Rebels and Thieves

by Russell Williams

  “Things keep getting worse. Someone must have it in for us.”

  “It’s hard for me to believe, too. It’s like I’m trapped in a nightmare.”

  Flood made a thoughtful nod. “Well, take me to the body.”

  Malone walked through the doorway, into the foyer. Officer Brown lay on his side, a pool of blood underneath his head. The damn knot in the back of Malone’s throat made it hard for him to swallow. He looked away from the corpse and closed his eyes. Standing in the crowded house, he felt woozy and lightheaded.

  “For the second time,” Flood said, “please stand back from the body.”

  Malone was confused. “What?”

  “Like I said before, I’m getting ready to conduct a preliminary examination.”

  Malone realized he’d been lost in his thoughts. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He backed away from the corpse. “I didn’t catch that.”

  “You can wait outside, if you want to. I mean, there’s no shame in it.”

  Malone wouldn’t even consider it. “No, I’m not going anywhere.”

  Flood put down his black bag and stooped down beside the body. He sucked in a ragged breath, indicating he wasn’t accustomed to seeing his coworkers like this. Using a gloved hand, he turned Officer Brown’s head from side to side. He palpated his scalp, probing for lacerations, fractures, and other signs of physical trauma.

  Malone said, “Let me have it. Don’t leave anything out.”

  “I’m not making any pronouncements until I do the postmortem examination.”

  “That goes without saying.”

  “From the rigor mortise and body temp, I’d say he’s been dead for three to six hours.”

  Malone felt himself go rigid. His mind was racing, but he forced himself to concentrate on the case. “What else can you tell me?”

  “I see signs of strangulation. Marks on the neck. Petechial hemorrhaging in the eyes.”

  “Is that what killed him?”

  “Yes, I think the hyoid bone in his neck is fractured.”

  Malone took a moment to take this in. He knew being strangled to death was a slow, painful death. “What about the gunshot wound to the head?”

  “The killer probably did it for good measure. He wanted to make sure he was dead.”

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  Malone moved onto the front porch, where he saw a group of reporters shouting from the street. Several uniformed police officers were manning the outer perimeter, doing a good job at keeping them from coming any closer. With his head down, Malone crossed the front yard and headed down the street. Reporters ambushed him, shoving their microphones in his face, trying to get him to comment on the murder. Get the away from me, he said. Malone jumped into his unmarked police car, twisted on the ignition, and sped out of the neighborhood. Reaching under the seat, he grabbed his bottle of Jack Daniel’s and took a long drink.

  Chapter 49

  Malone walked across the homicide squad room to Lieutenant Harper’s small glassed-in office. He didn’t expect the meeting to go well. Two police officers had been murdered, and the investigation was at a standstill. Engaged in corrupt business practices, he knew that Kemp, the CEO of Black Capital Investments, and Basov, someone with known connections to the Russian Mafia, were responsible for their deaths. Other than by circumstantial evidence, he couldn’t link the murders together. He dropped down into one of the visitor’s chairs in front of the lieutenant’s desk and crossed his legs.

  “Things keep getting worse,” Harper said. “Now, Officer Brown is dead, too.”

  “I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

  “I want you to think about something, Sergeant. He suffered a lot before he died.”

  Malone felt his cheeks growing hot. “You don’t think I know that?”

  “Someone has to light a fire under your ass, Sergeant. You’re not doing your job.”

  “That’s not fair, Lieutenant.”

  “You should have cleared this case by now.”

  Malone gritted his teeth. He couldn’t stand the lieutenant’s condescending attitude. “I’ve been working around the clock. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”

  “Chief Beck called me four times this morning. He’s on my ass, like flies on horseshit.”

  “That’s not a big deal, Lieutenant.” Malone knew he was wasting his breath. The lieutenant wanted to look good in front of his superiors, even if it meant throwing his own employees under the bus to do so. He was selfish and self-centered to the extreme.

