by Tripp Ellis
Sergeant Hartman removed the blasting caps from the C4, collected the material, and removed it from the premises to be disposed of later. EMTs flooded the lobby and attended to the hostages.
None of the bank robbers were breathing. That was a good thing, as far as I was concerned.
Unfortunately, the security guard didn't make it.
One man suffered a heart attack, and the EMTs took him away in an ambulance.
A lot of grateful faces thanked me for what I had done.
One woman chastised me. "You could have gotten us all killed!"
"I made the best choice I could with the information available."
"I want to sue the department. This has traumatized me!”
"I'm sorry, ma'am. At least you're still breathing,” I said.
"I'm going to have nightmares about this forever."
I shrugged.
She gave me a sour look and stormed away.
"I guess you can't make everybody happy, can you?" Finley asked.
"Some people just like to bitch."
Finley chuckled. "That they do."
She was still trembling from the incident, as were most people.
A deputy searched a duffel bag and discovered EMT uniforms. It seemed the bank robbers’ Plan B was to blast the entrances, change into the uniforms, and sneak out, pretending to aid the hostages.
Who knows? It might have worked.
Another officer went through the duffel bag of personal items and began the task of trying to dispense the items back to the rightful owners.
"I guess I should thank you for saving my life," Finley said.
I shrugged. "I guess so."
"This makes things kind of awkward between us, doesn't it?"
"Well you are trying to take my home and turn it into luxury condos."
She shrugged, innocently. "It's what I do. I'm really good at it."
"You seem awfully young to be a real estate mogul."
"My dad got me into the business. I made my first property deal when I was 18. I was a millionaire by 19. A multimillionaire by 20."
"And now?"
She grinned. “At 26, I’ll never have to work another day in my life."
"Then why do you still do it?”
“Because I'm building an empire. I want stupid money."
"A lofty goal," I said with more than a trace of sarcasm.
"Don't judge me. You have no idea what my intentions are to do with the money I make."
"So you want to help people?"
"Yes. Ultimately I would like to leave a positive mark on the world."
"By displacing people from their homes?"
"I'm not displacing anyone. Your sister is the one who put the property on the market. If you have a problem with that, take it up with her." Finley smiled. "Don't hate the player."
I forced a polite smile, but scowled with my eyes.
She put a comforting hand on my arm. "Thanks again, Deputy Wild. I'm sure I'll see you around."
17
News crews crowded the police barricade. Microphones hung from boom poles. Heavy cameras, shouldered by burly cameramen, focused on Sheriff Daniels.
"This morning, three assailants stormed into the bank, took hostages, demanded cash, and threatened the lives of innocent civilians. A security officer has been killed, and we are withholding the name until the next of kin has been notified. An off-duty deputy thwarted the criminals, taking swift and decisive action to ensure the safety of the bank patrons and staff. All three suspects are deceased. We believe Deputy Wild acted within protocol and responded accordingly in a dangerous situation, preventing further loss of life. As a matter of procedure, Deputy Wild will be placed on administrative leave, pending a full investigation."
Cameras flashed and reporters shouted questions.
I declined to answer.
Daniels and I pushed our way through the horde of reporters and onlookers. I straddled my bike, pulled on my helmet and gloves, and cranked up the engine. I followed Daniels back to the station, surrendered my weapon, and filled out a mountain of paperwork. I didn't have my own desk, so I worked in the conference room.
Denise poked her head in. "Do you want any coffee or anything?"
I smiled. "Coffee would be great."
"I watched the video footage from the security camera. There was one in the teller booth that the robbers didn't destroy. Pretty crazy stuff. I'm glad you're okay."
"Me too."
"I think these might be the same guys that knocked off the credit union a few weeks ago. Same MO. Shot the guard, killed a customer."
I frowned. "At least they won't be knocking off anymore banks."
She agreed, then pulled the door shut. I kept scribbling on the form, and Denise returned a few moments later with a steaming cup of coffee.
I thanked her before she left.
Daniels pushed into the room a moment later. He placed my empty weapon on the mahogany table and set the magazine next to it. "Investigation completed. I reviewed the bank footage. I don't have a problem with it. Make an appointment with the head shrinker just to follow protocol."
"I can assure you, I'm fit for duty."
"I have no doubt. But take the rest of the day off. Decompress."
"No decompression needed."
"Take it. How's it going to look if you get into another shooting?”
I shrugged.
“Two shootings in one day would be a little much. Even for you."
"I promise, I won't kill anybody for the rest of the day. I swear." I flashed an innocent smile.
Daniels scoffed. He left the room, and when I finished the incident reports, I headed back to the marina.
I changed out of the suit and strolled to Diver Down for lunch. It was pretty crowded, and Teagan and Alejandro had their hands full. It seemed like Teagan was adapting quickly.
I fought my way to the bar and carved out a small space for myself amidst the crowd of spring breakers.
"I saw what happened on the news," Teagan said when she got around to me. Her teal eyes sparkled with intrigue. "I didn't know you were a cop. That's crazy! Did you really kill those guys? You must be so freaked out."
