The Protectors: Vigilante Justice (Vigilante Cops Book 1)

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  Connor saw Ellie’s face get a surprised look for a moment before her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “Never mind your confusing dream life over reality, Opie. Have you been dating Dr. Morrison?”

  “What?!” Connor nearly gagged up his coffee, much to Ellie’s amusement. “What the hell makes you think I’m dating the damn shrink who tried to get me eight-balled to paper-land?”

  “Everybody in the department knows you’ve been seeing her.”

  “In case your brain has gone into hibernation, I have eight department ordered appointments with her. I only have two left.”

  “Since when do you keep appointments after hours?”

  “Because after hours was the only time frame she had open for the last few. I want them over with.”

  “I think you’re sweet on her,” Ellie stated. “C’mon… level with your partner… you’re banging her like a two dollar whore, aren’t you?”

  “Eeeeoooohhhhhh…” Connor retorted distastefully, journeying to the refrigerator for a beer of his own. “This is what happens when you spend time with Jenkins in the biblical sense. You start acquiring delusions about everyone else.”

  “You take that back!” Ellie barked, jumping out of her chair, hands held in fighting fashion. “I’ll hit you so hard your whole family will pass out in pain!”

  “I don’t have any family.” Connor manuevered by Ellie with his beer in one hand and the other hand warding off Ellie’s jabs. “So, have you and Jenkins set a date?”

  “That’s it! It’s on.” Ellie launched a left hook for Connor’s rib cage he barely blocked in time. “No fair using any Kung Fu Panda stuff either, Opie. You’re going down.”

  Connor hurriedly put his beer down and used the table between them as a shield. “You’re going to mess up your dress, El. I like the sleeveless look with the plunging neck line. You pull it off well. You should wear your hair down more often. It looks great.”

  “If you think that silver tongue’s going to keep you from a whupin’, you ain’t thinkin’ right.” But Ellie reached up absently with her right hand and patted her hair.

  “I take back my Jenkins comment. That was low.” Connor waved a different white flag. “Now stop dancing around and finish your beer.”

  “Okay,” Ellie relented, dropping her hands and sitting down. “But we ain’t even yet.”

  “We’re never even, according to you.” Connor sighed, sitting down and taking a gulp of beer.

  “Now, what are you doing in the notebook?”

  “I was comparing our convictions over the last few years with the time served by the perps. I’ve figured out how many were released into the area again only to take up where they left off.”

  “Yeah, but we nailed some bad ones under three strikes,” Ellie countered, wondering where Connor was headed with that train of thought. Then it hit her. “Oh no… you are not thinking of going rogue on me. I know the thing with the kids worked out but you’ll have us singin’ the Folsom Prison Blues if you start blasting away the bad guys. Hell, they get upset now when we arrest bad guys.”

  Connor leaned back in his chair with a shrug. “What makes you think I was jogging down that trail?”

  Connor’s doorbell rang, startling the two partners.

  “You’re here, so it’s probably someone selling something.” Connor started to stand up.

  “Stay there. I’ll handle it. I love getting rid of salespeople.”

  Ellie went to Connor’s door as the doorbell chimed again. She opened the door, flashing her no nonsense, no approach look. Ellie smiled, giggling appreciatively.

  “Hey Opie, come see who stopped by.”

  Connor moved to the door as Ellie gestured his visitor inside. It was Dr. Morrison, in evening attire. She looked rather flustered, obviously surprised by Ellie’s appearance at Connor’s door. “Hi, Julie.”

  “I had an engagement this evening which ended early,” Dr. Morrison explained. “I know how anxious you are to be done with our meetings. I decided to stop by and see if you wished to do one now. You’re busy, so we’ll get together at another time.”

  “Ellie and I are having a beer together, Julie. You want one?” Connor asked politely.

  “Well… I-”

  “C’mon, Jules, it’ll be fun.” Ellie grabbed Morrison’s arm and guided her to the kitchen table. She looked over Morrison’s ankle length evening gown approvingly. “Nice dress. Where you been, the opera?”

  “I…I was at a charity event at-”

  “Oh lovely.” Ellie patted her hand, not actually caring, and glanced up at Connor. “Get the Doc a beer, Opie, and get me another too.”

