by Dan Alatorre
“Okay.” Eicholtz pointed at Mellish. “You know this place better than I do. Come help me find him.”
“Yes, sir.” Mellish jumped up from his desk. “The stairs will be fastest.”
“As soon as we find the sergeant,” Eicholtz said, “I’ll get him up to speed. The moment Lieutenant Davis and Carly come out of that interview, tell them the sniper is driving a brown Buick sedan. The data is on the DHS linkup. And tell Carly to call me as soon as she can.”
“Done.” Mellish said, reaching the stairs.
Eicholtz threw the door open, descending the steps two at a time.
* * * * *
Against her protests, Sergio dropped Abbie off with Lavonte for day two.
She slammed the car door, her cheeks red. “You are leaving me with a dangerous criminal!”
“You know . . .” Sergio gave her a half-grin as he leaned on the steering wheel. “You’re starting to make me think you don’t like Big Brass.”
“I don’t.”
“Well, I do,” Sergio said. “And he’s a way into that organization you and the DEA are looking to take down. Now, the Tampa cops have nabbed all your abductors. That’s pretty quick work. We—meaning you—just need to lay low for another day or so to let the dust settle a little. Then we can see about getting Big Brass reinserted into his old organization, and getting you back to work at your office. Then the world can return to mostly normal.”
“He . . .” Abbie glanced over her shoulder. “He makes me uncomfortable.”
“Yeah?” Sergio said. “Well, sleeping on my own couch makes me uncomfortable. I’m not in college anymore.”
“From the look of your refrigerator, you could have fooled me.”
“Are you going to behave?” Sergio narrowed his eyes. “You know, if someone likes you, they’re more likely to help you. Don’t they teach that in law school? Big Brass is a big Teddy bear, trust me.”
Lavonte strolled out of the Esturiano building, pulling on some leather work gloves. “Come on, lawyer lady. Now that the debate is called off, we gotta get everyone’s gear packed back up and gone.” He put his hands on his hips, squinting in the bright sunlight. “A couple of vendors ain’t claimed their trailers yet. Might have to break into ‘em and see what’s up.”
Abbie winced. “Sounds . . . fun.”
“Fun?” He tossed her a pair of gloves. “Just see that you don’t break one of them pretty nails of yours. I ain’t got time for no emergency runs to the manicurist.”
She turned to Sergio. “Do you see what I mean? He’s incorrigible.”
“Yeah. You two make a set.” Sergio smiled. “Stick close to his side and you’ll be fine. Play nice. Make friends.” He put the car in gear. “I’ll be back around four.”
“Okay.” Abbie waved. “Stay safe.”
“I’m chasing down parking tickets,” Sergio said. “Staying safe won’t be a problem.”
As he drove off the lot, he checked the stack of citations, reading the name and address on top. “Marla Palmer. Well, I’m sorry I didn’t get to hear your flea market story yesterday, Marla. I’m sure it’s a thriller. Sit tight, though. I’m on my way.”
* * * * *
The lieutenant passed out printed sheets to the panel members. “Detective Sanderson will have three minutes to read and evaluate each hypothetical scenario described on these pages. She will then give a one-minute summation of her analysis to the board, followed by a recommendation of how to proceed with the officer involved. Options include a verbal reprimand, written warning, suspension, termination, or other.” He handed a folder to Carly. “Detective, you have three minutes.”
The page inside described a code 11-10. A lone officer was called to the scene of an empty warehouse to file a vandalism report with the landlord. Upon arrival, the officer made contact with the warehouse owner. Then, a second call came in, updating the situation. A civilian witness stated that as many as twenty armed men were inside the warehouse across the alley, with a potential drug deal going down. The second warehouse was observed by the responding officer as having numerous flashy cars around it, possibly the vehicles of the armed felons inside. The landlord stated he had never seen the cars around the warehouse before.
Carly spotted the ‘hypothetical’ scene right away.
