The Avenged

by Charles Prandy

  “So they’re going to be hallucinating as well? Great,” I responded.

  “Gets better,” Scott said. “Our informant believes that the two girls inside are underage prostitutes.”

  Scott opened a manila folder which held the three men’s mug shots, with rap sheets attached. Two of the men were African American, bald-headed with necks thick as a woman’s thighs and utterly mean looking. The third man was Caucasian, leaner, with short-cropped dark hair and a long scar across his cheek.

  “These men are known for violent crimes and, from what we’ve gathered, won’t hesitate on shooting at us.”

  “This is all good Scott, but why do I need to be here? Seems like you guys have everything under control?”

  “Lieutenant said that he wanted you on this because it may have something to do with Charlie’s death.”

  My eyes widened with shock. “You gotta be kiddin’ me. How could these thugs be involved with Charlie’s murder? Lieutenant didn’t mention anything about this over the phone.”

  “Ballistics from the bullet pulled from Charlie’s head matched another bullet found in a dead guy a few days ago that allegedly came from one of the guns inside the house.”

  “Why wasn’t I informed of this?” My voice started to rise.

  Scott shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know, man. Word on the street was that this guy,” Scott pointed to the Caucasian man, “bragged that he capped our dead guy Francis ‘Little Man’ Hayes, a few days ago.”

  “Christ!” I backed away and rubbed my hands over my head. Anger and excitement flushed through me at the same time. This could be the break I had been waiting on that could tie the judge to Charlie’s murder.

  I gathered myself and turned to Scott Johnson. “What are we waiting for?”

  Sixty-five

  THE HOUSE SAT ON a steep hill on the right side of East Beach Drive. The left side was full of woods. Every house on the right side had neatly-trimmed manicured yards with long driveways leading up to the houses. Two SWAT teams secured the perimeter of the house, covering the back sliding glass door and side door on the right of the house.

  On the front porch, four SWAT officers stood in front of the door; the first one was holding a long battering ram. Scott Johnson stood at the bottom of the hill with me and another SWAT officer. Scott raised his hand and gave the command to breach the front door. The first officer with the battering ram looked to his colleagues and they all nodded. Then, with one forceful movement, the battering ram slammed into the front door and it flew open with great force. Seconds later, a flash bang went off in the front foyer, which was meant to daze and confuse anyone in the house. SWAT officers yelled at the top of their lungs, “Police.”

  They stampeded through the front door one after another. From where I stood, I could hear the back door break and SWAT officers yelling at the top of their lungs. An arsenal of shots rang throughout the house and I could only hold my breath that the perpetrators hadn’t been killed. Finally, the shooting died down and a SWAT officer radioed Scott Johnson that all was clear.

  When I entered the house, I looked around and saw to my left a set of stairs leading to the lower level. In front of me was a foyer, and past the foyer was the great room with three steps that led to the next level. To the right of the foyer was the kitchen. I walked to the great room, where two of the perpetrators were dead on the floor with handguns in their hands. The third perpetrator, the Caucasian man, was lying on the floor on his belly with his hands cuffed behind his back.

  “Where are the girls?” I asked.

  “In the back rooms,” one of the SWAT officers responded. “They didn’t have weapons on them and didn’t resist arrest.”

  I looked around the room; drugs and weapons were scattered across the floor and on top of the center table. I made my way to the handcuffed perpetrator on the floor and knelt beside him.

  “Where’s the gun that killed Little Man?”

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man replied, not looking at me.

  “Did you use it to kill a cop, too?”

  “Fuck you. I ain’t no cop killer.”

  “Is that right? Let’s hope so, for your sake.”

  I stood up and walked around the house. I made my way down the stairs, where I found myself in a long hallway. To my right was an open door that I saw was the laundry room. To my left, the hall led to what appeared to be a family room. I took the laundry room first.

  A lightbulb hung from a chain that provided the only light in the room. The laundry room was large and also doubled as a storage room for the house. A washing machine and dryer rested against the left wall, while a hot water heater rested against the wall in front of me. The room was dingy and looked abandoned compared to the rest of the house. The walls and floor were concrete. I stood in the middle of the room directly under the hanging lightbulb and took a spin around, making sure my eyes landed on everything in sight. When I looked to the far right of the room, I noticed that the back wall wasn’t completely built to the ceiling; it looked partially done. I raised my flashlight and saw dark empty space past the wall, almost like a cellar was further back. Just as I was about to investigate further, two bullets from the darkness slammed into my chest, knocking me against the washing machine.

  Sixty-six

  IT HAPPENED SO FAST that I didn’t have a chance to react. Two small torpedoes with the impact of ten Mike Tyson punches knocked me against the washing machine, but remarkably, I didn’t fall to the ground. Just as quickly, someone stepped from the dark wearing a black hood with its eyes cut out and pulled the trigger two more times, causing two more bullets to pound into my chest. The gun had a silencer, so the only two people who heard the shooting were the gunman and me. The man didn’t wait around to see if he had finished the job.

  He exited the room quicker than he had appeared from the dark, leaving me lying on the ground, barely able to breathe from the four gun shots. I gasped for air, but every time I inhaled, sharp pains pierced through my lungs.

