Family Honor

by Jamie Hill

  "Seriously, I'll settle for a 'We're not in Kansas anymore' t-shirt, dude." Steve added, "You all be careful out there."

  "Ten-four. Thanks again, buddy." Nate punched off his phone and squeezed it, adrenaline pumping.

  Marshall grabbed his bicep. "Listen. The only address we have for this kid is his old man's place. It's not far, but it's big and fancy. He'd have enough room for his games, but would he have the privacy?"

  Nate thought about that. "Seems unlikely he'd take the women to his father's house."

  "So that's why I think we shouldn't go blazing in with lights and sirens. We'll all be there, but just a couple of you should go in. Feel the old man out, judge his level of cooperation."

  "He sprung his kid free once," Nate added. "Doubtful he's going to turn him over to us without a fight."

  Reeder and Mel appeared in the doorway. Nate looked at the captain. "We need some alternate addresses for this guy. If he doesn't live with his father, where does he stay? Webb owns three beauty schools in town. Can you find out what other property he might own?"

  "I'm on it." Reeder nodded. "I'll call you when I've got information."

  "Excellent." Nate watched Reeder retreat, leaving him standing in the doorway with Mel. "You ready for this?"

  She grinned. "Our third date."

  * * * *

  Mel and Nate watched the back door of the Webb School of Beauty. Marshall and Stone were stationed at the front. Becker had slipped a jacket over her bulletproof vest and had gone inside to see if Dick Webb was working that day. When she came out she spoke into her wire, "Negative. Webb is off today."

  "Roger that," Nate replied. "We'll go to the father's house next. Remember everyone, no lights or sirens. SWAT and black and whites stay half a block back. We'll call if we need you."

  "Ten-four," came several responses.

  "Marshall, be ready. When Webb gives us permission to search his house, we're going to want you in there with two uniformed cops. Under no circumstances will we leave Webb alone after that. We can't have him calling his son."

  "You got it," Marshall answered.

  Mel's gut churned as Nate drove to the Webb home. She'd been in dangerous situation before, but they weren't a daily occurrence in Wichita. Glancing over at Nate, she asked, "How often do you close in on people like this?"

  He shrugged. "This is what we do. Depends on how fast we track down the perp. Several times a week, I'd guess."

  "Wow." She thought about that, and for just a moment could see why a woman might not want her husband to be an FBI profiler. She studied Nate, so strong and sure of himself, and realized his job didn't bother her. She had no doubts he could take care of business.

  She double checked the address and looked at the house numbers. "There it is. Big white house with grey rock trim."

  "Got it."

  Mel spoke into the wire on her collar. "White house with grey rock trim."

  Nate pulled up in front while the other cars hung back. He exited the SUV and as they walked to the front door, Mel noticed he unfastened the snap on his holster.

  She did the same.

  Nate rang the bell. His breathing was steady, but she could tell he was amped up with adrenaline. Hers was more a case of nerves. Her gut still churned, but she fought the feeling.

  A fiftyish man with thick black hair and wire-rimmed glasses opened the door. He took in their vests and for a brief instant, something registered on his face. The look was gone as quickly as it had come. "May I help you?"

  "Burton Webb?" Nate asked.

  "Yes?"

  "I'm Agent Willis with the FBI and this is Detective Curtis with the WPD. We're looking for your son, Mr. Webb. Is Dick at home?"

  "Dickie doesn't—" he stopped himself. "No, Dickie isn't home right now. He should be at work."

  "We've already been there. He isn't working today."

  Webb's eyes narrowed. "Are you the same two who caused all the commotion at my school yesterday? Everyone was terribly upset. Tony Masters was inconsolable when he called me."

  "Were you his one phone call? Interesting."

  Mel added, "Tony Masters is a piece of work. Did you know he was exchanging hair services for sexual favors from the local girls? Because if you knew, we really need to take another look at your license."

  "Of course not!" Webb fumed. "He filled me in last night. I fired him of course. I've been in the beauty business for thirty years. I'd never abide by such practices."

