“Sir, Mr. Mailman?”
Zack was startled by the voice and turned back to the house.
“Where is Jordan?” a lady asked, as she peeked from behind the screen door.
“He’s out sick,” Zack answered back.
“Well, what’s your name?” she asked.
“My name is Zack. I’m sorry I have to get on with my route,” he said turning away.
“Mr. Zack, my name is Louise. I wonder if you can help me. Jordan always helps me with my bottled water.”
Zack knew he better go along with the woman’s request, or it would blow his undercover investigation.
“No problem,” Zack said, walking through her front door. He picked the mail up off the floor and gave it to her. “What can I help you with, Louise?”
“My water bottle is empty,” she said as she walked Zack to the kitchen.
Zack couldn’t help but notice the woman was well-dressed with makeup and not a hair out of place, and it was only nine in the morning. A mid-sixties widow looking for conversation or maybe companionship, Zack thought.
“Does Jordan help you often?”
“Oh, yes, all the time,” she said petting the top of her silk blouse.
Zack followed her into the kitchen and took an empty, five-gallon, water bottle off the stand and replaced it with a full bottle. “I can see why Jordan helps you with this. It is heavy.”
“Yes, it is. I don’t know what I would do if Jordan didn’t stop by a few times a week. Is Jordan going to be out for a while?”
“No, I’m sure he will be back tomorrow,” Zack said with a slight grin, realizing Jordan did a little more than delivering mail to the woman.
Zack walked through the living room heading to the front door. The large, double-window drapes were pulled back, and he could see directly into Patty’s house. He got closer to the window but still saw no movement.
“Thank you, Mr. Zack,” Louise said as he walked out of the house.
Zack turned back and gave Louise a smile. For a few moments, he was relaxed talking to Louise but knew he had a potentially serious problem, and it was right next door.
He took a deep breath and walked up to Patty’s house. His eyes scanned the house as any good detective would do, looking for any clue but still seeing nothing. He gathered her mail in one hand and knocked on the front door. There was no movement and not a sound coming from the inside of the house. He knocked again, this time a little harder. He heard footsteps coming toward the door and then the person stopped. It wasn’t a usual walk, more like only one foot hitting the ground and the other dragging behind.
The doorknob turned, and the door slowly opened. It was open just a little, and Patty stuck her head out. Zack was so relieved to see her. He gave a big smile but quickly realized Patty had fear written across her face.
“Hi, Jordan. You could have put my mail in the door slot,” she said.
Zack’s stomach turned and sickened him. He could feel a chill go up to his spine. Patty was in serious trouble.
“Sorry to disturb you, but I have a letter that needs a signature.”
Zack looked through his mailbag for a pen and handed it to Patty. She wrote, HELP, a man with a gun, and handed it back to Zack.
“Thank you, Jordan,” she said as she closed the door.
It took total discipline, but Zack walked slowly down the steps, turned left, and headed to the corner. His heart was beating fast as he reached the corner and was met by Armando.
“We have a serious problem,” Zack said, trying to catch his breath.
Zack went into detail and explained everything to Armando.
“We need a SWAT team,” Zack said.
“Not if you want to see your daughter-in-law alive,” Armando said as he rushed to the trunk of his police cruiser. “I’ve called this in, and we have all the backup we need. What we don’t have is time,” he said, pulling a rifle out of his trunk.
He took off his coat and shoulder holster. He took his handgun from the holster and stuck the gun in his back waistband. He put a clip of bullets in his rifle and attached a high-power scope.
“How can I help?” Zack asked.
Armando connected a wireless microphone to the back of Zack’s belt and gave him an earpiece. “I will instruct you as we go along. Just follow my directions; this is a life-or-death situation. Do what I tell you, and I will take care of the rest. If I can get within fifty yards of him and get a shot, I’ll take him down; hopefully alive.”
Zack put the earpiece in his ear and adjusted his hat. He took a deep breath and put his mailbag on his shoulder and walked back down the street.
