Final Target

by Jack Young

  Paden nodded and followed Davy up the steps leading to a front porch. There was a screen door to the porch area which had a table and a few chairs.

  “Be cool.” Davy knocked on the door and looked at Paden again. “Just be cool.”

  No one answered the door right away, so Davy knocked again. That time, someone began messing with a bunch of locks on the other side of the door.

  “What?” The guy who answered the door was a younger man. Younger than Davy, but not as young as Orrin. Davy figured him to be twenty-three or twenty-four and not quite as tall as Davy who was six-foot even. The guy looked malnourished and wouldn’t stop twitching. This led Davy to think he was on meth or something. It wouldn’t have surprised him to find out his assumption was correct. There was an epidemic of its use in the area. The zombies walking around the Wal-mart looking for a handout was a testament to this problem. The guy also stunk of rank body odor and his skin was pale with scabs on his arms he kept scratching and although his hair was buzzed short, he kept trying to run his fingers through his hair.

  Davy pointed to him. “You Davis?”

  The guy shook his head. “No. Davis is on the couch there.” He opened the door revealing someone else lying on the couch. “I’m Parker.”

  “That your first or last name?” Davy knew it was his first name. He was trying to not let on that he knew too much about the two. Of the two guys Big John sent he and Paden to kill, Davy recognized Davis on the couch. He just didn’t want them spooked, so he tried to keep himself relaxed. Davy pointed to himself. “I’m Carlyle and this is Evans. Big John sent us here to cool off. We did a job for him and need to crash here and he said we’d be sharing the place with a Davis and a Parker. Guess that’s you two.”

  Parker nodded. “Yeah. What job did you do?”

  “Does it matter? Probably best you didn’t know anyway.”

  Parker continued to twitch. “Yeah. Yeah. You’re probably right. C’mon in.”

  Davy and Paden entered the house. It wasn’t the first time Davy had been there. He was serious when he told Paden he’d stayed there a few times after jobs. The longest he stayed there was eight days. There was a living room, kitchen, bathroom, and two bedrooms on the first floor along with three bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs. There was also a basement that over the years was converted into another space for people to sleep as long as they didn’t mind using an old Army cot and hearing the noise of the washer and dryer when they were in use.

  Davy looked at Davis lying on the couch in the living room. His head and eyes barely turned towards Davy and Paden before returning them back to the SVU rerun on the large flat screen TV that was propped on top of an old coffee table.

  Davis was smaller than Parker, but not by much. He also looked a little older than Davy with a dark complexion. Davy figured he was part black, but he wasn’t sure. Unlike Parker, Davis didn’t appear to be tweaking. Regardless, Davy and Paden would have to stay on their toes and not tip them off as to why they were really there.

  Davy pointed around the place. “It’s been a awhile since I was here. Something looks different.”

  Davis pointed from the couch. “Probably the TV. It was a different one, a smaller one, when I was here last June.”

  “That’s probably it.” Davy looked around the place. “Anyone else here?”

  Parker was still twitching and chin-pointed upstairs. “My girl is here.”

  “Why?” Davy recalled Big John’s main rule for the farmhouse was that no one outside their group knew about the place. This was going to be a complication because killing a woman was something even he didn’t do.

  Parker shrugged. “Why what?”

  Davy pointed around. “This your first time here? Did Big John talk to you before setting this up?”

  Davis sat up on the couch. “That’s what I told him when she got here. Fucker never listens. It’s that shit he’s snortin’ or smokin’. Fucks up his head. Doesn’t listen.”

  Davy nodded. “Yeah. So, how long’s she been here?”

  Parker moved over to the couch. “This mornin’. She’s leavin’ after she wakes up. Got something to do with her kid.”

  Paden was walking around the living room looking around the place. “So, why are you two here? What kind of job did you do?”

  Davis lit a cigarette. “Just some shit that got passed onto us. Suppose to take care of some loose end, but shithead here fucked it up.”

