Ethan scoffed. “You are more of an imbecile than I originally thought.”
“Is that all, Captain King? I have no intention of stooping to name calling. Tell me why I’m here, let me leave, punish me, do whatever you want. Now.”
The two men glared across the desk at each other.
Finally, Ethan looked toward the door. “You were the last to see Gina. What did she tell you before she left?”
“I disagree, Captain, I believe you were the last to see her. She had all of your files. Didn’t the two of you have a meeting set up? The meetings you have to supposedly free us wrongfully accused criminals, which have so far freed none of us.”
“Did she tell you that she was meeting with me?”
“What she said to me was I have no idea why I’m here, but she knows. Do you know why I’m here? What kind of game is this that you have dragged me into?”
“It is no game. You were arrested for the intent to distribute drugs. You had a large sum of money on you, not to mention the drugs. The word on the street is you are the King Pin, the man responsible for the deaths of the young, unsuspecting kids out for a night of entertainment.”
Jesse scooted to the edge of his chair. “First of all, a night of entertainment should not include drug use for these kids. Secondly, Captain, I have never seen those drugs or that money they claim was mi—”
“That is what all of you law breakers claim. It is never yours.”
Jesse popped up from his chair. “It wasn’t mine.” He jabbed the desked with his finger. “Unless you are planning to hold me, I’m outta here.” Jesse headed for the door.
“You have a nice day, convict,” Ethan said.
As Jesse crossed the threshold he said, “That Gina, she’s a screamer.”
Ethan sat down hard, dug his elbows into the wooden desk and massaged his temples. He was no farther along in his quest to find Gina than when he had left the police precinct. He thought about each man from the group. Which one would gain from Gina’s kidnapping? Then he heard the ominous question step to the front. Who would benefit if Gina was dead? He squeezed his eyes shut, pictured each man. His heart pounded against his ribs as if trying to break free as he knew Gina was probably doing at this moment.
Ethan closed up shop, checked out of the prison through the security checkpoint, and headed home. He needed to go through his files with a microscopic eye. Gina’s safety was all that he could think about. It was the only thing that mattered. He never noticed the black car following him, three car lengths back.
Chapter 52
The woman standing before Gina was an attractive elderly, black woman. Her skin was like that of dark colored honey. Gina gave the thought time to simmer. Light honey as a rule is milder in taste and dark honey is just the opposite—stronger. Gina looked the woman over from her straight spine to her tipped up chin with her hands folded underneath. Yes, she thought, this woman is strong.
“Why am I here?” asked Gina peering up at the woman.
“That’s a great question, young lady.”
Patronizing, Gina thought to herself. To the woman she said, “Could you possibly answer the great question?”
“Of course, dear,” the woman answered. “You and I, we can actually help each other.”
“How can that be? You have ripped me from my life and imprisoned me like some common criminal.” Gina let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Help each other? How?”
The woman shifted her weight from one foot to the other, tilted her head. “Once you hear my story you will understand everything. Look around, Gina. Do you honestly believe these riots are only about the arrest of one little league coach? Do you think the mayor’s war on drugs is an altruistic act on his part?” She wrinkled her nose. “If you do, then you are not the woman I thought you were.”
“What are you talking about? You don’t know me. Our paths crossed once in a coffee shop. Do you think that makes us bosom buddies?”
“No, not bosom buddies, but we are—”
Both women turned toward the hall leading to the room they were occupying when they heard harsh footfalls coming their way. DeShawn stopped at the entryway and peered at the women who stared back at him. The silence was awkward. DeShawn pushed through. “Have you told her yet?”
“You will never win a battle, much less a war, if you don’t learn some patience, DeShawn. Some things can’t be blurted out. They have to be eased onto the subject the same as you gain the trust of a kitten by rubbing its fur and cooing in its face. You have to humor your subject, make her feel safe.”
“You’re talking about me as if I can’t hear you. I’m not deaf, you know.”
