Текст книги "Coup De Grace"

Автор книги: Lani Lynn Vale

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Chapter 8

You touch my tats, I touch your tits.

-T-shirt

Michael

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

The sound of my Glock echoing off the cavernous walls of the gun range made me feel at peace.

Almost as good as I felt when I had Nikki wrapped in my arms, in fact.

Shooting was a peaceful feeling.

One that let me shut my mind down and just have fun.

I had to log so many hours in the gun range a month anyway, so it worked out well that I loved doing it.

What I didn’t love was the man at my back whining about the dirt he was getting on his clothes.

“I didn’t tell you to come,” I grumbled to my brother.

“No, but you didn’t react like I thought you would at dinner when we told you. I expected anger and you gave us nothing. Then left. I just wanted to make sure you were okay with this,” Dean said stubbornly.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

Placing the gun on the table in front of me, I took the magazine I’d just ejected from the gun and started to reload it.

“Michael, are you even listening to me?” Dean asked in frustration.

I ignored him.

I didn’t really know what he wanted me to say.

I’d already told him exactly what I thought about the matter: mostly that I didn’t care.

Not one single bit.

And he refused to think that I didn’t.

So we were at an impasse.

I didn’t care.

He cared too much that I didn’t care.

“Michael! Focus!” Dean roared.

I slammed the magazine into the gun, cocked it, and let off eight more shots, trying hard as fuck to ignore him.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

“Michael! Get out of your fucking head and talk to me!” Dean snarled, yanking my arm with the gun in it around so I faced him.

I holstered the empty gun and exploded.

“I am out of my fucking head, you moron! I’m not that fucked up mess I was when I was fifteen. I’m not ever ‘in my head’! Now keep your fucking hands off me, and for God’s sake, don’t yank a man’s arm when he has a gun in his hand!” I yelled back, getting into his face.

Dean stood his ground.

We were both the same height.

I was bigger, but only because I lifted weights.

Dean was in shape. Excellent shape. But he wasn’t me.

So when he raised both arms, reared back, and pushed me, I only went back inches.

Whereas when I did the same, he fell flat on his ass.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” I snarled, looking down at Dean.

Dean glared and stood up, brushing off his ass and his ‘brand new suit’ he just got.

“What I want is permission. I want to make sure this won’t cause any contention when she marries me,” he insisted.

I sighed and raised my hands up to my face, letting my fingers curl into what little hair I had.

“It’s not a bone of contention, Dean. I don’t love her and I haven’t for some time. When she cheated on me, that was it. Any and all love I felt for her was wiped off the face of the earth,” I said tiredly.

I never should’ve let Torres have my shift.

I should’ve taken the overtime and stayed at work.

This was bullshit.

I’d rather be doing anything but this right now.

He’d ruined a perfectly good day with his insistence that I wasn’t ‘okay.’

Dean looked stunned. “You’re lying. She told me you wouldn’t have a kid with her, that’s why y’all got divorced.”

I laughed humorlessly.

“I wouldn’t have a kid with her, that’s true. But what made me divorce her wasn’t that she wanted kids. It was because she slept with about fifteen men while we were married, and I only found out because she was sloppy and let some new doctor call her at home. He left a voicemail telling his ‘girl’ that he couldn’t make dinner, and that they needed a raincheck. Which got me curious since she was supposed to be at work at the time,” I told him honestly.

And damn but it felt good to get that shit off my chest!

I’d been holding that inside for a long time now.

It was hard to let my family think I was the bad guy for not wanting kids.

My mom resented me for that, I could tell. But I didn’t know how else to not tell anybody what had happened without Joslin being shunned from the family, so I kept my mouth shut.

“You’re lying,” Dean said without venom.

I could tell he believed me.

“Want the private dick’s files? I’ve got about two hundred photos of it happening in real time, too,” I offered.

He narrowed his eyes. “Why would you not tell us this? Why let us think badly of you?”