  Connor did as directed, more than a little puzzled at this turn of events. He went to the cupboard and retrieved glasses. After filling them with beer from the refrigerator, Connor served the two women.

  “I prefer mine right out of the can, Jules.” Ellie leaned in confidentially toward Morrison, sipping from her glass. “Connor hates it though when I low brow my behavior with company.”

  Morrison laughed uneasily and gulped a quarter of her beer down.

  “Connor tells me you’ve been nice enough to give him a few sessions after hours. Does he open up more when he’s not downtown?”

  “I can’t talk about that, Ellie.”

  “Oh yeah, doctor/patient confidentiality,” Ellie interrupted again. “Sorry.”

  “Were you two on your way out?”

  “No… huh uh.” Ellie shook her head no as if she needed Morrison to see and hear the negative. “We were going over Connor’s notes on busts we’ve done since partnering up.”

  “Really?” Morrison looked surprised. “To what purpose? What I mean is did you have something particular in mind you were looking for?”

  “I was showing El how each time a group of our previous arrestees get paroled, the area where they get paroled in gets a crime spike,” Connor explained.

  Ellie looked at Connor with dawning comprehension. The actual job related aspects of Connor’s paperwork exercise became clearer. “Oh… yeah… and they do spike.”

  “That’s very interesting,” Morrison remarked. “Did you reach any conclusions about how to avoid this… uh… spike in crime?”

  “I was thinking of being more prepared. We could coordinate more closely with the parole officers to make sure we enforce the law more stridently. They can’t congregate or hang around together. El can tell you. We know right where to pick them up after a crime is committed they fit for. If we can get them after the fact, we should just as easily be able to prevent a few crimes from happening.”

  “You’re not the thought police,” Morrison countered. “How would you prevent the crimes exactly?”

  “We’d find the parolees violating parole and enforce the law.” Connor finished his beer. He went to the refrigerator for another. “We know all the local hangouts. If we’re diligent about it, word would get back inside and maybe we’d stop these little crime sprees in neighborhoods where perps get paroled. If El and I could pull it off, maybe the rest of the beats would give it a shot.”

  “Hey, let’s go see a movie together,” Ellie suggested, not liking the warm, fuzzy look Morrison was getting on her face while looking at Connor. “How about that new James Bond movie?”

  “Ah… no, I really have to be going,” Morrison said, getting up from the table. “Thank you anyway though, perhaps another time.”

  Connor walked Morrison to the door with Ellie, and opened it for her.

  “Goodnight, Julie.”

  “Yeah, goodnight, Jules, see you soon,” Ellie added.

  “Yes… goodnight,” Morrison replied, walking out of the apartment.

  Connor closed the door.

  “That was a damn good idea you had there, Opie,” Ellie complimented Connor.

  “Oh… that was for the Doc’s benefit,” Connor said over his shoulder on the way to the kitchen. “You were right. I’m thinking of killing them and tossing their bodies in the ocean.
”

  Ellie laughed, only half convinced the statement was meant to be funny. “You prick.”

  * * *

  Connor and Ellie sat on either side of a picture window in an apartment building looking down over the upper part of Oakland’s 38th Avenue. Across the street, a heavy set figure in black hooded sweatshirt and black stocking cap stopped near the fire hydrant on the corner of a small connecting street, Dale Place. He was soon joined by three others who ambled up from the bar a block down the avenue. Ellie looked at her watch.

  “Just like Mrs. Garcia said. It’s nearly 1:30 AM. I hope Donaldson’s awake with the backup. You sure we should only go for congregating?”

  “Wait until you see what these gentlemen are packing. These guys have been burglarizing the neighborhood like they have a free pass,” Connor answered. “Let’s get into position. Their van should be arriving shortly. I want to get out of here without waking the Garcia’s.”

  “This better go smooth as a baby’s ass or Donaldson is going to chop ours into small pieces,” Ellie whispered, moving toward the door after Connor.

  “Remember, we wait for the van to pick them up, spring the trap, and block the van. You and I-”

  “We get the runners until the guys unload,” Ellie finished for Connor as they took the steps down to the street two at a time. “What if they start opening up on us from inside?”

