Death's Valley

by Roy A. Teel, Jr.

  Karen pulled the paper towel off her eggs and said, “There is no poison in this. I made it for God’s sake.” She dug into her breakfast while enjoying the late morning sunshine and the warmth of the sun on her face. Afterwards, she picked up her cell and called John.

  “Swenson.” “Hello, Mr. Angel.” A smile broke across his face as he looked on at the sleeping man in the rear of his truck. “To what do I owe this phone call from my best kid doctor?” Karen took another sip of her soda and heard John laugh. “What?” she asked. “It’s ten a.m., and you’re drinking a Coke, aren’t you?” “Yes...Sara was mad at me.” “Yea, well, welcome to the club. What’s going on, honey?” “Jade told me that the detective we worked on yesterday died from poisoning. She said it was sulfuric acid.”

  “Yea…I knew about that yesterday. Jade handed me some of the pellets used to kill him.” “Pellets?” “Glass units used to deliver the lethal dose of acid. They’re soft enough that you can eat them but not so soft that they’ll break in your mouth. It’s an old way of killing someone. They break down in the digestive system, and the acid eats its way out. That’s why the detective bled out. I know you didn’t call me to talk forensics.” “No. Sara told me to give you a call and ask you about a police officer who likes me. To see if you know him.” “You do know you’re seventeen, so even if you like the guy, you can’t date him or have sex.” “Yes, yes, papa bear. Sara read me the riot act.”

  “So, what’s the officer’s name?” “Marco Estrada.” There was silence on the other end of the line but only momentarily. “How did you meet Officer Estrada?” “He was in the ER yesterday at the same time as the detective that died. I saw him after Sara and I had closed the case, and he was hanging around the hospital when I went home this morning.” “What time did you see him as a patient?” “Oh, John, there is no way I can remember that. It was early in the day for sure.” “What time did you run into him this morning?” “It was well after two a.m. I was coming off shift, and there he was. I gave him my cell number after he asked me out, then he walked me to my car.” “Did you tell him your age?” She laughed. “No…he’s cute, and I didn’t want to scare him off. Do you know him?” “Yes, Karen, in a sense. I know who he is, and I have had some interaction with him.” “So, is he a good guy, bad guy? Can I talk to him and tell him my age and maybe have lunch with him at the hospital cafeteria?” “I would rather that you not hang out with him. I’m not saying he’s a good guy, bad guy, or anything else. You’re seventeen, and you won’t be eighteen for almost a year. Stick to your practice of medicine. There will be plenty of time for boys, men, when you’re legal.”

  “You’re just mad because I’m jail bait!” John laughed. “No. I’m trying to protect you and Officer Estrada. Even when men know your age, they don’t always take no for an answer.” “They do when I tell them that my godfather is John Swenson of the FBI.” “You didn’t tell that to Estrada, did you?” “No…the conversation never got that far. Why? Do you want me to?” “No…tell him your age and that you’re flattered and leave it alone. If he doesn’t leave you be, then you call me, and I will take care of it. Understood?” “Yes, sir.” “Sara told me you’re off for a couple of days,” said John. “Yep.” “Why don’t you come by the house tomorrow. I think Sara is going to be off, and we can all get together. I haven’t seen you in months.” “That sounds like fun. What time?” John said his calendar was clear and recommended that they meet after noon. “I will put it in my phone now,” Karen said, “and I will be at your house tomorrow afternoon.” “Okay, kid. Keep up the good work.” “I will, John…” She paused briefly and said, “John?” “Yes.” “You know that I know who you really are, don’t you?” “Yes. I’m your godfather.” Karen paused again before saying, “I love you.” “I know that, sweetheart, and I love you, too. See you tomorrow.” John hung up the phone and looked down at the list of victims laying in the passenger seat. He pointed to Brian Boyd’s name and said, “You are next. I need to get to you first.”

  Jim was standing with U.S. Immigration, Steve Hoffman, and Jade Morgan at the bar where he had discovered a human sex trafficking ring. There were two holding rooms for the prisoners. One was a dank, dark room with mattresses on the floor where the men and women satisfied customers. The other was a refrigerated unit that held the bodies of those killed in the dungeon. Most were young Asian men, but there were a few women as well.