The woman turned to Gina. “I’m sorry, dear, sometimes DeShawn doesn’t think before he opens his trapdoor.” She narrowed her eyes at her son as if they could shoot laser beams to silence him.
“I’m no kitten either. Please, just tell me what you want. Is it money? I can get it for you.”
DeShawn laughed. “You’re politically correct in your statement. What I want, you can get for me, and you’re doing a fine job of it right now.”
The woman turned slowly toward her son as if time was threatening to stop. “What have you done? There is nothing she can help us to get.”
DeShawn threw up his finger and wagged it as a huge grin slid across his face. “Now, you see, Mother, that’s where you’re wrong. There is something I want, and little Gina here is going to help me get it. Your agenda, Gina’s agenda, and anyone else’s who gets in my way will meet their maker early.”
“DeShawn!—”
“Naw, Gran, don’t DeShawn me. I have been patient. I have waited for my day to shine in your eyes. It never seems to come.” He turned on his heels and glared at Gina. “But, her, the one who was not there, the one who was living in luxury, the white girl who hangs out in the hood with a black boyfriend pretending to do good by the children. Hypocrite!” he yelled pointing a finger in Gina’s face. She shrank back, attempting to add more space between DeShawn and herself.
“What are you talking about?” Gina asked DeShawn. “I help the kids. I run an after-school camp. My camp lessens the amount of latch-key kids in the neighborhood.”
“This is not the reason I asked you to bring her here.” The woman went stiff, unyielding to her son’s heavy hand. “As usual you are making this about you. It’s not about you, DeShawn. It is about all of us.”
“Please, tell me what this is all about,” Gina said.
DeShawn stomped over to Gina, stuck his face in hers. “News flash, little Gina, you ain’t white.”
Part X
Chapter 53
“Tell us about this smoking gun,” said Romero. “Time is ticking down on us. We need to get back to the precinct.”
“Sure, I haven’t forgotten about that piece of evidence,” said Sergeant Oliver. “Brace yourself.” He waited three beats to draw out the suspense. “The gun is registered to one Mayor Harden.”
“That has to be a mistake,” said Copeland. “How would the Mayor’s gun get into the hands of a gang member?”
“Was it reported as stolen?” asked Romero.
“Negative,” said Sergeant Oliver. “This shootout gets more convoluted each time a new piece of the puzzle falls on the table.”
“Tell me about it,” replied Romero.
“We have not approached the mayor about this finding yet, so keep it under your hat.”
“Why would you want to keep it from him?” asked Romero.
Sergeant Oliver hunched his shoulders. “Playing my cards wisely. No need for him to know this until I learn more about it.”
“What are your thoughts on the mayor and his gun?” Copeland asked the sergeant.
“My thought? Everyone is guilty until proven innocent.”
Copeland’s brow raised. Once again, she saw herself going head to head with the sergeant. “That’s backwards. How can you solve a crime by considering everyone guilty?”
He folded his hands on the de
sk. “The name of the game is staying alive. Therefore, if everyone is guilty, I don’t run the risk of lowering my guard.”
“Must be horrible living life like that—always suspecting everyone.”
“It’s a whole hell of a lot safer. I can attest to that as fact, Detective.”
“In some twisted way, that makes sense,” Romero said.
“I guess I have to agree,” Copeland said with a sigh.
Romero’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He slipped it out and read the display. “It’s Billy.” He put the phone up to his ear. “Yeah, Kid, what’s up?” Romero listened. “We’ll be heading back in a few.” He ended the call, slipped the phone back into his pocket. “The preliminary DNA results are back.”
“Good news?” asked Copeland.
“Depends on which side of the aisle you’re on. The hair is a muted red like hers, but there were no roots. It was cut straight across.”
“What about the blood smear,” asked Copeland.
“It’s Gina’s.”
“Did Billy mention anything about telling the mayor?”
