Power

by Debra Webb

  “Let’s just say he owed me one,” she said in answer to his comment about her contact.

  Chet spotted the tail in their rearview mirror. “We have company, ma’am.”

  His cell and Harris’s rang at the same time.

  “Just keep driving, Sergeant. If they want to talk to us, they’ll follow.”

  17

  Fifteenth Avenue, 5:08 p.m.

  Jess waited on the stoop of the Simmonses’ home. The extra security door that had been here the last time she visited was gone. Those MS-13 thugs had shattered it just as completely as they had ended the life of Jerome Frazier.

  Burnett’s fancy Mercedes waited behind Harper’s much more affordable Nissan. Behind Burnett were two other vehicles. She suspected the nondescript sedan belonged to one of the three-letter agencies. The other was probably Captain Ted Allen. They were all no doubt pissed and out for blood. But not one would dare make a scene at the home of a victim.

  The front door of the Simmons home opened and DeShawn’s grandfather looked from Jess to Harper and back. Chi-Chi peeked out but didn’t bother with a yap.

  His expression lapsed into one of misery and defeat.

  “We haven’t found DeShawn,” Jess assured him, though at this point she wasn’t so sure the news was reassuring. “But we do have information you need to be aware of.”

  “Come on in.” He turned back into the house and shouted, “Helen, Chief Harris is here.”

  Jess followed Mr. Simmons into the living room. She sat down just as she had before on the worn, comfy sofa. Sergeant Harper did the same.

  Helen hurried into the room. She hesitated behind her husband’s recliner. Fear and denial scrolled across her face. “Did you find my boy?”

  “Not yet.” And that was the good news.

  “Come on round here and sit down, Helen. Lord have mercy, woman, we got company. Don’t just stand there asking questions.”

  Jess related the bad news about Jerome Frazier. The Simmonses were visibly shaken. Jess hoped that tragedy would help them to see the merit in her next suggestion. She drew in a breath and prepared for a fight. “The young woman with your grandson is Nina Lopez. She’s the sister of Salvadore Lopez, who heads up MS-13 here in Birmingham.”

  Mrs. Simmons’s hand went to her throat. “Has he already hurt my boy and you just don’t want to tell me?”

  “We haven’t found DeShawn or Nina yet, but the good news is neither has her brother. I took a little chance and prompted the truth out of him. I’m convinced that he has no idea where his sister is. So wherever she and DeShawn are, there’s reason to believe they’re still safe.”

  “What happens now?” Mr. Simmons wanted to know.

  “We keep searching and hope we find them.” This was the tricky part. “But I need a favor from the two of you.”

  “Anything,” Mrs. Simmons answered promptly.

  “I want to be sure the two of you stay safe. We’ve had an officer watching your home but that might not be enough. Do you have friends or family you could stay with for a while? Maybe in a neighboring town? I’ll keep you posted on everything that’s going on, but if I don’t have to worry about your safety it’ll be so much easier for me to focus on finding your grandson.”

  Maybe the guilt factor would help her cause.

  “We could stay with your cousin Gladys,” Mr. Simmons suggested, “over in Tarrant. That wouldn’t be so far away.”

  Mrs. Simmons shook her head. “I want to stay right here in case he calls me and I need to get to him.”

  “We’ll have your landline forwarded to your cousin’s home,” Jess assured her. “I’m certain DeShawn would feel better if he knew the two of you were safe.”

  It took a few more minutes but Helen Simmons finally agreed. The officer currently assigned to surveillance would escort the couple to Tarrant.

  When the good-bye hugs were exchanged, Jess was ready to face the ramifications of her actions.

  Burnett and the entire joint Gang Task Force were no doubt furious with her.

  Harper moved out onto the stoop first. Jess joined him and the door closed behind them.

  “You ready for this, Chief?”

