Crimes Past

by Lauren Carr

  “Damn right,” Will Harrington said.

  Struck speechless, David turned his head to look at Mac.

  “Told you Harrington wasn’t going to go down easy,” Mac said in a soft voice.

  “What are you doing?” Harrington asked in a sharp voice. His voice sounded nervous.

  “My mom has the keys,” Gabriel said in a surprisingly calm tone. “I’m getting the backup key from a case in the tire well.”

  “That kid’s as cool as a cucumber,” Mac told David, who had set the phone aside to call police dispatch on Mac’s phone.

  “You drive,” Harrington ordered.

  “I promised Mom I wouldn’t,” Gabriel replied. “Okay, I’ll drive. But you’re going to tell her that you made me.”

  “Why did you shoot that man in the woods by the ski lift?” Gabriel asked Harrington as he turned onto the road leading down the mountain.

  “Because I had to.” Harrington checked the mirrors and turned in his seat to look out the rear window. “Watch your speed. Don’t try anything stupid.”

  “This is the first time we’ve been to Deep Creek Lake,” Gabriel said. “I don’t know where anything is. You’re going to have to tell me where to go.”

  “You just do what I tell you and you’ll get out of this alive.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Are you serious?” Morgan’s eyes grew wide. “You’ve flown jets in real honest-to-goodness combat missions?” A broad smile crossed her face, as well as the faces of the other woman around the table upon learning that Hope West was a Navy pilot.

  They were so impressed that they had forgotten about her jeans and leather flight jacket with a Navy insignia on the breast, which had served to introduce the topic.

  “I don’t fly combat anymore,” Hope said. “I’ve decided to leave that to younger pilots. Now I fly special assignments.”

  How rude! Archie thought the third time that Mac called her. When she didn’t answer, he texted:

  Take Hope to Hector’s office now! It’s important!

  Archie gathered her purse and stood. “We need to go.”

  “Now?” Her tea still too hot to sip, Hope gazed up at her. Was it something I said?

  “Now.” Offering her apologies and promises to be at the wedding that evening, Archie took Hope by the elbow and ushered her from the café.

  As they climbed the stairs to the main floor of the lobby, they saw the EMT truck, several police cruisers, and other emergency vehicles parked on the grass near the woods.

  “What’s going on? Is David okay?” Hope glanced to the lounging area where she had left Gabriel. He was gone.

  Donning a law enforcement K9 vest, Gnarly galloped out the door with two Spencer police officers. Storm climbed into his reserved chair to keep it warm until the mayor’s return.

  Hector met them at the reception desk. With no explanation, he led them into Jeff Ingles’ spacious corner office, which offered floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall views of the gardens, ski slopes, and mountains beyond.

  “Jeff, you’re scaring us,” Archie said. “What’s going on?”

  “Where’s Gabriel?” Hope studied the activity near the ski lift. “Are those emergency vehicles outside for my son?”

  “No, those are for one of my best men,” Hector said. “Will Harrington shot him. He’s lucky to still be alive. Took a bullet to the gut.”

  “Harrington? The man who came over to our table at breakfast?” Hope asked.

  Hector nodded his head. “Mac figured out that he was the murderer that he’s been chasing this weekend. I had Carnes tailing him while David and Mac got an arrest warrant. Harrington lured Carnes into the woods and shot him.”

  “Where’s Mac and David?” Archie asked.

  “They’re on their way. We’ve got local, county, and state police searching for him.”

  Hope noticed the hotel manager avoiding her gaze. “What are you not telling me? Where’s Gabriel?”

  Hector stepped in closer to her. “Harrington’s taken a hostage.”

  “Gabriel?” Hope choked out her son’s name.

  Archie took her into a hug.

  “David and Mac are going after him,” Hector said. “They’re going to bring your son home.”

  Hope sucked in a deep breath and shoved her fear aside. This was no time to be a scared little wuss. Fear isn’t going to bring Gabriel home. She brushed Archie’s arms away and reached into her pocket. “Do they know where Gabriel is?” She took out her cell phone and brushed her thumb across the screen.