“Well, here’s the thing. Billy wants us to tag team the mayor. For whatever the reason, he’s not cooperating with us. This gun is going to fan the flames in our face. I can feel it right here.” Romero pointed to his blooming beer gut. “Mayor Hardass has a way of emerging as the hero and making us look like we were just his arm candy.”
“That bad, huh?” said the sergeant.
“Worse,” Copeland said eyeing the door. She checked her watch. “As if dealing with the mayor is bad enough, we now have nineteen hours to comply with the demands to save Gina.”
“Is he going to give in to the demands?” asked Sergeant Oliver.
“So far, he has not played ball with the perps, but claims he will to protect his legacy.”
“If you ask me, I think he is lost,” said Copeland. The man is infuriating, always wanting to run things. Well, this time he’s too close. He can’t see his hand in front of his face, so how does he think he can solve this case. I wish the chief would step up and tell him to back off.”
“Tell us about this set up,” Romero said to the sergeant.
“Right, I almost forgot about that. Now this is not fact. It’s locker room hearsay, but the story goes like this. The rising crime rate isn’t looking good for the mayor obtaining reelection, so some bogus arrests have been made to make him look good.”
“How does that help his cause?” asked Copeland. “The police are the ones making the arrests.”
“Think back to the mayor’s speech when he was reelected the last time. He vowed to launch a war on drugs and crime. Think about the newest arrest, Jesse Owens. He got a double bagger with that one. Take a big drug dealer off the streets and you get a drop in crime, even if it’s only short lived. Not-to-mention, the man was probably grooming those boys for the drug market.”
Romero frowned. “I don’t believe that for a second.”
“Hey, man, the vote is divided. Some people believe it and others don’t. It just depends on which side of the tracks you live on.”
“One arrest doesn’t make a hero,” Copeland said.
“You’re right, but I hear there are more like this coach sitting in the pen.”
Romero turned in his chair toward Copeland. “Here’s what bothers me—why isn’t he mapping out a plan with us? Why is he risking his niece’s life?”
Sergeant Oliver said, “What is he hiding?”
Chapter 54
Romero and Copeland joined Billy at the station. It was time to plan, time to pull out every stop they could think of, and call in all favors. Becky was working late. She smiled up at the detectives as they walked in. Opened her desk drawer and held up a box of doughnuts.
“Have one? You have a big case ahead of you. You’re going to need strength.” She fluttered her lashes at Romero and Copeland.
“Becky, do my eyes deceive me, or are you looking thin?” asked Romero.
Becky showed all of her teeth. “Becky’s been exercising and eating healthy.”
Romero cocked his head. “Are doughnuts considered health food?”
“Of course not.” She waved his comment away. “Becky keeps these things for fellow, hardworking officers, and detectives.”
“That’s mighty selfless of you,” Romero said as he reached into the box and took out a Boston Cream. “These are the best,” he said holding the doughnut up.
Becky held the box out to Copeland. “Take one. Becky has all kinds.”
Copeland scrutinized the doughnuts. “I see.” She reached in and took out a honey glaze.
Becky took a napkin from her desk, reached in and selected a chocolate on chocolate cake doughnut.
“Hey, I thought you were eating healthy,” Romero said.
Becky smiled wide. “Give this to that scrawny detective.”
“Billy?” asked Copeland.
“Who else?” Romero said to Copeland.
“He’s waiting for you two. Becky saw him in the office working on the white board. He’s brilliant, you know.”
“Yep,” said Romero as him and Copeland made their way down the hall to the elevator. “Do you think she is sweet on Billy?” Romero asked Copeland.
Copeland pushed the up arrow for the elevator. “I think they have a bond. Becky struggled when she first started here and so did Billy. Remember how hard you were on him? He had to prove himself time and time again to you.”
“Right, and you accepted him right out the gate?”
“That’s not what I’m saying, but I wasn’t as hard on him as you were. I just think their struggle solidified their bond.”
“You make a good case.”
