Stratagem

by Robin Caroll

  “Well, what do you think he was doing then?” Danielle spun in her chair to face Brandon.

  Brandon took a seat on the edge of her desk. “Putting the laced energy drink in there?”

  “Maybe. But let’s look again. I think I noticed something.” She turned back to the video and started it again.

  When it got to the part where Colton stepped out of Anna Belle’s room, just after he shut the door behind him but just before he turned to the stairs, Danielle paused the playback. She tapped the screen, frozen on Colton. “Look, he’s got something in his pocket. It’s pretty long, because the pocket’s not lying flat like it should.”

  Brandon leaned forward. “Can you blow it up or something?”

  “That’s beyond my capabilities.”

  He squinted. “Can you forward it frame by frame?”

  “That I think I can handle.” She moved the arrow, and Colton moved in slow motion away from Anna Belle’s door.

  “There!” Brandon tapped the screen. “That’s yellow.”

  “Please tell me that EpiPen lids are yellow.” Danielle made a grimace.

  “I don’t know about all of them, but Anna Belle’s are.” He looked back at the screen. “So he went in there to remove her EpiPen.”

  “He could’ve put the bad energy drink in there at the same time. We don’t know.”

  Brandon nodded, setting his jaw. “But we know what happened to the pen. And sometime after she died but before CSI got there, he put it back in her purse.”

  “Which was why it wasn’t tampered with.”

  Brandon turned back to the video. “We still have the contents of her purse in evidence. And he’s not wearing gloves.”

  “Do you think he might have left prints?”

  “It’s worth checking. Those pens would be good to grab and hold a print or two.”

  She lifted the phone and pressed buttons. “Hey, Kara? It’s Danielle.”

  Brandon headed back to his desk. If only he could call Grayson and let him know they were making progress on clearing him and finding out the truth of what happened with Anna Belle. Everything seemed to be falling into place. If they could get Colton’s prints on Anna Belle’s EpiPen, then they’d be able to get a warrant. Maybe he’d left something around his house with the cherry juice. Sure, that might be wishful thinking, but overconfident criminals had made far worse mistakes before.

  Danielle hung up the phone. “She just came on an hour or so ago and says right now, with the weather, it’s slower than usual in the lab, so she’d get someone to go ahead to try and grab a print. If so, she’ll run it against the ones we had on file for Colton. If it’s a match, no matter what time, she’ll text.” She clapped her hands and rubbed them together, glancing up at the clock. “I wonder if Colton’s had time to make it home. I love this part of the job.”

  Brandon chuckled. “Me too.” He glanced at the clock as well. “With the weather, you know traffic is all kinds of messed up, so I bet he hasn’t gotten home.”

  Danielle stood and paced. “I hate waiting.”

  “I couldn’t tell.” He laughed.

  She playfully punched him. “Hey, I just wanted to thank you. For the other day. What you said about my whole sister thing.”

  “No problem.”

  She took on her serious look. “No, you were exceptionally kind, and I really appreciate it. And you.”

  He smiled and batted her hand. “That’s what partners are for, right? That and getting each other coffee. Ahem.”

  She laughed. “Fine. I get your hint. But if it’s old and burnt, don’t blame me.”

  Once she’d left, he checked his email again, not sure why. He wasn’t really waiting on anything, but he just had this sense of … expectation? Anticipation? Something. Maybe just excitement because they were getting close to wrapping up the case.

  His desk phone rang. “Gibbons.”

  “Detective Gibbons, this is Nellie in dispatch. We just had the strangest call come in to 911. I can’t make heads or tails of it, and we’re trained to remain silent and listen in case the caller can’t let someone know they’re on the phone.”

  “Right.” Brandon didn’t know where this one was going.

  “Well this call is confusing, but I was able to hear two men and one of them said your name.”

  “Mine? They said Brandon Gibbons?”

  “No, sir. Detective Gibbons.”

  “What else did they say?”

  “Like I said, it’s hard to make out.”

  “Do you have the number they called from? Did you call it back?”

