Within Plain Sight

by Bruce Robert Coffin

  “I heard you had another one last week.”

  Gardiner frowned. “Yeah. That makes five.”

  “How’s it going?”

  “Not great. I’m hoping that they’ll screw something up, maybe leave some evidence behind, but nothing yet. Anyway, yesterday I was walking around CID thinking, you know? Do you ever do that?”

  Byron grinned. “Dwelling is the word I believe you’re searching for. And yes, I do.”

  “Well, I brought my leftovers in here so I could eat at the table instead of my desk. Maybe watch the news.”

  Byron saw where this going.

  “I wasn’t being nosy, honest. But someone had forgotten to cover up the whiteboard and I couldn’t help but see it.”

  Gardiner was referring to the detective’s practice of covering the case intelligence board at the end of the day so that some civilian, or even another cop not associated with the investigation, wouldn’t accidentally get a look at something they shouldn’t see. Gruesome crime scene photos and suspect information were frequently part of the intel. They covered the board with heavy brown packing paper from a roll that stood on the floor in the corner of the room.

  “It’s not a big deal, Luke,” Byron said, wanting to add that he should have been working the case with them anyway. He held the thought back. “Was there some reason you’re telling me this?”

  “I recognized one of the names on the board.”

  “Which?”

  They both turned to look at the whiteboard. Gardiner approached the board and pointed. “This one. Stephen Holcolm.”

  “How do you know Holcolm?” Byron asked.

  “His name came up on my burglary cases. All the homes that have been burglarized have alarm systems.”

  “The same company?”

  “No, two different companies. But Holcolm has worked for both. He left Home Secure six months ago. Since then he’s been working installations for Residential One Detection Services.”

  Byron knew that former security employees were routinely looked at whenever their prior employment gave them insider knowledge into the homes or businesses targeted in burglaries.

  “History?” Byron asked.

  “No. Both companies say he’s a great employee. Hardworking, polite. Other than a couple of driving infractions, I couldn’t find anything criminal. Do you mind if I ask how he’s connected to this case?”

  “He’s a friend and business partner of the victim’s ex-boyfriend. You like him for the burglaries?”

  “Yes and no. He certainly would know the layout of the homes, how to bypass the alarms, and what the owners were trying to protect, but he has an alibi for each of the jobs.”

  Interesting coincidence that Holcolm had supplied an alibi for Bates in the Faherty case, Byron thought. He mulled it over for a moment. “Maybe he isn’t doing the jobs himself. Could be he’s telling someone else which houses to hit.”

  “I thought about that, but if he is, I have yet to figure out who.”

  “Who were his alibis for the burglaries?” Byron asked.

  “The same guy alibied him for all the break-ins.”

  “Who?” Byron asked.

  Gardiner pointed to another name on the board. “This guy. Morgan Bates.”

  Byron’s eyes widened.

  Byron picked up the phone and called down to the shift commander.

  “Patrol, Lieutenant Price.”

  “LT, it’s John Byron.”

  “Hey, John. You still burning both ends of the candle?”

  “Always. Listen. Lieutenant LeRoyer said he was going to contact you guys to cancel the surveillance details. Did he follow through yet?”

  “I think so, but hold on a sec. I’ll check and see if the officers who were assigned have actually been called.”

  Byron waited impatiently. The connection between the men was already known, but the connection to both cases couldn’t be a coincidence. Something was wrong here. Could Danica have found out something that got her killed? Something about the safe jobs?

  Price was back on the line clearing the nicotine from his lungs directly into Byron’s ear. Byron held the phone away from himself, in disgust. “You still there, John?”

  “Right here,” Byron said, returning the handset to his ear. “What’d you find out?”

  “According to Dispatch they were both called and informed that the jobs had been canceled about two o’clock.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  Byron ended the call and looked at Gardiner. “Wanna take a ride?”

  “Sure.”

  Byron and Detective Gardiner were outbound on Franklin Arterial crossing Cumberland when Byron’s cell rang.

  “Byron,” he answered.

  “Sarge, it’s Gostkowski up in Dispatch.”

