The Deadliest Sins

by Rick Reed

  It was difficult to think. He took a breath, let it out, and said, “We didn’t know he was going to kill Lyman. Coyote accidentally left his journal at the last murder scene I had in Evansville. He killed a nun and a cop.” He didn’t mention the boy, Joe. “I thought he was headed here to visit his wife’s and daughter’s graves. He makes mention of a ‘source’ that was helping him by giving him information. I put two and two together, Chief. Lyman was probably his partner. And before you ask, no you can’t have the journal. It’s evidence in my case in Evansville.”

  “I read about that case,” Shepard said. “You made national news.”

  “There’s more than my case in Evansville,” Jack said. “That’s why Lieutenant Battle was with me. She lost people too. He’s killed hundreds that we are aware of right now.”

  “Shit,” Shepard said. “You hear that, Rodney?” he asked the medic.

  “I didn’t hear anything, Shep,” the medic answered.

  “Good boy. I’ll buy you a coffee later,” Shepard said. “I’ll take your statement at the police station, but I want to know one thing right here and right now.”

  Jack tried to put his foot down to get up and winced at the sudden pain.

  Shepard continued. “You both thought he was going to kill you? Right? He’d already ambushed your partner and shot you. He was going to kill you both. Your girl’s the one that stabbed him in defense of your life. Am I right, Detective Murphy?”

  “Correct. He wanted to see who was the fastest draw, Chief,” Jack said.

  Shepard moved closer to Jack and said in a low voice, “You might not want to tell anyone else that last part. You hear? Like your girl said, this isn’t the Old West. We don’t have shootouts in the streets. Or in cemeteries either. Just say he was pointing that gun at you, and your partner stabbed him in self-defense. Okay?”

  “We both wanted to take him alive,” Jack lied. “I thought she was dead. I still don’t know how she got up. I don’t know why he didn’t shoot her again.” He didn’t have to add, “I would have.”

  “Let me tell you something,” Shepard said to Jack. He said to the medic, “And don’t you repeat any of this, Rodney.”

  “Did you say something, Chief?” Rodney started putting equipment away.

  Shepard said, “You don’t know how lucky you are, Detective Murphy. His gun was empty. I guess he didn’t take any of the ammo Lyman still had on his body. He was going to shoot it out with you with an unloaded gun. That’s why you don’t want to repeat what you just tried to tell me, and I didn’t pay it no attention.”

  Jack asked, “When can I go and see Battle? My partner.”

  The medic said, “They’ll be in Sierra Vista by now. Might be a while before you can talk to her, Detective.”

  “That girl’s got grit,” Shep said. “Guess I’m lucky she didn’t come after me for calling her hon. I didn’t mean anything by it. You tell her that for me, will you? I’m scared of knives.”

  “Me too. I’ll tell her,” Jack said. He was feeling better. The dizziness was passing, and he felt clearer. “Can we go get that statement done, Chief? You haven’t called my bosses yet, have you?”

  “Woman named Anna Whiteside called me. She said to tell you that you did a good job but your ass is still on fire,” Shepard said. “I’m going to add my two cents to that and try to help you out. You don’t have jurisdiction in Arizona, but if push comes to shove I’ll swear I deputized you and you were working for the Bisbee Police Department in the apprehension of a murder suspect.”

  “Thanks, Chief, but I don’t want you to get in hot water.”

  “I’m the chief here. I don’t get in hot water. I’ll probably get a pay raise. You helped the police department stop a mad dog killer, and no one else got killed. Except for Lyman of course. But if he’s dirty like you said, I say good riddance to him.”

  Jack said, “I’ll follow you to the police station.”

  “You ain’t going to be driving for a while,” Shepard said and pointed at Jack’s bandaged foot. “Your car’s beat up pretty good. Probably tore the undercarriage all to hell and back.”

  Murphy’s Law says: “When it rains, it pisses on you.”