I shrugged, modestly.
"I'd be traumatized for life. That makes me not want to step into a bank ever again."
"How is your first day going?" I asked.
Teagan smiled. "Good. I think. A little hectic. Trial by fire."
"That's the best way to learn."
I ordered a chicken sandwich. Martin from the bank called while I waited for the meal. "I ran your application after everything settled down. Unfortunately, it was declined."
I cringed, though it wasn't shocking.
"If I may offer a piece of advice... You need to be more prepared. There really wasn't enough to make a decision. As I mentioned, you need to get all the financials, projections, and a business plan together. I know you’re looking at an established business, but lenders like to see hard numbers. And, you have no history of running this type of business. Not to mention, the funds you are seeking are considerable. Based on the limited amount of information you told me, I'm not sure the business could even sustain the monthly note of a loan that size. I ran the application as a courtesy, but I think we both knew from the outset this was probably not going to work."
"I appreciate your candor and effort," I said.
"And I appreciate what you did at the bank. I really wish I could loan you this money. But I can't. Like I said, get your ducks in a row, go to a commercial lender, or perhaps seek venture capital. If you need any advice, or if I can be of any assistance, please don't hesitate to call."
I thanked him again and hung up the phone.
Teagan served the sandwich, and I scarfed down what could be one of my last meals at Diver Down.
I tried to savor every bite.
18
I had too many things on my mind to sit idly and relax.
The sheriff’s advice to take the day off
went in one ear and out the other.
I decided to track down Damien Silver. The address on file was in a posh neighborhood. His three-story, luxury home backed up to a canal that was loaded with expensive boats. I rang the bell and waited, but there was no answer. I poked around the property and determined that nobody was home, or that Damien was doing a good job of hiding.
I called Isabella, my former handler at Cobra Company. The clandestine agency had immense resources. Tracking a cell phone would be easy. Within 15 minutes, I had Damien’s location.
"He's on the back nine at the Coconut Key Country Club," Isabella said.
"Thanks, I owe you one," I said.
"Careful, I may collect."
I cringed. After the last op she sent me on, I didn't want another.
I hopped on my bike and rode to the exclusive club. I flashed my badge to the security guard and he waved me through the gates. I followed the drive up to the main clubhouse and parked the bike by the fountain. The valet guys weren’t too happy about that, but what were they going to do?
Golf carts zipped about, and people practiced on the putting green. I walked past the golf pro-shop and camped out at the 18th hole.
I watched golfers hit sand traps, miss putts, and fib about their scores. From the 18th hole, it was a short ride to the locker rooms where bag-boys would remove bags from carts, wash clubs, and store them until next time. Cash exchanged hands as men settled bets. Afternoon cocktails were served in the nearby mixed grill.
I studied a picture of Damien Silver on my cell phone. I watched several foursomes play the hole, then spotted a group with a player that resembled Damien.
One hit the trap. Another overshot the green. Damien and his partner hit the outer edges of the green, not terribly far from the flag. His foursome made their way to the green, and the two outliers chipped on.
Damien lined up a 20’ putt for par. He made a smooth stroke, and the little white ball rolled across the green grass, dropping into the cup with the unmistakable clatter only a golf ball can make.
I flashed my gold badge as the foursome exited the green. "Nice putt.”
The group looked at me with hesitation.
"Damien Silver?" I asked.
He nodded, hesitantly.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions."
Damien wore a white collared shirt and khaki slacks. He had dark hair and dark eyes. His square jaw was lined with stubble, and he looked to be in his mid-30s. He was a handsome man and probably did well with the ladies.
"What's this about?" Damien asked.
He descended the slope of the green and moved to his golf cart. He slipped the putter into the bag, and his partner did the same.
“Alana Steel," I said.
Damien's face crinkled, and he scoffed. “Why are you asking about her? The man that murdered her is sitting in jail right now. Unless he escaped? Did he escape?"
"No. But he won't be there for much longer."
A thin scowl twisted on his face. "Don't expect me to have any sympathy for that man. I hope that lethal injection is painful.” Damien moved around the cart to the driver’s side. "If you'll excuse me, I have some gloating to do."
He grinned at his partner.
"Don't get too full of yourself. You won by a stroke," his partner cautioned.
"I won't take much of your time,” I said. “I’d just like to clarify a few things."
"I was cleared of any involvement in that. I'm not sure why you're dredging this up."
"If you weren’t involved, you don't have anything to worry about. But if you don't want to talk to me, I might get suspicious. I don't think you want me getting suspicious."
His eyes narrowed at me. "And who the hell are you?"
"Just a guy who's very determined."
His narrow eyes stared into me for a moment. Then he said to his golfing partner, “Go on back to the club house, Bill. I'll meet you in the grill shortly."
"Do you want me to get Alan? I know he's here somewhere.”
Damien shook his head. "I don't need an attorney. I'm innocent. Besides, the killer is already in jail.”