  “He’s called David,” Hector said while she studied the screen on her phone. “He seems to have left the phone on in his pocket, so they can hear everything that’s going on. He’s trying to give them clues of where they are. The police are trying to get a signal on his phone to track him.”

  “I can tell you precisely where he is. I’ve got a tracking system on his phone. He hates it and says I’m overprotective because I can track him to within twenty feet.” Hope held out the phone to him.

  Hector held up his hand to give her a high five. “Two points for the overprotective mommy.”

  “Hey, what’s that?” Gabriel called out so suddenly that Harrington almost pulled the trigger on his gun. “What’s that big red building with a Mail Pouch sign on it?”

  “It’s called a barn,” Harrington said. “Kid, haven’t you ever seen a red barn before? Turn right onto the main road up ahead and we’ll be about thirty miles from the Pennsylvania state line. There are lots of barns there, too.”

  “You must not be too desperate if you’re going to run away to Pennsylvania,” Gabriel said. “Don’t most criminals go to countries that don’t have extradition?”

  “You talk too much, kid.”

  Gabriel turned a sharp corner in the road and slammed on the brakes. A thick barricade of emergency vehicles blocked the road.

  His arms folded across his chest, Mac stood front and center in the middle of the road.

  The force of the stop threw Harrington into the dashboard. The impact prompted a scream of anguish. Gnashing his teeth, he grasped his shoulder.

  Gabriel grabbed the door handle and tried to escape before Harrington could gather his wits but found himself trapped in his seatbelt. Harrington yanked him back into the vehicle. He pressed the gun’s muzzle to Gabriel’s temple. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  Law enforcement officers clad in heavy armor moved in with weapons. Seeing dozens of weapons, all pointed in his direction, Gabriel held his breath.

  “We need to talk, Harrington.” Mac placed his hands on his hips—close enough to his holstered weapon to pull it if need be. “Let the boy go.”

  “No time to talk, Faraday!”

  “You know how this ends, Harrington! You’ve been in my shoes. It never ends well for those on your side. The only chance you have is to let Gabriel go.”

  “You don’t realize, Faraday,” Harrington said. “The cards are stacked in my favor. I’m ready to die, but I don’t think this kid is.”

  “If you were ready to die, you wouldn’t have taken a hostage,” Mac said.

  Where’s David? Isn’t he here? Gabriel searched the faces of the dozens of officers, but they were all wearing helmets and masks.

  “Don’t think I won’t kill him, Faraday! I killed Derringer. She was like a daughter to me, but I still did it!”

  “Why, Harrington? Why’d you kill her?” Mac stepped forward until he was only a few feet from the front of the SUV.

  “I told you that the other night. She followed too closely in my footsteps. She’d lost the point of my vision. I saw her coming out of Gannon’s room wearing a housekeeping uniform. When his room blew up, I knew what she’d done. Gannon was an ass, but he’d paid his price. Everyone I executed, I killed them for justice. I’d explained it all to her and she understood.
Her killing Gannon wasn’t about justice. It was about covering her own ass.”

  Gabriel noticed a movement in the side rearview mirror. Clad in a protective vest, David crept along the driver’s side of the SUV. Gabriel saw a thick bushy tail move behind him.

  He glanced back at Harrington. His eyes were focused on Mac directly in front of them. Mac was drawing Harrington’s attention away from David.

  “Isn’t that why you gunned down Bruno Gordon? To cover your ass after he found out that it was you, his boss, who’d tossed that pimp off the roof of a building?”

  “He just didn’t understand.”

  Gabriel slipped his left foot out the door and eased it further open to prevent Harrington from catching sight of David in the mirror. Moving slowly, he pressed his thumb on the latch to detach his seatbelt.

  “You say Derringer was like a daughter to you,” Mac said. “Did she know that you’d killed the only man she loved? Losing him broke her. You did that to her! You broke her!”

