London Carter Boxed Set: Books 4 - 6

by BJ Bourg

  “What happened when you confronted Denny?”

  “He didn’t really look suspicious, but I grabbed my pistol from the seat next to me anyway and shoved it in my waistband—just in case. Well, when I stepped out, the kid jumped off his bike and hurried toward me, like he was attacking me or something.” Murray wiped the sweat from his head with his left hand. “I just…I mean, you know what it’s like out there. We’re getting attacked from all sides, by people of all ages. For all I knew, this kid could be a terrorist. He started to say something, but I just reacted. I…all of a sudden my pistol was in my hand and he was down. He fell on his back and…and—Jesus, I’ll never forget the look on his face. It was like I betrayed him or something. Like he trusted me and I let him down.” Murray shook his head. “He was in pain, you know? He was suffering, so I…I just did what anyone would do. I ended his suffering.”

  I felt a tidal wave of anger rush over me, but I fought to keep it at bay. After giving myself an eight-count to calm down, I asked, “Why didn’t you just call an ambulance? Two shots to the chest—who knows? He could’ve survived?”

  “You didn’t see the look in his eyes, London. You wouldn’t understand. He was begging me to stop the suffering.”

  I wanted to shoot him right there, but I couldn’t. It would make me no better than him. “Did you have to shove his body up under the bridge? Good Lord, Murray, he was someone’s child—you had to know that.”

  He lowered his head and the pistol drooped even farther away from his temple. “I had been drinking and I shot an unarmed kid. Do you know how that would’ve looked? Do you? The headlines would’ve read, White cop shoots unarmed minority child while drunk. It would’ve ruined me.”

  Gritting my teeth, I said, “So, you executed him to protect your career, not to ease his suffering.”

  “It was a little of both.”

  “Cops like you make the rest of us look bad, Murray.” I shook my head as I tried to comprehend what he was telling me. “Why’d you shove him up under the bridge? It wasn’t bad enough you drilled him through the eye?”

  “I would’ve left him by the road, but I needed to buy some time.”

  “Time for what?”

  “To figure out a plan.” He waved his left hand dismissively. “I had seen Zach Bailey riding in the Gracetown area that night and I knew we had some unprocessed dope from the last time Buster arrested him. He was a piece of shit, so I figured he deserved to go away for a long time.” He grunted. “You actually got that bag processed a lot faster than I thought you would, so I had to figure out how to get the pistol in his car.”

  “So, you did plant the Beretta in his car, didn’t you?”

  He nodded. “I called Buster Sunday night and told him Zach was carrying some dope and we needed to track him fast. We saw his car at his dad’s house and waited until he left. We followed him around town for an hour or so and he finally pulled over at a gas station. I sent Buster inside to distract him while I shoved the pistol in his seat.”

  “And Buster went along with this?”

  “No, he didn’t know anything about it. I told him I was going to do a walk-around of Zach’s car to see if anything was in plain view.”

  I was thoughtful. The signature on the property transfer sheet for Buster’s pistol didn’t match Buster’s signature on the evidence forms from Zach’s arrests, so it was obvious Murray switched them. But it didn’t make sense to me that Murray would’ve hatched an elaborate plan to frame Buster for framing Zach, so I asked if that was his intention all along.

  “Oh, no. I wanted only Zach to go down for this. I grinded the shit out of that serial number and I thought for sure it couldn’t be lifted at the lab. But when you told me they had recovered the number on the Beretta and it was registered to our office, I knew it was only a matter of time before it was tracked back to me. I decided to—” He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Please understand something; I had no choice but to switch the transfer papers from my name to Buster’s. I didn’t want to screw Buster over, but he’s already going down for murder and cover-up, so I figured it was best if one of us stayed out here and got the job done. If we both went down, it would cripple the narcotics division and this parish would become overrun with drugs and outlaws.”

  I stifled a grunt of disgust at his air of arrogance, asked him why he had to use Rachael’s rifle to take a shot at Zach. “Didn’t you care that ballistics might come back on her rifle and she’d get in trouble?”

