by Darcia Helle
“There’s probably a hundred other vans just like it in this city.”
“Yeah but I don’t believe in coincidences.”
The van stayed behind them until they were a block from Alex Covington’s house. Then it veered off onto a different side street. Jesse drove slowly past Alex’s house. No cars out of place. The entire street was quiet.
“Well?” Tim said. “What are you thinking?”
“Can you run a plate for me?”
Tim dug his cell phone from his pocket and made the call. Jesse turned back toward the hospital. He kept an eye in his mirrors, looking for the black van.
“Got a pen and paper?” Tim asked.
“Console,” Jesse said.
Tim found the paper and pen and quickly scrawled a name and address. He thanked the person on the other end of the phone, then flipped it shut. He looked at Jesse. “You ready for this one?” he said.
“When you say it like that, I’m not so sure.”
“Van belongs to a guy by the name of Brian Sullivan. Ring any bells?”
“Don’t think so.”
“I met him at last year’s Christmas party,” Tim said. “He’s Captain Barnes’ stepson.”
“Oh hell.”
Jesse stroked Lauren’s hair until she fell into a deep sleep. Then he pulled the covers over her shoulders and kissed her softly on the cheek. He strode down the darkened hallway toward the elevators. The hospital atmosphere had subdued with nightfall.
Outside, a frigid brisk wind blew, chilling him to the core. Christmas decorations lit up many of the houses along the streets he drove. Hard to believe that the holiday was so close. He certainly wasn’t feeling much Christmas spirit these days.
He turned the radio up and tried to get lost in the music. His mind refused to be still. He needed to make a major decision and he needed to do it soon. He could take everything he had to the FBI. They’d open an investigation of their own and maybe eventually take down Covington, Barnes, and any other dirty cop and politician involved.
That was a big maybe. Investigations were slow. Everything had to be done by the book. The FBI would play the watch and wait game. Give the small scum deals to testify against the bigger scum. Possibly tip the whole investigation off and get nowhere.
Jesse raked a hand through his hair. Even if he wanted to wait around while the FBI played connect the dots, chances were that he wouldn’t live long enough to see the outcome. Covington would want him dead in a hurry. He wouldn’t be playing around with the smalltime nonsense anymore. The next hired hit would be purely professional.
Another option, and the one he favored, was to take Covington out himself. No more games. No going through the proper channels to seek some elusive justice. Just get Covington the hell out of their lives.
As for the rest of Covington’s cohorts, they’d more than likely disperse. Jesse doubted any of them would come after him. They’d be busy keeping up appearances, keeping a low profile. But they’d still be free, which was a major drawback.
Then there was option C, which had its benefits. He could take out Covington first, then bring everything he had to the FBI. They could take their sweet time digging around in the mud until they rounded up all the guilty parties. Maybe take out a chunk of the police department. The only problem with that was he’d be under close scrutiny for Covington’s murder.
Of course, he’d be looked at for the bastard’s murder no matter what the circumstances. The difference was that he had a trump card with Barnes. If the cops started coming down on him for Covington’s murder, he could easily threaten to expose the captain. He was fairly certain the cops would immediately back off.
He had no cards to play with the FBI. He’d be dangling there with the rest of the scum.
Sure, he was smart enough not to leave a blazing trail leading straight to himself. The cops would look at him only because it would be an obvious connection. Yet he wasn’t the only person around with motive to kill Covington. No physical evidence. No arrest. Sounded good, in theory anyway.
Jesse’s head ached. He lowered his window and sucked in some fresh air. Or at least that was his intent. What he got instead was a lungful of exhaust from the truck in front of him. He coughed, sputtered to himself. Why hadn’t he moved to the country?
His cell phone vibrated against his hip. He switched off the radio, reached for his phone.
“Where are you?” Tim asked.
“Driving down Harvard,” Jesse said. “Why?”
“I dug up something interesting. Have you seen that van around?”
“No.”
“You said two people were inside, right?”
“Yeah, the driver and an older guy.”
“I might know who the passenger was,” Tim said. “And I don’t like it.”
“That’s a given. I rather doubt the kid was driving his priest around, making his daily confession.”
“We know the driver was most likely the Sullivan kid, Barnes’ stepson. This kid’s uncle, Barnes’ wife’s brother, is Lance Sullivan. That name familiar to you?”
“Doesn’t ring any warning bells,” Jesse said. “Should I know him?”
“He’s been arrested twice,” Tim said. “First time for assault. Charges were eventually dropped. The guy he nearly killed decided he was no longer sure Sullivan was the right guy. Second time was murder. Sullivan was acquitted. Seems some of the evidence mysteriously disappeared. And a couple of witnesses came out of the blue to testify they’d been with Sullivan at the time of the murder.”
While Tim spoke, Jesse pulled into the breakdown lane. He carefully watched each car that passed. “You think this guy is a professional or just a wannabe badass?”
“Doesn’t matter, does it?” Tim said. “Either way spells trouble for you.”
“Yeah but a professional scares me more.”