  Jim looked at Jade and Steve and said, “This club was a women’s only club and, for the most part, catered to the lesbian community.” Jade quickly corrected him, saying, “Jim, this is not a part of the lesbian lifestyle. This is a sick, twisted, fetish club that has nothing to do with being gay, lesbian, straight, or anything else. These people have been imported to feed a need to inflict pain and torture, the type rarely allowed by even the most submissive of partners.”

  Jim nodded in agreement. Steve just looked on. “How did you get down here, Steve?” Jim asked. “John sent one of the field agents to pick me up and bring me. I had a hard night.” Jim didn’t say anything nor did Jade. Steve asked, “On that note, where is John?” Jim looked on and said, “I think he had some personal business to attend to.” Jade said, “Well, I don’t know what can be more personal than the killing of yet another police officer.” Jim asked, “How the hell could you know that any of these people are cops?” Jade frowned and said, “The car, dumb ass. The woman in the car was a detective with the West Valley division named Patricia Salazar.” Steve and John looked at each other and scanned a copy of the list from the killer. They both pulled out pens and crossed her name off. Jade saw what they were doing and asked, “What do you two have?” “A list of the people to be killed. This is number five of a total of ten on the hit list.” Steve wheeled himself over to the door to the parking lot, and Jim followed. Jade went back to the cooler to continue her work.

  Jim walked up behind Steve and pushed the chair out the door into the light of day. “What’s on your mind, Steve?” Jim asked. “The Eagle has the killer, doesn’t he?” Jim said, “I don’t know. He was chasing him. I saw his truck tailing another car that was trying to run me down as I approached the scene right after the explosion.”

  Steve wheeled himself over to the burnt out remains of the car and looked at it carefully. Jim stood and watched as Steve called for a crime scene kit and gloves. He took a swab from one of the packets and wiped some material off the lower part of the car’s frame. Jim asked, “What you got?” “C4. Whoever created this device wanted to make damn sure that the person in the car died.” Jim laughed and said, “Well, they accomplished their mission because that bitch is dead!” “Strong words there, Jim. Did you know her?” Steve asked. “No, but Barbara did, and she said that she was a cruel and sadistic bitch.” Steve looked on at the burned out wreck. “She might have been all those things, but she died painlessly. She never even heard the explosion.” Jim nodded, knowing that it’s the way Steve wanted to go — fast and painless.

  The Eagle pulled his truck into the underground tunnel leading to his lair. He pulled the man from the back of his truck and flung him over his shoulder. Once inside, he strapped the man to a gurney in one of the operating rooms. He filled a syringe with a stimulant and injected the masked man through his clothes. The Eagle pulled off the mask, and he recognized the man immediately.

  Alberto Alverez was bleeding from cuts over his mouth and left eye. “You’re a dead man,” the Eagle said, looking Alverez in the eyes. “So I’ve been told. Am I to assume I’m in the company of the Iron Eagle?” The Eagle nodded. “It’s nice to meet you,” Alverez said, “I know you’re going to torture and kill me, but I can tell you that you will get no information from me about what’s going on.”

  The Eagle pulled a chair up next to Alverez’s gurney and sat down with his arms hanging over the back. He looked at him for a long time before responding. “Who’s in your grave?” the Eagle asked. “My twin brother, that much I will tell you.
I had to fake my death to get the feds and cops off my ass.” The Eagle stared coldly at Alverez and said, “You’re wrong, Mr. Alverez. I will get every bit of information out of you and every thing you know about this plot. You will come to the edge of death many times, perhaps, and think that you will go over, but I will not allow it. You will tell me everything about this plot and about all those who died at your hands, and you will suffer badly for it. I know all about you and your methods, Mr. Alverez. You were cruel in order to keep your business alive. I’m cruel in extracting justice. I promise you will beg for death long before you will ever taste it.” Alverez laid his head down on the gurney and said no more.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Look at him, goddamn you…you have

  known him for over two decades.”

