Chapter Nine
Charlie
He’d shot Deidre Logan, what was he thinking? The paperwork might kill me if my blood pressure didn’t do me in. I hurried into the house, hoping Deidre was still alive. I didn’t trust Marcone or his trigger-happy ways. The man pissed me off while standing there looking all sexy. He’d provoked me, then laughed. Anger fueled me as I walked into the scene in the kitchen.
Inside, Deidre lay immobile and Archer and the other guy were trying to imitate caterpillars to get to the back door. They weren’t making much progress. “Stop. This is the Oklahoma City Police, you are under arrest.”
Both guys froze, Archer twisted his head to look back at me with a snarl on his face. Brie stepped up behind me and laughed. “They’re tied up tighter than hogs.”
True enough. The bounty hunters had done the hard part and the fun part—now a mountain of paperwork awaited them.
Soon the house was full of uniforms, and they cut apart the disposable cuffs and recuffed all three suspects. The Logans we knew, but the other guy had no ID and he wasn’t talking. In fact, he’d already requested his attorney, which made me suspicious. Deidre was treated by the EMTs then put in a car for the jail. I wasn’t letting her get to a hospital where she might escape. We weren’t losing them again.
It took me about an hour before Brie and I made it back to the bounty hunters. They’d asked to speak to us after they’d received the receipt for Archer. What else did they need to say? Today was a big day, and I didn’t need him distracting me.
Brie sat next to the kid on the sagging front porch, leaving a spot open next to Marcone, but I bypassed that seat and stood in the yard, facing the three of them. I needed the distance. Marcone smirked at me.
“So what do you need?” I fisted hands on my hips.
“What do you know about the third guy?” Brie shot me a look. “He had no ID.”
“Nada.” He frowned. “He did try and threaten us so we’d release him. Said I’d be sorry if I didn’t let him go...we weren’t impressed.” Marcone cleared his throat. “But we do have more information.”
“So spit it out,” I demanded. We had too much to do for games.
He grinned at me. “When we found the Logans’ car, I appropriated Deidre’s journal.”
What the hell? He’d taken evidence. “I could arrest you for obstruction of justice.” The man just stomped all over the laws I upheld.
“You could.” His smart-ass smile only widened. “But you wouldn’t even have been there without me, wouldn’t have any of that evidence.”
“You have some fucking nerve,” Brie shot back. “Being the captain’s friend only goes so far.”
“This is about me, not Danvers. He doesn’t know about the journal.” Marcone defended the captain. Interesting.
The feel of his lips on mine flashed through my mind. I shut that away. No kisses from him ever again.
“Okay, so here it is.” He handed me a black journal. “It’ll seal the deal for Deidre. Also, I have three different identities they purchased. You can track their movements with those.”
“How did you—”
“Don’t ask,” Brie interrupted. “You’re trouble,” she growled at Marcone. “I’ll be glad to see the last of you.”
“We’re out, call me when you want to do the full statement.” He handed each of us a shiny black card that said Brotherhood Bonds with two phone numbers. “The second number is my cell.” He gave us a two-finger salute and strutted away. The young kid fell in behind him.
* * *
It was two hours before we made it back to the station to begin interviewing the three suspects. I’d been antsy to get to the suspects—the farmhouse wasn’t as important as the people—that’s where the true answers would be found.
Brie took Archer and I would grill Deidre; we hoped to get more information on the third guy before we questioned him. So far we didn’t even have a name, let alone more information to work with. While he’d asked for an attorney, we were keeping client and counsel separated until someone provided a valid identification. So far the lawyer hadn’t produced any ID. We were at a stalemate.
I watched Deidre in the interview room through the two-way glass. She was calm, almost serene, while waiting. That wasn’t normal, not even close to normal. How could I get her to open up? I skimmed the journal again, zeroing in on her ego, her pride in these crimes. I’d use it against her, get her to reveal who the third man was. It was all about the mystery man at this point.
I sucked in a breath and walked into the interrogation room. Deidre changed when I walked through the door. She drew in a breath and sobbed. “I thought you forgot about me. I’m hurt. That man shot me. Did you arrest him?” Tears ran down her face.
“We’re investigating it.” I sat down across from her. “I need to repeat your revised Miranda warning.” I read her the statement. “Do you understand?”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t me, it was all Archer.” She sniffed and wiped her nose on her arm.
This girl could act.
I put on a sympathetic face. “That’s too bad, you were spotted in the getaway car. You’ll go to jail for the murder and robberies, likely life in prison.”