  It took less than three seconds for four bullets to interrupt my life, but in those three seconds, I saw all the way back to my childhood. I saw my mother and father smiling and congratulating me when I brought home my first straight-A report card in the sixth grade. The next vision was when my father and I were in my high school’s parking lot and my father was teaching me how to drive a stick shift. The next vision came was my first kiss at prom. I was a late bloomer, and Kelly Thompson, the girl I had had a crush on since junior high, agreed to be my date to the prom. It was during a slow song that we looked into each other’s eyes and the mood overtook us. The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but it was a moment that I cherished my entire life.

  The final vision was when I had met Theresa. She was in her second year of medical school at Howard University and I had just finished with the academy. I’d like to think that our chance meeting was romantic, but in reality, it was my clumsiness that caused us to speak in the first place.

  The often-crowded McDonald’s across from Howard University was where our love affair began. I bumped into her after I’d ordered my food, causing both of our meals to fall on the floor. What was supposed to be just a quick run in and out ended up being an hour conversation with my future wife. In that hour, I’d already fallen in love with her. Three seconds and four bullets caused my mind to swim through a lifetime of memories.

  I slowly turned to my side, feeling like my ribs were cracking with the slightest movement. I glided my hands over my chest where the bullets had hit. The Kevlar bulletproof vest I wore under my shirt had stopped the bullets from penetrating my flesh. Thank God for technology.

  Seconds later, a SWAT officer who was probably just passing by the room yelled at the top of his lungs, “Jacob!”

  The SWAT officer quickly kneeled next to me and told me not to move. I obliged without hesitation. Seconds later, more officers started filling the room, and even though I was in pain, my mind kept saying, “You know who did
this, right?”

  I sure did.

  Sixty-seven

  TWO HOURS LATER, A phone rang. It took three rings before Frank Peters slowly opened his eyes to his dark bedroom.

  “Damn,” he tirelessly muttered.

  He slowly turned around to face the nightstand where his phone and clock rested. With a lazy hand, he reached for the phone and slowly spoke into the receiver.

  “This better be damn well important, whoever this is.”

  “It’s me.”

  Frank instantly recognized Nathan Hunt’s voice. He rolled his eyes because he knew the only reason Nathan would be calling him at his hour was because something had gone wrong.

  “Don’t even tell me. One of you fucked up. Is that why you’re goddamn calling me at 4:30 in the goddamn morning?”

  “Sorry, Frank, he was wearing a vest. Our guy hit him four times in the chest.”

  Frank rubbed his eyes, too tired to strain his voice, even though the inner man in him was screaming at the top of his lungs.

  “So you mean to tell me that you dickheads brought someone in who wasn’t smart enough to think that a cop would be wearing a vest to a raid?” He waved his hand in the air. “Unbelievable.”

  “Well, he won’t be around to make that mistake again,” Nathan reassured. “Let me take care of it,” Nathan’s voice pleaded for another chance.

  “Where is he now?”

  “At Georgetown University Hospital.”

  “Fine. He’s all yours.” Frank took a deep breath before continuing. “And Nathan?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t disappoint me.”

  Frank set the phone receiver down and then swung his legs out of bed and sat up. He rubbed his face with his palms before his body caused his arms to swing out wide in a forced stretch. He turned around and looked at the woman lying next to him. As if she knew he was looking at her, Carmen turned around and smiled. The blanket lay partially across her chest, and Frank could make out the perkiness of her left breast.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked with a soft and sensual voice.

  Frank’s lips curled to a smile and he leaned over and kissed her on the forehead.

  “Everything’s fine,” he responded. “You should go back to sleep.”

  Carmen turned to her side and Frank could still smell the perfume that she wore when she had arrived earlier in the night.

  “You know I don’t make it a habit of sleeping over.”

  “You should.”

  “Well…for the right price, maybe I will,” she said, smiling.

  “I told you before, name your price. The world is yours as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Hmm,” she raised her pointer finger to her lips. “If the world is mine, how about showing it to me then.”

  “What, the world?” Frank excitedly responded, climbing back in bed. “Where would you like to go? France, Sweden, the Caribbean? Name the place and I’ll take you there in a heartbeat.”

  Carmen looked into his eyes and Frank gazed back into hers. Even in the dark, he could see how beautiful they were. He was falling in love with her, harder than he ever had with anyone else.

  “Would you really take me anywhere I wanted to go?” she sincerely asked.

  “Of course.” He leaned in and gently kissed her lips. “You act as if you don’t know that…” he paused before he said it, “I love you.”

  They gazed into each other’s eyes again and Frank could tell that Carmen was searching for something, anything that would tell her any different. Finally, she reached out and pulled him close with a hug. She kissed his ear and said, “I love you too.” Frank embraced her tighter, but the lovingness that he heard with his ear didn’t match the blank expression that Carmen had on her face.