“Another thing. Guess who Sullivan’s lawyer was on both counts.”
“Not a hard one,” Jesse said. “Covington helps out Barnes, which means Barnes owes him in return. Unless Sullivan was working for Covington at the time and Covington was covering his own ass.”
“Watch your back, Jess.”
“I always do. Barnes on duty tonight?”
“No, he’s been gone since four.”
“Got a home address for me?”
“What for?” Tim said. “You planning on paying him a visit?”
“Yeah.”
“Damn it, Jesse, just lay low for awhile. At least wait until I can come with you.”
“No,” Jesse said. “I don’t want you involved in this.”
“I’m already involved!”
“Address?”
“Damn it. You’re crazy.”
“I know.”
Tim sighed. “Hang on a sec. I’ll look it up.”
“How about a phone number too.”
“Going to call first and give him a heads up?”
“Only trying to be courteous.”
“Jesus,” Tim sputtered. A moment later he recited the address and phone number. “Be careful.”
“I will. Thanks.”
Jesse waited for a break in the traffic, then pulled out. He turned east and headed out to Lincoln Street. Three blocks from Barnes’ home, Jesse stopped on the side of the road. He hadn’t noticed anyone following him. That fact actually bothered him more than if he’d seen a tail. He punched Barnes’ number into his phone and waited. Barnes barked a sleepy hello after the third ring.
“Captain Barnes, this is Jesse Ryder. We need to speak. In person. Now.”
Silence for a moment. Then Barnes said, “Ryder?”
“Cut the pretense. You know who I am.”
“Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“I’m three blocks from your house,” Jesse said. “I suggest you throw some clothes on and meet me out front.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Don’t make me come in after you.”
Jesse clicked the phone off and
drove the three blocks. He parked in front of a tan colonial. No lights shone through the dark windows. He slid his gun from the console, checked the safety. And waited.
Less than a minute passed before James Barnes stepped out onto his front porch. He squinted through the darkness. Jesse lowered his window and waved him over. “Get in.”
“Do you honestly believe I’m that stupid?” Barnes asked.
Jesse raised his gun through his open window. “Apparently so.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“No? Try me.”
Barnes stared at the gun a moment, then walked around to the passenger side and slid in. He wore gray jogging pants and brown slippers. A baggy Harvard sweatshirt. His hair needed to be combed.
“Not a smart move,” Jesse said, “Involving family.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your stepson tailing me. And was that Uncle Lance with him?”
Barnes’ lips jammed together. His eyes registered surprise, though he had the nerve to sound petulant when he spoke. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Call them both off. Now.”
“Ryder, you have nothing. Your entire case is in the toilet. So do us all a favor and go back to whatever hole you were in before this all started.”
Jesse smirked. “You all must think I’m a real idiot. You think I turned the only copies I had over to Edridge? You even think he had it all to begin with? No, Barnes, it’s far from over. I just have to make one call and the FBI will be all over your asses. Maybe you and Covington could be roomies over at Walpole.”
Barnes blinked several times. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He said, “If that’s the case, then why haven’t you already done it?”
“Always hold your best card for last,” Jesse said. “But, make no mistakes, I have a few copies, every single piece of evidence, all stored safely away. And anything happens to me, it’s in the FBI’s lap and it’s front page news.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“So call off your dogs,” Jesse said.
“Fine. But I want all the copies in return.”
Jesse laughed. “Wrong. Look Barnes, I don’t want you. I don’t really give a shit about you. Don’t push me and I won’t push back.”
“You want Covington.”
“And you’re in the way.”
Barnes nodded. “I play it your way and you forget whatever it is you’ve dug up?”
“You’re catching on.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“Have I shot you yet?”
Barnes swallowed, his throat making a gurgling sound. “Okay,” he said. “What is it you want?”
“For now, just keep your guys away from me. Anyone tails me, comes after me, or rips apart my apartment searching for what they’ll never find, and I’ll turn you over to the feds faster than you can imagine.”
“It’s not entirely up to me,” Barnes said.
“You handle your end. I’ll handle Covington.”
Barnes nodded again, said nothing. Jesse ran his hand along the barrel of his gun. “One other thing,” he said. “Fuck me over and I’ll blow your head off.”
Barnes turned away. “Are we finished here?”
“For now.”
Captain James Barnes climbed out of the car. He looked about to slam the door, but instead closed it quietly. He walked up his driveway, his head bent down. A scared and lonely man in a worn jogging suit. Jesse smiled, flipped on his headlights, and headed home.
32
Two blissfully uneventful days passed. Jesse spent the majority of his time at the hospital with Lauren, watching and listening as she and Raymond worked on their article. Despite her fatigue and emotional overload, Lauren insisted on putting in several hours each day.
Raymond left early on that second evening with everything he’d need to complete the article. He intended to work through the night in order to have it ready for print the next day. Lauren was surprisingly relaxed and content. Tomorrow’s paper would expose all those secrets she’d been forced to keep throughout her life. Knowing that seemed to bring her peace.