This is Sergio.
The warehouse, the drug deal . . . the twenty armed felons . . . that’s too precise a number to be a coincidence.
What’s the game here?
“Detective, your three minutes are up.” Davis picked up his pen. “In scenario one, the responding officer entered the building alone and attempted to apprehend all the armed felons inside by himself.” He looked at Carly. “What is your summation and recommendation?”
Carly stared at the page and sat up straight.
Just give them the company line. Anything else would be a mistake at this point.
“Policy mandates the responding officer should have called for backup, surveilled the warehouse from a safe distance, and responded only after the additional units had arrived on the scene.”
“Yes, Detective Sanderson.” Davis made a note on his pad. “And what would you recommend as the proper disciplinary action?”
She looked at the printout, chewing her lip. “It appears to be a blatant disregard for the officer’s safety and possibly the safety of those inside. Based on the information before me, if I were the officer’s sergeant, I would recommend a suspension.”
“Suspension. Good.”
The members of the panel voiced their agreement.
“Let’s move on to the next hypothetical case.”
The second case was another one that Sergio had been involved in. The real case also ended in a recommendation of suspension—and that was subsequently lifted by Lieutenant Breitinger.
He’s justifying Sergio’s suspensions and Breitinger’s forced resignation.
But both of those things have already been decided. Sergio is suspended pending a hearing, and Breitinger agreed to resign. Why put these under my nose today?
Why? Because he can. Because he wants me to know this is how it’s going to be. He calls the shots, and anyone who disagrees goes away.
Okay, so what do I do about it in here?
She gave her summation. Based on the information presented, there was only one answer—another recommendation of suspension. Davis agreed, as did the panel members.
Her heart sank as Davis pulled out the next printout.
I’m sinking Sergio, step by step.
The third case was practically egregious. Without naming names, Davis had lifted the facts about Sergio chasing Parmenter and ending up in the bay. He kept the grand finale out of it, probably so he wouldn’t show his whole hand, but it was pretty obvious what to recommend.
Carly sunk down in her chair.
“Detective?” Davis was practically sneering now. “Your summation and recommendation?”
Gloom settled over her. Three recommendations of suspension would get any cop fired. Two suspensions followed by a third violation of any type would probably be enough to get an officer canned.
There was only one recommendation. Termination. Tell the truth and let the chips fall where they may, as far as these hypothetical scenarios were concerned.
But she saw the bigger play. She’d be called to testify as Sergio’s partner in his hearing. Davis would see to that.
How could I recommend one thing here and another thing there?
The hearing would happen before she’d be installed as sergeant, so any discrepancy would jeopardize her promotion.
And so would not telling the obvious truth now.
She shifted in her seat. Under the table, she massaged her hands harder. “Based on the information before me . . .”
Davis lifted his chin, peering down his nose at her.
“. . . immediate suspension with a recommendation of termination,” Carly said. “It’s clear-cut. The officer jeopardized the lives of himself, the oth
er officers, the suspects, and numerous innocent civilians.”
The lieutenant’s eyebrows raised. “Termination. Very good, Detective. He made a few notes and shut his folder. “I’d like to open the floor to our esteemed panel members for any questions or comments. He looked to his far left. “Dr. Stevens, let’s start with you.”
Carly bristled. Had Lieutenant Davis stacked the deck and informed Stevens to bring up the botched raid on her house?
That would make me look as bad as him—unless the doctor didn’t know about Davis’ role.
Stevens looked at the other panel members. “I believe my mind was made up the other night. Rather starkly, I might add.”
Carly squeezed her hands together, her gut clenching.
“Detective,” Dr. Stevens looked at Carly. “Your participation in the events the other evening was . . . well, how does one put it? I was shocked. Overwhelmed.”
Carly looked down.
Here it comes. I get it now. He put me through all this to have them humiliate me one at a time.
