Tammy never told me the cop's name, but a police officer on trial for sexual assault was a rare occurrence in Duncanville, and his name was in the description of every link on the search results page. I scrolled down the infinite list until links to reports of his arrest appeared. I clicked the link and opened a blog post on the website of one of our local news stations.
The post described Officer Mahoney's arrest on three counts of sexual assault. No names of victims, not many details at all. Going back to the search page, I clicked on various links in chronological order heading towards the most recent stories. As time went on, counts were added. The increments were irregular, but ranged from one to three at a time. All of a sudden, right before his trial, eight counts were dropped at the same time. The most recent entries documented his acquittal.
I clicked the link to a video. The reporter gave a line about Mahoney being acquitted of the five counts, then the screen switched to a video of the man himself. I studied him, sized him up, as men do.
I closed my laptop, satisfied with the preliminary information I'd seen.
The possibility that these three women could be alive and held captive meant that I had to do something. Who else would step up? Nobody. Who were they? Nobody. Prostitutes. Drug addicts. People who wouldn't be missed. But, they were people. Despite their personal addictions, sexual habits, or professions, they were people. And, I had to do something about it.
Chapter 4
In the shadow of the skyscrapers that dominated the skyline of downtown Duncanville rested the warehouse district. My warehouse was one among many, indistinguishable from all of the other red brick structures, but I drove to this building daily and the route and location were second nature to me. I parked my Tesla next to the entrance and went up to the office. My guys were already there, waiting for me to arrive.
JoJo, my head of distribution sat on the couch on the right side of the office. The other end of the couch was occupied by Hogg, a Muslim, ex Marine who served a few tours in the sand. All of my employees must stay ready for war and Hogg was the guy who got them ready. Duster sat in a chair to the right of my desk. The warehouse was his domain. He had a knack for accounting and keeping up with stuff. And, in the chair to the left of my desk, sat CG. He was my number two. The Biden to my Obama. We'd known each other for ever, came up in the streets together.
Built this empire together.
After taking a seat behind my desk, I said to the room, "I got something that nobody's gonna like. Hell, I don't even like it. But, if I don't act, nobody will."
"What's up?" CG asked.
"It's this cop, Mahoney-"
"Just beat a case, right?" CG interrupted.
"One and the same," I replied. "The women that testified against him are coming up missing. Two are still around. I'd really hate to see them come up missing too."
Hogg spoke up. "And, you're talking about taking Mahoney down? Is that right?"
"The three women might still be alive."
"Dough, think about this for a minute," JoJo said "We go fucking with the police and shit is gonna get hot. Like, out the pan into the fire, hot."
"I've already thought this through, JoJo. We gotta be in and out like a ninja. Ghosts. Nobody knows we did anything, there's no heat."
"Nah," JoJo started. "We got almost a hundred people out there getting money, sitting in our houses, making sure our business is handled. How do we explain to them and their families that we're responsible for bringing this down on their heads and they don't know nothing about it? We ain't doing this. We ain't fucking with the police."
"Hogg," I prompted. "What do you think?"
Hogg said, "I think we can get the job done, but what if anything goes wrong? Do you know the resources they have? They'd stop at nothing to find us, and all they need is one little slip up from us."
"CG, what do you think?" I asked.
He replied, "I think they got a point. We don't need that kind of heat, Dough. That could bring the whole crew down and they wouldn't even know what was coming. Plus, they chose to testify."
"I have to do something, dammit!" I said as I slammed my hand on the desk. Then, I took a page out of Tammy's book. "So, what, we're just supposed to let people treat us any kind of way just because they wear a uniform?"
"They ain't treated us no kind of way," CG countered.
"Fuck it! I'll handle it myself." I rose from my chair and met each man's eye in turn. "Now, get the fuck outta my office."
Everyone made their exit, but JoJo lingered behind to ensure that he was last to leave.
He said, "Don't do this, Dough. Let it be."
"Fuck outta here. I got it."
Chapter 5
The sun had set and a cool breeze swept away the day's pollution, bringing with it the need to zip my jacket as I revved the throttle on my BMW bike.
I needed to find Mahoney, follow him back to his house, and play it by ear from that point on. Normally, I'd conduct as much surveillance as possible before making any moves. But, to be honest, this whole situation had me a little edgy and I wanted to be done with it as soon as possible. Therefore, if I saw an opportunity, I'd roll the dice and try to finish this.
The Duncanville Police Department's Seventh Division Station House was located within a residential neighborhood, its sizable plot of land surrounded by residential properties on all sides, as well as across the street from its front entrance.
I parked my bike in the gap between two abandoned houses, a little over a block away from the front of the station. Threaded through backyards until I found a secluded spot with a good view of the station. The entrance to a pale, stucco building with a thirty car parking lot sat about forty-five degrees to my left. Directly in front of me was the entrance to the officer parking bay, a fifteen yard driveway with a chain link gate and guard shack at the end. Beyond the chain link fence I could make out both civilian and police vehicles.