  “It’s a cell phone, and that’s just it, sir, the line is still open.”

  “What?” Brandon caught sight of Danielle heading across the room toward him, carrying two cups. He motioned for her to hurry.

  “Yes, sir. The call is still connected. Would you like me to patch it through? You won’t be able to be heard if you speak, but you can hear the call.”

  “Yes, yes, yes! Patch it through.”

  “Okay, sir. It’ll take me just a couple of minutes. Stay on the line.”

  Danielle set down the cups and held up her hand in question.

  “Cell call came through 911 and can’t talk to the dispatcher. Said my name, so 911 is patching it through here. We won’t be able to be heard.” He put the call on speaker just as the connection sounded.

  Laughter sounded, but not happy laughter. Maniacal sounding. “So what do you think I should do with the golden boy here, Pammy?”

  “Is that … Colton?” Danielle asked.

  “I think you should let us go. I don’t know what you hope to achieve here.” Pam Huron’s voice held a wide range of emotions, but Brandon had been trained well enough to recognize fear as the primary one in her words.

  “‘Let us go’? Are they being held somewhere?” Danielle’s eyes were wide.

  “I don’t know. Listen.”

  “Let him go?” Colton’s voice was nothing short of chilling. “I don’t think so, Pammy. I have plans for you and Grayson both.”

  Brandon stood, opening the lockbox that held his gun. Danielle moved to her desk to do the same.

  “What’s your endgame, Colton?” Grayson’s voice held a hint of fear, but more … loathing. “Kinda messes up your whole plan if you off me and Pam both. All your careful planning and plotting just goes out the window if you kill us.”

  “Where are they? Colton’s? Grayson’s? Game’s On Us?” Danielle asked.

  “I don’t know. The call is on a cell. When Pam talks, it’s loudest, so I’m going to guess her cell phone.” Brandon holstered his gun, but his hand automatically stayed on its butt. “They could be anywhere.”

  “No, I have it all worked out. Figured it out on my drive over.”

  “Come on, tell us where you drove over to,” Danielle spoke to the phone.

  “Of course, I originally didn’t plan for Pam, but it actually works better with her here.”

  Rustling sounded over the phone, like Pam had moved or put the phone farther out of view. Brandon knew he liked her.

  “So what’s your big plan?” Grayson asked.

  “With the power out, you and Pam decided to wait out the weather here. I mean, you’re comfortable, right?” Colton snickered.

  Brandon couldn’t help but envision them tied up and trapped somewhere.

  “Anyway,” Colton continued, “someone broke in to rob the place, not expecting you here. So naturally, they shoot you both dead.”

  Shoot. He had his gun with him!

  “They robbed the place, trashed it good, and ran off. It’s so beautiful because I’ll get to file an insurance claim on the damage I do to my own building.”

  “Game’s On You!” Danielle and Brandon said in unison.

  Brandon lifted Danielle’s cell and dialed for the main dispatch. “This is Detective Gibbons, and I have a 911 call patched through to my desk.”

  “Yes, sir. We’re also monitoring.”

  “Good.
” He rattled off the address to Game’s On You. “Send a patrol car to that address. Tell them not to use the lights or sirens. Warn them detectives are on the way.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Is there any way you can patch that 911 call into my cell phone?”

  “Yes, sir. I just need the number to open the connection.”

  He rattled it off, and seconds later it rang. “Is it connected?”

  “Give me just a moment, sir. And you’ll still not be able to reply.”

  “That’s fine.” He hung up Danielle’s phone and nodded at his partner. “Let’s go.”

  She grabbed the keys off the desk and led the way down the hall. They hustled to the car, being pelted on all sides by driving rain and sideline winds. Danielle slid behind the steering wheel while Brandon got in the passenger’s seat. He set the phone on the console as he reached for a stack of napkins from their stash. They got off as much water as they could while they listened to the crackle of the connection come through over the speaker of his cell. Danielle started the car and flipped the defroster on high.

  Colton’s laugh filled the cabin of the police car. “I know how much you treasure all the golf memorabilia, so I’ll take it to my office. I’ll think of you every time I use it.”