  Davy and Paden now knew they had the right guys. Davy pointed to Paden with a thumb. “Same here. Dude here panicked and about got us caught. Now, we gotta hang out here until we get word shit’s okay to go back.”

  Davis smiled and nodded. “Gotcha. Did ya bring any food with you? All that’s left is some beer and Hot Pockets.”

  Davy watched as Paden moved to behind the two on the couch. “Naw, man. We didn’t. Big John said the place was stocked.”

  Davis set his smoke in the ash tray in front of him. “He told us the same.”

  “He does that sometimes. Suppose I could make a quick trip into town. You guys want anything in particular?”

  Both sat thinking of what all they wanted, but their thoughts were interrupted when the front of Davis’ head exploded outward from the bullet Paden fired into the back of his head. Parker stood. “Whoa! Whoa! Hang on!” Paden shot him in the head as well and Davy fired a couple of rounds into his chest.

  Davy and Paden both looked at the bodies. Paden pointed upstairs with his pistol. “What about the girlfriend?”

  “Yeah. Probably should take care of her, too.”

  “What if she didn’t hear or see anything?”

  “Can’t take that chance. If she did and it got back to Big John, two other guys will show up for us one of these days.”

  “I don’t harm women, man.”

  “I don’t either, but whatever we do we better get to it before the cops arrive.” Davy charged upstairs with Paden following. They checked all the rooms upstairs to be on the safe side, but light was coming from a room with its door slightly opened. Davy held his pistol at the ready in case someone else was in there or the girl herself was armed.

  Once he had the door opened, Davy lowered his weapon. The girl was lying naked on the bed. He could tell she was dead before he checked for a pulse. Her arms were marked up and down with track marks as well as several on her feet between the toes. Her needle and other fixings were beside her on the bed. Davy wasn’t sure how long she’d been dead, but her eyes were glazed over and the room smelled of vomit which she had stuck to her left side of her face, her neck, and some on her left breast. He wasn’t a doctor, but he figured she either OD’d or choked on her own vomit. Maybe, it was both. Davy looked over at Paden who was standing in the doorway. “Well, she sure saved us a shit-ton of trouble.”

  22.

  When Joe’s cell phone buzzed waking him up, he didn’t feel like he’d got any sleep. After making love to Darcy, they both fell asleep which was just before midnight and now the clock on his phone said it was five. He didn’t have any type of dream nor did he wake up for any reason like he usually did. He just slept.

  Joe sat up in bed with difficulty. A pain shot through his back causing him to let out a groan that almost woke Darcy. He sat for a moment contemplating his next move. The pain in his back lingered in all of his back muscles, down his spine, and even more so in his lower back area down the right side of his ass. Joe placed both of his hands on his thighs and leaned forwards to make an attempt at standing. It was a failed attempt as he ended up falling onto all fours. “Fuck.”

  This caused Darcy to sit up. “Joe?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine. Just slipped.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. I just need a second.” He made a move to stand and as he did, it seemed that every bone in his body cracked. Joe eventually stood and placed both his hands on his hips and arched his back to stretch. By doing this, his sternum also popped. It sent a sharp pain throughout his chest which took his breath a
way for a moment. When he thought he was okay, Joe began walking to the bathroom connected to the master bedroom. With each step, pain shot through his feet, up his shins, into his knees, and ending in his hips.

  Eventually, Joe made it into the bathroom and turned on the light. He wasn’t a vain man, but he found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror. He hadn’t shaved in a few of days. It wasn’t because the unshaven look was becoming fashionable, but more because he was busy. Despite how his body felt at that moment, he was by no means an old man at forty-two, but a good third of his hair and beard were mixed with gray hair. He even had gray hairs on his chest.

  Joe continued looking at himself in the mirror and stood up straight. The two hundred and fifteen pounds on his six two frame didn’t look too bad. The muscles in his arms, shoulder, and chest still stood out, but he did notice some softness around his waist. It wasn’t much. But he did slap his belly thinking to himself it was time to get back into shape. After this case he thought.

