Foster, who’d been standing in the corner with his eyes glued to the questioning taking place a room away, stiffened when he realized I was there.
“Blake…” he started, but stopped when I raised my hand up, halting his smooth tongue.
If the bastard thought he could fuck me and leave me sated in bed and I’d forgive him for leaving me, he had another think coming.
Mainly in the form of the silent treatment from yours truly.
“What’s happened so far?” I asked my Uncle.
My arms were currently wrapped around Molder who’d, of course, accompanied me to the police station via a laughing Downy.
The man thought it was hilarious that I ‘didn’t obey Foster.’ His words, not mine.
I just glared and refused to talk to him either.
I did think it was the cutest thing in the world when Molder started to bother the shit out of Mocha, Downy’s K-9 partner.
“Sorry man,” Downy said, breaking the silence. “I tried.”
“Uh-huh. She’s all of a hundred and thirty pounds to your two fifty. I’m sure you tried real hard,” Foster drawled.
Downy shrugged and took a seat next to the other members of the SWAT team.
Why they were ALL there, I didn’t know. Something I would’ve thought Foster would’ve told me. Especially since I’d thought it was agreed upon that he wouldn’t leave me out of the loop anymore.
Regardless, though, I was here now, and I was staying until I had some answers. Answers that a certain someone wasn’t giving me.
“Can you tell me why you have an apartment in your name when you’ve been with David here for quite a long time?” The detective asked.
“We use the apartment as storage. We had to condense both of our places down into one, and we’ve found it’s cheaper for us to keep paying the rent since she was contracted in,” David said, explaining it away perfectly.
“I actually looked into that myself,” the detective said. “I kind of thought that might’ve been the reason. The lease on the apartment was up two months ago. The cost of ‘renting’ the apartment was four hundred and thirty two dollars a month, yet neither one of you had that money coming out of your accounts. Nor do either one of you withdraw any money, so if that was the case, how’d you pay for it?”
“Uh-oh, spaghetti-o!” Downy teased, snapping his fingers in rapid succession. “O’Keefe’s got you, bitch!”
I looked over at him, and the crazy man had pulled out popcorn.
Where he’d pulled it out of, I didn’t know. I’d probably never know.
Silly man.
“Detective,” the slimy lawyer drawled lazily. “You can’t prove anything. It’s all circumstantial.”
Detective O’Keefe smiled.
“So you didn’t know that Quentin Ortiz was staying at your place?” Detective O’Keefe clarified.
David finally stood up. “Listen, O’Keefe. We both have alibis for that night. You haven’t found anything…”
“When was the last time you saw Quentin Ortiz?” The detective spoke over David, directing the question at Berri.
I snorted, covering my mouth at the fuming look taking over David’s usually very amiable features.
Foster’s arms wrapped around me from behind, and he rested his head on the top of mine.
He didn’t say a word, and neither did I.
We’d get to that later. For now, I was leaving it alone.
“She already said she didn’t know anything!” David bellowed.
With that, Detective O’Keefe finally gave his full attention to the man.
“Listen here, DeWitt. I’ve had about all I can take of your mouth. How about you go on out of here and let me speak to your woman alone,” Detective O’Keefe said.
It wasn’t what he said, but how he said it.
“Someone go get him out of there. Bring him in here and let him watch what happens next,” Foster suddenly said.
Chapter 25
A female that truly loves you will stick with you until the end. Your mother that is, not me. ‘Cause I sure ain’t dealin’ with your shit anymore.
-Blake to Foster
Foster
“Get your fuckin’ hands off me,” David hissed, ripping his arm roughly from Luke’s grip.
Luke shoved him down into a seat at the front, which meant he never saw that I was standing in the back.
David growled something unintelligible at Luke, and Luke followed it up with something low of his own. “Sit down and shut up. We’re trying to fucking help a fellow fucking officer. Shut the fuck up and watch.”
I blinked, surprised at the vehemence in his voice.
David’s body slumped, and I was surprised at how defeated he looked.
Wow, he truly did care about her!
I’d had my doubts, but this proved to be something I never expected.
I mean, how could you care about someone that was clearly lying?
Every one of us could see it. Was he in so deep that he couldn’t?
“Alright, Ms. Aleo,” Detective O’Keefe sat down. “We know you were involved. It’s only a matter of time before the entire thing is revealed. How about you go ahead and let us know what’s going on.”
“You’re lying,” she hissed. “You have nothing on me.”
O’Keefe smiled. It was a mean smile. One that he must use solely for the interrogation of suspects.
“Your ex-husband, Emmett Aleo, was a very helpful man,” Detective O’Keefe said, leaning back in his chair.
His posture spoke of ease and triumph.
He had her and he knew it.
“If you’re not arresting my client, we’re leaving,” the lawyer said, standing abruptly.
O’Keefe stood, too.
Then he pulled out some papers from his back pocket.
“Your husband was very helpful, actually,” he said, offering the lawyer a stack of papers.
The lawyer took it, and his head hung. “Fuck.”
Well that wasn’t very lawyer-like.
Foster’s arms around me squeezed tightly before letting loose of me and moving closer so he could stand next to the window again.