  “Not a bit.” He shook his head. “She told me she was retiring it once she got her new rifle, so I knew there would never be a reason to test fire that old gun.”

  “But didn’t you feel like you were betraying her?”

  “I actually feel like she betrayed me, because she told me the rifle was dead-on, but it wasn’t. The sights were way low.”

  “It’s dead-on at a hundred yards. You didn’t compensate for the bullet drop.”

  He squinted as he studied my face. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

  “Not really.” I sighed. “I never even figured out it was you. Rachael gets credit for that.”

  “Yeah, well I still don’t know how she knew it was me.”

  I didn’t feel like explaining it to him, so I just pointed to the Beretta he was holding. “Is that the pistol Buster turned in when he was reassigned to the jail?”

  “Yep, this was his gun.” He stared down the barrel and smiled. “Since I tried to screw him over, I guess it’s only fair that his pistol is the one that ends my life.”

  “Well, then, why don’t you get on with it,” I said slowly. “We all know you deserve it.”

  Murray’s eyes narrowed and the skin on his face went taut. “You know, this is your fault. Had you only accepted the facts in front of you, Zach would be in jail and we wouldn’t be here. We wouldn’t be on the verge of losing two of the department’s top cops—”

  No sooner had the words left his mouth than his pistol dropped in my direction. There was no thought process on my part, just a blinding reaction born from many hours of practicing my quick-draw, much like my gunfighter counterparts from out of the Old West. The gunshots were deafening inside the cramped office. I knew my pistol went off because it bucked in my hand, but I couldn’t tell if my shot was fired before Murray’s. I continued pulling the trigger as I moved to my right, watching my bullets impact the center of his chest. Murray was dropping behind his desk and firing rapidly in my direction. I felt bullets impact my vest just as I realized he was also wearing his vest. I suddenly felt a burning sensation high on the right side of my neck and I knew I’d been hit.

  My right arm dropped and my pistol fell from my limp hand. I threw myself to the ground and scrambled toward the corner of the office, where my pistol had come to rest. Just as I reached for it with my left hand, I felt Murray loom over me and turned just in time to see him level his pistol at my head.

  CHAPTER 48

  Little Rock, Arkansas

  Dawn and Darby told their mom good-bye and headed out the hospital room. The doctors had agreed to release Priscilla the next morning, so the two of them were heading to the house to disinfect the entire place and set up a bed in the living room for her.

  Darby jumped in with Dawn and buckled up as she pulled out the parking lot and headed along the empty streets toward Bent Fork. It was late at night—just after ten—and most people were already off of the highway.

  “I’m hungry,” Darby said as they put the city limits behind them. “Let’s stop at Charmaine’s for dinner.”

  Dawn grunted. “I stopped there Tuesday and ran into Abel.”

  “Yep, he’s still hanging around and still dreaming of running his own climbing business.” Darby shook his head. “He’ll never amount to anything. The guy’s got big dreams, but he’s lazy. I’m sure glad you didn’t end up with him.”

  “Even if I would’ve stayed here, I wouldn’t have stayed with him.” Dawn remembered how Abel had begged her to run o
ff with him and live the van life. He talked about how simple life could be and how little they would need to survive and how awesome it would be to pull up and drive from climbing village to climbing village. When Dawn asked how they would earn money to pay for fuel and food, he said she could keep tending bar while he taught climbing lessons and did guided climbing tours. He had grown quite angry when Dawn scoffed at the idea, telling him she was not going to tend bar for the rest of her life. He had no good answers for regular showers and bathroom breaks while living the “van life”, nor had he thought through how they were supposed to cook the food he planned to kill or capture.

  “Well, how about it, sis?” Darby asked, bringing Dawn back to the present.

  “How about what?”

  “Let’s stop for a burger before going home. We’ve got a long night ahead of us and I’m hungry.”