  “This case is a train wreck, Sergeant. And don’t expect me to take the blame for it.”

  “Oh, so, that’s how it’s going to be, huh?”

  Harper gave him a cold look. “You’re damn right it is.”

  “We don’t deserve to be treated like that, Lieutenant. No one at this department does.”

  “I’m not going to lose my career over this case.”

  Malone glared back at him. The lieutenant was playing by his own rules, one where honor, respect, and loyalty never came into the picture. “You should stick up for us, Lieutenant. You should stand up to the mayor for us.”

  “Knock it off, will you? I’m sick of listening to this. Now, tell me about Officer Brown.”

  “We think Kemp killed him. He was really upset we raided his place of business.”

  Harper slammed his hand on the desk. “I don’t care about accusations, Sergeant.”

  Malone blew out a breath of frustration. Nothing seemed to be going right for him in his life. “It takes time to build a case, Lieutenant. You know that.”

  “Oh, come on, Sergeant. Not this long. You don’t have a damn thing on him.”

  “I just got off the phone with Henderson.”

  Harper looked hopeful. “Tell me he found something useful at the crime scene.”

  “No, Brown’s house was clean. No latent fingerprints. No hairs. No fibers.”

  “Did you get the computers from Black Capital Investments?”

  “No. Before we obtained the search warrants, Kemp destroyed them.”

  Harper jabbed a finger at his face. “He’s making a fool out of you, Sergeant.”

  “I’m going to bring him down, Lieutenant. It’s just going to be a matter of time.” Malone flashed on his wife sleeping with Kemp. Every time he thought about it, it felt like someone was plunging a knife into his chest. He couldn’t get it off his mind. It burned him to the core.

  Visibly upset, Harper leaned back in his leather chair. He combed his fingers through his thick white hair. He unbuttoned his shirt sleeves and rolled them to his elbows. The telephone on his desk rang. He picked it up, said I’ll call you back, and punched all five lines so that no more calls could come through. Leaning forward, he placed his massive forearms on the desk and clasped his hands together. “Let’s talk about Officer Jones’ death.”

  “I’m afraid we still don’t have much to go on there, either.”

  Harper pressed his hand against his forehead. “You haven’t come up with anything?”

  “Henderson found one fingerprint that matched two others, both on-site.”

  “So, there’s a silver lining, after all?”

  “No, I’m afraid not. The prints aren’t in our databases.” Malone felt like he got the short end of the stick. The prints didn’t match any of the tens of millions of samples in the Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System (IAFIS). Since the suspect’s prints weren’t in the system, Malone knew he didn’t have a criminal record. Without the fingerprints on file, it made the task of finding out whose they were much harder.

  “Why did Jones steal the hard drives, the ones from Tucker & Sutton Associates, from the police evidence room?”

  “Boris Basov told him to get them for him. Or he’d kill him and his entire family.”

  Harper ground his teeth. “This case can’t get any worse, Sergeant? Now, one of the worst criminals in Miami is mixed up with Black Capital Investments.”

  Malone felt lik
e he was in quicksand. Every time he tried to get a lead on the case, he came up short. “I’ll get them, Lieutenant. I have a few ideas I want to run by you.”

  “Give it a rest, Sergeant. I’ve already heard enough from you.”

  “I just have to find a way to bring them down, that’s all.”

  Harper’s face was as hard as granite. “Oh, is that all you have to do?”

  “That’s right.”

  “The Miami PD is all about teamwork, Sergeant. It’s about time you learn that.”

  Malone slid to the edge of his seat. He had sacrificed so much of his time on this case, and he didn’t want to lose control of it. “Listen, I have everything figured out. I’d just like to—”

  “Knock it off, Sergeant. Don’t try to be a hero. Or you might just end up dead.”

  Harper looked at his watch, as if he was expecting company. He stood up, opened his door, and called two men into his office. They marched into the room, both dressed in dark suits, and stood against the wall. Who in the hell are these guys? Malone had a bad feeling about this.