  The next thing in his morning routine was for Joe to relieve himself. As he did so, his thoughts went to thinking about life after being a cop. He’d been a cop pretty much his whole adult life. In a few short years, he could retire and draw from a pension, but with the kids quickly approaching their college years, he didn’t believe it was possible. Plus, he still believed in the work he was doing. It was important work and it was still important to him. Most of the time it was gruesome work, but it still gave him a sense of purpose. It was something he was good at. This current case was no more difficult than any other case he worked before. The process was slow at times as it was at the moment, but it was a process Joe believed in. Soon, something will reveal itself, bringing him and Jacobs closer to putting those involved with the shootings behind bars.

  Joe flushed and washed his hands. He grabbed a towel from the shelf he built into the wall in the bathroom and hung it on a hook next to the shower. He then turned on the shower. When the water temperature was to his liking, he took off the only thing he was wearing which were his boxers and put them in the hamper before stepping into the shower closing the curtain behind him.

  Before he bothered with soaping up, Joe let the hot water soothe the front of his body. After a few moments of that, he turned his body and let the water do the same to his backside. He knew this did nothing to reduce their water bill, but at that very moment it felt too damn good.

  Joe wanted to keep standing under the hot water, but he knew he needed to continue with his morning routine and washed his hair and body. When he was finished, he shut off the water and toweled off, wrapping the towel around his waist and with a hand towel wiped the steam off of the mirror. The debate on whether to shave or not was a short one which ended with Joe deciding to not shave. He brushed his teeth, put on clean boxers, and left the bathroom.

  Joe didn’t keep the most fashionable wardrobe, so picking out the day’s clothes was a simple task. He brush-shined his black shoes, put on a pair of dark slacks, a white long-sleeved shirt, and dark jacket. He would carry his matching tie in one of his coat pockets and put it on once he arrived at the station.

  Each night, as part of the evening routine, either Joe or Darcy made a pot of coffee with the timer set to begin brewing at five. A full pot awaited Joe as he entered the kitchen. It was five-thirty and an hour still before everyone else began waking up. This was his hour to himself and probably one of his favorite times of the day. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down to begin another of his morning rituals and that was to read. He didn’t read a newspaper in the morning because between Darcy as a reporter and Jacobs giving his daily reports, Joe didn’t need to read a paper. Joe often visited the local library and the used bookstore a couple blocks from the station. In this case, he was reading a used book, The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman by Ernest J. Gaines, and the goal of his morning readings was to take his mind off the issues he was dealing with and the last couple of mornings it helped. At least it did for a little bit.

  Fifty pages and three cups of coffee later, Joe set down his book and heard the shower turn on upstairs. This was his cue to begin making something for breakfast. He began frying up some sliced portions of SPAM and when they were ready, he slapped them and a slice of cheese between two slices of buttered toast. One by one, his family came downstairs and he greeted each child with a good morning kiss on their cheek. Darcy was the last to appear in the kitchen and instead of the cheek, Joe kissed her on the lips.

  They all sat at the dining room table eating and talking about what lay ahead for each of them for the day. Knowing what was ahead of him, Joe wished he could sit at the table with his family for the rest of the day, but duty called.

  It didn’t surprise Joe that Jacobs was already at the station before he was. Joe often wondered whether his partner even went home. “Geez, Papa Bear. Did you sleep on a cot in the back or what?”

  Jacobs didn’t bother looking up from the file he was reading. “No, my young friend. I’m not like you youngsters who feel the need to sleep-in everyday.”

  Joe knew his partner was teasing him. That happens in a long partnership such as theirs. Jacobs knew Joe was an early riser and as hands-on as he could be at home getting the kids off to school. When Joe was coming up as an officer and making the transition to detective, the old guard told him that Nelson Jacobs didn’t like too many people and that if he did give you shit about anything it meant he actually liked you. If Jacobs never said anything to you it was the opposite. The more Joe worked with Jacobs, he warmed up to him. He even came over to the house many times over the years, and he was a different person around Darcy and the kids.