“In fact,” Stevens said, “it made such an impression, I mentioned to the other members that this panel interview might no longer be necessary. I’d already made up my mind. Sad as it may seem in retrospect, if I’m completely honest, I admit there would be almost nothing you could say today that would move me from my position.”
Heat rose to Carly’s cheeks.
“I believe you have a lot of potential, Detective. You are extremely capable . . .”
Here comes the “but.”
“But . . .”
Oh, man. I’m toast.
“. . . when you gave that presentation to the media, speaking directly to the killer and stating they had the power to stop—well, I said it then and I’ll say it now.” The doctor beamed. “It was absolutely brilliant. It is exactly the type of leadership we want in our higher ranks.” She turned to Davis. “My recommendation is to approve Detective Sanderson for the position. We need as many people like her as we can find.”
“I agree,” Captain Montorro said.
Sergeant Bronn and the rep from HR agreed as well.
Davis adjusted his tie. “Well, then . . . I guess we are, uh . . .”
Carly glared at him.
Adjourned, until you can regroup and think up something else.
“We are in unison?” Dr. Stevens said.
The others laughed, standing and shaking Carly’s hand.
“Yes,” Davis said. “We are . . . in unison. I’ll, uh, I’ll recommend we promote Carly as soon as possible.” He stood, jamming his pen into his pocket. “Congratulations, Detective.”
Lieutenant Davis turned and walked out of the room.
* * * * *
Sergio drove up to the condo and parked in a visitor’s spot near the front of the building. The morning skies were crisp and clear, with a gentle breeze and no clouds. After double checking the unit number, he zipped up his jacket and read the ornate sign on the side of the building. Marla Palmer’s unit was on the first floor, the first door to his right.
Her building was upscale; light yellow with white trim and subdued art deco details. The upper units had a small balcony or a bay window overlooking the parking lot. Downstairs units just had a window near the front door.
Sergio knocked and took a step back so the homeowner wouldn’t feel encroached upon.
After all, she’s helping us.
So far, his interviews hadn’t turned into much, but he’d heard that a few other door knockers had discovered some interesting leads, so he smiled and did his part to show he wanted to be a real cop again.
He knocked a second time, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets as he peered at the front window. The blinds were closed, blocking any glimpse of the inside.
Checking his phone, he waited thirty more seconds, knocked again, and when there was no answer, he headed back to his car.
Can’t force it. Make a quick note and see where the next ticket is.
* * * * *
Bree and Rossi huddled together in the back room of the condo, holding their breath in silence.
“Can you still see him?” she whispered. She was half dressed, clutching a tie-dyed shirt, her jeans still lying on the bed.
Rossi leaned an inch into the hallway and shook his head.
“Was it a cop?”
“I don’t think so.” Rossi turned to her. “He was wearing jeans.”
“Okay.” Bree kneeled down, her pulse thumping. She took her Glock handgun from under the bed. “I’ll look and see if he’s gone. Nobody should be concerned if I answer the door at my own place.”
“No, no, no.” Rossi’s voice was hushed. “If it’s Turley’s guys, they’ll wait—so we need to wait.”
Bree bit her fingernail. She had a schedule to keep. “But what if they’re surrounding us, baby?”
Rossi winced. “Okay. But I’ll go check, Marla. You stay here.” He peeked around the corner. “Give me the Glock, and stay away from the doors and windows.”
Bree handed him the weapon. As Rossi tiptoed down the hallway, she finished dressing and reached under the bed again. The rubber dishwashing gloves were there. After putting them on, Bree retrieved the AR-15 with the mounted scope that Benjamin had sold her a few weeks ago. She locked a full clip into the rifle and checked the lens of its sniper scope.
Good to go. It will take Ballistics about two minutes to match this to the sniper victims.
“It’s just a regular-looking guy,” Rossi said, lowering the blinds on the front window. “Maybe he’s lost or something. He’s walking to his car.” Rossi looked down the hallway to her. “Could be a salesman.”