  Jack let the chief help him to the chief’s car. A wrecker pulled in front of Jack’s Crown Vic. Jack looked once more at the body of the man who was responsible for all this. Coyote had started a gunfight knowing he would lose. He had wanted to die, and Jack was happy to oblige.

  Jack said softly, “You’re with your family now, but I hope you rot in hell.”

  Shepard said, “What?”

  “Nothing, Chief.”

  Chapter 49

  Jack had called Katie and spent that night and the next at the hospital in Sierra Vista. Battle was pulling through, but the bullet had done a lot of damage. She remained conscious and as sarcastic and bullying as ever. It was a good sign.

  Jack had let her deal with Major Maddox and her own conscience, and Chief Shepard himself had taken Jack to the airport, where he caught a flight to Evansville. Katie, Liddell, Marcie, baby Jane, and Captain Franklin had greeted him.

  Franklin said, “Don’t expect any favors just because you got shot, Jack.” Franklin was a swell guy. Not.

  Anna Whiteside and Assistant Deputy Director Toomey made a special trip to visit Jack at home and tell him what he expected. He was not only suspended from the Evansville Police Department pending an investigation and possible ling of criminal charges, but he was suspended from federal service. They wouldn’t be getting sworn in on Friday. He could survive the latter half.

  Toomey had delivered the bad news with a barely disguised grin on his face that said he was just mouthing political talk. The stuff supervisors had to say when you screwed up but they were on your side.

  Anna had waited until Toomey left the room and sat on the sofa beside Jack. They had the room to themselves.

  “I’ve got good news for you,” she said.

  “I thought getting fired from USOC was good news,” Jack said, but she ignored the remark.

  “We found Joe’s cousin. Second cousin really, but still a relative. She’s living in Florida and is a US citizen. I’ve already contacted her and offered to bring Joe to her, but she insisted on coming here to thank you and Liddell.”

  “That’s great news about Joe!” Jack said. “What made you change your mind about sending him back to that hellhole he came from? Sorry, that came out wrong. I mean, thank you for helping him out. He’s been through a lot.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Anna said. “He’s applied for SIJS and has to go before a federal judge to start the process.”

  “You guys love your acronyms, don’t you? What’s SIJS?”

  “Special Immigrant Juvenile Status allows children who are brought into the US illegally to stay with a lawful resident and apply for citizenship. There’s a bunch of hoops, but I’m trying to help the cousin get it all done.”

  “That’s a kind thing you’re doing, Anna,” Jack said, and he meant it.

  “So, you don’t think I’m the ICE Queen now?”

  Jack didn’t tell her she was still a bitch, but she was his bitch. It didn’t seem the right thing to say.

  “What about Lieutenant Battle?” Jack asked. He’d been in touch with Sanchez and was relieved that Kim was on the mend. She’d suffered some brain damage, but according to Sanchez it wasn’t anything she didn’t already have. Jack figured Sanchez would marry her, they’d have a half dozen little Sanchezes, and all of them would carry guns and drink beer.

  “Major Maddox recommended Battle be fired, but it hasn’t been decided yet. The governor is still getting Facebook praise for having the smarts to send his best trooper to catch Coyote. The public loves a hero. And they love the ironic nickname for the killer.”

  “The Roadrunner finally caught up with him,” Jack said and winced at
sounding like Bigfoot.

  “Toomey likes her for USOC. He hinted that if she was fired, he was going to hire her for Sanchez’s group.”

  “Sanchez will be grateful, I’m sure,” Jack said, knowing just the opposite was true. A woman scorned is bad enough. A woman scorned and carrying a Bowie knife meant it was time to run for the hills.

  “Feel up to a little trip?” Anna asked.

  “Taking me to Gitmo?” Jack asked.

  “You wish.”

  * * * *

  Anna took him to the chief’s conference room at the police station. Liddell and Marcie were there. Katie had taken the morning off and came over and wrapped him in a hug under his crutches. Captain Franklin, Detective Chapman, Chief Pope, and even Double Dick were there too. Double Dick wasn’t scowling. In fact, he was as happy as a toad eating flies, because also present were Claudine Setera, her cameraman, attorney Dave Wires, and someone else Jack didn’t know. He figured it was an attorney, because Jack couldn’t see his hands.