Jesse left a short time later. Exhaustion had finally gotten the better of him. He fell into bed and immediately began to drift off. Just as the dream world began to take hold, his phone jarred him awake and he teetered back to reality. He was still somewhere between the two worlds when he mumbled a hello.
“Jesse, it’s Marc. I need help. I don’t know what to do. They’re claiming they have proof of all this stuff that’s not true. I didn’t do any of this.”
“Slow down,” Jesse said. He sat up and blinked away the sleep. “Who are ‘they’ and what are they claiming they can prove?”
“I’m sorry,” Marc said. “I spent the past six hours at the police station. I’m so rattled that I can’t think straight.”
“Where are you now?”
“My car. Driving aimlessly. I don’t know what to do.”
“Why don’t you come to my place,” Jesse said. “You can tell me what the hell’s going on.”
Jesse recited his address, then disconnected. He groaned as he slid out from beneath the warm covers. He picked his clothes up off the floor and pulled them back on. Then he went to the kitchen in search of caffeine. The best he could do was a bottle of flat Coke. He took it into the living room, turned on the lights, and waited while trying not to conjure up any wild scenarios.
Fifteen minutes later, Marc was at his door. His eyes were wide, his pupils dilated. He looked as if he was strung out. But this was shock, not drugs. Jesse led him into the living room. “Okay,” he said. “Start at the beginning.”
“I left the hospital right after dinner this evening,” Marc said. “The medication is making Kara queasy and I thought she’d rest better if I wasn’t there. She tries so hard to keep a brave front. She doesn’t want me to worry, as ridiculous as that is. But that has no bearing on any of this. I’m rambling.”
Marc slumped back in the chair and swiped a hand over his face. “The police were waiting outside my building when I arrived home. They had actually questioned my neighbors!”
Jesse sat forward. “Questioned them about what?”
“They claim they’ve connected me to the attack on Kara and Lauren! I would never…”
“Marc, give me some details here. What do they have?”
“I’m sorry. This is just so unbelievable. The police claim I’d been having an ongoing affair with some woman by the name of Alison Robbins during the time I was also seeing Kara. When Kara decided to leave Covington and move in with me, they claim I ended my affair with this Alison person. She supposedly went into a jealous rage and hired someone to kill both Kara and myself, only Lauren was there instead of me.”
Jesse silently cursed himself. He hadn’t seen this coming. He should have. Stupid. This whole ordeal had become a miserable game of human chess.
“I swear,” Marc said, “I don’t even know this woman. I don’t know where the police came up with this. I wasn’t seeing anyone else. No one.”
“Marc, it’s okay,” Jesse said. “I believe you. I know who the girl is.”
“You do?”
“She’s from Covington’s harem.”
“Oh Christ.”
“What did the cops want with you? If Alison was supposedly responsible, they can’t arrest you.”
“She’s dead, Jesse. The woman is dead. And they think I killed her.”
“Shit.”
“They said I found out and went nuts. They said she was cut into pieces!”
“But they didn’t arrest you,” Jesse said. “So they have nothing to tie you to her murder. Yet.”
“Yet?”
“Did they take your prints?”
“Yes,” Marc said. “Then they asked for a DNA sample as well. I got really scared. I told them I wanted a lawyer. They finally let me go but they said they’d be back for me.”
“You need to listen to me carefull
y,” Jesse said. “Go home and search your house thoroughly. Look through all your knives. If she was cut up, then also check any saws you may have. If anything’s missing or looks out of place in any way, call me right away.”
“Covington’s trying to set me up?”
“You got it.”
“Oh Christ.”
“Don’t panic,” Jesse said. “Just do what I said. And quick. The cops will be getting a search warrant. I’m surprised they didn’t have one before they released you.”
“I don’t believe this is happening...”
“The cops may have someone watching you. So don’t do anything stupid.”
“Like bust Covington’s door in and kill the son of a bitch?”
“Yeah,” Jesse said. “Like that.”
“Okay. I’ll go through my place, see if I find anything unusual.”
“And I’ll see what I can do to stop all this.”
“Jesse, if Kara finds out… I mean, I didn’t know that woman. But what if Kara doesn’t believe me? What if she believes it was my fault this happened to her and Lauren?”
“Kara knows Covington’s capabilities,” Jesse said. “She’ll believe you. But, for now, don’t say anything to her. I doubt the cops will question her. She’s still in ICU. They won’t want to tarnish their image by going after her just yet. Besides, they don’t really want the truth anyway. Covington will see to that.”
“All my neighbors know… And what if this makes the papers? People will have me convicted already.”
“You need to get a grip. Stop panicking. That’s what Covington wants. Makes you look guilty.”
“I know,” Marc muttered. “What are you going to do?”
“Don’t worry about that. Just go home and do what I said. I’ll get back to you soon.”
Immediately after Marc left, Jesse grabbed his phone and punched in Barnes’ number. Barnes answered right away, wide awake this time. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jesse said.
“Ryder.” Barnes sighed. “What do you want this time?”
“You can’t seriously think you can frame Marc Wilkes for murder.”
