“Let me guess…”
“David Gregor.”
Chapter 59
Part of Jill felt bad for bailing on Ramon after receiving Stanley’s call, but at that moment, the only person she could think to go to was her brother. Fortunately, he had actually been at home; since their reconciliation began, Brian Andersen had been spending more time in their childhood home. The place had been handed down to him in Paul and Janice’s respective wills, but until recently, Brian had seen no need to actually spend much time in the house. The memories it held were supposed to be joyous, but all they did was remind him of how everything had fallen apart.
As soon as Brian opened the door, Jill pushed her way past and began pacing back and forth in the living room. “I’m so screwed.”
Brian cocked his head. “Because you resigned?”
“No, this is…” Jill reached back to undo her ponytail, running both hands through her hair as it spilled out over her shoulders. She shook her head, partly because she had trouble finding the words. Not because she was worried Brian wouldn’t believe her, but because giving words to her new reality was far more frightening than she cared to admit.
“Jill.” Brian wheeled his way to his older sister, reaching up to grab her elbow. “Hey… what’s going on?”
Plopping herself down on the off-white couch across from the fireplace, Jill buried her face in her hands. She felt her brother’s hand on her back, simultaneously thankful for his concern and kicking herself for being so vulnerable in front of him. Then again, he had seen her in a hospital bed, and he had seen her in action as the vigilante, so really… what was the use in hiding from him?
Especially since she came to him on this night.
“I turned in my badge,” she said.
“I know that,” Brian countered, “and believe me when I tell you a big ol’ what the hell are you doing is coming your way. But I know that’s not why you’re here.”
“I got a phone call,” she explained. “From Stanley Erikson.”
The crease in Brian’s brow deepened. “The writer from the Sun? The one who’s been chasing down your alter ego?”
Her nod was a bit lame, almost unnoticeable. Jill lifted her gaze to study the framed photographs on top of the mantle hanging over the fireplace. They told the story of the Andersen family in happier times. Graduation photos, captured moments from Christmas morning, the day Janice put on the most beautiful dress Jill had ever seen and looked into Paul’s eyes with the knowledge that she would spend the rest of her life with him.
Those were better, simpler times. Far different from where Jill and Brain currently found themselves. Not just because both of their parents were gone, and not just because Paul’s rapid fall from grace precipitated it all. Between Brian’s accident and Jill’s double life, nothing in what was left of the Andersen family was simple anymore.
“He said he knew my secret,” she added. “He knows I’m the vigilante.”
Brian’s jaw clenched and he gripped the wheels of his chair tight enough that his knuckles turned white. “So I should expect to see you on the front page tomorrow.”
Jill shook her head. “He’s not running the piece. But… he told me who his source was.”
Brian quirked a brow; reporters giving up sources was rare. He had heard stories of writers who went to jail because they refused to give up their sources. “You didn’t beat him up for it, did you?”
Jill huffed a laugh, despite the nerves that felt like they had bundled up in her stomach and had been traveling up into her throat. “No, he…” She paused, falling serious once again. She reached up to grab for the skin graft on the left side of her face, peeling it off before staring at it. Again, she wondered… was Bounty who she was now? Was Jill the mask?
“It was Gregor, who called it in.”
“What?” Brian shook his head. “After the help he gave you on the Buckner case?”
“There’s always an ulterior motive with him.” Jill looked up to see her brother, fighting the urge to smile when the sight of her eyeplate didn’t make him flinch. “He knows who I am. Has for a while now.”
“How long?”
“For all I know, all the way back to when I volunteered for Project Fusion.” Jill gave a one-shoulder shrug. “He bankrolled the whole thing. And his goons were the ones behind Vernon’s murder and my shooting.”
“So… this guy is what? The Lex Luthor to your Superman?”
“More or less.” The lazy smile at her brother’s comic book reference faded, and Jill’s expression darkened again. The infrared light in her left eye was dull, but there was a throb to it. “This whole thing was a set-up. He wanted Nolan Carter out of the way, and he wanted my guard down so he could swoop in and pull the rug out from underneath me without me noticing.”
“What does he want?” Brian asked.
“To watch Bounty burn.”
“You think he’ll out you himself?”
“I have no doubt.” Jill bolted from the sofa, her hands clenched into fists as she stole a glance back down at her brother. “Which is why I need to get out in front of this.”
Brian frowned. “What?”
“I’m not gonna give him the satisfaction of bringing me down.” Jill reached up to unzip her jacket, revealing that she had on her black leather bodysuit before pulling her elbow-length gloves out of her coat pocket and putting them on.
“Jill,” Brian’s voice dripped with worry, “please don’t tell me what I think you’re about to tell me…”
Shedding her coat, fully revealing her vigilante costume, Jill gave a casual shrug. “Everything’s about power for him. He either has to prove how much of it he has, or he wants to take it away from someone else.”
“I get that, but Jill… you don’t have to do this.”
“I’m afraid I do.”
“You’ve already thrown away your career,” Brian argued. “What happens when you tell the world who you really are? Hm? You think the BPD’s gonna sit back and let you run all over the city to your heart’s content? And what about money? Where would you stay? How would you eat?”