  Nate fanned out the photos of the dead women and waved them in front of the man. "Several of Masters' customers ended up dead. Necks slashed, nearly decapitated. Very gruesome. See?"

  Webb's eyes widened before he averted them. "Put those away. I don't want to see them. Of course I've heard about the murders. They have nothing to do with my school."

  "Except all of the victims went to Tony Masters for free hair care." Mel held up a mug shot they'd pulled of Sheila. "And today, this woman went missing."

  He eyed the photo. "She looks charming."

  Nate snarled, "Charming or not, she doesn't deserve to end up like this." He waved the pictures again.

  Webb sighed. "That's true. I'm sorry, but I can't help you officers. My son and I know nothing about these crimes. If he's not working today, he's most likely at a friend's house playing cards or video games."

  Given his disorder, Mel didn't buy that for a minute. "Dick have a lot of friends, does he?"

  "Some." Webb focused his gaze on her. "Strange. You look like my former wife. Something about the hair, or maybe it's the eyes."

  Nate held up the victims’ photos again. "I bet these women look more like your former wife. So tell me Mr. Burton, were you surprised to come home and find Dickie in a pool of blood, or was it a relief? It couldn't have been easy living with a cheating spouse."

  Webb's face darkened to a deep purple. "How dare you talk about her like that? Get off my property right now. I don't care if you're FBI or not."

  Nate stepped closer to the man. "You'd better start caring. Your son is our number one suspect in these murders. My partners and I are going to come in and search your house now."

  "You'll need a warrant for that." Webb smiled.

  "Damn it!" Nate turned away for a second then faced the man again. "Oh, yeah, I've got one right here." He pulled a paper from his pocket and shoved it at Webb's chest. "So you can step aside, or I can make a call to have someone move your ass out of my way."

  Webb scowled before stepping back into the house to allow them in. "You're an unpleasant man," he told Nate.

  "Why thank you." Nate turned up his collar and said, "Marshall, let's go. Bring two uniforms with you."

  The three men were on the doorstep within seconds. Nate said to the cops, "Keep an eye on Mr. Webb, here. He doesn't take a leak without one of you watching. Give him no opportunities to call his son."

  "Yes, Agent," one of the men replied, and folded his arms across his chest.

  "Let's clear the house, room by room," Nate instructed.

  He motioned for Mel to go one way and Marshall the other.

  Mel did as they did, raising her gun before entering the next room. She heard Nate yell, "Clear," and moments later Brady did the same. She examined the dining room, opened the closets, and finding nothing called, "Clear!"

  They repeated themselves throughout the first floor and climbed the stairs together. The upper level was empty and they once again met up in what appeared to be Dickie's room. It was a bland, neutral-colored room with very little in the way of personal effects. A few clothes hung in the closet, and the thick layer of dust on the dresser indicated no one had touched in in weeks.

  "Where are the video games?" Nate mused.

  "Hmm?" Mel looked at him.

  "Webb said Dickie likes to play video games. Wouldn't you think a young man like him would have some games in his room?"

  "You know what this reminds me of," Mel said thoughtfully. "My room at Cappie's house. A few clothes, a little bit of my stuf
f left over from the old days, but mostly, it sits unused."

  "That's exactly what this is like," Nate agreed. "Except for the stuff from the old days. This is the house of two people who appeared out of nowhere a year or so ago. No mementos from the past, nothing of the wife Webb was so quick to defend."

  Mel nodded. "You know, by Cappie's back door there's a pair of my mom's gardening gloves and shears just sitting there. She's been gone eight years, but neither of us have ever moved them."

  "My father-in-law's place is that way," Marshall added. "Little touches of his late wife all over. This house is so devoid of personal items it's almost sterile."

  Nate scratched his chin. "The wife never lived here, so we shouldn't expect to see her things. But there's not even a photo. Like Webb doesn't want to remember her."

  "Or doesn't want Dickie to." Mel raised her brows. "I wonder if that might make him testy?"

  "Testy, like 'I think I'll go out and kill somebody today'?" Marshall asked.

  Mel's phone rang and she answered quickly. "Curtis."

