by BJ Bourg
“Does she ever?”
“Figures.” I thanked her and hurried to my desk. I took a bite out of the burger and called Tracy. She answered on the first ring.
“Clint, where’ve you been?”
“Sorry, I was in the woods looking for my victim’s son.”
“My guys recovered a fingerprint from the pipe,” she said. “We ran it through AFIS but we didn’t get a hit.”
“Did it match the print on the shed doorknob?” I asked, almost certain the print would belong to Ty, because that was how my luck was going. Of course, I wouldn’t be able to verify whether or not it was Ty’s print until I found him, and that search wasn’t going so well.
“Nah, they were made by different people.”
“Huh?” I asked, scratching my head. I now had three unidentified fingerprints. “That’s weird.”
“It would be great if you had Ty Richardson’s fingerprints,” she said. “One of them has to belong to him.”
I agreed and asked her what else she’d found. “I can hear it in your voice,” I said. “There’s more to come.”
“Look at you, acting all psychic on me.” She paused for a second before continuing. “But you’re right. We did a presumptive drug test on the residue in the baggie and it’s meth.”
“And…”
“And my guys also found a fingerprint on the baggie,” she said. “It wasn’t Mrs. Richardson’s print and it didn’t match the prints on the shed door, the camper door, or the pipe, but we did get a hit on it in AFIS.”
“What?” I bolted upright in my chair. “Whose is it?”
I heard some paper rustling in the background. “It’s some guy named Jerome Carter.”
“Jerome Carter?” I settled back into my chair, trying to remember where I’d heard that name. “What’s his record look like?”
“He’s got five arrests on his record. His last conviction was for distribution,” she said. “He was arrested on that charge a little over six years ago, pled guilty a year later, did three years hard, and then was released on parole two years ago. Since getting out, he’s kept his nose clean—until now.”
“He’s either kept his nose clean or he’s gotten smarter,” I said, suddenly having an idea. I reached for my computer and ran a search of Carter’s name through my investigative database. I watched for a second as the computer worked. Finally, one file popped up. I grunted and clicked on it.
“What is it?” Tracy asked.
I didn’t answer as I scanned the report. I wasn’t finding the name fast enough, so I searched within the file. As soon as I hit the Enter key, a blue highlighted name appeared alongside his nickname.
“His alias is J-Rock!” I said, jumping to my feet. “That’s why his name is familiar. I worked a case involving this kid when I first blew into town.”
“What’d he do?”
“He was the drug supplier for one of my murder victims.” After asking Tracy if there was more—she said there wasn’t—I thanked her and ended the call. I needed to find J-Rock, and I needed to find him fast.
CHAPTER 16
“Sue, it was J-Rock,” I said, thundering down the hallway and into Susan’s office. Her head was bent over her desk as she read a police report. She looked up when I entered.
“J-Rock?” Her face scrunched up. “The same guy who sold drugs to Betty Ledet before she was murdered?”
I nodded. More than six years ago, Betty Ledet had been in the middle of a drug transaction with J-Rock when she had been murdered. J-Rock was nowhere to be found when we had arrived at the scene, and he quickly became a suspect once it was learned he had been present during the murder. Ultimately, he had been cleared of any wrongdoing with regard to Betty’s murder, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t involved in what had happened out at the Richardson home.
“Can you call Trinity and find out if she knows what he’s been up to lately?”
Without hesitation, Susan picked up the desk phone and stabbed in the number.
Trinity Bledsoe was a narcotics agent from the Chateau Parish Sheriff’s Office. She had helped us take down J-Rock back when I was working the Betty Ledet murder case.
After a moment of waiting, Susan’s eyes lit up.
“Hey, Trin, it’s Sue,” my wife said with a smile. “What’s up?”
After they exchanged pleasantries, Susan got down to business. They talked for a few minutes. When things got quiet, Susan mouthed that Trinity was searching her files and speaking with a few of her agents to see if they had any current information on J-Rock.
“She’s in charge of the narcotics division now,” Susan explained. “She said she got promoted last year and hasn’t been as active on the streets since then.”
That made sense to me—the part about Trinity being promoted. I remembered how natural it had seemed when she had taken command of the SWAT operation to arrest J-Rock and his drug buddy, Neal Barlow.
Trinity came on the phone after a short break. Susan nodded and then frowned up at me. “Okay, Trin,” she said. “I appreciate it. Call if you need anything from this way.”
After hanging up the phone, Susan shook her head.
“Nothing?” I asked.
“He hasn’t made any noise since getting out of prison,” Susan explained. “In fact, she said she didn’t even realize he was out. She said the state has released a number of drug dealers and other criminals without notifying anyone in law enforcement. She said they’re running into people on the street today who got convicted of hefty drug charges just last year. It’s become a revolving door. She said they’re fighting to keep up, but she feels they’re losing the battle.”
I nodded grimly. Working in the trenches of law enforcement every day, we were forced to see the adverse effects of ill-advised rules and laws enacted by politicians who were far removed from the problems these criminals caused. These politicians lived in gated communities and had their own security force, so they weren’t terrorized by the criminals they released. They either didn’t stop to think about where the criminals would go once released, or they didn’t care. The reality was that these criminals would usually return to the same neighborhoods they had left, or some other unsuspecting neighborhood, and they would continue to disrupt the lives of the good people who resided in those neighborhoods.