“Can you hear me?” Armando said into his microphone.
“Loud and clear,” Zack responded.
Zack did everything possible not to look at Patty’s house as he passed by and continued walking toward Louise’s house. He walked up the stairs of Louise’s porch and could feel his hand shaking. It had been many years since he was under such pressure, and he was doing everything to keep his composure.
Zack rang Louise’s doorbell and nervously waited for her to answer. In a hostage situation, you have to pay attention to every detail and think like the criminal. You have to wonder if the criminal is watching you and if your actions are believable. Zack’s time on the police force prompted him to carry out his task to the fullest. He reached into his bag and gathered letters as if he forgot to give Louise all her mail.
Louise opened the door with a big smile on her face. “I knew you would be back, Zack.”
“It’s not what you think, Louise; I need your help,” Zack said, handing her the mail.
“My help?”
“Yes, there is a dangerous situation. Your neighbor Patty is being held hostage.”
“Oh, my god! How can I help?”
“Please, just focus. There is a police officer at your back door. Let him in, and you hide in your bedroom until he tells you to come out.”
“Will do,” Louise said as she slowly closed the door.
Zack turned and walked down the steps, trying to look calm and natural, but it wasn’t easy. For this to end without incident, he had to put his trust in Armando; it was the only option.
Louise quickly walked to the back of the house and opened the door. She saw no one, so she pushed the screen door open and stuck her head out.
“Stay inside. Leave the door open and hide,” Armando whispered.
Louise could not see him but took her orders and quickly headed to her bedroom, securing the door. She sat on the bed and waited in panic.
Armando came through the back door and slowly walked through the house, keeping his rifle close to his side. The drapes facing Patty’s house were slightly open, and he carefully closed them. Making it to the doorway of the living room, he peeked around the doorframe. The drapes on the big, double windows were open, and he could see directly into Patty’s living room. Armando put his rifle on his back and crawled on his belly to the window. He kept his head on the window ledge so as not to be seen and pulled the drapes closed.
Speaking into the small microphone attached to his shirt, Armando said, “Are you ready?”
Zack heard him clearly and said, “Yes.”
“You have ninety seconds,” Armando said.
“I’m on my way,” he said.
Zack walked down the street toward Patty’s house. The SWAT team was in place, and he could see them hiding throughout the neighborhood, ready to converge on the house instantly if needed.
Armando peeked through the corner of the drape, hoping to see movement in Patty’s living room. He grumbled, “Come on, you asshole, let me see your eyes.” He moved to the other side of the window and slowly pulled the drapery back.
“Bingo! I’ve got a visual,” Armando whispered.
“I’m twenty seconds away,” Zack said, picking up his pace without looking like he was rushing.
Armando stood in the corner away from the window. Picking up his rifle, he focused the scope on the opening of
the drapes. He could see Patty and a hand that kept waving in and out of his view.
“Ready,” Zack said taking a deep breath.
“Clear,” Armando replied.
Zack walked up onto Patty’s porch and knocked hard on the front door. “Express mail!”
A man stood up with a gun to Patty’s back.
“Black male, six feet, gun,” Armando whispered into his microphone.
“It’s in your hands. Take your shot,” the commander’s voice spoke softly through his earpiece.
Armando focused but couldn’t get a clear shot. “Come on, you asshole, a little to the right.”
Zack knocked on the door again, and the black man let Patty go toward the door, keeping her close with the gun to her back. She reached for the door handle.
Just that quick, split-second move by the man allowed Armando to take his shot, and he did, hitting him on the left side of his chest. The man stumbled but was still standing.
Patty opened the door, and Zack grabbed her. A split second of relief turned to horror when he heard two gunshots. The man hanging on to his gun took aim and shot Patty in the back, and Armando fired, hitting the man in the chest, killing him.
Patty collapsed in Zack’s arms.
“She’s hit! I need help,” Zack screamed.