I smiled without humor.

“Mom loves Joslin. And Joslin has nobody else. I was just being nice,” I told him.

He sighed. “Goddammit. That’s not what I wanted to hear.”

I shrugged. “Sorry man.”

He looked at me for a few long moments before he said, “I love her, man.”

I nodded. “If you want to be with her, that’s good with me. I don’t care. Just be aware of her faults. And I won’t tell you I told you so.”

He flipped me off. “Fuck off.”

I smiled and patted him lightly on the back. “Now get the fuck out of here and let me enjoy the rest of my day.”

Grudgingly he left, and I couldn’t help but smile at the big brown stain on his ass from where he’d fallen in the dirt.

Served the fucker right for pestering me.

Turning around, I loaded my gun once again and started firing off shots at the piece of paper floating down range.

I was having a damn good time until I got a call, and what I heard made my stomach nearly drop to my feet.

***

“What’s going on, Luke?” I asked him as we walked, side by side, down the hallway to our conference room.

Luke opened the door and ushered me inside ahead of him.

I came to a stop just past the entrance when I was faced with multiple men in suits.

“What’s going on?” I asked again.

Luke walked past me and had a seat next to Chief Rhodes, who I was surprised to see was also in attendance.

“Take a seat, Perez. We have some things to discuss with you. Nothing you did wrong, though, so stop looking at me like that,” The Chief grumbled.

Smiling slightly, I walked to the chair on the other side of the chief and took a seat, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms over my chest.

The chief pushed over a file folder that was nearly an inch thick, and I took that to mean that he wanted me to open it and have a look.

And when I did, I wished I’d at least braced myself first.

“Goddammit, chief. Fuck you,” I said, pushing the file away from me and closing my eyes to control my urge to vomit.

“He’ll do,” the man I sat across from said.

He was in his early fifties and had brown hair peppered with gray throughout.

He was a thin man, and probably didn’t reach much over five and a half feet tall.

The other man at his side was burly with black hair and a deep tan. He was in his mid to late thirties with green eyes and a goatee.

I glared at the two of them.

“What the fuck is going on?” I growled.

I hated fucking games.

Just tell me what the fuck is going on already.

“This is Special Agent Troy Palmer, and this,” The Chief said, indicating the black man. “Is Special Agent Dane Elliott. They’re here to speak with you about the Cox case.”

The Cox Case was the murder suicide I’d first responded to.

“Yeah, so?” I asked tiredly.

Hell, was I tired. I was living off of only hours of sleep, and I could really use a few hours of shut eye before I had to deal with them and their shit.

Crime, however, didn’t wait for it to be convenient for all those involved.

Which Agent Palmer explained in the next second.

“We’ve discovered a few similarities in about ten murders throughout the Ark-La-Tex involving cops and their pregnant wives,” Agent Palmer said without preamble.

I blinked. “What?”

He pushed the file back to me, and I looked down at it, only now realizing what I’d thought was the murder I’d walked in on just two days prior wasn’t the one I’d thought it was.

It was a different one.

“Holy shit,” I said, surprised. “Are they all positioned this way?”

It was nearly identical.

The only thing different was the color of the tile floor they were laying on.

“We have reason to believe that you might have seen the man who did this on your way to the scene. We’ve had three witnesses saying they saw a man walking his dog down the street just down the road from the crime scene. Black hoodie. Black jeans. Black dog.”

I thought back to the day I’d driven to the crime scene.

Remembered passing the mobile home park sign, then seeing a black dog off to the side of the road that I passed.

I remembered thinking that the owner needed to get the dog the fuck out of the way when he heard lights and sirens blaring.

“Yeah, I saw him,” I confirmed, thinking back to the man in question. “Black hoodie. Black pants. Red shoe strings in the shoes. Dog had a red collar with black lettering on it. Black lab.”

Agent Elliott took notes on his pad of paper as I spoke.