  Dawn only nodded. When they reached Charmaine’s Burgers and Beer, she turned into the crowded parking lot and found a spot at the far end of the property. She could see the dim lights of the pavilion through the trees and hear the familiar buzz of activity. Years ago, when not working herself, she would’ve rushed back there and merged into the crowd, swapping stories from the day’s climb while downing beer after beer and enjoying whatever good food Charmaine would fire up.

  She glanced down at her phone, frowned. She hadn’t heard from London in quite a while. Despite sending him several text messages throughout the afternoon and calling twice, she hadn’t heard a peep from him. She knew he was busy, but, still, she wished he’d make time to send her a quick message.

  Once they were inside Charmaine’s, Dawn followed Darby to a table at the corner and they waited until Phoebe walked over to take their order.

  “Wow,” Phoebe said. “I don’t see you for years and now you’re in here twice in one week. Should I get used to seeing you on a regular basis?”

  Dawn wanted to tell her where to go for calling Abel Tuesday, but didn’t. Instead, she just shook her head. “As soon as my mom gets better, I’m heading back home to Louisiana.”

  Phoebe made small talk as she took their order and then whisked away, pushing her way through the thick crowd.

  “This place is as busy as I remember,” Dawn said.

  “Yeah, it’s not a good place to go when you’re in a hurry.” Darby stood and headed for the bar.

  Dawn scanned the crowd and groaned inwardly when her eyes landed on Abel, who was staring at her. He took her seeing him as an invitation, and pushed away from the bar and sauntered over. He extended a longneck beer bottle in her direction. “Your favorite.”

  “What didn’t you understand about the other day?” Dawn asked. “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

  “You said I was a stranger to you.” Abel scowled. “Is this how you treat all strangers you encounter?”

  “No, just you.” Dawn turned away from him. “Now keep moving before I lose my patience with you.”

  “Are you still mad about our little misunderstanding?”

  Dawn knew he was referring to the time he slept with her best friend while she was at work. It had led to her breaking up with him the next morning and cutting him out of her life. He’d had a hard time accepting it back then and, as Dawn noted, it appeared he’d never quite gotten over it. Since it was later the same night that she’d almost killed her dad and left home, Abel had gone around town saying she couldn’t take losing him and that was why she’d run away—at least, that’s what she had heard from an old friend over the years. Instead of explaining ancient history to him, Dawn simply ignored him.

  “We both know it’s why you ran away,” he said, arrogance dripping from every word.

  “What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you even talking about this? That’s juvenile shit. We were kids back then and none of it matters anymore. Why are you so hung up on the past?” Dawn shook her head in exasperation as realization set in. “You’ve never gotten over it, have you? I was the first girl to turn you down and you’ve never recovered from it. All these years and you’ve never grown up and never moved on.”

  Abel’s face turned redder than the shirt he was wearing. “That’s bullshit. I can get whoever I want.”

  Dawn waved her arm around the crowded bar. “Then go get her.”

  “That’s what you don’t understand.” He took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. “It’s you that I want.”

  Dawn’s eyes turned cold. “Look, this is the last time I’m going to say it—get away from me.”

  Abel started to open his mouth, but stopped when Darby approached from behind him and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.

  “Hey, asshole, you heard my sister—now get the hell out of here.” Darby’s tone was more menacing than Dawn had ever heard it, and she had to look again to make sure it was her brother speaking.

  Abel’s face twisted in anger, but he spun and walked away. Darby smiled as he placed two beers on the table, one in front of Dawn and one in front of where he was about to sit. “This is to mom’s recovery.”

  Dawn waved the beer away. “When I get my Coke, I’ll toast to mom’s recovery, but I won’t have a sip of anything alcohol when I’m driving.”

  “Good…more for me.” Darby’s face split into a huge grin and he snatched Dawn’s beer up. He twisted the top off of one of the bottles and took a drink. After he set the bottle back down, his expression changed. “What did that bastard want with you? I heard you tell him to leave you alone. Was he giving you shit?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.” She glanced at her phone to see if London had called, but frowned when there were no notifications. “I have to go to the little girl’s room.”