Chapter 13
Jack walked into his favorite watering hole, the Velvet Swing, which was tucked away mostly in a residential area called Lakeview. Once an upscale housing area of the 1950s, it was now mostly converted to commercial use. It was a hangout that Jack had frequented since he was old enough to drink, and even before that with fake identification. He sat at the bar, and the bartender poured his traditional drink. One sip and a quick knockback and it was gone.
“Tammy, another—light on the water,” he said as he rattled the ice in the glass. “Send it over to the booth.”
He sat in his usual booth in the corner of the room, which gave a clear view of the front door. He was always protective of himself and wanted his back to the wall, looking to see who might come through the door. He recognized little of the leftover lunch crowd hanging around because he seldom frequented the bar that early in the day. The only person he knew was the bartender, and to him, that was the most important. She delivered his drink to the table and placed a cocktail napkin under it.
He took a sip. “Are you scared the wet glass might stain this nasty, chipped table?”
“No, just habit. You’re in here early today,” Tammy said with a smile.
Jack stroked her knee to her firm butt. “When are we going to get together?”
“You mean, when are we going to have sex?”
He smiled, looking into her eyes. “Well, that too.”
“Keep dreaming, Jack. We tried that once already,” she said as she removed his hand.
Tammy had been working her way through college tending bar when she first met Jack. They went out a few times but then Jack became too possessive. It got to a point where he told her what clothes to wear, ran most of her friends off, and picked a fight with every guy who gave her a second look. She finally broke away from him when her mother got sick, and she moved back to Mobile, Alabama, to help out. That is when she broke the spell Jack seemed to have on her.
Tammy returned to her old job a year later to finish school. That was her reason to return, but the fact was, like many people, Tammy just fell in love with New Orleans. Jack turned out to be even more bad news when she returned. A few months earlier, he got arrested on charges that put him away for five years. She had been back for seven years now, and college was still on the back burner. Most important, Jack was out of her life, and she had no intentions ever to get tangled up with a man like that again.
Jack looked at his watch; it was 3:15 p.m. His appointment was late, and that was something he didn’t tolerate. He knocked back another drink, just as the front door opened and a light shone in, like a car going down a dark road in the night. Like most bars, there were no windows here and customers never knew if it was day or night.
It took a while, and the room got dark again. Jack’s eyes adjusted and he could see it was Raul and Wesley. They were late for the meeting, and it took a lot for Jack to control his anger. They took a seat in the booth and motioned for Tammy.
“You don’t need a drink,” Jack said, staring Raul down.
“Yes, I do!” he quickly replied.
Tammy took the orders, and the men engaged in small talk waiting for their drinks. She returned and placed two beers on the table and pushed another drink in front of Jack.
Jack had been to jail for what he called a bullshit manslaughter charge. Five years in prison and two years of anger management classes and none of it seemed to stop his aggressive behavior. He grabbed Raul by the forearm and pulled it to the middle of the table. “What the hell went wrong?”
“I’m not sure,” Raul said, pulling his arm back.
That wasn’t the answer Jack wanted. He had hired them the day he got out of jail to fulfill his vendetta. Everything had gone to plan until now.
“Why didn’t he just kill her once he got in the house? He had the syringe; it had the juice in it. Shit, he outweighed her by one hundred and fifty pounds. All he had to do was stick her. In fifteen seconds, she would have been dead,” Jack said in a forceful whisper.
“I don’t know. What I do know is Arron Baker is dead,” Raul said, trying to keep Jack in control.
“What about Patty Nelson?”
“I don’t know; they have cops all over the hospital. No one is talking.”
Bending the table with his massive arms, Jack stood up. “For your sake, this Patty gal better not talk. There is no telling what Arron might have told her.”
Jack was second-guessing himself. Was Raul the person who could finish his plan he had so carefully calculated? It was years in the planning, carried out to the smallest detail, and this was no time to get sloppy.