  Jess laughed. “My aunt had a saying, Sergeant: They can kill us, but they can’t eat us.” She shook her head. She hadn’t thought of her aunt in decades, and yet now that she was back home… “I always thought that was the stupidest saying.”

  “It’s against the law,” Harper said as he took the steps down to the sidewalk. “Eating humans, I mean. Therefore, they might very well kill us—in this case make us wish we were dead—for what we did, but they can’t eat us. At least that’s my theory.”

  “Well, there you go.” Jess squared her shoulders. “I don’t know about you but I feel a lot better.”

  Harper chuckled. “A whole lot better.”

  Burnett climbed out of his SUV as they approached the street. The other two vehicles had left already. Looked as if Burnett had won that pissing contest. He got first shot at her.

  “Chief Harris, come with me,” he ordered. “Sergeant Harper, be in my office at nine sharp tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes, sir.” Harper nodded to Jess. “See you in the morning, ma’am.”

  “Assuming your theory is correct,” she tossed at her detective.

  Despite the fury and frustration emanating from Burnett’s expression as well as his rigid posture, Harper smiled before walking away. The pit bull next door went through his usual routine, barking and snarling.

  Jess strode over to Burnett’s big, fancy SUV and climbed into the passenger seat. Whatever he said, she wasn’t backing down. She had done the right thing. The GTF, FBI, ATF, and DEA could just get over it. Strange how she’d never considered how absolutely ridiculous all those acronyms were until now.

  Burnett guided his Mercedes away from the curb and pointed it in the direction of downtown.

  Jess focused on the traffic. It was quitting time for all the day shifters. Navigating the traffic would make the trip twice as long. She imagined Burnett would fill the time railing at her for overstepping her bounds and stomping on toes across multiagencies.

  Let him have at it.

  She was ready for whatever he threw at her. There were significant aspects of the law that were on her side. She and Harper had discussed them at length between paying that somber visit to the Frazier home and giving Lopez what for.

  To her surprise Burnett said nothing.

  By the time he reached First Avenue the silent treatment had gotten to her.

  “Just so we’re clear, I knew what I was doing.”

  No response. Not even a grunt. She dared to look at him. Oh, he was mad. Fire spitting, break something mad.

  That square jaw looked as hard as the limestone bench she’d sat on in the Chandlers’ impressive butterfly garden today.

  He wouldn’t look at her even when he stopped for a traffic light. Oh yeah. This was a pissed-off zone Daniel T. Burnett rarely crossed into. He was always Mr. Control. Rarely lost his cool. Always kept a level head.

  Well, a nineteen-year-old boy was dead and another was missing because the authorities watching the monster responsible for both were waiting for the “big” bust. They could all just get right with it. She had done what she had to do in order to prompt a lead in her case. She now could assume with some level of certainty that DeShawn Simmons was still alive because Lopez had no freaking idea where his sister was. He had no idea that he had provided the answer to the question Jess most wanted answered.

  Nina Lopez was running away from her brother and her father. And Salvadore would do anything to prevent Daddy from finding out.

  Jess now had a fifty-fifty chance of finding DeShawn alive.

  The thirteen minutes required to reach the downtown parking garage was just enough time for her to reach maximum overload on the frustration and wrath front. Burnett had made a serious error in judgment in waiting to have his say. She was way beyond playing nice now.

&nb
sp; The instant he shifted into park she slid from the passenger seat and slammed the door. It was a Mercedes; it could take the abuse. Without waiting to see what he did next she stormed from the building, across the street, and all the way to the department’s front entrance.

  Flashing her badge, she didn’t hesitate long enough for security to ask to see inside her bag. Since the guard, who knew her but had a job to do, didn’t attempt to call her back, she assumed Burnett took care of any questions.

  She bypassed the elevator. No way was she going up four floors in the elevator with him. She hit the stairwell. Hopping on first one foot and then the other, she removed her high heels and tucked them in her bag. Four flights of stairs weren’t so bad, but in four-inch heels it bordered on masochism.