Bill slid behind the wheel and put the electric cart into gear. The engine hummed as he drove away.
“You don’t really think Colt is innocent, do you?” Damien asked.
“His mother asked me to look into this. I think she just wants the truth.”
“Let’s walk back to the clubhouse,” Damien said. “You can ask your questions along the way. Time’s up when I hit the locker room."
"Fair enough," I said.
"Fore!” someone shouted down the fairway.
We ducked as a golf ball crackled through the trees. It smacked the ground a few steps away. The ball bounced and rolled behind a tree root. The owner wouldn’t be happy with the position.
Damien and I strolled down the cart path, heading toward the clubhouse.
"The night of the murder, you stated you were with Harmony Grant," I said.
"That's correct."
"What was your relationship at the time?"
"We were dating," Damien said.
I raised an eyebrow. "You were dating Harmony and Alana?"
"That's not illegal, is it, Deputy Wild?"
"Nope. Are you still together?"
"We got pretty serious after Alana passed. But it didn't work out."
"Why not?"
"Is that relevant?"
I shrugged. “Could be. I mean, if Harmony died under mysterious circumstances as well, I’ll start to wonder. Is she still alive?“
His eyes narrowed at me. “As far as I know, but I haven’t spoken to her in a few years. This was six years ago, Deputy,” he said, frustrated.
"Tell me about your relationship with Alana?"
“We met online through one of those dating services. We hit it off, and I fell in love with her."
"Even though she was married?"
"It happens."
"Did you want her to leave her husband?"
"I did. She talked about leaving Colt, and shortly before her death I believe she had contacted an attorney about moving forward with a divorce."
"But she never filed," I said.
"Not that I know of.”
“Were you aware that she had a miscarriage?"
His face crinkled. "She didn’t have a miscarriage. She had an abortion."
I raised a surprised brow. "Are you sure?"
"I didn't go with her to the clinic, if that's what you mean. But she had talked about it."
"Was the child yours?"
"There weren’t any paternity tests, but it doesn't take a rocket scientist to put two and two together."
"And how did you feel about her terminating the pregnancy?”
"I begged her not to do it. I wanted her to leave her husband, and I told her that I wanted to start a family with her. She didn't want to do that."
"Why not?"
Damien shrugged. "I don't know. She was under a lot of stress. I think she felt that she had a lot of decisions to make and she wasn't ready to factor in a child in those decisions."
"How did that make you feel?"
"I was angry."
"Angry enough to kill her?"
He scowled at me. "No. Why would you suggest that?"
"People can get pretty heated about those types of things. You wanted one thing, she wanted another. Maybe she was having second thoughts about the divorce? About starting a life with you?"
“Obviously she was?"
"Maybe you couldn't stand the thought of her staying with Colt?”
"I couldn't. But that doesn't mean I killed her. Feel free to concoct whatever wild scenarios you can dream up, but it's not going to change the fact that Colt Steel killed his wife in cold blood. His gun was found on the property with his fingerprints. Eyewitnesses place him at the home during the time of death. What more do you need? The guy is going to burn for that. And I will pour a drink and celebrate when he takes his last breath."
"Good day, Deputy Wild."
Damien tipped the bag-boy and took off his golf shoes. The bag-boy handed him a pair of sneakers, and Damien switched footwear.
I didn't know what to make of Damien’s story. He came off as slick and self-absorbed, and I certainly didn't rule him out as a suspect. I needed to find Harmony Grant. Maybe she could provide a little more insight into Damien's true personality?
I left the club and headed back to the marina.
19
"Give me a hand with this, will you?" JD asked.
He was in the parking lot of Diver Down with a collapsible roller cart that had a reinforced canvas bin and big knobby tires.
I pulled off my helmet and dismounted the bike, then followed him to the Porsche. There wasn't much storage in the car, so he had stuffed the small trunk and the passenger seat full of beer and liquor. We loaded the bottles into the canvas bin and filled it to capacity. I grabbed 2, 24 packs of beer, and JD rolled the cart down the dock to the Vivere.
The liquor was the envy of all who surveyed our bounty. We loaded it aboard the boat and stocked the coolers with beer. The stage was set for another impromptu party.
"I leave you alone for half a day and you kill three people," JD said, taunting me. "Maybe you're the one who needs adult supervision?”
My eyes narrowed at him. "Circumstances beyond my control."
JD moved behind the bar and poured two glasses of whiskey. He handed one to me. "You’ve got the rest of the day off. Might as well start early."
We clinked glasses, and I sipped the smooth whiskey. I could use a little break. It had been one hell of a day already. We moved to the aft deck and sat in the lounge, watching the revelers in the marina. Music pumped, and the boat swayed as people stumbled about.
Brenda called. "How's it going, shooter?"
I sighed. "Fine."
“I thought you might be interested in knowing that I was able to pull DNA evidence from Grace Livingston's body."
"That's surprising."
"I can't say definitively if she had been raped, but she did have recent intercourse. I cross-referenced the DNA with CODIS—no matches. Whoever did this doesn't have a criminal history."