  Harrington’s face twisted with emotion. His grip on the boy’s arm loosened. Gabriel could feel David’s presence only inches away.

  “I am in position,” he heard David whisper into a radio. “Ready for scorpion.”

  Scorpion? What’s this about scorpions? Gabriel eased the strap of the seatbelt across his lap and out of the way. He was ready to move at a second’s notice.

  “You never told Derringer that it was you who killed Gordon, did you, Harrington?” Mac’s accusatory tone grabbed Harrington’s attention. “What did you say when she approached you to kill Brie and Trevor?”

  “They were sloppy!” Harrington said. “Polk was on a stake out. He was supposed to be watching his partner’s back. Instead, he was talking on the phone—having a lovers’ spat with Brie. She was a detective. She knew what it meant to be on surveillance. She shouldn’t have called him! But because she was drunk—”

  “It was your fault Gordon died! Not theirs!” Mac shouted. “You were the one who put a bullet through Gordon and killed him faster than a plate of scorpions.”

  David threw open the door, grabbed Gabriel by the shoulder, yanked him out with such force that he felt as if his heart was still sitting in the driver’s seat. It was almost as if David mistook him for the bad guy.

  Gabriel landed face first on the ground with David on top of him—pressing him flat onto the pavement to shield him from any gunfire. Before Harrington could take aim, Gnarly launched himself off of David’s back into the seat that Gabriel had vacated. The dog took Harrington’s hand into his jaws, clamped down on it and the gun, and shook.

  Harrington’s screams of anguish filled the air. The SUV rocked back and forth during the battle that ensued until the officers opened the passenger door to allow both to spill out onto the road.

  Gabriel tried to roll over to see what was happening, but David kept him pinned to the ground. “What’s going on?”

  “Our mayor is explaining his zero tolerance for crime policy,” David said.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Every time I saw that dog he was eating or sleeping.” With a groan, Harrington examined his arms and upper body. Both arms were bandaged up to above his elbows.

  Refusing to give up his fight with Gnarly for the gun, he had incurred forty-seven stitches on his hand and arm. As if that wasn’t painful enough, Harrington also suffered thirty-three stitches on his other arm when he tried to pull his backup weapon.

  The doctor also had to remove the bullet from Harrington’s shoulder. The untreated gunshot wound had become seriously infected. That meant an overnight stay in the hospital. With his arms bandaged, the police shackled Harrington to the bed by one of his ankles.

  “Who would have thought he had it in him.” There was a note of admiration for the dog in Harrington’s tone.

  “Gnarly’s unique.” Mac gestured for the sheriff deputy and Spencer police officer to step outside to allow the two men to talk alone.

  “Unique isn’t the word.” Harrington grimaced as he tried to move his fingers. “Most mayors I’ve run into are soft and lazy. That dog was a hundred pounds of fur, claws, and teeth.”

  “Would you rather we have shot you?”

  “You already did. I figured you’d take better aim if I gave you another chance.”

  Mac searched Harrington’s face for any sign that the old retired detective was joking. His mouth was a firm line. His eyes bore into Mac’s.

  “How many people have you personally judged and executed, Harrington?”

  “Fourteen.”

  “Is that counting Dani Derringer, Bruno Gordon, Brie Pratt, and Trevor Polk?”

  “No,” Harrington said. “Gordon had figured out that I had been there the night that pimp went off the roof. One of the hookers had seen me in one of my disguises—one that Gordon knew about. He was nice about it. Suggested that I stop doing what I had been doing and retire. I couldn’t quit. I told him that. I mean—those animals I killed were monsters. That pimp had abducted a young girl and beat the crap out of her. The courts let him go. Someone had to do something to stop him.”

  “Bruno Gordon wasn’t an animal,” Mac said. “He put himself on the line every single day trying to make the world a better place.”

  “I was making the world a better place.”