  "It's Reeder. Old man Webb owns three schools, a small strip mall on Cochise Boulevard and one solitary house over on Nevada Avenue."

  "I like the house. Nevada's even closer to Oldtown than this place."

  "I like it too. I'll send the address to your GPS." He hesitated then added, "Curtis, you guys watch yourselves out there."

  Her heart swelled. "Ten-four Captain." Mel ended the call and looked at Nate. "We have an address."

  He nodded. "Let's go."

  On the way down the stairs, he glanced over his shoulder. "What did Reeder say? You got a funny look on your face."

  Mel smiled. "He said he loves me."

  She stumbled over Nate who had stopped in his tracks and was staring at her. "What the hell?"

  Mel laughed. "He told us to be careful. I interpreted it in my own fashion."

  He rolled his eyes at her then at Marshall. "You sure as hell did. Come on, let's get this over with."

  They left the uniformed officers with Burton Webb and drove their caravan to the house on Nevada Avenue. "Look at this," Mel studied the neighborhood. "Houses sit back from the street. Nearest neighbor is a couple hundred feet away."

  "Conducive to the privacy he'd require," Nate agreed, and parked. "We're going to need a ruse to get him to answer the door. I could send Becker again, but I'd really rather send you. Your reaction time is incredible. I suspect you can think quicker on your feet that she can."

  "Whatever you need," Mel agreed, proud that he'd chosen her.

  "Put a jacket on to cover your vest. Ring the bell, ask if your cousin Arlene is home. If it's Webb say, 'I'm sure my cousin gave me this address.' If it's not him say, 'I'm sorry to bother you' and walk away. We'll be listening. If it's him, we'll be behind you in moments."

  "What if he spots you and panics?"

  "That's where the quick thinking comes into play. If you feel threatened in any way, dive into the bushes or drop to the ground. He won't bother with you. He'll be hurrying to retreat into the house."

  "Okay." They ran over a few more possible outcomes as Mel buttoned a windbreaker over her vest.

  Nate glanced around and Mel wondered what he was looking for. Marshall's SUV was behind them, but a tree blocked their view of the passengers. "If we can't see them, they can't see us," Nate told her. He planted a quick kiss on her lips and whispered, "Be careful, baby. I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to you."

  Warmth coursed through her along with her pulsing adrenaline. It thrilled her to be on this mission with Nate, and hear him speak those words. "Nothing's going to happen," she assured him. "Except we're going to get this fucker."

  Nate grinned and stole one more kiss before she went on her way. She turned her mic on and unfastened her Glock.

  On the front step of the house, she observed that the blinds were pulled and all looked dark. There was no screen door, just one of faded wood. Mel inhaled and let the breath out before ringing the bell. Silence.

  She gave it a full minute before she reached up to push the buzzer again.

  A corner of the blind moved. She tried to smile, hoping the expression didn't look as constipated as she felt.

  Click after click as the door was unlocked. Mel inhaled and held it.

  A short, shaggy haired man opened the door a crack.

  She recognized him from the school, and also from the mug shot the FBI had sent. Dickie Webb.

  Mel's breath expelled with a whoosh. "Hi! Sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for my cousin Arlene's house. I'm sure my cousin gave me this address."

  He raised a gun and pointed it between her eyes. "Your cousin, huh? Were you looking for your cousin yesterday at the beauty school? That's right, I saw you."

  Mel heard commotion behind her but didn't dare turn around.

  "Back off," Webb called, not taking his gaze from her.

  "Drop it Webb," Nate shouted. "You've got half a dozen sharpshooters aimed at you right now."

  Webb allowed a smile and a shrug. "You shoot me, I shoot her. Probably not the way you envisioned this scenario playing out, but it makes a rat's ass to me."

  "Put the gun down." Nate's voice was full of venom.

  "I don't think so Mr. F-B-I. I'm going to take the pretty blonde inside with me. The more hostages I have, the better my leverage, right?"

  Hostages. Mel's mind raced. Sheila must be alive.

  "We don't negotiate," Nate informed him.

  Webb shrugged again. "Then you can come in when it's all over and scrape up the bodies." He beckoned one finger at Mel. "Come with me, pretty girl."