The other one just watched me closely.

“Any cars in the area?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Actually, no. I passed four houses before I got to theirs and hadn’t seen a single one. The couple had two cars in the driveway as well as a red mid-sized sedan belonging to the elderly couple. I did pass an abandoned car with hazard lights on pointing in the opposite direction I’d been going, but I also saw a man walking away from the car in a white t-shirt and khaki pants.”

The agent nodded. “Good. Thanks.”

“We have reason to believe that the man’s a practicing doctor in the area. Or a nurse. Or a midwife. Possibly a registrar at the hospital. Each woman that’s been killed, their only connection, is them being in the same doctor’s office that practices in the Ark-La-Tex. It’s a large one that has over eight offices and seven doctors serving it. Only four of the doctors travel over the state line, and we’ve made a note of those four in this chart,” Agent Palmer said, sliding the three of us a stack of papers.

I scanned the names on the list as well as the pictures.

I didn’t recognize any of them.

“So what do you need from us?” Chief Rhodes asked bluntly.

They both shook their head, but Palmer was the one to answer.

“Nothing. Not yet anyway. We’ve already been privy to the reports, photos, and crime scene data. We just ask that, if you encounter another one of these, you call us. We’ve been working this case for a little over two years now, and so far we have just as much now as we did then. A bunch of nothing,” he said simply.

I looked down at the papers in front of me, recording the faces of all the four doctors into my memory bank so I’d have it later if I had need of it.

“As for why you’re here, Officer Perez, it’s just so that we can congratulate you for saving that child. He’s our first survivor, and I never wished more that a baby could talk than I do right now,” he said dejectedly.

I completely agreed.

I’d wished the same thing.

I didn’t know what kind of heartless person could shoot an innocent baby like that, but whomever it was needed a single shot to the heart as his final coup de grâce.

“So is it a coincidence that all these men are cops?” Chief Rhodes asked as he looked through his own folder.

I flipped to the page behind the one I’d stopped looking at and saw what he was talking about.

Longview Police. Kilgore Police. Shreveport Police. Gun Barrel Police. Gilmer Police. Bossier City Police. Benton Police. Tyler Police. Waskom Police. Hallsville Police.

“What the fuck?” I exhaled.

Not only did they kill pregnant women and babies, but the fucker was a cop killer as well.

“So you have nothing, is what I’m understanding?” I asked carefully.

The two of them nodded. “Nada.”

I linked my fingers together, and steepled them while tapping the first two together.

I was a fidgeter.

Like major.

I couldn’t sit still for anything, something I’d learned to live with.

It drove my friends and family nuts. It was what it was, though. Nothing I could do to change that.

“I have a couple of people that might be able to help us, and Luke’s brother in law is a part of The Dixie Wardens MC. They’re in the town of Benton, Louisiana. One of the cities you named. He can talk to them and see what he can dig up. I can do the same through my resources. Go from there,” I offered.

Both men looked at me, moved their eyes to Luke, then settled them on Chief Rhodes.

“You vouched for them. If this gets leaked to the press, there’ll be a public outrage. You understand that, right?” Agent Palmer confirmed.

Agent Rhodes nodded. “My boys wouldn’t give this kind of information to just anyone. I trust them implicitly.”

Finally, the two nodded and stood to leave. “Keep us informed, and we’ll do the same.”

With that they left, and the three of us sat there silently for a few long moments.

“If this gets out, I’ll kick both of your asses,” The Chief rumbled.

I smiled down at my hands before standing. “I’ll get it done on my part. Luke, you gonna talk to the Wardens?”

Luke nodded and stood, pulling out his phone. “Yeah, I got it.”

With that, we all split up, me heading to Free, and Luke heading to Louisiana.

It was going to be a long rest of the day.

Chapter 9

Dear teenagers, complaining about life is like a toddler complaining about nap time. You’ve only seen the tip of the monster’s dick. Just fucking wait!