“But I’m only twenty-two, I can’t go to prison,” she wailed.
I patted her arm. “It’s too bad you don’t have any information to bargain with.”
Cold calculation flashed in her green eyes and left. “I can’t, I mean, a wife can’t testify against her husband.”
“Of course not, but then I don’t need any evidence to convict Archer, or you, for that matter.” I delivered the blow with soft precision. She began weeping, not that I believed it for a minute. “Let me get you some tissues. Do you need food or a drink?”
“Yes, please. A Coke sure would hit the spot.” She gave me a watery smile.
I left interrogation and Captain walked out of the observation room. “Does she really think we’re so stupid?”
“I think she’s used to manipulating people, so why would she doubt her abilities. She doesn’t know we have the journal. I’m hoping to get her to turn on the mystery man.”
“We have an ID the lawyer produced. Michael Sullivan. His driver’s license is from Nevada. It appears to be his real name, but they might’ve had time to manufacture a new identity. It’s all strange.” Danvers walked with me down to vending where I got Deidre a Snickers and a Coke. “I’m going to watch you for a bit. Jeffers is watching Brie, and we’re staying in touch.”
“Got it, text me if you need me to come out. Right now, I want to be her only lifeline.” Deidre had no chance at winning the game she played, but I did. And I’d do about anything to win.
I walked back into interrogation with the junk food and a box of tissues.
Deidre made a production of wiping her eyes and drinking the Coke. Fifteen minutes passed before I asked my next question. She’d had plenty of time to decide if she wanted to roll over on the mystery man.
“Why was the third man at the farmhouse today?”
“That was Archer’s thing,” she whined.
“Then we don’t have anything else to discuss. I’ll have a guard return you to the detention center.” I stood up. “Good luck, I won’t see you again.”
“Wait, why? Will I be out on bail?”
I laughed and Deidre reddened. “You won’t get bail, no—you will go straight from our jail to prison. If you’re lucky you’ll be out before you’re sixty.”
“Sixty?” she screeched. “I can’t go to jail. It wasn’t me.”
“As an accomplice you’ll get the same sentence, or worse, if Archer makes a deal.”
A crafty look crossed her face. “What kind of deal?”
“No death penalty, a reduced sentence. We need information to keep the third guy in custody. Whoever gives it to us first will get the deal, but you don’t—”
“I might know something.”
Of course she did. She had been right in the middle of the plans. Her diary had made that obvious, but she had to think she was playing me or my house of cards would crumble.
“That would be so helpful,” I admitted. “We hate to see someone walk, so we’d be so grateful if you shared anything.” Maybe I’d laid it on too thick.
She preened. “How grateful?”
“A reduced sentence for sure.”
“No more than ten years,” Deidre demanded in a haughty tone.
“If it leads to an arrest, I’d make that deal.” Of course the prosecutor was the only one who could make such a deal.
“Promise?” She eyed me.
“Promise.” Not that my promise meant anything.
She held my gaze a long moment, trying to read me, maybe, but I was as practiced a liar as she was. Most people didn’t buy my lies. Deidre hadn’t learned that lesson, yet.
“He’s with the mob in Vegas.” She spoke low, selling her performance. “I don’t know his name, his real name, but Archer called him Mighty Mickey. He was supposed to buy our marked money, but was only paying us half.” She pouted.
It was fortunate Marcone hadn’t seen it that way or we’d still be chasing the Logans. I hated to admit it, but he had much more efficient tactics than the PD, but then he wasn’t bound by the law. I was a rule follower.
“How did Archer contact him?” Maybe they were connected to the mob.
“He had this friend from high school who knew the guy who made our IDs and Mickey. Arch said his friend was in the know, and he delivered. If it wasn’t for that damn bounty hunter, you’d never have caught us.”
We’d have caught them, they weren’t smart enough, and they liked violence too much. They wouldn’t have stopped, couldn’t have stopped, on their own. Although it was much more likely it would’ve ended with the Logans dead, it would have ended. I liked the idea of Deidre in jail. She was a deadly viper who would only poison the real world with her venom.
I walked out of the room, Deidre’s protests merely background noise. We had the lead we needed without making a deal.
“Way to work her.” Danvers grinned down at me. “You were an artist in there. I have detectives pulling the information on Mickey. But you get the first crack at him. You earned it.”