  "Don't do it," Nate instructed.

  Mel knew he was right. Inside the house the situation was out of their control. Out here in the open was the best chance they had of taking him down. She needed a diversion. And she needed Nate to be on the same wavelength as she was. Mel took a quick second to offer up a prayer.

  "Okay, let's go," she said to Webb. There'd be a split second when he reached for the door that she might have the chance to do something.

  He felt behind him but couldn't place his hand on the knob. As she'd hoped, he glanced away for one moment to grab the door.

  Mel launched herself backwards into the bushes.

  Webb raised his arm, leveled his weapon at her and fired.

  Mel's vision went black.

  Chapter Eight

  Mel blinked.

  She heard Nate in front of her muttering, "Jesus Christ! Mel, are you okay?"

  She squinted up at him, his face washed out by bright sunlight. "Am I in heaven?"

  He chuckled. "Doubtful. St. Peter I am not." He felt her arms and rubbed both hands over her face. "Are you injured? I think I deflected his bullet."

  She got her bearings. "Nothing hurts."

  Nate clasped her hands and pulled her to her feet. Before she could take further stock, he'd drawn her into his arms.

  "Damn that scared me," he whispered in her ear. "Thank God you're all right."

  "Thanks." Aware that they were being watched, she shrugged from his grasp.

  She needn't have worried. When he released her, Marshall stepped forward, wrapping her in another bear hug. "Nice work, Mel. You handled that perfectly."

  "Oh, thanks." Still a little stunned, she tried to remember exactly what happened.

  She accepted hugs from both Stone and Becker before the SWAT team leader approached and shook her hand. "Well played, Detective. Well played. That's the kind of outcome we strive for."

  "Webb?" She glanced around. Two paramedics were tending to his arm on the front step.

  "Nice clean shot through the arm," Marshall said. "He's going to be fine. It's a damn shame Willis has so much integrity. I might have preferred a nice clean shot through the brain. If the sleazy bastard has one."

  She turned to Nate. "You shot him?"

  He raised his hands. "Seemed like the thing to do at the time. You complaining?"

  Mel laughed and hugged
him once more. "Not at all. Where's Shelia?"

  "We're fixing to find out. Want to come in, or would you rather have the paramedics take a look at you next?"

  She shot him a look. "Let's go."

  As they approached the stoop, a uniformed officer led Webb away. He glanced at Mel and smiled.

  She averted her eyes.

  Nate said, "Take him to the hospital and have him checked out. Keep him in cuffs and shackles the whole time."

  "Docs aren't going to like that. They make us uncuff drunks all the time," the cop replied.

  "I don't give a damn what the doctors tell you. Cuff his left arm to the bed if they need to examine his right. His feet stay shackled. Take no chances with this one."

  "Yes sir," the man replied and led Webb off.

  Nate stepped into the dark house and felt for a light switch. When the room lit up, it still wasn't bright. One dim bulb shone from a fixture that had room for four.

  Mel followed him in, looking around. Filthy and rundown, the house was a far cry from the last two places they'd investigated. Both of those appeared normal. Nothing about this place feels normal.

  "What a sty," Marshall voiced her thoughts.

  "Nasty," Stone agreed.

  "I thought Masters and his cats were gross," Becker added. "I didn't know the meaning of the word."

  What furniture there was lie broken and scattered around the room. Maggot-infested plates of unfinished food were piled high on a small table.

  "Not much of a housekeeper," Nate mused. He bypassed the kitchen and went straight for the hall. The first bedroom was empty. The second room was a small bath.

  They stopped in front of the last door. With Mel peering over his shoulder, Nate cautiously tossed it open. Sheila lay on her side on the bed, hands and feet bound behind her. Dressed in a white cheerleader's uniform, she had a thick rag shoved into her mouth.

  "Shelia!" Mel rushed past Nate and removed the gag.

  "Oh gawd, oh lordie gawd." The woman's words came tumbling out. She smiled up at Mel and Nate. "You two fas' becommin' my fav-o-rite people in da whole world."

  "What about me?" Marshall stepped forward, grinning.