
Three hours had passed since the car shooting. Torrez was in the hospital in stable condition. One bullet hit him in the shoulder and one in the upper right side of his chest. Lucky for him, there wasn’t much damage done due to his distance from the gunman. The bullet didn’t hit any major organs or arteries, so his recovery looked positive. Unfortunately, the uniformed officer that pulled the black Lincoln over was pronounced dead at the scene.
We didn’t have a name for the dead guy who was driving the Lincoln. He didn’t have any identification on his person or in the vehicle. A license plate search revealed that the tag had been stolen days ago. A VIN search on the vehicle revealed the same thing. We ran his prints and nothing came up in our databases.
I was now sitting at my desk, looking over the case notes and pictures of the Rules’ crime scene. So much had happened, and the day wasn’t even halfway over.
First there was the murder of the Rule family. My heart ached just thinking “murder” and “Rule” in the same thought. Then I’d found Rule’s girlfriend dead at his apartment, likely killed by the same people who killed the Rules. Next I was sucker punched by someone whose face I didn’t get to see. My left check was a little swollen but, miraculously, didn’t hurt much. And then, finally, the shooting of the man in the black Lincoln. One thing about this business, you never know how your day is going to go.
Pat and I had been going over the case for the past hour. We threw out theories and discussed possible motives. We turned the case upside down from the information we currently had and couldn’t figure out why the Rules would be the target of such a heinous murder. Finally, Pat said something that I wouldn’t allow myself to think.
“Jacob, there’s still one possibility that we haven’t discussed.”
I looked up from the notes. I knew where she was about to take me, and I didn’t like it.
“Rule.”
I shook my head. “Uh-uh … that’s not even a discussion.”
“Why not? Why can’t anyone find him? Why hasn’t he returned anyone’s calls?”
“Rule wouldn’t do this. I know him like he’s my own brother.”
“If this were any other family, tell me you wouldn’t raise your eyebrows at the fact that we can’t find their only son.”
“There could be a million reasons why we can’t get him,” I said. I could feel anger rising in my voice.
Pat must have noticed because she backed off a little. “I’m just saying, Jacob. We can’t rule out anything yet.”
Deep down I knew she was right, but my mind and heart wouldn’t allow me to think that Rule could be involved in his family’s murder in any way.
I leaned back in my seat and exhaled. “Sorry, you’re right. Under any other circumstance I would consider the son a possible suspect, especially since we can’t find him. But I know Rule. I know he could never do this.”
Pat nodded. “I trust you, Jacob. I just don’t want you to ignore the obvious, especially if it’s staring you right in the face.”
“Yeah,” I said. “The obvious.”
Pat’s little talk got me thinking more about Rule. “Where are you, buddy?” I whispered under my breath.
Eighteen
Alpine, Utah (The Previous Day)
The reason Rule had not been in contact was because his phone had been stepped on and smashed during a fight. He received a solid lead that a fugitive he’d been tracking, John Hunter, was hiding out in Alpine, Utah. Clear across the country from Washington, D.C. Rule packed a bag in the morning and got on the first flight to Salt Lake City International Airport. He arrived just after ten a.m. The drive from Salt Lake City International Airport to Alpine took a little over forty minutes.
His research told him that the last census report noted that Alpine’s population was around 9,555. A small town compared to Washington, D.C. Maybe that would be in his favor. The smaller the town, the more likely his fugitive would be known by local residents.
The sky was as clear as any he’d seen before. The mountainous countryside that scaled Alpine was breathtaking. Rule’s first stop was to the last known address of an associate of Mr. Hunter’s named Will Williams. When he pulled up to the address, he noticed a dilapidated, older single story home with an attached carport. He looked around the neighborhood, and most of the houses on this street looked similarly run-down.
He approached the house and scanned it from left to right. The white siding looked like it needed to be replaced. The worn-down windows looked as old as the house, which Rule figured was probably built sometime in the sixties. He opened the dingy screen door, which screeched as he pulled, and then knocked on the front door. A minute later a frail, old woman opened the door wearing a flower print nightgown. Her hair was long and ghostly white.
“May I help you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Rule held up a mug shot of John Hunter. “I’m wondering if you’ve seen this gentleman.”
The woman squinted and looked at the picture. “No, can’t say that I have.”
“Does a Will Williams live here?”
“I don’t recognize the name. I’ve been living here for the past fifty years, and I’ve never heard of a Will Williams.”
Rule looked at the old woman and then turned and looked around the block. He wondered if his informant had given him bad information. He turned back to the old woman who looked at him innocently.
“Does the name John Hunter ring a bell?” he asked.
The old woman shook her head, “Can’t say that it does.”
“Hmm.”
“Are these boys in some kinda trouble?”
“Maybe.”