  She had to stop on the third floor and pick up a little something in her office. Thanks to Harper, that little item covered her actions today.

  This situation with Lopez was going to be a war. No question. Jurisdiction, geographically and legally, would be scrutinized. Whose case was more important? Did homicide trump drugs and guns?

  Maybe not. After all, it was just one African American kid from a low-class neighborhood, and all those federal agencies were looking at the so-called bigger picture.

  On the third floor she stopped to shift her bag to the other shoulder. Damn. She had to be out of her mind taking the stairs at the end of a physically and emotionally draining day like this. Knowing that making Burnett wait was only going to make him angrier, she made that quick run to her office.

  By the time she reached the fourth floor, she was ready for a cold drink and something to dab the perspiration from her forehead and her armpits. Did they turn off the air in the stairwells at five o’clock?

  Uncaring if she made him wait a few minutes more, she ducked into the ladies’ room and splashed some cold water on her face. The paper towel dispenser didn’t want to cooperate, so it took several tries to get a handful. Meanwhile the water had rolled down her blouse. She patted herself dry and fussed with her hair a few seconds. She looked exactly like a woman who’d inspected a homicide scene involving multiple victims and exchanged heated words with the head of a gang clique.

  After a stop in the lounge where she grabbed a Pepsi, she made her way toward his office. In the corridor between Burnett’s receptionist’s desk and his door, Jess paused and mulled over the idea that she had tucked her shoes in her bag to facilitate taking the stairs. As much as she loved her high heels, there were just times where they proved a hindrance.

  That was it. When she had something to do that made having on high heels problematic, she took them off. Either set them aside or stashed them in her bag. That was exactly what Darcy Chandler had done.

  Oh my God! How ordinary was that?

  Tomorrow she was going back to the Chandler house and have another look on that second-floor landing.

  She had missed something.

  After depositing her empty Pepsi can into the recycle bin next to Tara’s desk, Jess put those last few steps behind her. She didn’t have to knock at the door to Burnett’s office since it stood wide open. She walked in. He looked up.

  “Close the door.”

  She didn’t see the point. Everyone was gone for the day. She hadn’t passed a soul in the stairwell, on this floor or on the one below it. It was after five. It was Thursday. No one wanted to be here this late so close to the weekend.

  She didn’t want to be here.

  The carpet felt good under her bare feet. If he noticed her shoes were MIA, he didn’t let on and she didn’t care. She parked in one of the chairs in front of his desk and settled her undivided attention on him. Then she waited.

  He didn’t sit down. His hands were planted at his waist. The suit jacket was gone, his tie was torn free of his throat, and at least one button of his perfectly pressed shirt had been released. She crossed her legs and relaxed more fully into her chair. Either he made the first move or they’d just spend some time looking at each other.

  Her pay was the same either way.

  “You crossed several lines this afternoon, Jess,” he said quietly, calmly. “While you were in the Simmonses’ home, I was working to calm down Captain Allen and his counterparts on the joint task force. They all want you off this case ASAP. But I told them that wasn’t possible. The Simmons case is yours and you will see it through.”

  This was surreal. Where had the anger and frustration gone? Why wasn’t he shouting at her?

  “Salvadore Lopez and his crew,” he continued in that same unruffled monotone, “are slated to go down day after tomorrow for a stack of federal crimes the likes of which you cannot imagine.” He shook his head slowly from side to side, his expression growing more somber. “Your actions jeopardized that operation without regard to the resources that had been expended to finally take down a major player along the southeast drug-running corridor.”

  Jess stood. She approached his desk, flattened her hands on the cluttered surface, and looked him in the eyes. “He sent a whole slew of his followers to murder a nineteen-year-old kid who was guilty of nothing more than being the friend of DeShawn Simmons. In doing so he also murdered four unidentified Hispanic men who were probably former members or rogue members of his own clique. When did homicide stop being the priority, Burnett? If those other guys don’t have enough evidence after expending all those resources to salvage their case, that’s a real shame, but this is my case and I’ve got it covered. Besides, Lopez knows what Allen and his people are up to. He said as much. He’s just sitting back and waiting for them to make their move.”