  Connor glanced back at his partner, stopping at the stair landing. “Did I say something leading you to believe this was a cakewalk, El? Step up.”

  “You…” Ellie began, but Connor was already moving toward the parking garage exit. She smiled as she ran after him. Her heart pounded in anticipation she hoped was more professional excitement rather than fear. Donaldson had vetoed Connor’s suggestion they all pack riot guns, which Ellie thought would feel real good in her hands right now.

  Connor halted at the garage corner wall, cattycorner to where he could see the figures talking quietly in the dark with the rest of 38th Avenue within his vision. He saw headlights approaching from Allendale Avenue as Ellie stopped next to him. It was a van. The vehicle slowed as it approached the group. Connor activated his headset.

  “The van stopped and they’re loading up now. Get ready to block off Penniman on my mark.”

  Connor heard acknowledgement and turned to Ellie. “I’ll run to cover the passenger side. We hold until we get support from our road block.”

  “Don’t get killed, Opie.”

  “Right back at you.”

  The van started and moved down 38th toward Penniman. Connor barked the order to move. He jogged out of cover as the van passed. A squad car shot out across the intersection at Penniman and 38th Avenue, blocking the van. Another squad car squealed up from Allendale, sirens blaring, and pulled up on the van’s rear bumper. Connor covered the passenger door from slightly behind it, watching for any movement from the side sliding door. He positioned himself to avoid any inadvertent crossfire. Ellie, breathing deeply, did the same on the other side, waiting in a crouch at the driver’s door. The officers in the squad car blocking the van in front stepped out, using their doors for cover. Jason Ladd and Luis Arvizo shouted for the men to come out of the van, hands behind their heads.

  The driver’s left arm poked out the window with what looked like a machine pistol to Ellie. She fired twice. One shot shattered the front windshield as it passed over the driver’s arm. The second shot tore through the driver’s wrist. The weapon clattered dangerously to the pavement. Hearing the shots, Connor ripped open the passenger side door. He yanked the open-mouthed man in the passenger seat out with his left hand while getting ready to fire point blank at the driver. The driver clutched his wounded wrist in agony, writhing on the seat while the men in the back looked on in total shock. Ellie pulled open the driver’s door when the officers from the rear squad car joined her, weapons trained on the van. Arvizo and Ladd covered Connor as they had planned. Arvizo cuffed the man Connor had tossed from the van.

  Jason saw Connor nod and he opened the sliding cargo door. The men in the back sat with their hands hastily locked behind their heads.

  “Get out of the van slowly and drop to your knees,” Connor ordered. Arvizo called in for an ambulance and prisoner transport.

  The men did as they were told. The neighborhood lights began flickering on around the scene. After the men were cuffed and searched, they were sat down in front of the corner grocery mart. Connor applied first aid to the driver’s wounded arm using a bandage Ellie retrieved from their squad car first aid kit. The driver groaned with every movement, his breath alternating between pained gasps and moaning complaints. Connor looked up at Ellie with a grin.

  “Recognize him, El?”

  “Jesse Santiago.” Ellie clutched her belt with both hands to hide the trembling adrenaline rush. “It explains why he wanted to open up. He’ll be going in for good now. Not counting the three or four felonies his lawyer had thrown out on technicalities, this will be his third righteous strike.”

  “If not for Annie Oakley here, Luis and I would have gotten sprayed,” Jason said, walking over to where the driver was laid out on the sidewalk. “I want to know where this asshole got an Uzi.”

  “I’ve given him his rights three times, Jas, all on tape,” Connor replied. “Jesse’s pretending to be incoherent so as to give his lawyer an opening. No questions until we get Mr. Santiago stabilized with his shark present. We want it all nice and tidy when we send him to stoney lonesome for eternity.”

  Hearing Connor’s prediction of his future, Santiago twisted slightly so as to be able to see Ellie. “Best watch yo’ back, mama, I-”

  Connor’s left hand closed on Santiago’s neck like a vice, his thumb driving into the man’s Adam’s Apple with enough force to shut off sound. Jesse clawed at Connor’s wrist with his uninjured right ineffectually. Connor squeezed Santiago’s wounded wrist with his massive right hand. Ellie and Jason huddled around Connor, blocking off the view of what Connor was doing. Connor leaned down next to Santiago’s ear.