From speaking with Tammy, I knew that Mahoney worked at night, but I wasn't familiar with the shifts that officers worked, so I settled in for a long night of surveillance. Many vehicles came and left, both civilian and department. Mahoney, himself, left and returned half a dozen times in his police cruiser. The video footage I'd seen had emblazoned his visage into my memory and I had no problem recognizing him the first time I saw his car leaving the precinct.
Shortly after midnight I was rewarded, when I spotted him leaving the station behind the wheel of a black Chevy truck. He turned left out of the station drive and disappeared from my view. I ran as fast as I could, back to my bike, and took off in pursuit. It wasn't long before I spotted his truck, caught up in traffic, three cars back from a stoplight.
The light turned green. Mahoney made a right turn onto a main thoroughfare. I followed, trying to maintain a discreet distance. No cars had made the turn between us, so I was directly behind him with about twenty yards between his truck and my bike.
He merged into the left lane and I maintained my position. If he turned off and I didn't have enough time to follow, I'd just turn off at the following street and pick him up again. But, he didn't turn. A couple cars closed in behind him and I merged in behind them. We continued on like this for another mile, then I saw his left turn signal begin blinking. The car right in front of me activated its left turn signal. I followed suit.
Our trio of vehicles pulled into a gas station. I stayed near the entrance and idled my bike in neutral. Mahoney pulled up to a pump, got out, and put the nozzle into the side of his truck. Done filling up, he walked towards the convenience store.
I got off my bike, walking in the direction of the store, my angle taking me past the rear bumper of the black truck. My foot caught something and I stumbled, dropping to a knee. I grabbed the bumper to help leverage myself back to my feet, then continued on to the store.
Inside the store, it was brightly lit, and there was one other customer besides Mahoney and myself. The candy bar isle beckoned and I heeded its call, seeking out the king siz
ed Snickers. I grabbed two, then lingered around, browsing, making my way to the pastries.
Mahoney was at the counter checking out, and I took my time. He was out the door, heading towards his truck before I reached the checkout counter. I paid for my items and walked out of the store, by which time, Mahoney was pulling back into traffic.
As I was crossing from the gas pumps to my bike, a gray Honda stopped in front of me, blocking my passage. The driver's window rolled down and a woman stared up at me. This was the car that pulled into the gas station ahead of me, and behind Mahoney.
She said, "Who are you?" It was more a demand than a question.
I scrolled through my mental friend list in an attempt to place her face, to no avail.
"You're blocking my way, to my bike," I responded. "You cut me off. Who are you?"
"I saw what you did, but the question is why?"
"Look," I said. "I don't know what you're talking about. But, if you'd excuse me…"
"You put something on that truck. So, who are you, and what was that?"
That tumble that I'd taken by the truck wasn't really a tumble. Before setting out on the night's mission I'd packed a few items, and among them was a small GPS transmitter. The gas station afforded the perfect opportunity to tag his truck so I didn't have to stay in his rearview mirror while tracking him. But, this woman had seen me.
She was paying way too much attention.
"If you actually saw me do what you think you saw me do, then why would you be so bold as to approach me about it? Why are you paying so much attention to either me, or that truck, anyway?"
"Are you internal affairs?" she asked.
"No. But, again, why is it any of your concern?" I countered.
"So, you're not with the police department?"
The woman was giving an interesting vibe. More fear and anger than anything else. I scrutinized her face. Hair pulled back in a ponytail, revealing her beauty. Dark eyes that sparkled with the reflection of headlights passing on the street. Smooth, brown skin that was marred only by worry lines on her forehead. I didn't really know what I was looking for. Maybe some kind of tell to give me insight about what she was doing here.
Nothing.
I responded, "No, I'm definitely not law enforcement."
"But, you're following Mahoney."
"You're following Mahoney," I countered.
She didn't respond, so I knew I'd hit the nail on the head. Approaching me was reckless, which led me to assume that she was desperate. If I had been in any way connected to Mahoney, she would have just revealed herself.
"Look… You approached me for a reason. I can see you worrying over some decision. It's written all over you. There's a diner, not too far from here. We can sit down and you can tell me what's on your mind."
She nodded. I actually saw the resistance drain from her body as she made the decision to trust me.
I made my way around her car, got on my bike, and pulled into traffic, her Honda following closely behind.
Chapter 6
The diner was cookie cutter in design, with nothing to distinguish it from any other American diner. It was the middle of the night and the place was relatively empty. We sat down in a booth by the front window, away from the few customers who were there.
The waitress came by and took our order.
"I'm Jon," I said to the woman.
"Lisa. But, I don't know if it's nice to meet you, yet."
"So, what's your interest in Mahoney?"
"My sister," Lisa replied.
"Ok... What about her?"
"She's missing and I know he's behind it."
"Which one is your sister?"
"What do you mean 'Which one?'"
"Your sister was one of the women who testified against him, right?"
"How did you know that?"
"Of the five women who testified against Mahoney, three are missing. I'm assuming your sister is one of them," I answered.
"Nikaria Williams is my sister."