He couldn’t believe Zack Nelson had not put two and two together. Everyone in the courtroom heard him scream at Zack when the judge read the verdict.
“I will get even someday. I will!” Jack shouted as the guards hauled him to jail.
Zack was a few years from retirement when he testified against Jack. He was the first officer on the scene when they arrested Jack, and he worked the case to the end. Zack wrote the judge and even sent horrible pictures from the site of the crime, asking the judge to give Jack the full sentence, twenty years. But due to the inexperience of a public defender representing the deceased, he got only five years.
Zack had worked thousands of cases over the years, so there was no reason for him to match Jack with a person he put behind bars. Adding weight, muscle tone, and a shaved head changed Jack’s appearance dramatically. Once he left prison, he stopped using his real name, Jackson, and cut it short, now known as Jack to most people.
“This has been in the planning for too long for anything to go wrong now. Do you hear me?” His voice carried through the bar. “Do you think it was luck that Zack showed up at Riverside? That his daughter-in-law came face to face with death today? It took years of planning.” The look in Jack’s eyes was enough to frighten anyone as he grabbed Raul’s arm. “Get it handled.”
“I have a plan in place,” said Raul. “Two of my people are at the hospital—it will get handled.”
Armando arrived at St. John Medical Center and entered the emergency waiting room. Out of respect for a retired detective, Patty received treatment and protection like any police officer’s family member. The waiting room was full of uniformed police officers showing their support. Some were calling it a home invasion gone wrong; others thought there was a lot more to it. Armando waved through the room, greeting officers he had come up the ranks with and stopped to shake hands with Commander Waters.
“Commander.”
“Armando, this case is a priority, not only because it is one of our own, but the press is all over this. The mayor is going to have my head if we don’t g
et an arrest quickly.”
“Yes, sir, I’m on it.”
Armando walked to Patty’s room. Two police officers monitored the door. He showed his ID and walked in. Greeting Zack and Tom Nelson, he stood with them over Patty’s bed. Tubes ran from her, connected to machines monitoring her every breath and heartbeat. Armando put his arm around Zack, and he leaned on him for support.
“Why did he shoot her? I had her by the arm, and I was a second from pulling her away.”
“I should have taken my shot earlier. I had a good shot five seconds earlier, and I would have killed the criminal, fuck! I was trying to bring him in alive. I should have taken the kill shot,” Armando said, dropping his head to his chest.
“Don’t beat yourself up. Patty will recover, and we’ll get the asshole who did this,” Zack said with confidence.
“Are you ready? Can you handle it?” Armando said.
“I’m ready and my years on the job tell me I’m right.”
“Let’s do it,” Armando said.
Tom, Zack, and Armando walked out of the room. They relived the two officers, and they sat on chairs guarding Patty’s door. Tom went for a coffee run. Zack pulled a picture of Raul out of his pocket and showed it to Armando.
“You think this is the guy? And he is going to walk right up to us?” Armando asked with a puzzled look on his face.
“That’s my plan.”
Zack and Armando created much concern sitting in front of Patty’s door, observing every person who went in and sometimes going in with them. The hallway was busy, and the nurses tried to make it look like an average day, going about their business. They all knew it was far from normal and kept conversations to a minimum when people asked what was going on. While they couldn’t stop people from visiting their family members, Armando screened every person who walked down the hall.
“These two black guys have been through here three times,” Zack told Armando.
“I know, don’t look at them.”
Just then a fight broke out in front of the nurses station between two black men, pushing each other, name calling, and getting loud. Armando rushed over, and Zack stayed in the hallway halfway between Patty’s room and the nurses station. Armando got between them to break it up. Zack watched one guy’s face. He looked nervous. The man was talking but not making any sense. He was in a fight, struggling, but yet his eyes wandered all around the room. Zack watched his eyes and followed them twice, looking down the hallway at the two empty chairs in front of Patty’s door.
True Blue Detective Page 13