  Sixty-eight

  IF THERESA WEREN’T AN ER doctor at Georgetown University Hospital, I would have gone to the Washington Hospital Center which was closer to the raided house. I didn’t think that my ribs were broken, but they sure felt that way. Dark bruises covered my upper torso where the bullets had struck the vest. I was sitting up on the examining bed in one of the ER rooms when Theresa brought X-ray sheets for me to review. She was wearing green ER scrubs and a white lab coat which had her name, Theresa Hayden, MD, stitched above her left breast.

  “Nothing’s broken,” she said, concern filling her voice.

  “That’s a relief.”

  Theresa sat next to me and kissed my cheek. “I’m worried about you. Maybe you should take some time off. I’m sure the department would understand.”

  I slowly raised my left arm, winced at the pain and wrapped it around Theresa’s shoulders. Our heads leaned against each other, which nearly caused me to sob. I loved her too much to tell her about my suspicions of Polenski and the judge. I also knew that if I didn’t do something soon, the attempted attacks on my life would eventually be successful. I couldn’t imagine leaving Theresa alone, having to live the rest of her life without me.

  “You know,” I said, “I wish I could take time off. Actually, I wish you and I could just get up and leave forever. But the way this case is going, I owe it to the people who’ve been killed to solve their murders.”

  “I know, babe,” Theresa sighed. “Just wishful thinking. But you need to get to the bottom of how that guy was left alone without being spotted. I mean, if it wasn’t for the vest, you’d be dead right now.”

  “I’ve gone through it in my head a hundred times. SWAT was supposed to have cleared the house, meaning that every room should have been checked.”

  “You don’t think…” Theresa quickly sat up, her expression near panic, “that they meant for this to happen?”

  I wanted to tell her of my suspicions, but thought better to keep it to myself. I didn’t want her to worry. “No, I don’t think so. The guy was hiding in the dark. There were only supposed to be five people in the house. I’m not sure how he didn’t get accounted for.”

  I was relaxed when I spoke, which calmed her down. Theresa leaned in and hugged me and then kissed my forehead.

  “I worry about you so much. Please promise me that you’ll be careful.”

  “I promise,” I said, gingerly wrapping my arms around her. “I always do.”

  Sixty-nine

  LATER THAT MORNING, THE front door closed louder than usual, which caused me to jerk up from a deep sleep. When I did, I winced at the soreness my chest felt from the sudden movement. Realizing that it was Theresa coming home from her shift, I plopped back down, allowing my head to snuggle against the soft pillow that it had just been on.

  Sunlight filled the room and when I looked at the time, I saw that it was a few minutes past eleven in the morning. Theresa should have been home hours ago, I thought. Why is she just getting home now? Her shift had ended at eight and the hospital was only a ten-minute drive from our house. Maybe there was an emergency at the hospital and she had to stay later.

  “Honey?” I called. “Can you bring up some painkillers when you come up?”

  The 800 milligram prescription painkillers worked wonders for my soreness, but since it’d been more than four hours since I had taken a dose, the aches were starting to return.

  A few minutes went by and I realized that Theresa hadn’t responded.

  “Theresa?”

  Still no answer. That wasn’t like her.

  I slowly sat up and listened to the house to see if I could hear her moving around downstairs, but not a sound was made. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but after the near-death experience I had had the night before, anything was possible. Then a sudden thought popped into my mind. Maybe whoever tried to kill me last night was back to finish the job.

  I threw the blanket off my body and grabbed my Glock that I kept in the nightstand. I ignored the piercing pain that shot through my chest as I checked to make sure the gun was loaded. I wanted to call out to Theresa again, but decided against it. I didn’t want to give away my position in case the intruder hadn’t heard me the
first time.

  Each step down the stairs seemed to creak louder than the last. Within seconds, I was on the lower level, carefully looking around the house before I made another move. Just then, I heard a whimper coming from the kitchen. I straightened my aim as my nerves swam uncontrollably through my body. My chest didn’t seem to hurt anymore because of the adrenaline rush I was feeling. Before I knew it, I’d taken three steps through the living room when I heard the whimper again.

  I imagined someone holding Theresa in the kitchen with their hand covering her mouth, just waiting for me to show my head around the corner before they tried to blow it off. The whimpering came quicker this time. I was about to sneak around the corner when tiny little footsteps stammered against the hardwood floor. I saw a little furball of an animal race towards me.

  Giggling uncontrollably, Theresa came from around the corner of the kitchen only to be caught by surprise that I was aiming my gun.

  “Jacob? What are you doing?”

  I quickly lowered the gun, feeling the relief of a thousand weights fall off my shoulders. The little brown monster raced to me and started licking my toes.

  “What’s this?” I asked as I knelt down and picked up the little puppy.

  “A chocolate Lab,” Theresa replied. “He’s just eight weeks old.”

  “How…where’d he come from?”

  “I’ve been wanting to surprise you for a few weeks now. I picked him out a couple of weeks ago from a woman who breeds Labs out in Maryland, but had to wait until he was at least eight weeks old before I could bring him home.”

  I turned the puppy around and looked into its eyes.

  “Aw, you shouldn’t have. What am I going to do with a puppy?” I asked as I made silly faces.

  Theresa stepped next to me and wrapped her arms around me and stood on her tippy-toes to kiss my cheek.