“We can’t get a search warrant for this,” Sheriff Goode told the four men. “What you have isn’t enough.”
They were in the sheriff’s office in Foster discussing how to go about searching Simpson’s place. After Sheriff Goode’s statement, there was silence in the room. Along with Marc and company, Sheriff Goode and Newkirk, there were four deputies in the room, including Newkirk’s partner, Abby Bliss.
Finally, Newkirk spoke up. “How about this? Let’s say, hypothetically, me and Abby were just out driving around. And we went past Simpson’s and noticed some odd things going on, hypothetically. And it looked like a burglary in process, so we called for backup. And you guys just happened to be close by and came running.”
“And hypothetically,” Sheriff Goode continued, “I just happened to be out and about and decided to drop by and check it out for myself.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Franklin Washington said. “Hypothetically.”
Aidan throttled down the boat’s motor but did not shut it off. The boat drifted several feet on the calm lake before coming to a complete stop. Having used the boat’s depth finder, Aidan knew they were stopped over forty feet of water.
“You hold her still while I chain the bricks to her,” Aidan told Semple.
There was a three-quarter moon in the partly cloudy sky, plenty of light to do their dirty work. As Semple knelt in the bottom of the boat, he looked at Maddy’s eyes. No longer able to contain it, she was making muffled sounds pleading for her life. Her eyes showed the terror she was feeling and a weird pain of sympathy came over Semple.
“No,” he said to Aidan as he stood up. “I’m not gonna let you do this.”
Aidan jerked his .40 caliber semi-auto handgun from his hip holster. He pointed it at Semple’s chest and said, “Then you’ll go first. I’m tired of you anyway.”
Harry Semple, the SAS counter-terrorist soldier, stared back calculating the odds. Unfortunately, like everyone, father time was working on Semple as well. He was in his late forties and no longer as quick as his mind told him he was. His left hand shot out toward the gun but was the blink of an eye too slow. He grabbed it as Aidan squeezed the trigger.
In the quiet on the water, the gun roared like a cannon shot. The bullet entered Semple’s throat and severed his spinal column as it exited, killing him instantly.
When Semple tied Maddy’s hands and feet, he had done so as loosely as possible. Before Semple’s body dropped to the floor, quick as a cat, Maddy was up and at Aidan.
He tried to swing the gun around toward her, but he had slowed down over the years as well. With both hands, Maddy hit him hard in the chest. He would not have gone down but for one of the cinder blocks. As he stumbled backward, he tripped and started to go over the rail.
As Aidan started to go overboard, Maddy grabbed the gun and snatched it out of his hand. For good measure she was able to give him another push to put him in the water. The momentum of Aidan going overboard pushed the boat away from him. When Aidan came to the surface, the boat was almost ten feet from him.
“I can’t swim, I can’t swim!” he yelled as he kept bobbing up and back under, flailing his arms about.
His thrashing about gave Maddy the few seconds she needed to free her hands and feet and remove the gag. She stood in the boat aiming the pistol directly at the floundering thug. Three or four more seconds passed while she thought it over. Shoot him in the head or let him drown? And then she realized the man slapping his arms about had a lot of information they needed.
Maddy reached down and found the anchor rope. She pulled on it until she had about fifteen feet of it loose.
“Here, catch this,” she yelled at Aidan as she tossed him the line. Her aim was excellent, it hit him on the head. As Aidan struggled to get a hold of it Maddy tied it off on a cleat on the gunwale.
By now, Aidan had the rope and was about to pull himself to the boat.
“Not a chance, asshole,” Maddy said aiming the gun at him. “You stay right where you are. I’ll go slow and pull you in but you’re not getting back in this boat.”
“I’ll drown or freeze,” Aidan pitifully whined.
“Good luck,” Maddy replied. “Do your best. Keep your head up.”
At three knots per hour—a bit slower than walking speed—it took over half an hour to get back to shore. Instead of trying to tie the boat to the dock, Maddy ran it up on the ground. By this point, having almost drowned several times, Aidan was barely able to crawl out of the cold water.