  Brandon slapped the dashboard. “Let’s go.”

  “Well, I appreciate that.” Grayson’s voice wasn’t as strong as before. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

  Danielle whipped the car out of the precinct’s lot. Water sluiced up the sides of the cruiser. Flooding was already starting. Headlights and brake lights inched along the street. She turned on the car’s lights and siren. “At least until we get closer. We’ve got to get through all this traffic.”

  Over the speaker, Grayson’s voice rose above the siren’s wails. “I see you’ve thought of everything.”

  Danielle’s cell phone buzzed. She tossed it to Colton. “It’s from Kara.” He read the text aloud: “Prints recovered on pen. Ran against sample as requested. Match.”

  “Proof it’s Colton!” Danielle’s voice rose in excitement.

  “Of course I’ve thought of everything.” Colton’s voice vibrated Brandon’s cell. “You always did think you were the smarter one, but you were wrong. So wrong. I’ve always been smarter. I let you think you were so you’d do most of the work on the games.”

  “Gambling is an addiction, Colton. Even after you kill us and get control of the company’s assets, it won’t be enough because you’ll just keep gambling and getting back in debt again. It’s a cycle that won’t be broken unless, and until, you do something to break it.” Grayson’s tone sounded firm.

  Two cars were stalled on the side of the road. Danielle groaned as she had to maneuver almost into a full ditch to get around them. A black-and-white waved her through, easing her back onto the road so she wouldn’t get stuck.

  “Are you going to go all psychological on me now, Grayson?” Colton laughed again. “Oh, please do. This is rich. I can’t wait to hear your spiel.”

  “Okay, here’s my analysis. Right now you’ve reached what is referred to as the final stage of gambling addiction, the desperation stage. You have debts mounting up, your health is showing signs that the stress is eating away at you—you’ve lost, what, a good twenty or so pounds in the last several months? I’m betting you’re suffering from insomnia as well. Your relationships have deteriorated, and I can attest to that. You have no friends anymore, and you can’t even talk to your coworkers and employees anymore. Your financial problems have reached critical proportions. I bet you’ve even gotten a foreclosure notice, because I bet you’ve taken out a second, possibly a third mortgage to cover previous debts.”

  “Textbook psycho talk, but please do go on. You’re nothing if not entertaining with your own self-inflating ego.”

  Danielle swerved to miss a car that skidded through a stop sign. The phone shot to the floorboards. Brandon bent to pick it up. Danielle had to brake suddenly to get into the other lane. Brandon’s head collided with the dash. “Sorry,” she said.

  “It’s okay.” Brandon put the phone back on the console as Grayson’s voice continued.

  “It’s obvious you’ve reached the end of the line. You feel hopeless, powerless, depressed, filled with guilt, shame, and remorse.”

  Colton laughed again. “Powerless? Who’s the one holding the gun and the power right now, huh?” He snorted. “I’m not depressed. As a matter of fact, I’m happier now than I’ve been for quite some time. And as for feeling guilty or shameful? Are you kidding me?”

  “But the problem gambler, you, in this desperation stage needs to do anything to escape the intolerable reality your life has become.” Grayson’s voice grew louder and firmer as he continued. “Some problem gamblers leave their family at this point, preferring to run away rather than face what they’ve done. Others attempt suicide. Still others make the decision to finally get help.”

  Colton snickered. “Now you can shut up, buddy. I’m tired of listening to you drone on.”

  Brandon lifted the mic to the police radio and requested an ambulance be sent to Game’s On You. “Better safe than sorry,” he told Danielle.

  “But Colton, you have to—” Grayson started.

  Colton’s voice cut him off. “Pammy, what do you think—what are you doing? Are you recording? Are you on a call? Let me see.” His voice went deeper. “Show me! Turn that phone over.”

  Rustling sounded, muffled grunts and groans.

  “Nine-one-one? You’ve been on the phone with them for eleven minutes? They record every call!” The desperation and rage in Colton’s voice made the hairs on the back of Brandon’s neck stand up and take attention.