Nikaria "Nika" Williams was one of five women to testify against Officer Mahoney, along with Alisha "Precious" Hawthorne, Tionna "Hennessey" Richardson, Denise Rankin, and Jennifer "Juicy" Olmsted. Of the five, Denise and Juicy were the two remaining witnesses still accounted for.
I said, "Tell me about Nika."
Lisa reacted to my use of her sister's nickname, but didn't let it stop her from telling me about Nika.
Lisa was the eldest of the two by three years. As children, they were inseparable. When Lisa was twelve and Nika nine, their mother died after a brief battle with breast cancer, leaving the two girls with only each other to rely on. Their father had been in prison since Lisa was two and Nika was still in the womb, serving a life sentence after two guards were killed as their small crew robbed a bank. The sisters then went to live with an inattentive aunt who had four kids of her own, worked two jobs, and had a revolving door of men in and out of her life.
Lisa, being the older sister, as well as being older than all of her aunt's kids, naturally took on the role of responsibility, especially when it came to her sister. She did everything she could to present a proper role model for Nika, but as Nika grew into her teens, the pain she'd experienced became too much for her. She started chasing boys and experimenting with drugs, as Lisa finished high school with honors and received a scholarship to college, where she studied as a nursing major.
Nika's drug addiction continued to rule her life as she began using the harder stuff. Soon, she was a full blown heroin addict, incapable of holding a job, selling her body to support her habit. The streets became her home.
Lisa, being the responsible older sister, tried to get Nika to change her life, but upon realizing that her little sister was too far gone to change, Lisa settled into more of a support role. If Nika ever needed a place to rest her head, food in her belly, or a hot shower, Lisa always obliged. Some might say she acted as an enabler, but most of those people have no understanding of drug addiction, especially heroin addiction.
Surprisingly, Nika had no qualms about her lifestyle, and was happy doing what she was doing.
Until she met Officer Scott Mahoney.
From that point on, Nika's story mirrored what Tammy had told me of her own experience with Mahoney, but with one critical difference. Nika wanted to bring the domineering lawman down, so she was first in line to testify against him.
Which brought us to this moment.
Lisa spoke, uninterrupted, outside of the waitress bringing our food, and by the time she finished, her body looked as if it had been drained of everything that had kept her going.
I said, "You're following him, hoping that he'll lead you to your sister."
"Yes."
"How long have you been following him?" I asked.
"Tonight was the third night."
"He could have seen you."
"I have a gun," she said as she patted her purse.
I understood how she felt - or maybe I didn't - but, she didn't quite comprehend the danger she was putting herself in. Or, maybe she did, and just didn't give a fuck. I guess grief can do that to a person. Cause them to seek out vengeance without regard for their own safety. Their mother was taken by breast cancer and Lisa's response was to pursue a career in medicine. Her sister was taken by a deviant police officer and her response was to follow him in the middle of the night with a gun in her bag.
"So, what's your connection to Mahoney?" she asked. "I told you why I'm here. What's your story?"
Fair is fair. So, I told her about Tammy and how she had approached me for help.
Lisa said, "So, you're… What? Some kind of a crusader? Stand up for the little guy? Save the damsel in distress?"
I laughed, which was probably inappropriate given the situation. But, in my defense, Lisa was being a bit of an ass. Understandably.
In any case, my laughter released some of the tension I'd been carrying around all day.
I said, "Something like that. If I don't, who will?
Outside of yourself, of course."
"So what was that you put on his truck?"
"GPS tag," I responded.
"I know where he lives."
"Do you think your sister is there?"
"I don't know." She paused. "Maybe. But, I don't think he's that stupid."
Once news of the missing women made its way to police officials, Mahoney's house would be the first place to be searched. If they were there, it was because Mahoney wanted to go to prison. I didn't think prison was on his bucket list, so it was extremely doubtful that the women were there.
"You didn't report your sister's disappearance to the police?" I questioned.
"Hell no. It's obvious that the department is behind him. I want justice, not some farce of a trial designed to make it look good. I'll get my own justice."
Lisa agreed to show me where Mahoney lived, so I paid the check, then got on my bike and followed her to an upper middle class neighborhood. After snaking our way through the residential streets for a couple minutes, she pulled up to a stop sign and waved me forward. After I walked my bike even with her window, she pointed left down the cross street.
"The road curves to the right," she said. "Once you get around the curve you'll see his truck on the right hand side of the street. Can't miss it."
She withdrew her hand and sped off into the night.
I turned left and rode slowly down the street and around the curve. Sure enough, Mahoney's big, black truck was parked in the driveway of a single story house with a stone facade. At the next intersection I turned right, then made another right onto the street behind Mahoney's house. There wasn't much space between properties, and some, but not all, were fenced in.
A few cars were parked on the street and I pulled my motorcycle behind one of them and shut it off. The street was middle-of-the-night quiet as I strolled down the sidewalk, until I reached a house close to where I guesstimated Mahoney's would be, on the next street over. There was no fence around the yard and I made it into the backyard unnoticed. Walked through that backyard, climbed over a fence into another, then turned and faced the back of Mahoney's house. His yard was fenced so I hopped the fence into his yard.
Certain Reprisal Page 2