  “Vigilante justice does not make the world a better place, Harrington.” With a groan, Mac said, “Gordon offered you a chance to retire with dignity and you repaid him by putting a bullet through him in a dark alley. Then, you killed Brie Pratt and Trevor Polk on their wedding night—”

  Harrington’s arm shot up with his finger in the air—prompting a cry of pain. Grimacing, he lowered the arm. “I did not kill Pratt and Polk.”

  “Are you sure?” Mac realized as soon as the words escaped his lips what a bizarre question that was. How could Harrington not be sure?

  “I remember every single person I’ve killed—even the scum. I’d remember if I’d killed Pratt and Polk. Derringer convinced me to do it. I was going to do it. But Underwood beat me to it.”

  “When did Derringer ask you to kill her partner and Trevor Polk?”

  Gritting his teeth, Harrington grabbed his shoulder. “When are these pain meds going to kick in?”

  “Eventually,” Mac said. “Tell me about your conversation with Derringer.”

  “She came to me about a month before the wedding. She was hot. Seemed Brie had stopped drinking and was doing this ten-step program—on her own. One of the steps was confessing to those she wronged. She told Derringer that she had been fighting with Polk on the phone that night that Gordon got killed. She asked Derringer to forgive her.” He shook his head. “She couldn’t.”

  “Did she come to you to write Trevor up for being on the phone when his partner was killed or—”

  “Gordon had told her about me. She admired what I did and said that she felt that since Pratt and Polk were responsible for Gordon’s death, that I should take them out.”

  “Did she know that it was you who had put a bullet through Gordon?” Mac asked with a shake of his head.

  “I certainly wasn’t going to tell her that.”

  Mac squinted his eyes to blue slits. “Let me get this straight. You shot Bruno Gordon while he was on surveillance because he was going to tell me about your vigilantism. Then his lover, Dani Derringer asks you to kill Brie Pratt and Trevor Polk on their wedding night because she held them responsible for Gordon’s death. You agreed to do it, but you didn’t do it.”

  “Because Underwood beat me to it,” Harrington said in a firm tone. “I’ve admitted to executing fourteen scumbags, one blabbermouth detective, and one protégé who went off the deep end. Why would I lie about Pratt and Polk?”

  Seeing his point, Mac rubbed the back of his neck. “Did Derringer have any reason to think you would get cold feet?”

 
“Why would she think that?” Harrington asked. “If I say I’m going to do something, I do it. My employee evaluations always gave me excellent marks in reliability.”

  “You also consistently passed your psyche exams.”

  “You’re right there.”

  “My witness was right. You did shove Lou Gannon so that he’d spill his drink onto Trevor’s shirt,” Mac said. “That was to force them to go up to the honeymoon suite to change his shirt.”

  “Yes,” Harrington said. “I had a hotel service blazer and key card stashed away in a supply closet. As soon as I saw Pratt and Polk get on the elevator, I went to the closet. I had a portable mirror that I used to change my appearance. I remember I put on a blond wig and wore a light brown beard and mustache. I also used the same fake teeth that I wore yesterday at the Inn. Did you like those?”

  “The crooked discolored teeth?”

  “That’s the trick to disguises,” Harrington said. “It’s okay to stand out. Crooked teeth. An eyepatch. A limp. If you use one thing to make you stand out, then the witnesses will be so focused on that, that they won’t notice much else about you.”

  “But you did make a mistake,” Mac said.

  “Oh?”

  “You called me ‘Mr. Faraday.’ My employees call me ‘Mac.’”

  “Oh,” Harrington said. “I guess I’ve lost my attention to detail. I gave up vigilantism when I retired. We don’t get that many sleazebags up on my mountain.”

  “Are you telling me that you did all this set up to kill Pratt and Polk, but you didn’t do it?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” Harrington said, “Underwood beat me to it. When I got up to the bridal suite, I knocked on the door and there was no answer. I knew they were in there. So, I used the master keycard I had copied and went inside. They were already dead. Here I was with the champagne, ice bucket, glasses and everything, and someone had beat me to it. There was already an open bottle of champagne in the ice bucket.”