  Pam’s scream and Grayson’s frantic “No!” sounded simultaneously, just as a gunshot rang over the phone.

  The connection went dead.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  “Stop!” Grayson jumped to his feet.

  Pam’s cellphone lay dead on the floor, and the bullet Colton had shot it with was embedded into the back of the love seat they sat on. Pam curled up on the love seat behind Grayson.

  Lightning flashed across Colton’s face. Rage lined every feature.

  Colton pointed the gun at Grayson. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to shoot you. Every time you beat me on the golf course, every time you went on one of your vacations, every time you made a condescending comment, I wanted to shoot you in the face.”

  Keep him talking. Distract him. The police were on the way—Grayson just had to keep Colton from shooting them for a few more minutes, at most. “There is a fourth stage in gambling addiction, Colton. It’s known as the hopeless stage. In the hopeless stage, suicide is often the only option the problem gambler sees at this point.”

  “Suicide?” Colton shook his head. “Do I look suicidal to you? I think you’re delusional, buddy. I’m the one holding a gun on you, not on myself.”

  Boom!

  Pam flinched at the thunder.

  “But after you kill us, you pay off your debts, you lose the company, then what? You’ll have nothing. No source of income because you know you won’t be able to hold down a job working for someone else. With no money and the need, oh, that desperate have-to desire to bet on something, anything, will demand you gamble. And then what? No money. Nobody to get money from. Not able to gamble. You’ll hit the hopeless stage in no time.”

  “Shut up.” Colton’s eyes were as lifeless as glass staring back at him. “You just shut up. I’m not hopeless. That’s just psychobabble crap.”

  “Is it, Colton?” Grayson took a step toward him, just a little, barely noticeable step. “I think deep down in places of your heart you don’t want to even acknowledge you know you have an addiction. You and I both know that addictions are signs of weakness.”

  Another boom of thunder shook the building.

  “I am not weak!” Colton’s hand wobbled as he pointed the gun at Grayson’s head. “Not that I’m a gambling add
ict, but if I were, addiction is a disease, not a weakness.”

  Keep him talking. Grayson forced a laugh. “Seriously? Let’s just compare addiction with true diseases, why don’t we? With addiction, there’s no infectious agent, no pathological biological process, nor a biologically degenerative condition. The only disease-like part of addiction is that if people don’t seek help with it, their lives will get worse.”

  “Shut up!”

  But Grayson had to keep Colton talking, even to the point of making him angry. Anything to give the police time to get there. “It’s been proven that addictive acts occur when precipitated by emotionally significant events. All addictions can be prevented if we understand what makes these events so emotionally important. The start of addiction can be stopped if that desire can be replaced by other emotionally meaningful actions. It’s been proven that addictive behavior is a symptom but not a disease.”

  “I said, shut up already!”

  Colton wasn’t laughing anymore, but the crazy haze once again clouded his eyes.

  Lightning strobed the room.

  “But that’s good news, because unlike many diseases, addiction can be cured.” Grayson took another baby step toward Colton. “You can be cured. Let me help you.”

  Rage took over the crazy in Colton. “Help me? Help me? You? Help me?” He pointed the gun right at Grayson’s head. “Sit down. Now. Or I pull this trigger.” He moved the gun’s trajectory to Pam.

  Grayson dropped back onto the love seat, almost on top of Pam, but he shielded her from Colton. He’d pushed his partner too far.

  “I don’t need to be cured from anything. I just need to do what I need to do and move on. And since Pammy’s little phone call, I don’t have as much time nor can I carry out my original plan.” He pointed the gun back at Grayson. “So you see, now I have to change my plans. You know how disruptive that is, right? How frustrating it is to have your beautifully detailed plan derailed by someone else’s inability to do as they’re told.”

  Grayson lifted his chin. “Like you’re doing to me?”

  “Oh, still so smug, aren’t you, golden boy? We’ll see how smug you are when you’re lying dead and cold on the floor.” He lifted the gun.