  Joe went to the coffee counter and fixed himself and his partner a cup of coffee. Cream and three sugars for Joe and straight black for Jacobs. He put a dollar in a jar next to the coffee pot for payment on a future can of coffee. The jar already had a few bills and a bunch of quarters. After fixing the cups of coffee, Joe brought them to his desk and handed his partner his cup. Jacobs took a sip and then pointed to the file he was reading. “You said you know this Carlyle guy?”

  Joe shrugged. “I did. Kind of. My little brother used to run with him when they were in middle school and maybe a little when they were in high school, too.”

  “What do you remember?”

  “He was an okay kid.”

  “You talk to your brother about him yet?”

  “No. It’s been awhile since I even talked to him about family stuff. He’s busy with his family issues in Indiana these days.”

  “So, he probably doesn’t have any contact with Carlyle.”

  “Yeah. Probably not. Want me to still give him a holler?”

  “Naw. Maybe, if this doesn’t unravel any quicker. For now, I highly doubt they’re in contact.”

  “So, what do you have on Davy Carlyle?”

  “Not much. He’s stayed out of trouble for the most part. He did a little jail time back a few years for assault, but nothing more than that. He’s known to run with John McIntosh.”

  “‘Big’ John McIntosh? Didn’t he try to run for mayor or city council or some shit a few years back?”

  “Yeah. That guy. He runs all those coffee houses in town and few other things. He’s also connected to Sean Brady somehow. There’s photos of them together that a federal task force gave me.”

  “Federal task force? Damn, Papa Bear. This just keeps getting better and better.”

  “Hey. What can I say? I know people. Okay, here’s what I’ve come up with. Hang with me for a minute or two.”

  “Okay.”

  “I had Newt go through the phone records of this Gordon guy and guess who he was texting.”

  Joe shrugged. “I dunno. Who?

  “That Roberts guy. The IT guy for the college. From there, I did some looking into him as well and found out he and Gordon were in the same frat back in their college days. Gordon’s texts suggest that he was supposed to kill whoever delivered some money to him at the Target as working off
what he owed to someone. He couldn’t go through it, but Roberts said he would.”

  “And their texts actually say all this?”

  Jacobs handed Joe the transcripts of the text messages. The dumbasses actually discussed this. “Geez. So, just like that Roberts says he’ll do it?”

  “More or less. I kept looking at Roberts’ text and seen he was being hounded by some girl from the college he worked at. An eighteen-year-old freshman who did work study with him that he got pregnant. She wanted him to cough up ten grand for medical expenses during her pregnancy and delivery. He agreed to pay her off, but he didn’t have the money. This opportunity comes up, but he’s not a criminal and doesn’t know how to go about it. His cousin, that Vaughn guy, is. Did some time for assault with a deadly weapon. He ends up texting his cousin about his situation and Vaughn agrees to help him out.”

  “So, they think they’re there to kill whoever delivers them a bag, which Paden Evans ends up bringing and takes some of the money. And Davy is there to kill whoever is in the truck.”

  “Yeah, but it was supposed to be Gordon, not Roberts and Vaughn.”

  “I’m assuming Davy didn’t care one way or the other.”

  “Probably not. Carlyle’s a button man supposedly. As long as he gets paid, it doesn’t matter who he kills usually.”

  Joe nodded as if understanding. “So, why hit Gordon to begin with?”

  “Gordon was in business with Sean Brady and McIntosh. Some sporting goods stores in the area. They weren’t making money and I’m sure Brady and McIntosh still wanted their payments. To them, it was probably in their best interests to get rid of Gordon and sell the stores to salvage some money instead of continuing to lose money.”

  “Shit. Everyone’s owing money to everyone. Tell me again how Evans fits in.”

  “Evans worked for Lanford Clark. Remember Evans saying his woman just told him she was pregnant? Guy probably took the job for the money. Easy job of delivering a bag and making probably a couple grand or so.”