Maddy jumped ashore and waited for Aidan to crawl up to it. “Get up or I’ll change my mind and put one in your forehead, you scum.”
“Okay, okay, let me get my breath,” Aidan pleaded as he struggled to his knees.
As Aidan stood up, Maddy took a couple of steps back. There was a floodlight on the dock that clearly illuminated both of them. By now Aidan was on his feet, bent over, hands on his knees still recovering from being dragged through the lake.
Marc stepped through the patio door and looked down toward the dock. Surprised, he saw her but was not sure if it was real. Carvelli came out and joined him.
“Maddy!” she heard Marc’s voice yell through the darkness. It was coming from the house and for an instant it distracted her. Just enough. She turned her head for a moment toward Marc. When she looked back at Aidan she saw the revolver he had pulled from an ankle holster in his hand.
The bullet hit her in the upper chest just as she squeezed off two quick shots at Aidan. Both shots hit him in the lower abdomen and dropped him. Maddy went down flat on her back. Aidan went down on his butt and was in a sitting position.
Marc and Carvelli both witnessed the shootings. As soon as they saw Maddy go down both of them yelled her name and took off running toward her.
As they ran, Carvelli pulled his gun and when he saw Aidan sitting up trying to raise his hand with the gun it, Carvelli stopped and very coolly, from almost fifty yards, emptied his ten-shot magazine at the gangster.
Marc slid through the grass on his knees the last five feet to her. When he got to her, he knelt over her as she stared upward, unblinking with a shocked look in her eyes. Marc put his left arm under her head while the blood poured out of the wound. He took his handkerchief and pressed it on the bullet hole and put his face an inch from her nose.
“No, no, you can’t do this. Please, don’t leave me. Not now, please,” he pleaded and begged. He placed his mouth next to her left ear and whispered. “I love you, Maddy. You have to know that. I love you and you can’t leave me now.”
“Get a car down here, right now,” Marc heard someone yell from behind him. While he held her, and continued to whisper to her, the sheriff’s deputies went into action. Barely thirty seconds passed before Newkirk’s SUV pulled up. By now they were all down at the dock, helping with her while everyone ignored Aidan Walsh. Everyone except Carvelli.
They slid Maddy into the back of the SUV and Marc and Abby climbed in with her. Newkirk took the wheel and went barreling off of the property and down the driveway to get her to the hospital.
Carvelli looked down at Aidan and noticed air bubbles in the blood seeping out of his mouth. He would find out later that only three of the ten shots he had taken had found their mark. It would turn out to be enough. Realizing Aidan was still alive but dying, he knelt down next to him.
“Where’s Cal Simpson?” Carvelli asked.
Aidan was looking up at him, still alive but fading. The corners of Aidan’s mouth moved slightly upward in a smile. He stayed this way but did not answer the question.
Carvelli grabbed him by his shirt at the throat, lifted his head off the ground and looked him in the eye. “You’re dying. You’re not letting him get off that way. Where is he?”
Aidan’s lips parted. His lips, mouth and teeth were red from the blood, and he tried smiling again. He looked back at Carvelli and uttered one word: “Gone.”
The deputies did their best to get him to Foster and the hospital. Aidan Walsh was
pronounced dead on arrival.
SIXTY-ONE
Marc rolled over on his side, pulled the blanket up to his chin and ignored the pounding on the door. Halfway between still asleep and awake, his conscious mind hoped the noise would go away. Instead, after a short pause, it started up again.
“Dad!” Marc heard someone yell then pound on the door. “Wake up!”
His conscious mind registered the word “Dad” and his eyes snapped open. He heard his son yell it again and pound on the door. Marc threw the bed covers back, got up and half-stumbled to the door.
“Hey,” he groggily said to his son and daughter.
“How is she?” Jessica asked as Marc stepped aside to let them in his motel room.
Marc yawned and said, “She’s going to be fine. You,” he continued looking at Eric, “find me some coffee.”
“Thank God,” Jessica replied to the news.