  The crowd of well-wishers parted, and sitting at the table was the little boy that had started all this. Joe came forward and hugged Jack so fiercely Jack almost lost his balance.

  “Detective Murphy, this is my cousin, Sayda. She is taking me to Florida to live with her. There is fishing there and baseball. I was a baby when she came to this country, and Grandfather never told me about her.”

  “What about Shadow?” Jack asked. The dog wasn’t in the conference room.

  “She is in his office,” Joe said and pointed to Chief Pope, who shrugged like it was nothing to have a dog peeing on the chief’s carpet.

  “Sayda will let me take Shadow, and I can keep her,” Joe said excitedly. “She will have to go in a crate. She will not like that. But we will fly to Florida.”

  Joe started to say something but stopped.

  “What is it, Joe?” Jack asked.

  Joe rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes. “I was thinking of Grandfather.”

  Jack hugged Joe and said, “I’m sure he is happy. He’ll always be with you, Joe.”

  “Will I see you again, Detective Murphy?” Joe asked.

  “Of course,” Jack said. “My mother lives in Florida. I’ll come and see you sometime. You can make Shadow smile for me.”

  Sayda hugged Jack, more carefully than the others, and kissed him on the cheek.

  Chief Pope said, “Jack, we told Channel Six they would have the exclusive when we caught this guy.”

  Jack replied, “If I had known I was going to be on television, I would have worn my other crutch. Is this really necessary?”

  “The public loves a hero, Jack. And the mayor loves public approval.”

  Claudine oozed over, a microphone clipped to her too-tight sweater, and said, “Ready?”

  “Let’s get it over with,” Jack replied.

  Jack answered the questions he could, including his knowledge that the murderer had killed hundreds of people over five different states. He was asked about the apprehension of the man called Coyote, and he gave the credit to Lieutenant Battle, Lieutenant Sanchez, Liddell, and Chief Shepard of the Bisbee Police Department. He stressed Joe’s precarious situation and the trauma the boy had had to endure both in Honduras and here in America.

  He knew Claudine would put her own spin to his remarks, but he really didn’t care. He’d gotten the asshole, and Joe was safe.

  After the news conference was over, Double Dick approached Claudine Setera, and Jack heard him say, “Miss Setera, I can add to your story if you like? As Commander of the Investigations Unit I was directly involved.”

  Jack didn’t need to hear any more.

  Epilogue

  The funeral for Trooper Jeanie Battle and her daughter was attended by a contingent of law enforcement officers from several counties. The procession of police vehicles stretched for half a mile. Jack had been requested to play bagpipes for the graveside service by Major Maddox. Liddell had driven, since Jack was still using one crutch. Jack was out of practice and it was cold, but the wind was cooperating and Jack sat up on a small hill, under a leafless tree.

  Jeanie Battle’s casket was covered with an American flag. The casket with her daughter was adorned with a simple bouquet of flowers. The caskets were beside the open graves, ready to be lowered into the icy earth. Mounds of freshly dug earth were covered with tarps, and someone had laid several bouquets of flowers on them.

  After a short service, taps were played while two Honor Guard state troopers folded the flag. The Honor Guard riflemen presented a twenty-one-gun salute, and the flag was presented to Lt. Battle, who had been flown home for the service against medical advice. She had agreed to hire a caretaker.

  Jack began playing “Amazing Grace” and the sound rolled down the hill and washed across the crowd of mourners. He finished, came to parade rest, cradling the pipes across his arm. He made his way down to the others, wishing he’d worn long johns under the uniform or heated underwear.

  “Lieutenant Battle,” Jack said. “My condolences.”

  “Thank you for coming. And thank you for playing so beautifully.”

  “Lieutenant, I understand Director Toomey has been talking to you,” Jack said.