  “Hey, Dale. What’s up?”

  “You know that Elmer Faherty guy you were looking for?”

  “Yeah, we found him already, thanks. He’s no longer a problem.”

  “Well, I hate to differ, but we just received a 911 call from some guy named Holcolm. Says Elmer Faherty’s holding his friend at gunpoint on Longwood.”

  Chapter 19

  Sunday, 6:00 p.m.,

  July 16, 2017

  Byron disconnected the call and activated the Ford’s emergency lights and siren.

  “What is it?” Gardiner asked.

  “Faherty’s on Longwood. He’s holding Morgan Bates at gunpoint.”

  “Shit,” Gardiner said.

  Realizing that the unmarked’s base radio had been inadvertently turned down, Byron reached down and cranked the volume. He punched the speed dial on his cell for Melissa Stevens.

  Forty-five minutes later Byron and Gardiner were seated inside the mobile command post next to the Special Reaction Team commander, Lt. Price. Given that it was the early out shift, 4:00 p.m. to 2:00 a.m., and half of the SRT was already working, it only took minutes to set up a containment perimeter around the Bates house on Longwood. Regardless of the outcome inside the home, nobody would be fleeing this scene.

  Price, wearing a Bluetooth headset, was engaged in a heated exchange. Byron guessed the assistant chief was on the line; Price was having a hard time getting a word in edgewise. Seated next to Price was the SRT communications specialist, Officer Damon Roberts. Roberts was awaiting instructions on how best to proceed with Faherty.

  “Goddammit,” Price said as he removed the headset and tossed it on the counter.

  “Rumsfeld?” Byron asked.

  “Yeah,” Price said. “He’s fucking unhinged.”

  And on borrowed time, Byron thought.

  “You want me to call him, Lieu?” Roberts asked.

  Price stared at him a moment without speaking. Byron knew the SRT commander was weighing his options. Price turned to Byron. “How well do you know this Faherty guy?”

  “Not very well. I’ve only spoken to him a couple of times. He was pissed at me the first time and lied to me the second.”

  “Yeah? That’s still two more times than Damon has spoken with him. You think you can talk him out of killing this Bates guy?”

  Byron wasn’t sure if he even wanted to. If Morgan Bates had murdered Dani Faherty, and mutilated her corpse, maybe he deserved to be put down by her father. Except Byron couldn’t allow Elmer Faherty to fuck up his own life any more than it already was, and although Bates was on their radar Byron still didn’t know for sure who had killed Dani.

  “I’ll try,” Byron said at last.

  A uniformed officer banged on the door to the CP. “LT, Chief Lynds just pulled up. Along with a news van.”

  “Great,” Price said as he stood and headed for the door. “Hold that thought, John. I gotta go brief Her Excellence.”

  Byron caught Gardiner grinning at the comment.

  After the door had closed, Roberts turned to Byron. “What’s the deal between Faherty and the guy he’s holding hostage?”

  “The hostage is Morgan Bates,” Byron said. “Faherty believes Bates is re
sponsible for his daughter’s murder.”

  “Is he?” Roberts asked.

  “I don’t know. He lawyered up before I could ask.”

  “Well, he’s gonna need more than a lawyer now,” Roberts said.

  Byron’s cell chimed with an incoming call. It was Stevens. He answered. “Did you find her?”

  “I did,” Stevens said. “Denise Faherty is in the car with me now. I’m taking her to 109.”

  “Okay, good. Keep an eye on her and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

  “Understood.”

  Byron hung up. He turned his attention to Roberts, pointing at the electronic communication board. “Show me how you work this thing.”

  Diane Joyner and Chief Lynds stood beside the chief’s black SUV, listening as Price ran down the scenario. Both women were dressed in jeans and lightweight PD windbreakers. News crews were gathering at a designated point about a hundred feet away. Diane caught the light of a video camera in her periphery.

  “Faherty’s holding his daughter’s ex-boyfriend, Morgan Bates, at gunpoint and threatening to shoot him,” Price said.

  “Where are they?” Lynds asked.