“Here,” Eric said to his dad, as he handed a small suitcase to him. “Clothes, underwear, socks, shaving stuff and toothpaste and a toothbrush which you need to try out.”
“Thanks. Coffee,” he repeated pointing to the door.
“I’ll be back,” Eric said.
While Marc was digging through the suitcase for the items he needed, Jessica checked out the room.
“Plush,” she said with a touch of sarcasm.
“Yeah, well, at four o’clock in the morning you can’t be too fussy,” Marc replied.
“Are you okay?” Jessica asked.
“Now she asks,” Marc replied. “Yes, baby. I’m fine.”
While Marc shaved and showered in the tiny bathroom, he let his mind drift back to the previous night’s events.
On the drive into Foster, Chris Newkirk called ahead to have a surgical team ready. In the back, Marc kept pressure on Maddy’s wound while Abby checked for an exit hole. She did not find one which meant the bullet was still in her.
“Is that good or bad?” Marc asked.
“It would be better if it had passed through,” Abby replied. “It is what it is, they’ll deal with it.”
Newkirk screeched to a halt at the emergency entrance to the Foster County Medical Center, the same place Marc was taken to in July. Within seconds, Maddy was on a gurney and being rushed into surgery. Marc tried to go with her but was stopped at the door. After washing her blood off of his hands, he took a seat in the hall to await the outcome. A few minutes later, Newkirk and Abby joined him.
“Don’t worry,” Abby patted his knee and said, “they’re great with GSW, gunshot wounds. We get more than our share of them.”
A short while later, they were joined by Carvelli, Tommy Craven and Franklin Washington. An hour after that, Sheriff Goode arrived.
“I forgot to tell you,” Carvelli said to Sheriff Goode, “the feds are going to be all over this. You might want to just seal off Simpson’s place for now.”
“Why do the feds care?” Goode asked.
Marc looked at him and answered, “Because we have a videotape of Del Peterson, the congressman who committed suicide, confessing to a massive criminal conspiracy. Cal Simpson is the ringleader. We’re going to release it to the media and let the chips fall where they may. That reminds me,” he continued. Marc stood up, pulled out his phone, looked at Carvelli and said, “I’ll wake up Gabriella. She’s going to want to come down.”
“I thought I’d wait until we know more to call Vivian,” Carvelli said.
“Call her now,” Marc told him. “She’s probably worried sick. At least let her know we found Maddy.”
“I suppose,” Carvelli said.
They made the calls and promised to wait at the hospital for them. For the next half-hour, everyone milled about the hallway. Standing up, walking around, then sitting back down trying to do something while waiting.
While they waited Goode took a call from a deputy still at Simpson’s.
“Really? Well, count it, mark it as evidence and lock it up. And keep your sticky fingers to yourself,” Goode said.
“They found an envelope on the dead guy in the boat stuffed with cash. Forty or fifty grand,” Goode said to Carvelli.
“What dead guy in the boat?” Marc asked.
“There was a dead guy in the boat,” Carvelli said. “Probably one of Cal’s guys although I didn’t recognize him. Looks like he took a bullet in the throat.”
Carvelli looked at the sheriff and said, “You know, if nobody claims the money, it’s yours. Or, your department’s.”
“I know,” Goode smiled. “I’m already thinking about what I want to spend it on.”
Finally, an older man in a blood-splattered surgical gown appeared. The small crowd surrounded him, allowing Marc to be closest to him.
“Okay, she’s out of surgery. We found the bullet, removing it was the hard part that took so long,” he said. “She’s lost a lot of blood but her vital signs are good. Give it a few days and she’ll be fine unless complications arise.”
“So, she’s going to be okay?” Marc asked.
“Yeah, she’ll be fine,” the doctor replied. “In fact, the bullet didn’t hit any vital organs at all.”
Marc and Carvelli called Gabriella and Vivian back. Neither had left yet and both decided to wait until morning.
A few minutes after receiving the news, Marc and Carvelli were alone in the hall. They were sitting on chairs against the wall silently staring at the floor. Neither said a word or looked at each other as they dealt with their tears.