-Michael’s secret thoughts

Michael

“Get up off the floor or I’ll make you get up,” I growled at the stupid teenager who’d tried to boost my truck.

I’d had that bastard stolen twice, or nearly, in the same fuckin’ day, and this time I was not amused.

“I didn’t do anything!” The boy yelled, refusing to move.

With no other options, I moved the boy myself, all under the crowd’s watchful eyes as they watched the entire thing take place.

Rolling him over onto his back I stared down at him in contempt.

“What did you think you were going to do? How far did you think you could get? You nearly stole a police officer’s truck,” I hissed. “Not to mention I have GPS on it that I could’ve activated. Then there’s the fact that every cop in the city would be looking for you because you don’t steal something from a cop without consequences. You’d have every single cop in the state looking for your dumbass. Not get the fuck up off the ground and go sit on the fuckin’ bench like I asked you.”

He did.

Reluctantly.

Very reluctantly.

The boy was fifteen, at most, with an attitude that said he usually got whatever the fuck he wanted.

Well not fucking today.

I’d walked into the convenience store to get my receipt, but decided that I could use a Gatorade while I was in there.

When I turned the corner of the snack aisle, I came upon the fifteen year old shoving candy bars down his pants.

He wasn’t even being conspicuous about it.

They were so full already that you could see the large bulge, as well as the orange wrappers sticking out the top of his pocket.

Then he ran.

I had to give it to the boy, he was quick.

He’d made it past me and into the parking lot before I’d even pushed out the door toward him.

Lucky for me, and unlucky for him, I’d caught him at my truck.

All he’d seen was a truck running with the windows down.

Sadly, I still had the keys in my hand and had turned the truck off before he could even get it into drive.

He’d looked at me like I was the grim reaper, as he should since he’d been sitting in my truck.

Then he tried to bail out the other side’s window, but only managed to fall on his face.

“Why’d you steal those?” I asked, gesturing to the pile of candy bars and bottle of milk that was in a pile at his feet.

He shrugged.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

A cruiser’s chirp-chirp of the siren going on and off quickly had me looking up as Miller, another member of the SWAT team, pulled up.

He stepped out of the cruiser and moved his glasses up to the top of his head.

“Saint,” Miller said, nodding his head.

I nodded back, choosing not to call him on the use of the nickname that I hated.

I was not a saint.

Far from it, in fact.

Now wasn’t the time or place for it, though.

“What’cha got, Saint?” Miller asked, taking in the scene.

“Fifteen or sixteen year old male stealing candy from the 7-11. I caught him red handed, and he ran. Tried to get away fast by taking my truck, but he didn’t make it far. And here we are now. He was just about to tell us his name,” I explained lightly.

Miller nodded. “What’s your name, boy?”

The boy glared at Miller with all the heat and venom a fifteen year old could muster.

I could’ve told him that he was wasting his time, but teenagers didn’t seem to have that comprehension when they were mad.

When the boy refused, I shrugged and told him to stand.

He didn’t.

“You know, this can go one of two ways. One,” I said holding up a finger. “You can just cooperate. Stand up, tell us your name, let us check you, and we’ll get you booked downtown. Or two, you can refuse to do all of those things, we can force you to do them, and you still go down town.”

The boy glared at me, and then moved his gaze to a car at the far corner of the parking lot.

Following his gaze, I narrowed my eyes when I saw what he was looking at.

“Who’s in that car?” I asked, glancing back at the boy.

He closed his lips tightly, then looked down at his feet.

A shared glance with Miller had me walking over the pile of candy bars and milk to the car that was parked underneath the 7-11 sign.

The closer I got, the more worried I became.

Because I could see a car seat in the car.

Two car seats.

Holy shit.

I opened the door with suddenly shaking hands, scared to death at what I’d find.

I’d seen some bad shit in my time, but the moment I opened that door, I knew nothing could be worse.