The majority of the people in most of our neighborhoods were hardworking folks who simply wanted to raise their children in safe and secure environments. Sadly for them, they would not be able to afford to uproot their families and relocate them to one of those safe, gated communities if a criminal moved next door to them and started terrorizing their neighborhood.
As an agency, the most we could do was try to arrest the criminal element and clean up the neighborhood. Unfortunately, it definitely was starting to feel like a revolving door, with the criminals receiving shorter and shorter sentences for committing hard felonies. While it was frustrating for us, the ones who suffered most were the good people who lived in those communities.
I picked up Susan’s phone and called the Department of Probation and Parole and asked to speak to the agent supervising Jerome Carter. After a brief hold, a man with a raspy voice came on. I switched it to speaker so Susan could listen in.
“Agent Lenny Bourke,” the man said.
I introduced myself and explained in great detail to Agent Bourke why I was calling.
“Oh, so J-Rock is back to his old shenanigans, eh?” The man chuckled. “I guess the three solid didn’t do him any good. Oh, well, it never does. How can I help you? Do you want me to get a detainer for him? Just the fact that his fingerprints appeared on a bag of meth is enough to revoke him. If he’s convicted of selling those drugs, based upon his past accomplishments, he’s looking at life.” He grunted. “Of course, life doesn’t mean life anymore.”
“Well, I’m just looking to talk to him right now,” I said. “Do you have an address on him?”
“He’ll run.” Lenny stated it as a fact. “Better let me get t
hat detainer so you can chase him.”
I figured Agent Bourke knew J-Rock better than I did, so I agreed. “I’ll type up a quick narrative and send you a copy of the lab report,” I offered. “I’d like to get rolling on this as soon as possible.”
“You get that stuff to me right away, and I can have a judge’s signature on that detainer before the banks close,” he promised. “Oh, and he’s living in the Bayou View Apartments. He shacked up with some pen pal he met while incarcerated. If you give me your phone number, I’ll send you the address, his phone number, his latest mug shot, and the girlfriend’s name.”
I gave him my cell number and placed the handset in the cradle and waited. Almost instantly, my cell phone chirped and I checked the information.
“Yup,” I said when I saw the mug shot, “that’s J-Rock alright.”
“I don’t like that he’s living in the Bayou View Apartments,” Susan said. “It’s been quiet back there for years. We don’t need this bad apple coming in and making everyone else miserable.”
I nodded as I scrolled through the information. Rhonda Sylvester. I didn’t recognize the girlfriend’s name. I looked up at Susan.
“We’ll need to assemble a team,” I said. “I don’t want this to turn into a foot chase, so we’ll need to surround the apartment.”
“Melvin will already be on duty, so he’s in.” Susan consulted the calendar on her desk. “Baylor’s off, so I can call him and see if he’s available. Takecia’s off, too, so I can call her and see if she’s available. That’ll leave Regan to cover her shift tomorrow.” She looked up. “That’ll be five of us. Think that’s enough?”
I nodded and hurried off to forward the information to Agent Bourke.
CHAPTER 17
True to his word, Agent Lenny Bourke had faxed a detainer for Jerome Carter to me before the banks closed for the day. It was almost five o’clock when Susan and I began briefing Melvin, Baylor, and Takecia. I brought them up to speed on all of the developments that had taken place since we first got the call from the mail carrier, and I explained why we had called them there. After going over the plan, I closed by showing them a map of the apartment in which J-Rock now resided.
“I want this to go as smoothly as possible,” I said, pointing to the target apartment. “If we put one person at opposite corners—here and here—send one to the back and two to the front, I think we’ll have it covered.” I pointed to the balcony atop the apartment. “We need to keep an eye on the front and rear balconies. He can either slide down the gutter pipe on this corner, or jump from balcony to balcony until he reaches this corner. Either way, we should have this place sewn up tight enough that he’ll fall in our hands.”
“If he falls into my hands,” Melvin said with a grin, “I might just fumble the ball or spike his skinny ass.”
We all laughed. After asking if there were any questions, we put on our outer ballistic vests, loaded into two vehicles—Takecia rode in Susan’s Tahoe while Baylor and Melvin rode with me—and headed for the apartments. The plan was for Susan to cover the back door while Takecia covered the southeast corner. Baylor and I would go to the front door. Finally, Melvin would cover the northwest corner. It seemed like a good plan, but things didn’t quite work out the way I’d envisioned them.
I was leading the way down the street and was about to turn onto the cross street that led to Rhonda’s apartment when Susan peeled off and drove through the grass to access the rear of the apartment. I had just straightened onto the cross street when Melvin let out a yell and pointed.
“The bastard’s running!”
Sure enough, J-Rock was standing outside and had seen my Tahoe turn onto the cross street and hadn’t even waited to see if I was the police or the mailman. He just broke out running and was heading straight for a line of trees that skirted the southern side of the property.