  Burnett cleared his throat but he couldn’t keep his anger at bay this time. “However you rationalize your action, you took enormous risks with an ongoing operation for which you showed no regard.”

  Jess reached into her bag and retrieved the SPU handbook she’d grabbed from her office on the way up here. The handbook she hadn’t read. Thankfully Harper had. She placed it on Burnett’s desk. “Section four, paragraph two. SPU will operate fully and without hindrance in Jefferson County, Alabama, to include the city of Birmingham. All local law enforcement divisions will keep SPU apprised of ongoing operations.”

  She straightened, crossed her arms over her chest, and met his steady gaze. “You and Sheriff Griggs had this handbook drafted, and the powers that be signed off on it. If I unknowingly infringed on an ongoing operation, that’s because Captain Allen failed to brief me in a proper and timely manner despite having had ample opportunity. He was well aware that I was investigating the Simmons case, and he also knew who Nina was all along. He left me out of the loop because he was protecting his own ass… his own case.”

  “I can assure you that Captain Allen now fully understands his own missteps in this unfortunate situation, as do I. I take full responsibility for that oversight. I should have ensured from day one that all division chiefs and team leaders understood the dynamics of SPU.”

  “I’m glad we got that cleared up.” Jess grabbed her SPU handbook and stowed it. Maybe the thing hadn’t been such a waste of trees after all. She was beat. She needed a bottle of wine and a long, hot bath. Maybe not in that order. “Anything else?”

  She probably should thank him for sticking up for her with Allen and the feds. Maybe not. As chief of police, that was his job.

  “Just one more thing,” he said when she had about decided he was done.

  “What’s that?” He’d better make it fast or she was going to expire from sheer exhaustion and total starvation. She couldn’t even remember if she had eaten today.

  “If you ever walk into an unknown situation again the way you did this afternoon, I will put you on administrative leave.”

  A frown wiggled its way across her forehead. She scrubbed at it with the back of her hand. The protector thing was back. What do you know? She wondered if he had conversations like this with Black or Hogan. “Would that be paid leave? Like a vacation?”

  “I am dead serious, Jess,” he growled. “If y
ou don’t care that you could have gotten yourself killed, what about your detective? I’m certain you’re aware that Harper has a son.”

  “I had no intention of Harper going in there with me. But he insisted. In fact, he disobeyed a direct order.” She shrugged. “Besides, I had a handle on the situation.” She couldn’t exactly tell him that one of Harper’s contacts had told her about the ongoing operation across the street, which basically meant dozens of law enforcement personnel were watching and only yards away.

  “How is it that you had such a good handle on the situation?” He folded his arms over his broad chest and waited for her answer. Judging by the expression on his face, whatever she said wasn’t going to satisfy him.

  “I have my resources. My LA contact told me Nina was Lopez’s sister and that she was the father’s princess. I knew then why the whole thing with Simmons had been kept on the down low on the street. Salvadore Lopez is terrified his father will find out little sister ran off with another guy. Big brother was supposed to be making sure that didn’t happen again. He has no more idea where his sister and DeShawn are than we do. I needed verification of that and to make him understand what I would do if he hurt DeShawn.”

  Burnett shook his head, anger now glittering in his eyes. “And all that knowledge was your safety net? You took that kind of risk just to confirm that Simmons might still be alive?” He took a breath, probably in an attempt to regain that composure. “I want your word right now that it won’t happen again. If I cannot trust you to make rational decisions about how to proceed in a dangerous situation, then maybe I made a mistake offering you this position.”

  Her belly clenched at that below-the-belt blow. There it was. That regret Black had suggested Burnett might eventually feel. “I can’t give you my word on that and you know it.” She did what she had to do and she would do it again.