The elevator doors parted. The detectives stepped inside. Copeland pushed the button for their floor. The doors closed. The motor hummed as it climbed the floors, dinging as it passed each one.
“What do you think the mayor is hiding?” asked Copeland.
“I think the better question is—is he dirty? What is his role in this whole shebang?”
“I hear you,” Copeland said as the elevator dinged their arrival and the doors parted.
The detectives stepped out into the corridor, ambled down the length of the hall to their shared office. Billy was inside, standing in front of the whiteboard. Romero knew exactly what his partner was doing. He was engaging in what he does best—organizing the data. Daylight streamed through the window lighting the office, and cascading shadows over Billy’s clothes.
“Hey, Kid, whatcha got for us?” Romero said as a greeting.
“I think I may have hit on some things here.” Billy touched the chalk to the board. “Just a little more time and I may have gold for you.”
Copeland went to the whiteboard to check out Billy’s work. “You have a lot of stops on your timeline.”
Billy took a couple steps back to peruse the information from afar. He crossed his left arm across his chest and planted his right fist under his chin. “Something is missing. An important detail, something I can’t seem to finger.”
Copeland stood next to Billy, affording her the same view as him. “Maybe we can put our heads together and work this out.”
“Hmm,” said Billy, “I am trying to figure out what exactly should be the inciting event on this darn thing. Look here.” He pointed at the first mark on the timeline. “The shootout at the market, you see, I think there has to be an event noted before this one. What caused these rival gangs to act like they are living in the Wild West?”
“My money is on drugs,” said Copeland. “Everything is usually about three things—drugs, money, or a woman.”
“I have to ask Riley when the night club barricade started.” Billy added a question mark in front of the shootout mark.
“So, you think all of this is connected?”
“Not sure yet.” Billy chewed on his lip as he processed his marks. He pointed to the third stop on the line with his chalk. “The coach was arrested and then the riots beg
an.”
Copeland pointed to the next stop. “Gina is missing. Hey, wait a minute, go back to the coach’s arrest and the riots. He was accused of drug possession with intent to distribute. The shootout was probably drug related.”
“I have to agree.” Copeland pointed to the name King, enclosed in parenthesis. “Are you thinking Dr. King is involved in this somehow?”
“He keeps showing up. The mayor’s niece goes missing, and he is right there in the middle of it. It’s looking like he was the last to see her. And look here.” Billy tapped his chalk on the next stop—drug deaths. “King again. The King Gang, are they carrying his name like a family moniker?”
“That’s something to consider,” Copeland said.
Copeland tented her fingers under her chin. “That man is such an ass. He wastes words, syllables, and my precious time while he takes his time to enunciate every single word.”
“Who?” asked Billy. “The prison guard, slash, doctor?”
“Yep. He just keeps turning up like dust bunnies under the bed.” She indicated the end of the line. “So, in the end it’s all about the mayor?”
“How so,” asked Billy.
“Your last two stops are about the mayor. He’s being uncooperative—you question of, why, followed by Gina’s DNA. In some twist of fate, you have coupled the two events.”
“And you know Boss would say there are no coincidences. Everything happens for a reason.”
“That’s exactly correct,” said Romero walking toward Copeland and Billy.
Copeland stared at Romero as if he had just popped in like an apparition. “Where did you disappear to?”
“I had to take a call in the hall. You two are doing good work here. My call was from Jeffrey, the lawyer. It seems he has been spending his time reviewing the store video from the coach’s arrest. He thinks he may have found something.”
Chapter 55
SUDS was livening up with the evening crowd. The day crew had been strolling in since four. Now, that the hands of the clock had spun around to reach the five o’clock hour it was time for drinking beer, or wine, snacking, and internal gossip. Romero stood beyond the doorway, a toothpick pinched between his lips, looking around for the lawyer. He found him sitting at the bar. He walked over.
The 13th Hour: A Marston Thriller (The Marston Series Book 4) Page 15