  Darby nodded and began talking to someone at the next table as Dawn headed for the tiny hallway at the corner of the establishment. She was just finishing up in the bathroom when her phone rang. She quickly washed her hands and jerked out her phone, shoving it to her ear. “Hello?” She held her breath, hoping it was London.

  “Dawn, there’s been an accident.”

  “Melvin?” Dawn pulled the phone away from her ear and checked the screen. It was, indeed, Detective Melvin Ford. Why is he calling me at this hour? Her first thought went to her mom in the hospital, but there was no way anyone would have contacted Melvin about a change in her condition. Confused, she asked what was going on.

  “I…I thought you should know…” Melvin hesitated. “Um, it’s London.”

  “What about him?” Dawn asked impatiently. “Just spit it out.”

  “He’s been shot. We’re rushing him to the hospital now.”

  “Wait…what?” Her head spun. She reached for the wall to steady herself. “How bad?”

  “It’s, um…it’s not good, Dawn.” Melvin seemed to be choking back tears. “He took three to the vest and one to the neck.”

  Dawn gasped out loud and stumbled from the bathroom. She bumped into someone in the hall and was trying to get past them when her head was jerked back violently and she was nearly knocked off her feet.

  “You little bitch!” It was Abel and he had her by the hair. There was venom in his voice as he spoke. “If you think you can waltz in this place and embarrass me in front of the whole bar, you’ve got another thing coming.”

  Dawn could feel the individual hairs being ripped from her scalp. The fear and uncertainty she felt for London’s condition turned to sheer rage. She spun and struck out violently with her elbow. It made direct contact with Abel’s chin. He cried out in surprise and stumbled backward, his grip loosening on her hair. She threw two punches to his face and then kicked him as hard as she could in the groin. He folded over and sank to the ground, his face red and bloated.

  “You call me a bitch and you’re the one pulling hair?” Dawn yelled, lifting her boot to drop it down on the back of his neck.

  “Dawn, don’t!” It was Charmaine and she was standing in the hallway. “You’ll kill him, and he’s not worth it.”

  Dawn stood poised, deciding whether or not to
do it, and then remembered London. She whipped around and hurried to where Darby sat at the table. “Call Heidi and tell her to come get you,” she said to her confused brother. “I have to get back to Magnolia right away.”

  CHAPTER 49

  Magnolia Parish Narcotics Division

  The front of Rachael’s shirt was open, revealing her white T-shirt underneath. The weight of her pistol dragged her waistband down, but she didn’t bother adjusting it. She pushed back her sweat-kissed hair and stepped toward the entrance to the narcotics division. “Is it clear to have a look?” she asked Karla.

  Karla frowned. “Are you sure you want to see him like that?”

  “I need to see it for myself.”

  Karla stepped back and nodded to the patrol deputy who stood guard at the scene and who was keeping up with the crime scene log. “You can log the scene clear.”

  The deputy nodded and made the entry, then walked to the parking lot, where he waited for the coroner’s wagon.

  Rachael took a deep breath and made her way down the hallway to Murray’s office. Everything had happened so quick that the gunshots surprised everyone waiting outside. Before the final echoes of the shots had dissipated, Andrew’s voice had come onto the radio calling for an ambulance and announcing that two officers were down.

  After pausing briefly outside the doorway, Rachael glanced over her shoulder. No one could see her. With hands that trembled, she wiped her face and stepped into the office. She gasped when she saw Murray’s lifeless body slumped on its side, a pistol still protruding from his right hand. She felt sick. This was the man with whom she’d been sharing a bed for months, and she hadn’t had a clue how evil he was on the inside.

  “I felt helpless,” called a man’s voice from behind her.

  Startled, Rachael tuned and saw Andrew standing there. He walked in and looked down at Murray. There was blood on his clothes and some smeared across his arms. While he had been injured, most of the blood didn’t belong to him.