  Price turned and pointed. “Next street up on the left. About a hundred yards from here.”

  “You have eyes on?”

  “We can’t see the hostage, but Faherty is pacing back and forth in front of the garage doors.”

  “Have we positively identified the hostage?” Diane asked.

  “Not visually,” Price said. “But his business partner, Stephen Holcomb, confirmed it’s Bates. Said Faherty showed up at the house with a shotgun and told him to get the hell out.”

  “Are we talking to him?” Lynds asked.

  “Faherty?” Price said. “We were about to make contact when you showed up.”

  “Don’t let me keep you then, Lieutenant.” Lynds turned to Diane. “Ready to face the enemy, Sergeant Joyner?”

  Lt. Martin LeRoyer splayed the fingers of his right hand and made a nervous sweep back through his hair, his trademark tic. He’d sent Gardiner packing despite Byron’s protests, citing unnecessary overtime. Byron listened on speakerphone as Roberts tried reasoning with a distraught Elmer Faherty.

  Byron held his hand up next to his ear, thumb and pinky, extending a signal to Roberts that he’d like a shot at Faherty.

  Roberts looked to Lt. Price for guidance. Price nodded. Roberts muted the call and handed the headset to Byron. “Have at it. You can’t do any worse than I’ve done with this guy.”

  Byron positioned the headset on his own head then waited for Roberts to unmute the call.

  “Elmer. It’s Sergeant Byron.”

  “Why haven’t you charged this son of a bitch?” Faherty roared.

  “Morgan Bates?” Byron asked, intentionally using his name in an attempt to humanize the hostage.

  “Yeah, him.”

  “Because I don’t know that he killed your daughter.”

  There was a momentary pause as Faherty tried to process what Byron had said. “He beat Dani before. My wife told me. You guys took a report but didn’t do anything. The district attorney dropped all the charges against this piece of shit.”

  “The charges were dropped because Dani chose not to go forward with the case, Elmer. Dani asked the DA to dismiss the charges, saying it was all a misunderstanding.”

  “That’s bullshit! My Dani had a split lip from where this piece of shit hit her. He abused my daughter, and now he’s gone and killed her.”

  Byron could hear the desperation in Faherty’s voice. He scrambled to think of something that might defuse the situation. “Elmer, I’m having a hard time hearing you. You’re breaking up. I’m only getting about every other word. I’m going to come talk with you in person, okay?”

  LeRoyer shook his head violently. “Absolutely not, John,” he whispered loudly, causing spittle to fly from his mouth.

  Byron ignored the lieutenant while awaiting Faherty’s response.

  “No tricks?” Faherty said, breaking the silence at last. “Just you?”

  “No tricks. Just me. You have my word, Elmer. I just want to talk.”

  “Okay.” Faherty disconnected the call.

  “Goddammit, John,” LeRoyer yelled. “Why do you have to make everything more difficult?”

  “Nothing to do with me, Marty. Things get difficult all on their own.”

  LeRoyer kept his glare fixed on Byron as he addressed Price. “Got any ideas on how to fix this?”

  “Actually, I have a couple.”

  Byron adjusted the Velcro on the ballistic vest, while Lieutenant Price went through the plan again.

  “You’re gonna have to get him to come outside, John,” Price said. “Tell him you’re having trouble hearing him clearly. Might as well use the same ruse, it worked the last time. Maybe talk low, so he has trouble, too.”

  “Okay,” Byron said. “And if that doesn’t work?”

  “Tell him you need to see Bates,” Roberts said. “You need to make sure he’s still alive.”

  “A show of good faith,” Byron said.

  “Exactly,” Price said.

  LeRoyer had stepped outside to use the phone but left the trailer door open. Byron could hear the lieutenant attempting to convince Chief Lynds that this was both his idea and a good one. Based solely on LeRoyer’s half of the conversation, Lynds wasn’t buying it, on either count.

  Roberts finished securing the remote microphone to Byron’s vest then stood up. “The mic will allow us to hear everything you and Faherty say to each other, Sarge.”

  Byron nodded.