I gave a satisfied nod. Danvers was a good captain despite his questionable friendship with Marcone. I appreciated the way he’d allowed me and Brie to take the first crack at the Logans. Some of the brass would have handed the whole case over to the most senior detectives despite the fact we made the bust.
Brie stood in observation, watching Mickey and his lawyer. Both were cool customers.
“Here’s what we know.” Brie nodded to me and the captain. “Mighty Mickey is a deal maker and tough guy in the Franco organization in Vegas. He’s been arrested dozens of times, almost convicted once, but the witnesses disappeared. Two of them no one’s ever found, or the bodies most likely.”
“If he can’t explain his presence there then we have him dead to rights.” Danvers rubbed his hands together. “Go see what he has to say.”
I glanced at Brie and she grinned at me. “Let’s kick his ass.”
We walked into interrogation. “Mighty Mickey, you’re a long way from home,” I greeted him.
“You will release my client, this is a case of mistaken—”
“No mistake.” Brie slapped down a photo of Mickey from when he’d been arrested in Vegas. “We got him buying dirty money.”
The lawyer snapped his mouth shut. “We have nothing more to say to you. Mr. Sullivan is clearly being set up.”
“We’ll talk, you listen.” I leaned forward. “Mickey, you have connections, known associates in the Franco organization—strike one. You were in a room with two criminals and thousands in stolen money—strike two.”
“Unless you can explain that fact away,” Brie interjected.
Mickey smiled but it wasn’t the least bit friendly—it gave me the chills. His stony eyes bore into me and his silence spoke volumes. He wasn’t new to this game.
“And we have two witnesses putting you there with intent to launder money—maybe this could even go beyond you and splash back on your associates.” Brie gave him her own big smile. “It’s our lucky day.” She glanced at the four-leaf clover tattooed on Mickey’s forearm. “You believe in luck? Karma, maybe?”
Mickey leaned forward. “I’m the luckiest bastard you ever met. Others not so much.” The threat lay heavy between us.
“Right, that luck has run out.” I stared down at him. “Why were you in that farmhouse?”
He glared at me.
“Were you there because Gino Franco wanted you there?” Brie didn’t miss a beat.
We hammered him with questions, but he didn’t so much as flinch. It was like he’d checked out. His lawyer was equally silent. After an hour we left, Mickey wasn’t ever going to crack. We’d keep trying but I’d interviewed enough bad guys to know the outcome.
We walked out of the interview room, and the two senior detectives met us. “Now that toddler time is over, we’ll get to the bottom of this.” One of them strode past me, bumping my shoulder. He was an asshole. And they’d get nothing from Mickey.
The associate prosecutor met us in the hallway. “I’m going to meet with Deidre, offer a deal in exchange for her testimony against Mickey.”
While I hated the idea of Deidre getting any breaks, we couldn’t pass up the chance to take out a major player like Mighty Mickey.
“The feds are already on the way. They want a crack at him too.” The prosecutor grinned at us. “But we know that won’t happen—no one will crack that guy. The lawyer is there to be sure no one does. I want Deidre tied up before the feds do something to screw up our case.”
He strutted down the hall. Everyone was full of it tonight.
“The feds?” I looked at Brie. “We just hit the big leagues.”
* * *
Brie and I spent two solid days wrapping up the paperwork from the Logan case. The grind of paperwork all day long had almost driven me crazy. I had become a police officer to protect and serve not to be buried in bureaucracy. But one came with the other. Brie and I had the weekend off. She headed to the lake while I spent a quiet weekend at home except for the family dinner on Saturday. With four children in police work, family dinners were last-minute affairs that often got interrupted by our jobs. My mom had become an ace at juggling family dinners to gather most of us together on a semi-regular basis.
At home, I slid the homemade cheesecake into the oven. I enjoyed cooking but rarely bothered for just me. I survived on Mom’s home-cooked meals and takeout. Tonight we were celebrating Mom’s birthday and she shouldn’t have to make her own dessert, so I’d volunteered.
While it baked I surfed the web at my kitchen table. I was looking for prints for my walls. I’d moved into this place about a year ago but hadn’t found time to buy new art or decorate much. It was something Mom harassed me about every time she came over. While I had downtime, I wanted to check this to-do off my list. I liked Impressionist paintings, all soft and fuzzy, but that didn’t really fit my furniture—it was more modern. I should redecorate from top to bottom but that was too much work.
The timer beeped before I found anything I liked. Saved by the bell. I removed the cheesecake to cool and went up to my bedroom to change out of my scruffy weekend clothes.