David glared at his back, and I had to cover my mouth to hold in the laughter that threatened to boil from my throat.
“I bet he gets a confession from her in three minutes,” Downy said, tossing a piece of popcorn into his mouth.
“Two.”
“Five.”
“Seven.”
“One.”
That last comment was made by Nico, which had caused David to turn around and see just who, exactly, was in the room with him.
I gave him a little wave when his eyes landed on me, causing him to glare and turn around so abruptly that his chair rocked.
The lawyer laid his papers down on the table in front of Berri, and her eyes were dragged there unwillingly.
Then her eyes widened.
“What do the papers say?” I asked no one in particular.
“Do you know what that means, Ms. Aleo?” The Detective asked.
“Just wait for it,” Bennett said. “It’s going to be beautiful.”
I snorted, but nonetheless ‘waited for it.’
Berri refused to say anything.
“Those are divorce papers,” Detective O’Keefe said.
David snorted, but then froze at the detective’s next words.
“Divorce papers from Quentin Ortiz,” O’Keefe continued. “Tell me, Ms. Aleo. Why didn’t anyone know you were married to Quentin Ortiz last week when we visited you? Maybe because nobody was supposed to know? Your fiance knows, though, doesn’t he?”
“I guess, since you’re not going to help out, you can tell me if I get anything wrong. Like I said, your ex-husband was very helpful,” O’Keefe said cheekily. “Mr. Ortiz and you are con artists. Marry separate people, take them for all they’re worth, and move on to the next one. But you stay married to each other while you do it, which is where y’all screwed up
.”
Berri’s eyes went crazy as she tried to look for an escape.
However, there wasn’t one. O’Keefe had her and we all knew it.
“Your husband plea bargained out, tossing you under the bus in exchange for lesser charges,” O’Keefe said. “He was adamant, though, that you screwed up and then, in turn, screwed him over. See, you weren’t supposed to get pregnant. Something you’d done with David Dewitt. And he was mad, but you convinced him this could work in your favor. That you could get more money. Except something…or someone, upset you. And you went back to your ex-husband, Quentin Ortiz, and asked him to do something for you.”
She finally broke.
“I went and found them. I wanted what was rightfully mine. I’m the one having the baby. She’s not. So why can’t I have it?” Berri hissed.
“How’d you know he’d do it?” O’Keefe asked, arms crossing casually across his chest.
“The newspaper. With her little ‘We’re Heroes Too’ story she got in the paper the day after it happened. I hadn’t realized he was doing that sort of thing. When I leave my exes, I have no contact with them again.”
“And this time?” O’Keefe asked.
“That stupid whore of an ex of David’s. She refused to give me the heirloom that was rightfully mine,” she snarled.
“All of this over a fucking cradle?” I half yelled. “David, you stupid son of a bitch!”
I tried to launch myself at him, but I wasn’t stopped by Foster, or my uncle, but Downy.
His bowl of popcorn went tumbling out of his lap as he grabbed me around the waist before I could make it to David.
Once he had me around the waist, he practically tossed me through the air towards Foster, who then caught me and clamped his steely arms tightly around my chest.
“It’s okay, honey,” he whispered. “He feels horrible. Look at him.”
Reluctantly, I did, and I didn’t like what I saw.
He did look horrified.
He looked broken. Yet, I didn’t care. Not in the least bit.
I’d lost my father, my best friend, all because David couldn’t keep his stupid cock in his pants.
“I’m going home,” I whispered brokenly.
“I’ll come,” Foster said, starting to let me go, but I shook my head.
“No,” I stopped him when he would’ve followed. “Downy can take me. In fact, I’ll go see grandpa. We’ll spend some time together. You can come get me when you’re done.”
With that, I walked out of the door, stopping when my feet hit the popcorn bucket.
On a whim, I bent down and launched the bucket at David’s head, and the cardboard bounced off before landing unceremoniously on the floor.
Snickers followed.
He looked down at his feet, avoiding eye contact, and only serving to make me even madder.
“Coward,” I muttered as I stormed out of the room, and then quickly walked down the hallway.
“Slow down, Blake. I’m full. You don’t want me to throw up my popcorn, do you?” Downy teased as he caught up with me.
I tossed him a look over my shoulder that spoke volumes about everything I was feeling, and he grinned.
The fucker grinned.
“You’re horrible. I don’t know how your woman puts up with you,” I sighed, walking out the backdoor and straight to Downy’s truck.
“Memphis loves me. She puts up with anything as long as I’m happy,” Downy laughed.
“Whatever. Just take me to my pop’s place,” I ordered sullenly.
“What about your dog?” He asked.
I shrugged. “Foster can get Molder. Now just go.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a smile in his voice. “Anything for you.”
It was all fun and games, too…that is until we got to my dad’s house.
The first thing that made me realize something was wrong was the fact that the garage door wasn’t open.
Usually at this time of day my grandfather was out working on his car he had in the garage.
Yet the garage wasn’t open, and the blinds were pulled.
Hell, even the blackout curtains were down.
“Something’s wrong,” I whispered as Downy pulled his truck into the driveway.