  Andre Espinosa was sitting in a holding cell at the federal courthouse when he heard some chatter about the killing of Patricia Salazar amongst the marshals outside his cell. It had already made the morning news, and he listened as the two marshals spoke, one male, the other female. “So, another in a string of dead cops. That’s got to have every department on alert.” The female voice said, “From what I understand there is a list, and the list only includes LAPD, no one from any other law enforcement agency.” “Someone wants revenge,” the male voice said. “If it’s revenge that they’re after, they appear to also be exposing some very, very bad deeds of these fallen officers.” There was a quiet laugh, and the man said, “That’s true, Barb. God knows that’s true.” Espinosa had no sense of time. He only knew that he wanted to get out of there and fast.

  A bailiff came down to the cell and called his name. He walked over to the holding cell door, and it opened. Barbara O’Brian stood in front of him and asked him to turn around to be cuffed. “Is this really necessary, Officer?” “It’s the law, Mr. Espinoza. If you don’t like it, take it up with your lawyer and a constitutional law scholar.” Andre did as instructed and was carted up to the fifth floor and into a courtroom. He looked around but didn’t see John anywhere. His court-appointed attorney was asking him questions, and Andre finally asked him to shut up. “This is nothing more than a misunderstanding. Believe me, it’s not going any further than this hearing.” He heard his name called and stood before the judge. He waved the reading of the charges and entered a plea of not guilty. The judge released him on a small bond of $500, and he paid the clerk and got dressed and out of the courthouse.

  West Valley Police Station was hopping after the news of Patricia Salazar’s death. No one was too surprised that she had been killed. It was the way she was killed that had the entire department on lockdown. The orders for lockdown on the offices came from Captain Brian Boyd, and they were deadly serious and to the point.

  “There’s a killer out there, and he is hunting us. We must be diligent, and we must be fearless in the face of this cowardly enemy who won’t show his face but will methodically and meticulously kill sworn police officers.” He had sent that out as a memo and read it over the loud speaker to the station. Boyd was hunkered down in his office when one of his subordinates came to him and asked if he was going to take a spin up to the crime scene at Tampa and Vanowen. “Why would I go up there? It’s being handled by every law enforcement office in the damn state. My presence there is only going to put more people in close quarters.” Lieutenant Riggs McEllen wasn’t one to mince words.

  “Captain, if you don’t go up there people are going to get the impression that you’re afraid.” Boyd looked at him and said, “I don’t give a damn what people think. I’m not going up there because I have not been asked to go up there. I have a department to oversee. If they want me there, they will call me.” McEllen walked out of his boss’s office and several other officers were laughing and mocking Boyd. “If they want me there, they will call me!” one of the other desk officers parroted from the reception center of the outbuildings being used while the station was being rebuilt. The desk officer looked at McEllen and asked, “Aren’t you friends with Sheriff O’Brian?” He nodded. “Hey…you want to have a laugh? Call the sheriff and ask him to have the captain come up to the scene.” McEllen laughed and said, “Okay, but I swear to God if Jim calls Boyd to come up and anyone tells him I got that done I will kick the shit out of you.”

  There were only two other officers with him, and he was about to make the call when the phone on the main switchboard rang. “West Valley, Lieutenant McEllen.” “McEllen? What kind of faggot name is that?” There was a laugh, and Riggs said, “Sheriff O’Brian, you faggot Irish prick. What the fuck do you want?” They both laughed, and then Jim got serious. “Hey, Riggs, I need to speak to Boyd.” “Oh, Jim. He’s scared out of his skull. If I put you through to him, he will shit his pants.” Jim laughed and said, “Then what the fuck are you waiting for? Put me through to that coward.” Riggs buzzed Boyd’s office, and Boyd jumped at the sound. “WHAT?” “I’m sorry to bother you, sir. I have Sheriff Jim O’Brian on the line asking to speak to you.” Boyd cleared his throat and said, “Oh…well…um…I’m in a pretty important meeting right now. Ask the sheriff if I can give him a call back in a day or so.” “Yes, sir.” The office was busting a gut as Riggs had the conversation on a one-way open line so all could hear.