An hour later, I knocked on the door to the house where I’d grown up. I opened the door shouting, “I’m here,” then came inside. My parents’ living room was an explosion of warm colors that welcomed me. I wished I had a house like this but that took work. One day, I’d find the time to create a home like I’d planned to do after Jensen and I married. We’d stayed traditional, not living together even though we were engaged.
After he died, I’d had to change things, starting with a new place and hand-me-down furniture from my brothers. My house and furniture had memories worn into them and that had been too painful, too lonely. I had no idea a chair could cause me to cry until Jensen died. Then every time I looked at it, I remembered how I’d sat on his lap when he’d asked me to marry him, kissing him and saying yes. We’d done lots more on that chair. It was the first thing I got rid of.
Setting the cheesecake in the fridge, I headed outside to the deck. Noise filtered through the screen door. Already two brothers were in the back with my parents. Mom was holding her first grandbaby and Dad was grilling. Happiness settled inside me. I could count on my family—they were always right there for me. Being the youngest, and only girl, my brothers were a little too protective, but I’d learned to work them.
“Baby girl, glad you made it,” Dad boomed from the yard where he and my brother were arguing over grilling technique.
I kissed Mom’s cheek. “Happy birthday.”
“Thanks, sweetie, go distract your dad before he and your brother come to blows.” She winked at me. “He wants to hear all about your big case.”
I headed down the steps past my sisters-in-law and to the grill, a brick affair Dad had built by hand.
“Hey, Pops, you burning the chicken?” We all liked to give him crap about his habit of cooking chicken until black.
“Yeah,” said John Jr., the oldest. “He doesn’t understand the art of grilling.”
“Johnny, you’re such an ass.” I kissed his cheek.
“What Charlotte said,” Dad growled.
“She said you’re burning the chicken.” Johnny laughed. “So now you’re a big league detective.” He glanced up and down. “Still look like a runt to me.”
I was barely five four and all the men in my family topped six foot. “And this runt brought down the bad guys.”
“That’s my girl. The first detective in the family and now a superstar. Everyone’s talking about you and Brie.” Dad had spent his years in the command structure, finishing up as a patrol captain. He went to coffee every week with his cronies and all they did was gossip.
“I heard it was some biker who broke the case. You rode in after the hard work was done.” Johnny always knew what to say to irritate the hell out of me.
“You heard wrong,” I groused.
He laughed, knowing he’d gotten under my skin.
“I heard you rode on his bike on the first chase. Are you a biker babe now?”
I blushed and hated it. “Shut up.” I punched his arm.
“Stop tormenting your sister.” Dad smacked Johnny in the head. “Go bother your wife.”
Johnny stuck out his tongue as he walked away. Some things never changed.
“So how was your first big takedown?”
“Exciting. But when I had the wife in the box that was awesome. I used her vanity against her and she told me exactly what we needed.” My body tingled with the remembered feeling of adrenaline. It had been a glorious day. “The mob guy is in it now. We have him tied up tight.” Satisfaction shot through me. This was why I’d become a detective. I wanted to make a difference on the big cases.
My two oldest brothers served on the front line for the Highway Patrol, following Dad’s career path. It was too early to say where my youngest brother would end up, but for now, he was a motorcycle cop in the patrol division.
“You be careful, cops have ended up dead when the mob is involved.” Dad frowned at me. “These guys hold grudges.”
I dismissed his concerns. The mob was in Vegas, which was a long way from here. “I will be fine.”
Dad nodded. “You and this biker...?”
What was he asking? “He was a royal pain in the ass. I’d have liked to arrest him for obstruction but he has ties to Danvers.”
And he kissed me senseless. Not a thought to have while talking to Dad.
“So you’re not involved? I’d heard—”
“Stop. You know most of what cops say is bullshit. There’s nothing between us. Like I’d date someone like him.” I doubted he dated, but I’d like another taste.
Stop it, now, I chided myself. Maybe it was time to date again if one kiss made me this crazy.
“Good. You know you can’t reclaim your reputation once it’s gone.”
I nodded. Dad had sat me down and told me the harsh truth about cops when I’d announced my decision to join the force. The blue line might protect its women members but the double standard was huge. Things male cops were praised for—being aggressive, promiscuous or reckless—were not for women. Once you crossed that line, people treated you different. Put you on the outside. I never wanted to end up there.
Spending time with my family always recharged me and I went home more relaxed than I’d been in weeks. Now if I could scrub the random thoughts of Marcone out of my head, life would be perfect.