On the drive to the Medical Center, Jessica said to her dad, “Tony told us you told Maddy you loved her.”
“Yeah,” Marc admitted. “I guess I wanted her to know.”
“It’s about time,” Eric said from the back seat.
“What does that mean?” Marc replied giving his son a quizzical look.
Jessica laughed and said, “Come on, Dad. It’s been obvious for quite a while. Trust me, she’s in.”
“Really?” Marc asked a little surprised.
“Really,” Jessica laughed. “Men are so clueless.”
The elevator doors opened on the third-floor and Marc, Eric and Jessica stepped off. They looked ahead and saw Vivian, Tony and Gabriella.
“That’s the same room you were in,” Jessica said to Marc.
Also waiting were Newkirk and Abby Bliss.
At the room’s door, there was a round of hugs, then Marc and Carvelli stepped away to talk to the detectives.
“We need to get a statement from her,” Newkirk said.
“If she’s up to it,” Abby added.
Marc asked Carvelli, “Have you been in to see her?”
“Yeah, for a couple minutes then the nurse kicked us out,” he answered.
“Have Vivian and Gabriella…”
“They were in with me.”
“We were waiting for you,” Newkirk said. “Tony says you’re her lawyer.”
“I am,” Marc agreed. “Let me go in and check with her and I’ll let you know.”
Marc went to the door and motioned for Eric and Jessica to come in with him. They went inside and found Maddy half asleep. When she heard the door close she came to.
“Hey,” Marc softly said.
“Hi,” she smiled back. She looked at Jessica, held her arms out and said, “Come here.”
When she finished hugging his sister, Eric took his turn. They finished, then Marc told them he needed to talk to her alone.
Marc sat on the edge of the bed, took her right hand, softly brushed the hair off her forehead and asked, “Are you up to seeing the cops?”
“I don’t want to talk about that. Come here and hug me. Hold me and tell me you love me, again,” she said.
When he finished doing as she asked and was looking down at her, she pulled his head down, kissed him and said, “I love you, too. When you were in this hospital…”
“Same room,” Marc said.
“…I thought I was going to lose you. Then when the helicopter took you away, my heart broke into a dozen pie
ces. Why did we wait until we almost lost each other before we realized how we felt?”
“Because men are clueless about these things,” Marc said.
“And women are probably worse,” Maddy said with a weak smile.
“I’m glad you said that. If I had said it, there would be a line of angry women picketing my office on Monday. Are you up to talking to the cops? If not, they can come back,” Marc said.
“No, I’m okay. Let’s do it now. But I want you here and if I get tired we’ll stop.”
“Deal.”
It took a while and Marc almost stopped it a couple of times. Newkirk and Abby were as soft and considerate as they could possibly be. Maddy’s memory was a little fuzzy at times, but she clearly remembered the fight on the boat.
“Oh, God,” Maddy said. “That guy who got shot on the boat. He saved my life. He sacrificed himself to stop Aidan from killing me.” Her eyes were filling with tears as she said this.
The cops had put Semple’s fingerprints through the AFIS program and found him. Newkirk explained to Maddy and Marc who he was. When he finished there was silence in the room.
“I wonder why he did it?” Marc finally asked.
“I guess we’ll never know,” Abby replied.
When they finished Marc went out into the hall with the investigators.
“She is one tough chick,” Abby said. “It’s an amazing story.”
Carvelli joined them as Newkirk asked, “Where is Cal Simpson?”
“All I could get out of Aidan was the word gone,” Carvelli answered. “You can bet he’s out of the country by now. I’m sure he planned his escape down to every detail. You’re probably going to have to leave him to the feds.”
While they were talking, the others went back in to see Maddy. Newkirk and Abby left after another minute.
“So, how did things go between you? She admitted it, too, didn’t she?” Carvelli asked.
“Yeah, she did,” Marc answered. “Thing is, I’ve just become involved with a woman that can kick my ass without breaking a sweat.”
Insider Justice: A Financial Thriller (Marc Kadella Legal Mysteries Book 8) Page 39