“What?” He asked, putting the truck into reverse and backing out of the driveway.
He pulled four houses down and stopped in front of Mrs. Peseta’s place.
“I don’t know. But there’s usually activity going on. My grandfather gets up at six A.M. And doesn’t close the curtains until he’s ready to go to bed. Either there’s something wrong with him, or…I don’t know…something.”
Downy pulled his phone out and made a call.
“I need a couple of blue and white’s at 222 Sheffield. Come in priority two. Park next to my truck- a white Chevy,” Downy said into his radio.
Like Foster, he had it under his dash. It must be a cop thing.
I waited and waited some more for Downy to get out and check it out, but he never did.
He just watched and listened.
“You’re not going to go check it out?” I asked finally.
He glanced at me. “Not yet. I’ll wait until I have someone on you before I go. I’m not leaving you by yourself.”
“But…”
He stopped my next argument with just a glance of his eyes.
“Not going to happen.”
My heard ached as I looked behind me, wondering if my grandfather was alright.
God, please let him be okay. I can’t lose him, too.
Chapter 26
I know it’s hard to admit that you’re wrong, but I can survive without oral sex…can you?
-Blake to Foster
Foster
Miller and Nico rode with me, while Luke, Michael, and Bennett followed closely behind.
“Tell me the layout of the house,” Luke asked through the radio.
We’d switched to a confidential channel, so I felt safe telling them everything I knew.
“Three bedrooms. One large open living room and kitchen. Laundry room that leads to the garage. Back porch. Two bathrooms. One off the living room, and one in the master,” I informed them. “Grandfather’s room is the very back bedroom on the right. It has an entrance to the outside by a sliding glass door.”
I finished the last sentence as we took the last turn that led up to Downy’s truck.
We’d gone the back way so we didn’t have to pass the house, therefore not drawing any undue attention to us as we came.
When we got out, I grabbed Downy’s bag from the backseat and tossed it in his direction. Which he promptly caught and started to dress in his gear.
“Did you hear all that, Downy?” Luke asked as we walked up.
He nodded, turning to acknowledge his best friend and boss. “10-4.”
“Detective O’Keefe’s right there,” I pointed the unmarked car out to Blake. “Stay with him, and don’t leave him, no matter what you hear. Understand?”
She nodded, eyes brimming with tears. “Got it.”
I winked at her, pulled my hood down, and started across the yard behind Luke.
“Wait!” She yelled, making me stop.
I turned on a dime and looked at her.
She ran up to me, gave me a swift kiss on the lips…well, the best she could with a mask covering my face, and started to rush back towards O’Keefe who was just getting out of his car.
“Be safe!” She ordered over her shoulder.
“Be safe, big boy!” Downy jeered, imitating Blake’s voice so well that I had to look at him in surprise.
He laughed and pulled his own mask down before we started to the car.
“Okay,” Luke said. “Downy you take your team to the back. The grandfather’s room. My team’ll take the front.”
I went with Luke since I was on his unofficial team, and covered his back as we moved swiftly up the front steps.
The first thing I saw was the front door propped open.
My stomach plummeted as Luke pushed it open more.
The door swung open into the eerie silence of the living room, not making a single sound as it did.
That’s when I spotted the blood.
And a lot of it.
Luke was the first one to enter, dropping down to one knee the second he entered the door.
Nico went ahead, clearing the room, followed shortly by me, taking his back.
“Clear.”
“Clear.”
Luke and Downy said it at the same time, allowing us both to move.
My eyes were drawn to the blood trail, a smear of it extending from the front door to the kitchen, and then even further to the garage.
I signaled to Luke, who quickly nodded, allowing me to lead the way into the garage.
I’d never know what shocked me more.
The fact that the man I’d thought had his blood soaked into the living room floor was actually standing up beating the shit out of Quentin Ortiz, or the fact that Ortiz was sitting on a stool, tied there with duct tape, getting the absolute tar beaten out of him by an eighty nine year old man.
“Holy fucking shit,” I breathed, lowering my weapon once I’d cleared the room.
“Hiya,” Grandpa Rhodes crowed. “Caught this little boy here breaking into my house. I’m just having a little fun with him.”
The old man’s voice sounded frail as he said that, but his movements as he continued to beat Ortiz up was anything but weak.
“Ummm,” Luke said. “Clear.”
I looked down, taking in the kiddie pool that was erected underneath the legs of the stool Ortiz was taped down to, then couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled out of my throat.
“I just…I just…what the fuck is going on?” Downy asked, flabbergasted just as we were by what he was seeing.
I snorted. “Now can you see why I gave the old goat a ticket? He’s fucking insane…and a badass just like his son.”
The old man laughed. “Where do you think that boy learned his skills, you dumb ox?”
He followed up that question with a punch to the gut, followed by a quick uppercut to the jaw.
“Um, Mr. Rhodes, do you mind if we take him off your hands?” Downy finally asked.
“Oh! Sure! Just let me,” he got in two last hits. One in the groin, and one straight to the man’s Adam’s apple. “Alrighty, all finished, my boys.”
Charlie Foxtrot Page 17