  “Jim, I just spoke to the Captain. He said he is in an important meeting and asked if he could call you in a day or two.” Jim yelled at the top of his lungs, “THAT FAGGOT PUSSY PIECE OF SHIT…BY GOD, YOU TELL HIM TO GET ON THE LINE, OR I WILL COME DOWN THERE AND GET HIM MYSELF!” The office fell silent with Jim’s comments, and unfortunately for Riggs and the rest of the men, O’Brian was loud enough on the speakerphone that Boyd heard him in his office. Boyd bellowed out his office door, “Did that son of a bitch just call me a coward?” “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir,” said Riggs. “What the fuck are you sorry for? You didn’t say it. Put him through.” The call was patched through, and Boyd answered the line.

  “Jesus Christ, Jim. Why the fuck did you have to say that to my men?” “BECAUSE IT’S THE FUCKIN’ TRUTH! NOW GET YOUR PUSSY ASS DOWN HERE TO PETE’S PLACE NOW!” Jim dropped the line, and Boyd was still holding the phone. He grabbed his coat and hat and walked out of the office saying nothing to the other men. He knew that he had been called out, and he had to deal with Jim head on.

  Boyd got to the crime scene a little before noon and saw Jim off in a corner of the parking lot smoking a cigarette and talking to a man in a wheelchair that he didn’t recognize and Jade Morgan, who he knew all too well. She, too, had a cigarette in her hand. Boyd got out of the car and walked slowly over to the three. Jim saw him coming and asked, “Where’s your fuckin’ cigar, asshole?” Boyd approached but didn’t answer. Jim said, “I doubt that introductions are in order but just in case, this is Jade Morgan, the autopsy queen, and this is Special Agent Steve Hoffman, FBI.” Boyd looked down at Steve and said, “Jesus, Steve. I didn’t recognize you. What happened? What put you in a wheelchair? The last time I saw you, you and Molly were having a party at your home.”

  Jim looked down at the ground, and Jade took a hit off the cigarette and threw it on the ground and said while stamping it out, “You don’t keep up on current events, do you Boyd?” She started to walk off in disgust when Steve reached out for her arm, and she put her hand on his shoulder. He looked at her and said, “It’s okay.” She just shook her head with her hand firmly pressed on Steve’s shoulder and said, “No, Steve, no…it’s not okay.” She shot Boyd a dirty look and walked back into the bar.

  Jim wasted no time. “Since you’re completely out of touch with the world, dumb ass, Steve’s wife passed away of cancer a few years ago, and Steve was recently diagnosed with ALS.” Boyd looked away, and Jim grabbed his arm and pulled him back and said, “Look at him, goddamn you…you have known him for over two decades. The man is dying, and he’s on this goddamn crime scene and investigating the death of one of your officers. Jesus Christ. I can’t believe that you’re the president of the police union.” B
oyd looked at Steve and said, “I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t know.” “It’s fine, Brian. Look, we asked you here because your officers are getting slaughtered in chronological order, and I know you know that you are next on the killer’s list.” He nodded a weak nod. “Are you scared, Brian? Does the thought of a guy blowing your head off or slipping poison into your food or blowing up your car with you in it make you want to piss your pants?” Jim asked. He was in Boyd’s face, and it was Steve who pushed back and said, “He has a lot to deal with, Jim. Cut him some slack.”

  Jim rifled off at Boyd and Steve, “Fuck you, Steve. This guy’s a pussy. If he were any kind of peace officer and leader, he would have been one of the first on scene after the explosion. But no, this asshole’s hiding behind his desk. Guess what, Brian? It won’t save you. The killer is very, very sophisticated, and he will get you unless we can stop him.” Brian’s face sank, and he looked at Steve with pleading eyes, but Steve nodded in agreement with Jim. “So…what do you want me to do?” Boyd asked looking defeated in his posture and demeanor. Jim looked at him and said, “First, be a damn man, and second, get ready to be bait for the killer. We’re going to put you and your family under surveillance and hope that we can lure the killer out.” “Use me but keep my family out of it!” “No can do, buddy boy…you’re fucked just like the rest of the ones who are dead. We have to go on the assumption that your family is in play here, too, so you’re going to have to work with all of it.” Jim had just finished the last part of his lecture to Boyd when John pulled up. Steve and Jim looked on as John stepped from the truck stone-faced, his giant frame strolling toward the men with a confidence that told them that he knew something that they didn’t…and whatever it was, it was good.