  “Listen up, Sergeant. We’re going to combine our resources on this case.”

  Malone shook his head. “That’s not necessary, Lieutenant.”

  “Meet Paul Adams and Lee Cook. They’re from the Special Investigations Division.”

  “This is overkill, if you ask me.”

  “Chief Beck wants an interdepartmental alliance on this case.”

  Malone couldn’t believe it had come to this. On paper, combining departments sounded like a great idea. But in reality, it created a lot more red tape to cut through. “Oh, come on, Lieutenant. That’s not necessary. We’ve got over thirty detectives in the squad room.”

  Harper’s voice hardened. “And not one damn piece of evidence.”

  “Put more of our detectives on the case. We’ll be able to get—”

  “Forget about it, Sergeant.” Harper jerked his thumb toward the squad room. “Now, get out of my office. And get back to work.”

  Malone left the lieutenant’s office, without shaking his coworkers’ hands. He headed out of the Miami Police Department, got into his unmarked police car, and sped out of the parking lot. Everything in his life was going downhill. He never expected to lose Brown or Jones in the line of duty. It weighed heavily on his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about his wife, either. She had knifed him in the heart. It was a devastating blow, one that he didn’t think he’d ever be able to get over. But he would have to find a way to move on. Whoever coined the phrase, life was the school of hard knocks knew exactly what they were talking about. Each day seemed like it was a big, long struggle to get through. Turning onto the turnpike, he kept thinking about one person, over and over in his mind—Kemp. No matter what he faced in the future, he was determined to bring that son of a bitch to justice.

  Chapter 50

  Malone sat on the couch, polishing off a glass of Jack Daniel’s. Grabbing the bottle of whiskey from the coffee table, Malone filled his glass again, this time adding a few more shots for good measure. Not a moment later, his wife came barreling through the front door, into the living room. She was carrying two suitcases.

  “Speak of the devil.” Malone got to his feet. “There you are.”

  Karen looked surprised. “Oh, it’s nice to see you, too.”

  “I wasn’t expecting you. That’s all. Like you said, you never wanted to see me again.”

  “I’ve changed my mind.”

  That’s hard for me to believe.” Malone felt his heart beating faster in his chest. He couldn’t believe she had slept with another man. To make matters worse, it was his arch enemy.

  “I’ve had time to think things over. I’ve come to my senses.”

  Malone bit his bottom lip. “I see.”

  “I’m still in love with you. In fact, I can’t see myself living without you.”

  “What brought this on?”

  “Oh, it doesn’t matter. I’m back. And this time, it’s for good.”

  “That’s going to be a problem.” Malone took a long pull off his glass, feeling the whiskey burn the back of his throat. It spread through his system, warming his stomach and relaxing the tight muscles in his chest and shoulders. But when he looked at the shattered television set, a powerful wave of emotions hit him again—like a ton of bricks. Oh, it’s not going to be easy to live without her. He’d have to find a way to move on, no matter how much he still loved her.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve had time to think things over, too.”

  Karen’s eyebrows rose. “I’ll never leave you again, I promise.”

  Malone hung his head. Even though she broke his heart, he still felt bad for everything he’d done to hurt her. “I haven’t always been the best husband. I’m sorry for my drinking.”

  “You’re still doing it, though. You’re still medicating yourself.”

  “I’m going to stop drinking soon, right after I’m done with this case.”

  Karen set her suitcases on the floor and stared at the broken television set. Picking up a few dirty dishes from the coffee table, she went into the kitchen, put them into the dishwasher, and came back into the room. Shaking her head, she put her hands on her hips. “What happened to our television set?”

  “I watched something on it that pissed me off.”

  Karen sounded irritated. “Were you drunk at the time?”

  “No, I wasn’t. But I got really drunk after I saw it, and I haven’t been able to stop.”