  “He has, and I haven’t made my mind up yet. I’m still on suspension, and I think I just need some time. I don’t know if I’ll stay with Highway Patrol even if they want me. Too many things have happened. I don’t know if I’d even want me.” She gripped Jack’s hand. “Am I a bad person, Jack? Was what I did wrong?”

  “If you hadn’t, I would have,” Jack said. He didn’t know whether that was true or not, but his comment seemed to reassure her.

  She freed his hand and asked, “Was Lyman involved or was he just another victim?”

  That was a question Jack couldn’t answer with any proof. DHS and Angelina Garcia were tearing apart his computer, phone, phone records, internet usage, and any other data source. They hadn’t come up with anything conclusive yet, but Lyman did seem to have an unusual amount of classified Border Patrol and Homeland Security files on his computer at home. He had complete access to all the databases because he worked in Intelligence.

  “They’re still trying to find something. My gut tells me he was working with Coyote, and when we got close to him, he became a liability to Coyote.”

  “He was dirty,” Battle said. “Your gut is always right, Jack. But don’t let it go to your head.”

  “I think you need to go and rest, Lieutenant,” Jack suggested. She was turning pale, and she wasn’t making sarcastic remarks.

  “Jill will do. You earned the right to call me by my first name. I’ll go in a few minutes. I just want to sit a spell. Keep in touch, will you?”

  “You bet,” Jack said. “If you take the job from Toomey, and they get over being mad at me, we might be working together again—Jill.”

  “Oh. Just shoot me! Again,” Battle said, and they smiled at each other. She was feeling better.

  Liddell waited a short distance away and let Jack talk to Battle alone. Jack crutched back to meet him, and Liddell took the bagpipes. “That was beautiful, pod’na.”

  “You should hear me play when I’m about four Scotches over the limit,” Jack said.

  “Better?” Liddell asked.

  “Have you ever heard ‘Amazing Grace’ slurred?”

  Battle was sitting alone near the caskets, coat pulled around her face, shivering.

  “Will she be okay?” Liddell asked Jack.

  “I think she’ll be just fine. She was scary in Arizona, but she’s coping now.”

  “Is Maddox protecting her job?” Liddell asked.

  “Why the interest, Bigfoot?”

  “I hate to say this, pod’na, but I don’t think she’s a good fit with police work.”

  “I agree, but then I don’t think your big feet are a good
fit for the car,” Jack said.

  “Bite me, pod’na.”

  “You first.”

  Liddell put a hand on Jack’s shoulder and said, “I saw the ring on Katie’s finger, pod’na. Are you going to make me best man?”

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to thank some special people who have allowed me the use their real names as characters in this story: Peter Swaim, Tony Walker, Karen Stenger-Walker, and Alfreda Cote’.

  Peter Swaim is a real-life US Marshal (now retired). Tony Walker has retired from the Evansville Police Department as a crime scene detective, but still plays a key role in my stories. Thank you, Tony. His wife, Karen, found her way into the story as the founder of a homegrown militia in Indiana. This is not true in any way, according to her husband. Thank you for allowing me to put you in the story, Karen. Alfreda Cote Pietka is a friend who lives in Maine. She gave permission to use her name for my evil bad guy. Thank you, Alfreda.

  If I have not mentioned you, I hope I have thanked you in some way and you will forgive my omission.

  I thank all my readers, the end-users of my stories, and I ask you to please remember this is a work of fiction. Creating a character means taking what you see around you and molding it into a personality. If that personality is abrasive to some, it is still just a character. We live in a world with differing opinions and varied behaviors, so characters in books should be allowed the same latitude. Characters are not in reality racist, or misogynist, or evil or some other -ist. They are what they need to be to create a story.

  Last but not least, I thank my beautiful wife, Jennifer, for giving me space and understanding, not to mention reminding me it’s time to eat, go to bed, and bringing me a Scotch from time to time when I look needy. I swear she can read my mind.

  This novel is a work of fiction and is not intended to reflect negatively on any law enforcement agency. Any resemblance to people, groups of people, businesses, or agencies is purely coincidental. I sincerely hope readers will understand my taking poetic license.