  “I think you’re about to go into cardiac arrest, Jesse,” Connor whispered with cold intent. “Do you have anything else to say?”

  Santiago, his face purpling with the effort to breathe, shook his head violently. Connor eased off pressure but retained his hold on Santiago’s neck. The ambulance siren wailed in the distance. Santiago sucked in painful gulps of air, his blurred vision focusing on Connor’s face. He saw the war between life and death going on in the police officer’s eyes and felt the thumb begin to tighten again.

  “Nooooooo….” Santiago rasped. “I…I was just talkin’. Don’t man… please-”

  The pressure went away. Connor patted Santiago’s face. He repeated the Miranda warning with his recorder on and asked Santiago if he understood his rights. Santiago said yes three times. Connor kept pressure on the wound until relieved by the EMT’s from the ambulance. The other officers were already loading the prisoners from in front of the store into the transport van. Connor stood up next to Jason and his partner, watching the last few moments of their operation draw to its conclusion.

  “You had Jesse thinking he was on his way to hell.” Jason chuckled, walking away to rejoin Arvizo. “Thanks again, Ellie.”

  “I did it for Sue, not you,” Ellie quipped, drawing laughter from Jason and an understanding wave. She turned on Connor. “What the hell’s gotten into you lately? That was no game, Opie. Santiago was beggin’ for his life. You were a hair away from taking it.”

  “If he didn’t believe it, I would have been foolish to threaten him with it, El,” Connor explained cryptically, putting an arm around Ellie. “I recognize this four hundred cycle tremor humming through you. It’s going to take a while to come down. Let’s get over to the precinct and start filling out reports. Nothing takes the edge off of shooting your weapon faster than filling out the reports explaining why you shot your weapon.”

  “Oh… sweet… Jesus!” Ellie hung her head, shoulders slumping. “I’ve jus
t put our asses back on desk duty. What was I thinking? I should never have fired. You could have comforted the widow Sue and nobody cares about that prick, Arvizo.”

  By the time Ellie finished her lament, Connor was laughing uproariously, stepping away and pointing at his partner in fake horror.

  “Oh… I am so going to tell Jas and Luis what you said.”

  “What happened to what goes on patrol stays on patrol?” Ellie argued plaintively, reaching out to shake Connor’s arm.

  “I don’t know, El.” Connor turned away, walking across the empty avenue with his head shaking in false disillusionment. “Your sad attempt at humor has crossed the line with your brother officers. There’s no coming back from this.”

  “Don’t make me frag your ass, Opie,” Ellie warned, catching up to Connor.

  “I hope you’re more amenable in booking when Tina stops by for a visit,” Connor added as they entered the apartment complex garage together.

  Ellie stopped in her tracks with a forlorn gasp, looking at Connor’s shaking shoulders as he held his amusement in check with effort. “That…that was just… wrong.”

  Connor slipped into the driver’s seat of their squad car as Ellie trudged over. He started the car and rolled the window down. “Good thing you know Dr. Morrison so well. I’m sure you two will have this little incident worked out in no time.”

  “Oh… my… God!”

  Chapter 4

  Little Crimes

  Duane Culver stood in front of the newly painted gray/blue store front on Foothill Boulevard glancing furtively in both directions. Between his periodic checks, he whipped different color spray cans out of the oversized jacket lining he wore. The spray paint cans hung in their own specially sewn pockets, allowing quick access and return. At three o’clock in the morning on a Monday nothing moved on the boulevard. Duane had been going by the beckoning canvas for his special tagging efforts for days, planning his street art with care, measuring up what he wanted to do. His two cohorts from the 38th Avenue gang would be picking him up in exactly thirty minutes so he had limited time for creativity. Duane pulled the black wool watch cap down over his ears more. He pulled two more spray cans out quickly from their pouches, adding two new swirls to his impromptu painting. The store front door swung open, three feet away from a shocked Duane. He dropped the two spray paint cans as Ellie slipped out of the doorway, Taser gun in hand.