  “Here, stick this in your ear,” Price said, handing Byron a tan object the size and shape of a chocolate chip. “This is the only way that you and I will be able to communicate. When you hear me give the code green, you will need to get the fuck down on the ground. It will mean my guys are at Faherty’s back and you will officially be in the line of fire should they need to shoot him. Capisce?”

  “Got it.”

  “The structure isn’t finished,” Price continued. “There are some window openings that may allow me to sneak a couple of officers in through the first-floor rear to come at Faherty from his weak side. You either need to get him to the front door or a window opening at the front of the house.”

  LeRoyer stepped back inside the trailer looking like a beaten man.

  “Did she buy it?” Price asked.

  “Not a single word,” LeRoyer said as he glared at Byron.

  Slowly, Byron approached Bates’s house from the front. As he crossed the lawn, his shoes quickly became coated with dew. His dress shirt had been damp with perspiration before he’d donned the vest. Now sweat rolled freely down his back. There were no lights burning inside the home and the only lit streetlights were located too far away to provide more than a faint glow. The trees and shrubbery were nothing more than random shapes and shadows in the gloom. Byron couldn’t see the snipers, but he knew they were there. He could feel their eyes on him.

  “Elmer,” Byron said as he scanned the darkened windows for movement. “I’m here.”

  “You alone?” Faherty asked.

  “As I promised,” Byron said, careful to keep his voice low. Faherty was nowhere in sight. “I want to talk.”

  “So, talk.”

  “I need to see that Morgan is all right.”

  Faherty didn’t respond right away. Byron began to wonder if Faherty had heard him.

  “Elmer?”

  Just then Morgan Bates partially appeared in the breezeway door next to the garage. He was bleeding from the head; his hands were pulled behind his back. Byron took some satisfaction as he noticed the missing arrogance previously displayed by Bates. The young man was bloodied and bound, but he was alive.

  Bates was pulled roughly from the doorway and back into the darkness.

  “There,” Faherty said. “You’ve seen him.”

  “I thought maybe we could discuss this face-to-face, like men,” Byron said
, pushing a bit to see how Faherty would react.

  “Is that right? You know what I thought? I thought this piece of shit wouldn’t kill my daughter.”

  “And you don’t know that he did.”

  Faherty didn’t reply.

  Price’s voice came through loud and clear on Byron’s earpiece. “Jesus, John. Are you trying to get him to shoot you?”

  Byron frowned at the comment. Although, he had to admit things weren’t exactly going as he had hoped. He wondered if he might get further by trying to connect on a personal level with the man whose demons seemed to be on the verge of overtaking him.

  “Elmer, I know what you’re feeling right now,” Byron said.

  “Really? You ever had someone murder your baby girl?”

  “No,” Byron said. “No, I haven’t. But I have lost people I cared for at the hands of others. I know that pain, Elmer. And I know it makes you feel like you’re going crazy. You want to do something, anything to try and fix it.”

  “Exactly. Like ending this miserable piece of crap’s life.”

  “But that won’t fix it. You know if you do this it’s not going to bring Dani back. Even if you’re right and Morgan is responsible, killing him won’t do anything but make it worse. Worse for you, worse for Denise. You’ve both suffered a tremendous loss, something no parent should ever have to deal with. But don’t make it worse, Elmer. If you end this now, nobody gets hurt. We can still fix this. Let me do my job. Let me get justice for Dani.”

  Byron could hear the faint sound of sobbing in the darkness.

  “John, we’ve made entry from the rear,” Roberts’s voice said from the earpiece. “Everyone stand by.”

  Faherty and Bates stepped out into the entryway. Faherty was pressing the shotgun barrel into Bates’s side.

  “I could get justice for my baby right now,” Faherty said.

  “Unless you’re wrong,” Byron said. “If you’re wrong, you’ll have to live with that pain for the rest of your life. Can you do that? Can you do that to your wife? To Dani’s memory?”

  Faherty’s shoulders sagged. Byron could see he was beaten.

  “Put the gun down, Elmer. Let me get justice for Dani the right way. When we’re sure we’ve got the person responsible.”