Two starving children looked up at me from hollowed eyes.

Neither was crying, and neither looked particularly scared of me.

Interested. Hopeful, maybe. Scared? No.

“Miller,” I called loudly. “Put him in your car and get over here.”

Miller tossed a look over his shoulder at me. I stepped back to allow him to see the closest car seat, and his eyes widened.

His mouth dropped open and he turned back to the kid that looked defeated.

Now I understood why he’d stolen the candy bars.

And the milk.

I had no doubt in my mind now as to the character of the kid.

Desperation makes a man do funny things.

I picked up the smaller baby first.

She felt extremely tiny in my hands.

So tiny I couldn’t even gauge how old she was.

Miller joined me as soon as I fit the baby into the crook of my arm, sidling up to my side.

“What the fuck?” He asked in denial at what he was seeing.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

It was more than obvious that the children hadn’t been well cared for.

Their clothes were dirty.

The car itself smelled horrid.

The little boy in the car seat looked at the two of us with a smile, but that smile didn’t meet his eyes.

The deep circles under his eyes, as well as the hollowness to them, showed that he was anything but healthy.

“Get the other one,” I ordered.

Miller circled around the car and picked up the boy from his car seat.

The boy wrapped his skinny fingers around Miller’s mic cord, and smiled so brightly that it hurt my heart.

The little girl in my arms cooed and I looked down in awe.

As a police officer, there are times that you’re not going to experience nice things.

Although this wasn’t the ideal situation, they were both alive, and had a fighting chance that they didn’t have before.

Something I counted as a check in my win column.

I felt like I was carrying air as I walked back to the police cruiser.

Miller didn’t look like he was carrying much more as he got on the mic.

“I’ll need a bus here. Got two babies in need of some medical attention,” he said quietly, smiling down at the little boy who made a grab for his mic.

The boy looked scared shitless the closer we got to Miller’s cruiser, and by the time I opened the door to the cruiser he looked like he was about ready to bail out. Straight through the glass window.

“Alright son,” I said, dropping down to my knees beside him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

He looked sort of green, but it was then that I noticed that his heart was in his eyes as he looked at the children.

“They’re mine,” he croaked.

I blinked. “They’re yours?”

He nodded.

“Yeah,” he rasped.

“How old are you?” I asked.

He swallowed. “Fourteen. Fifteen in two months.”

My heart started to race.

“They’re yours,” I stated for clarification.

He nodded again.

“Yeah,” he confirmed.

I looked up at Miller, then back at the boy.

“What’s your name?” I asked softly.

He looked down at his hands.

“Madden,” he said quietly.

“Madden, you’re not even old enough to be on your own yet. How do you have two kids? And why are you on your own? Where’s the baby’s mother?” I continued.

He bit his lip, and looked up at me with eyes that were shining with tears.

“I stole them from her. She wasn’t taking care of them,” he cried. “Not like they needed to be taken care of.”

I refrained from saying that he wasn’t doing too good of a job either, and nodded my head. “Who’s the mother?”

“She’s…she’s my stepmother. And I stole them away from her while her and my father were high. They were…doing stuff that I didn’t like. And she was smoking around the baby. I didn’t like that. I had to get them out. I had to. They would’ve died. She would’ve killed them,” he insisted pleadingly. “She already smoke and drank throughout her pregnancies. She didn’t even go to the hospital to have them!”

I looked down at the baby in my arms, saw the frailness to her, and started to get mad.

Not at him, no.

But at the situation.

“When did you take them?” I asked softly.

He bit his lip. “Last night.”

Jesus, so this was how they were from her, not him.

“Alright, Madden. How about you come take a ride on the medic with your kids. From there we’ll figure this out, okay?”

He nodded, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands.

“Thank you,” he croaked, voice cracking like all adolescent boys do at that age.

Jesus, this was one sick, fucked up situation.

Fucked Up. With a capital F and U.