Everything Brian said was right; Jill knew it was. She understood, in a purely logical sense, exactly what revealing her secret would mean. But the thought of Gregor outing her made Jill’s stomach do backflips to the point of feeling ill, and as much as the thought of pulling back the proverbial curtain scared her, it beat anything David Gregor could do to her. Up until now, Gregor had never scared her. She had been wary of him, always made sure she knew exactly what he was up to, but he had never stricken fear into her. Between him knowing her secret and finding all of his dealings laid out in front of her back at his penthouse…
The thought of him going on television and telling the world that disgraced homicide detective Jill Andersen was Bounty made her skin crawl with dread.
“I can’t let him beat me.”
“He’ll find another way.” Brian shook his head. “With his resources? With his connections? Gregor will just find another way to make your life hell.”
“Not if I take him down first.”
“And how will you do that if you’re on the run?”
Jill dropped into a crouch next to her brother, giving him something resembling a sheepish smile as she grabbed his shoulder. Giving it a squeeze, the smile disappeared from Jill’s face. She shook her head dropped her gaze, and when it lifted again, her right eye was glassy in a sheen of emotion. How had everything gone so sideways so quickly? Truth be told, there was no option Jill could see that didn’t mean risking her entire life. There were no good options here; just ones that sucked less than others.
“I don’t see where I have a choice.”
“Don’t do this,” Brian pleaded. “I just got you back, Jill. Don’t go running out on me again.”
There was no anger in his tone or his expression, just hurt and confusion and all of the questions Jill wanted to answer but couldn’t. She almost preferred the anger at this point, and t
he distinct possibility of undoing all the progress they had made in recent months was enough to give her pause. Jill hated the thought of tearing apart the family – what was left of it – again, but given what was facing her, what choice did she have?
“I’m sorry,” she choked out. “Brian, I’m so sorry, but… I don’t know any other way.”
She stood and headed toward the door, grabbing her coat along the way and slinging it over her shoulder. Jill couldn’t bear the look on her brother’s face anymore, and she knew if she stayed, he would just continue trying to talk her out of it. But without any alternatives, what was she supposed to do? She wanted nothing more than to just go back home, get a good night’s sleep, and begin the process of rebuilding her life in the morning. But someone was deadset on ruining that life, beyond repair, and if she sat back and did nothing…
Well, that just wasn’t her, was it?
When she grabbed the doorknob, the sound of her brother’s voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Is there anything I can do to stop you?”
Her grip on the knob tightened and Jill clenched her jaw. Her resolve was as strong as ever, even as the emotions tugged at her and some part deep down inside begged her to stop. Jill was good at doing what she felt needed to be done, insecurities and moral quandaries be damned. It was one of her strengths as a cop, but now that she no longer had a badge, was this still a virtue?
She glanced over her shoulder, forcing herself not to react to the hurt look on her brother’s face.
“You’re the Assistant DA. File charges.”
CHAPTER 60
Roger McCallister was one of the lead cameramen at Baltimore's flagship TV station, WJZ, and he was one of Jill's few confidants who didn't know about her double life. But whereas most of the city didn't realize Jill Andersen was also Bounty, Roger didn't realize that Bounty was actually Baltimore homicide detective Jill Andersen. Roger had always done his part to make sure certain stories pertaining to Bounty never made the airwaves, while the ones that did painted her in as positive a light as possible. Given how divided public opinion regarding the vigilante was, Bounty needed all of the positive publicity she could get.
He had also proven helpful several months before, after Jill had inadvertently killed a woman who had been hired to kill her. Billionaire mogul David Gregor had hired a Japanese assassin to kill Bounty, but a fight atop one of the city's many skyscrapers had resulted in the assassin's death. After that, Jill had enlisted Roger's help to broadcast a message to the city. It wasn't something Jill liked to make a habit of doing, but it was nice to know that Roger would be there for her in a pinch.
This was one of those times. Even as the uncertainty rumbled deep in her gut, Jill knew this had to be done.
Dressed in her black leather bodysuit, eyeplate on full display, Jill pounded on one of the back doors leading into the studio. Roger opened the heavy metal door almost immediately, his trademark faded Seattle Mariners hat atop his head. He had trimmed his beard down to a simple goatee since the last time Jill had seen him, but he lit up when he saw her, pushing the door the rest of the way open and stepping aside.
“Everything's all set,” he promised, leading Jill through the poorly-lit corridor that led to the main studio. By the time he reached the main console, which was a confusing sea of multi-colored wires and several high-definition monitors, he cracked his knuckles and stretched out his arms. “What'll it be tonight?”
Jill went to the spot on the floor marked by a yellow X, where anchors were normally placed when they were doing a standing shot. She craned her neck, the physical and mental exhaustion of the last few days starting to catch up with her. Now that the adrenaline of the case had worn off, Jill was finding herself in desperate need of a few days off, roughly a dozen hours of sleep, and a stiff drink or three.
“Straight shot,” she said, cracking her knuckles.
“Alright.” Roger's fingers were a blur over one of the three keyboards in front of him. “Gimme just one second, aaaaand... there we go. You are live in three, two...”