  “Like I said before, you should see a therapist.”

  Malone didn’t disagree with her. He was really going through a lot right now. “I could use a little help to sort through some things. There’s no doubt about it.”

  “That’s great. So, everything is settled then. I’ll put my things away right now.”

  “No, please don’t that.”

  Karen looked confused. “What’s wrong, honey?”

  “Follow me.”

  Malone took a deep breath, picked up the CD from the coffee table, and walked into their master bedroom. The King-size bed was unmade, with the sheets and blue comforter bunched up into a ball at the foot of the bed. The room had traditional dark-brown furniture—two nightstands, a dresser, and a chest of drawers. In the corner of the room, on a wood table, was a twenty-seven-inch flat-screen television. He placed the CD into the slot, sat down on the bed, and pushed the play button on the remote controller. Kemp and his wife appeared on the screen, both moaning, having sex with each other. Malone switched off the television, shot to his feet, and glared at her. Karen’s bottom lip was trembling and tears were flowing down her cheeks.

  “Oh, please forgive me,” Karen said, her voice shaking. “I was confused at the time.”

  “I can’t get past it.” Malone took a deep breath to clear his head. He felt like his whole world was falling apart. “It’s late. I want you to leave.”

  “It was a big mistake. I don’t love him. ”

  “Your suitcases are in the living room.”

  Karen’ face turned pale. “I’m still in love with you. Please don’t ever doubt that.”

  Malone felt the hollow inside. The lump in the back of his throat made it hard for him to swallow. “It didn’t look or sound that way on the video.”

  “Oh, please. You’ve got to listen—”

  “No, it’s over, Karen. I’m done talking. Now, please get your stuff. And get out.”

  Karen left their master bedroom, picked up her suitcases, and left their home. It was the last time he would probably speak to her again, other than through his attorney. Malone sat on the edge of the King-size bed, staring at the floor. He knew his life wouldn’t be the same without her. He covered his face with his hands and wept.

  Chapter 51

  Peterson sat on the couch, her legs crossed, sipping a cup of hot tea. She looked out the large front window, hoping to see headlights coming down the street, but nothing stirred in the darkness. It wa
s two o’clock in the morning, several hours after the high school prom was over, and her seventeen year old daughter still hadn’t come home. It wasn’t a good sign. She was worried something bad happened to her. Sighing, she tried not to feed into her biggest fear—that her daughter had done something that she’d regret for a long time. She heard the car door slam, followed by high heels clicking on the walkway. Her daughter, reeking of cigarettes and alcohol, opened the front door. Hesitating, she tiptoed into the dimly lit foyer. She leaned against the wall, her head hung low, staring at the floor. She looked like she’d been to hell and back—her long blonde hair tangled in knots, her makeup smeared across her face, her beautiful white dress covered with dark stains.

  “I’m a nervous wreck,” Peterson said. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”

  Monica kept staring at the ground. “I’m sorry, Mom. I really am.”

  Peterson felt irritated. She was tired of her daughter not listening to her. “I must have called you ten times. I left you so many messages.”

  “I didn’t get them.”

  “Do you know what time it is, young lady?”

  “No.”

  “Come over here and sit down.”

  Monica shook her head. “I can’t do this right now. I have a pounding headache.”

  “It’s not up for discussion, young lady.”

  “It’s my life, not yours.”

  Peterson didn’t appreciate her attitude. While her daughter was living under her roof, she was going to abide by her rules. “Oh, so you think you’re a mature adult now?”

  Monica bit her bottom lip. “No.”

  “You look terrible, like you were hit by a freight train.”

  “Oh, I had a terrible night.” Monica dropped down on the couch. She sat still, her dark green eyes filled with tears, avoiding making eye contact. Her beautiful white dress was covered with dark stains, particularly around her hips. “I don’t feel good at all. My stomach hurts. I just want to take a hot shower.”