“Okay.” Bree walked to the front door and set the big rifle against it. “Let’s keep this handy until we are ready to go.”
“You can’t leave this here.” Rossi picked up the AR-15. “Someone might see it.”
She grabbed the rifle back. “Listen, baby—no one can see in through those blinds, or that salesman would have, okay? Now, just do what I say.” She set the AR against the front door and pointed at the gas cans in the kitchen. “Get this gear ready and help me move the woman’s body into the living room. We have a lot to do before we go.”
* * * * *
Carly crossed the hallway and knocked on Lieutenant Davis’ door. “Sir, do you have a moment?”
He glared at her.
“It’ll just take a minute,” Carly said. “Please.”
Davis threw his folder onto his desk. “Get the door and make this fast.”
Carly shut the door and stood in front of the lieutenant’s desk. “Sir, I know what the rules say. You can make a valid case for termination, but firing him is a mistake.”
Davis turned his head, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. “I’m not sure who you are referring to, Carly.”
“Detective Sergio Martin, sir. We both know the interview questions were about him.”
The lieutenant stroked his chin. “Give me one good reason not to do it.”
“I can give you a dozen,” Carly said. “But here’s the most important one. Sergio is willing to put his neck on the line when others won’t, which is usually the only time it matters. He has what’s not in the manuals.”
“You’ve taken a liking to giving speeches lately, Detective. Don’t presume to lecture me in my own office.” Davis frowned. “Your partner—former partner—makes mistakes.”
“And he pays for them—or haven’t you been watching? But you were at the office Christmas party. The Governor practically offered him a job! And cop after cop came up and thanked Sergio for doing what they wish they could have done. Your cops, sir. Sergio was in the hospital because he went through a door when he knew a serial killer was on the other side. He was surrounded by a dozen other cops and he was the only one who went through that door. Your officers respect that type of leadership, sir. And so do I. If I got promoted, that’s the kind of recruit I’d be looking for.”
He rolled his eyes,
sighing as he put his elbow on the desk and rested his chin in his hand. “Our HR department would be overflowing with rules infractions.”
“Then hire more HR people to reprimand the Sergios you hire,” she said. “If you can find any Sergios. Because they’re making sure it’s safe for your kids and mine to ride their bikes and play.”
“In your panel interview . . .” Davis picked up the folder. “You recommend termination.”
Carly squared her shoulders. “I actually said ‘based on the information before me.’ Of course, as a good sergeant, I’d always look at context as well. For example, the manual says inappropriate contact with the news media about a case is against the rules.”
Davis sat up.
“It also says,” Carly continued, “that anyone who has knowledge of an employee breaking rules is to report it to their superior officer. That’s section 21.7, sir. It discusses reporting incidents to superiors. As acting sergeant, my superior officer is you.” She looked him in the eye. “And it is my belief you violated the rules by calling the news when we screwed up and surrounded Dr. Stevens’ house.”
Davis glared at Carly. “Detective . . .”
“Now,” she said, “since you have an obvious conflict of interest in the matter, Lieutenant, you are duty-bound—per the manual, sir—to report the incident to the chief.”
“Why you . . .”
“But.” Carly shrugged. “Chief Clemmons is a reasonable person. I believe he’d understand the context in which you didn’t get clearance. I think he’d also understand if you extended such consideration of context to Sergio’s termination hearing. For consistency, Lieutenant. We don’t want accusations of preferential treatment.”
“Which you’d also have to report.” Davis dropped the folder back onto his desk.
“I would, sir.”
Leaning back in his chair, the lieutenant folded his hands and let out a long, slow breath. “You drive a hard bargain, Sanderson. Is that all?”
She nodded. “That’s it.”
“Okay, you have a deal.” He stood up and extended his hand. “I may have underestimated you, Detective.”
“Yes, sir.” Carly shook hands with the lieutenant. “Don’t make a habit of it.”