Rule dipped his head and thanked the woman for her time. He turned and headed back to his car. As he stepped down from the front porch, he didn’t notice that a pair of eyes, ducked behind one of the blinds, watched his every move.
Nineteen
Alpine, Utah
Rule checked out two other addresses he’d been given. Both were false leads. One house was vacant with a for sale sign in the front yard, and no one answered the second house. Rule sat in his car for a couple of hours down the block from the second house, but no one showed up. It was now evening time, and he hadn’t eaten all day.
He found a diner a couple of miles down the road. When he walked in, he saw a few patrons casually eating. Some looked up when he entered, but the others didn’t seem to notice him. He found a booth by a large window and ordered a chicken sandwich with fries from the waitress. When the food came, he inhaled it and instantly felt better. His body felt more energized. He sat at the table sipping a glass of water when three men entered the diner. Rule didn’t pay them much attention. They were husky men who looked like they just parked their big rigs down the street and came in for food. The three men sat at the front counter casually talking amongst themselves.
Rule wiped his mouth with a napkin and then left a twenty-dollar bill for the food. He stood from the booth and made his way to the front door. As he walked by the men, he caught one of them looking back at him as if he were being sized up. Rule didn’t react like he used to. He didn’t let his competitive spirit cloud his judgment, and decided to let the look go.
When he went outside, the sky was darker than when he came in. The outside was fairly quiet. The road along the diner was empty of traffic. Rule began walking to his car when he heard the door to the diner open.
“Hey,” a rough voice called from behind him.
Rule stopped walking. He didn’t immediately turn around.
“Heard you been asking around about Johnny.”
With his back facing the men, Rule asked, “Do you know where he is?”
“Johnny’s none of your business.”
Rule turned around and dug in his back pocket for a folded piece of paper. He pulled it out and unfolded it. “This here says he is my business. Do you know where he is?”
The three men looked at each other. “You some kinda cop?”
“Nope.”
The three men started walking toward Rule. “Then it be best that you get to moving and stop asking about Johnny.”
Rule refolded the piece of paper and put it back in his rear pocket. He took one step toward the men.
“And if I don’t?”
The man who’d been talking smiled. “Then I guess we got ourselves a little problem here.”
The men started separating and formed a U around Rule.
Rule felt his biceps flex inadvertently. “Here’s what’s going to happen if you don’t tell me where Johnny is.”
Rule took another step forward. He pointed to the man who’d been doing all of the talking and who was standing in front of him. “I’m going to fracture your jaw in two places and break your nose.”
He next pointed to the man to his right. “I’m going to break three of your ribs and give you a hairline fracture along your skull.”
He then pointed to the man to his left. “And I’m going to make you tell me where Johnny is.”
The man laughed, “How you gonna do that?”
“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
Rule turned his pointing hand back to the man standing in front of him. “So, what’s it gonna be?”
The men looked back at each other and then burst into a chorus of laughter. “You must be outta your goddamn mind.”
Rule turned the pointing hand into a fist. “Suit yourself.”
With one motion he leaped forward and swung his left fist, crashing it into the man’s jaw. Rule heard a crunch and snap. When he landed to his feet, he lunged in with his right elbow, catching the man across the nose. The man dropped without ever putting up a fight.
Rule then spun and kicked the second man’s ribs with his right leg. Rule felt another crunch on his foot, and the second man hunched over. Rule then grabbed the man by the back of the head and slammed his
knee into the man’s face. Down went man number two.
Rule turned to the third guy with a devilish grin on his face. The man wasn’t laughing any longer. Instead, he looked like a scared child about to be scolded by his parents. The man held out his hands in a retreating fashion.
“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you where Johnny is.”
“You already had your chance. I told you, I was going to make you tell me where Johnny is.”
“No, no, no, I know where he is. I know where he is.”
Rule swung his fist, but stopped it inches away from the guy’s face.
“I’m in a good mood today. Tell me where he is and this fist won’t hit you.”
“He’s at the house with the old lady. We saw you knock on the door earlier.”
“Whose house is it?”
“Will’s grandmother’s house.”
“And which one of you guys is Will?”
The man pointed to the first guy that Rule hit.
He thought to himself, Should’ve known.
“Well, I said that I wouldn’t hit you with this hand.”
Rule swung his left fist and caught the guy across the cheek. He dropped instantly.
“Never said nothing about the other one, though.”
Rule stood and looked over the three men lying on the ground. That’s when he saw that a smartphone was on the ground, smashed. He checked the clip on his hip; his phone wasn’t there.
“Damn.”
He realized that he must have stepped on it when he went for the second guy.
Well, he thought, at least I know where John Hunter is. Rule turned to his car, fully anticipating that he’d have John Hunter in handcuffs within the hour.
Twenty
Alpine, Utah
The Game of Life or Death: A Detective Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers (The Jacob Hayden Series Book 3) Page 4