Roger pointed at Jill as the small red light came on the top of the camera.
“Devin Buckner was 17 years old and set to attend Morgan State in the fall,” Jill began, her hair covering the human half of her face. “By all accounts, he was a good young man who had made some poor choices after having his basketball dreams shattered following a devastating knee injury. But that's beside the point; even if Devin had been a hardened criminal, the simple fact of his existence was no justification for murder.”
The camera zoomed in on Jill as he continued. “Because that's what this was: murder. The fact that the perpetrators carried badges doesn't change that. We should expect better from the Baltimore Police Department. Those who carry the shield have sworn to protect and serve the citizens of this city, not terrorize and intimidate them. Not harm them. Not kill them.
“As you're well aware, Devin was just the latest in a line of Baltimoreans targeted by a cadre of rogue police officers exacting their screwed-up brand of justice. Pedro Mendoza. Reggie Dawson. Andre Scofield. Donald Wilson. LaTrice Samuels. Benjamin Cartwright. Lamar Goodwin. All black. All dead for no other reason than that.
“The officers responsible for many of those deaths have been dealt with, but not soon enough. They should've been removed from the force and thrown into the criminal justice system after the first death. That it took so long points to a systemic plague downtown. This was not a failure, because the system was never designed to protect people like Devin Buckner in the first place.”
She stepped closer to the camera, feeling the hot light above bearing down on the top of her head. “I became Bounty because of a desire to keep this city and its citizens safe. The first time I donned the leather, I squared off against a paramilitary death squad hired by a corrupt businessman. The Japanese woman who fell off the Transamerica Tower after fighting with me? She was an assassin out of Tokyo, hired specifically to kill me. I long ago accepted the reality that I would see some horrible things in this line of work, but I never once imagined that I would find myself pitted against Baltimore's finest. I never thought I would be faced with the reality that a police officer would kill the District Attorney in cold blood.”
She ducked her head and tucked strands of hair behind her right ear. Her relationship with Ramona Parish had been almost exclusively professional, but the DA had two children and shared Jill's tireless thirst for justice. Sucking in a ragged breath, Jill could feel the nerves starting to build, mingling with the emotion that had drained her over the past few days. This was exactly what she had built herself up toward in the days since throwing those four officers behind bars; even without realizing it, Jill had brought herself to this moment. She had been so resolute in her thinking that not even her stubborn brother had been able to talk her out of it. Now that the moment was upon her, Jill was scared shitless. But it was too late to back out now.
“My father was once the best cop this city had ever seen,” she continued, ignoring the confused glare from Roger. “Paul Andersen was a hero… until he wasn't. He fell from grace in the most disgusting and heartbreaking way possible, and the man I once worshiped was revealed to be nothing but a massive fraud.”
She stared into the camera, her infrared eye beginning to pulse. “When I began working Homicide almost four years ago, I did so not only with the hope of clearing my father's name and saving his life, I did it with the intention of reminding my fellow citizens that this city can be a wonderful, safe place and that there are still heroes.
“My name is Jill Andersen, and I have had it with the corruption running rampant in this city. I'm tired of seeing cops taking money from Gregor Enterprises and looking the other way when a fresh batch of Venezuelan cocaine shows up at the Inner Harbor. I'm tired of seeing cops using their badges and their authority to intimidate people simply because of their skin color. I'm tired of seeing good people stand back and do nothing when criminals get off scot-free.
/> “Yes, I am breaking the law every time I put on this costume, but at least I'm trying to make things better.” Jill took one more deep breath, her lower lip quivering and tears building in her right eye. “Which is why I have resigned from the Baltimore Police Department, effective immediately.”
Roger's jaw practically fell to the floor. Jill suppressed the smile creeping onto her face at his reaction; something told her living rooms throughout the city were full of people who had the same reaction. Even with the emotion she was holding back, Jill took a little self-satisfied pleasure in stunning everyone.
“I fully expect the police to come after me,” she added. “To which I have just one thing to say: good luck.”
Before Roger had a chance to react, Jill left her station in front of the camera and bolted down the corridor. She pushed her way past the heavy door with such force that the door banged against the wall. A dog barked in the distance and sirens began to wail. But Jill never stopped running, keeping to the back alleys and streets that she knew were lacking in traffic cams.
She may have just put the target on her back, but Jill would be damned if she let this city fall into the wrong hands ever again.
COMING SOON:
BEHIND THE MASK
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
For the longest time, I couldn’t decide whether to write this book. The story was there, and I felt like it needed to be told, but I knew even then it would ruffle some feathers. I make no bones about the fact that this story was inspired, in large part, by real-life events -- particularly the Freddie Gray case that erupted in Baltimore this past summer. I won’t say I felt a responsibility to tell this story, but to have a character like Jill and not tackle the issue of police brutality would’ve felt like a missed opportunity on my part.
Police brutality is not an easy thing to write about, even when the writing is fictional. Seemingly every other day, I turn on my TV or read the news and find out another unarmed black person has been killed at the hands of police. More often than not, nothing’s done about it. I knew immediately that Jill was the sort of character who would never let that slide, and thus the skeleton upon which this book was written was born.
Behind the Badge Page 24