As I raced to the end of the cross street, I radioed to Susan that we had a rabbit. I’d barely stopped my Tahoe when Baylor and Melvin were leaping from their seats. As competitive as I was, I didn’t like that they got the jump on me, but I had to take that split second to shove the gearshift into Park and remove the keys from the ignition. Foolhardy was the officer who abandoned his police vehicle with the keys inside.
I hit the lock button on the key fob as I ran, quickly shoving it into my pocket and reaching for my gun. I didn’t know why J-Rock ran, but it would’ve also been foolish to automatically assume he was unarmed simply because he was a felon. The problem with gun laws was that criminals treated them like every other law—they steamrolled right over them without even looking back.
I was about to reach the tree line when Susan burst out from behind the building to my left. Takecia was right on her heels. Baylor and Melvin had disappeared behind J-Rock in the trees.
Susan hollered that she was going to fan out wide to the left. I nodded and changed course, hitting the woods to the right of where Baylor and Melvin had gone in. If we fanned out, we would catch J-Rock if he tried to double back on our officers.
Thankfully, the leaves had fallen and it made the going easier, but the branches still slapped wickedly at my arms as I raced by. A few branches even smacked my face, and one caught me right in the eye. I didn’t care and I didn’t slow down. I blinked it away and kept running, desperately trying to overtake the shadow to my left. I was running at full speed and the trees were blurring by, so it was hard for me to see who it was that I was trying to outpace. Someone yelled, but I couldn’t tell who it was, thanks to the crunching noise that my boots made on the dead leaves and pine cones.
I shot a glance toward the figure on my left and saw that it was veering in a line that would put him in my path. As it drew closer, I realized it was Melvin, and he was focused on something moving to his right and well ahead of me. I glanced in that direction and saw a dark fleeting shadow zipping between the trees. The figure was heading due west now, so I changed course and tried to gain on him.
I was sure the person running in front of me was J-Rock. He was a fast runner, but I could feel myself gaining on him. I dodged a tree trunk here, ducked under a limb there, and jumped over an occasional wind thrown tree. Soon, the shadows of the wooded area were growing lighter. Were we reaching the end of the patch of woodlands? If so, I should be able to make better headway.
I was running on a blanket of pine needles now and wasn’t making as much noise. This enabled me to hear the footsteps pounding like hooves behind me. A quick glance over my shoulder revealed Melvin, Baylor, Susan, and Takecia all in hot pursuit. It was only luck and the changing direction of the chase that had put me in the lead position, and I wasn’t about to complain. My only worry was that one of them would overtake me and pass me up before I could catch J-Rock.
This motivation spurred me on and my legs pumped even faster. In a flash, I broke out into the bright opening of a playground for the kids who lived in the apartment complex. I could see J-Rock clearly now. He was about twenty yards ahead of me, which meant I had gained some ground. He looked to be slowing down. Even if he wasn’t, he was running out of real estate because the bayou loomed ahead. Victory would surely be mine.
“Jerome!” I hollered. “You’re under arrest. Stop where you are!”
Boots pounded the ground behind me and I glanced back to see Melvin overtaking me. It inspired me to run harder.
“J-Rock!” I hollered again. “Don’t do it!”
J-Rock had slowed considerably and I could see him craning his neck to see over the embankment. In this area, the bank was about thirty feet above the surface of the water, and it looked like he was thinking about jumping.
Susan suddenly appeared to my right, with Takecia farther to her right. Melvin had spread out to the left and Baylor was several yards beyond him. We approached J-Rock like a giant cast net. There was no way he could escape now, unless he went over the edge.
“Don’t do it, J-Rock!” I called as he drew to within ten yards of the edge. “It’s not worth it!”
Twisting back around, he increased his speed and covered the last few yards in a wide-open sprint. When he reached the end of the runway, he launched himself high into the air and dove headfirst over the edge of the embankment. For a split second, he seemed suspended in the air—like a seagull preparing to dive for shrimp—and then he disappeared from sight.
CHAPTER 18
Amy was fit to be tied. Ever since Baylor had walked out the door to assist with the apprehension of Jerome Carter, she had been shuffling across the living room floor. Sweat poured down her face as the pain shot upward and through her leg, but she gritted her teeth and ignored it.
“Come on,” she said to herself. “One more lap!”
When she reached her crutches, she ignored them and turned around, teetering for a moment and almost falling, but she maintained her balance. Brimming with confidence now, she lifted one leg and then the other, moving forward more rapidly. She reached the opposite side of the room in record time, stopped, and turned slowly. She was getting her balance now, knowing how to adjust for the pain without falling.
“Here goes nothing!” she said, making her way carefully toward the door. She paused momentarily when she reached the hooks on the wall—she had to put her arms out to steady herself—and then grabbed the set of keys for her Dodge Charger. She knew Baylor would disapprove, but she couldn’t take it anymore. She needed her independence, and she needed it now. She hadn’t been behind the wheel of a car since the ambush, but that was about to change.
Amy also wanted to be part of the search effort for J-Rock. She had heard Clint call over the radio that J-Rock had escaped by jumping into the bayou. She knew she couldn’t be there to help in the actual chase, but at least she could coordinate the search efforts from the radio room.
