Hunter grunted, walked around his desk and to his office door, standing in front of Schultz and Warden. He held his hand on the door handle. “Jasmine’s waiting right here for you.”
Chapter 46
“What’s this?” Jerry Schultz stepped out into the reception area of Hunter’s office. “Some sort of set-up? You can’t be serious.”
“It’s the end of the road.” Hunter stood by the door, and nodded towards the five people waiting in the reception area. “It’s over, Schultz. Decades of corruption has finally caught up with you. It’s finally over.”
Esther stood behind her desk, but in front of Jasmine Langford. Esther wanted to shelter the young woman from the two men exiting Hunter’s office. Detective Holmes stood near the entrance, two police officers behind him. The reception area was spacious, but felt small in the midst of a stand-off.
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Schultz began to laugh. “The stripper? No one is ever going to believe her. She’s not a reliable witness. Good luck getting that one through court.”
Jasmine raised her head, staring at Schultz and Warden.
“That’s them.” Jasmine nodded. “They came into my apartment and offered me twenty-five thousand for the testimony against Cowan. They broke into my apartment and threatened me.”
Schultz continued to laugh and moved towards the exit. “This is ridiculous. This will be thrown out the second you place the charges. You think the word of a stripper is going to stand up in court? No chance. No judge will give it the light of day.” Schultz turned back to Hunter. “I expected better from you, Tex. I taught you better than this.”
“How about video footage that proves you were there and proves what you said,” Holmes stated. “Would that work for you?”
“There’s no video footage around her place. The cameras in her apartment building were smashed.” Warden stepped forward, chest out. “You’ve got no proof of anyone entering her building.”
“We found it unusual that all the cameras in Jasmine’s building were physically destroyed. And we checked—they were smashed the night before she entered the police station to make her second statement,” Holmes said.
“So you have nothing.” Schultz scoffed. “What a waste of time.”
“We have no footage of you entering the building.” Holmes smiled. “But Jasmine runs a webcam for an internet site called ‘Peep Into My Home.’ She doesn’t earn much money from it, but it’s enough to convince her to leave her two webcams running all day long. All. Day. Long. Audio and all.”
Schultz’s mouth dropped open. “That’s not admissible.”
“We have footage of you and John Warden breaking into her apartment, threatening her, and then offering her money to testify against Cowan.” Hunter stood tall behind Schultz. “And we also have you, John Warden, breaking into her apartment weeks later, on the same day she disappeared.”
Schultz looked at Hunter, then to Detective Holmes, and then to the door. He was too old to run. Too old to fight his way out.
“Miss Langford didn’t have access to her old video footage at the time of Cowan’s trial.” Holmes stated. “She didn’t even know how to access it. It’s a live stream, but the old footage is stored on a large server in California. When I asked the website management company for the previous data, they happily handed it over to my department.”
“No, no, no.” Schultz shook his head. “This is ridiculous. It wasn’t me. The footage must be fake.”
Esther turned the computer monitor towards them and pressed play. The video of Warden and Schultz sitting in Jasmine’s apartment, clearly visible and identifiable, played. Schultz’s mouth dropped, as did Warden’s.
“The corruption racket that you’ve run for decades has finally crumbled.” Hunter leaned down to whisper near Schultz’s face. “It’s over. Your whole house of cards has come crashing down. All your connections, all the people that will help you, won’t come close to you on this one. Your whole law firm will crumble under this evidence. You’re done, Schultz. It’s over.”
“Do you remember who I am? I’m one of the most connected people in this city! You can’t do this to me.”
“Every single connection you have will abandon you the second these charges are filed. Nobody wants to be associated with a man facing these accusations. They know if we connect them to you, they’ll be facing federal charges as well. They’ll know that we’re going to follow the leads, and all your friends are going to be running for the hills. Trust me, nobody is going to return your calls.”
Schultz’s eyes flicked over the room. “I’m innocent. It was Tony Kokkinos. He made me go there under false pretenses. It was all his idea.”
“Mr. Kokkinos is already in custody and discussing a deal.” Holmes replied. “He’s already told us what he knows and has implicated both of you.”
“It wasn’t me that agreed to help Kokkinos. It was John Warden. It was all John Warden.” The desperation in Schultz’s voice was clear.
Warden turned to Schultz, shock written on his face. “You’re going to turn on me that easily? You dirty dog.”
“There’s plenty of time for talking.” Holmes nodded to the two uniformed police officers. “Jerry Schultz and John Warden, you’re under arrest for the crimes of Witness Tampering and Intimidation.”
“What does it matter? Rick Cowan is dead. This is over already!” Schultz argued as the uniformed officers took out their handcuffs. “We don’t need to do this. I can make it worth your while to drop these charges. Tell me what you need. It’s all behind us. These charges don’t matter!”
“Justice matters.” Hunter stepped back from them. “And it always has.”
Chapter 47
Jasmine Langford walked through the back-door of the Englewood building. She unlocked the four bolts, walked up the narrow stairs, and onto the top floor. There were three workers near the kitchen, all volunteers from the nearby church, assisting in the renovation of the recently burned building. Her friend from the street, Phil, was putting the finishing touches on the hallway, painting the edges with a small brush.
“Used to be a painter once.” Phil greeted Jasmine with a toothy smile. “Been a while since I’ve done that, but you don’t forget the skills. Had some troubles along the way too.”
Jasmine rubbed his shoulder with a gentle touch.
“Been sober five days now though.” Phil continued. “Ever since you asked me to come here and help put this place back together, I’ve got a purpose. A real purpose. I’m going to keep helping people. It’s a calling.”
The fire damage wasn’t structural. Although the flames took hold of the building within minutes, the emergency services had been quick in their response, and thanks to an internal sprinkler system, there was only superficial damage to the walls, carpet, and furnishings.
The insurance money came in quick for Wilma Woods. She called Jasmine the second it arrived, the happiest she’d ever been. They paid out big. Wilma added new beds, new couches, and appliances in the kitchen. Thanks to her connections in the church, Wilma had a team of volunteers refurbish the interior within a matter of days. There was new drywall where needed, new carpet, and a fresh coat of paint, helping the place look better than ever.
Jasmine walked into the kitchen with bags of groceries, and placed them on the counter.
“I thought I heard you come back in.” Wilma stood in the doorway of the kitchen. “Thank you for coming back and staying. I need you here. We should have the girls back in here tomorrow, and I’m going to need an extra pair of hands to keep them all fed and happy.”
“Someone special to me said the true measure of a person is shown when no one is watching, and I believe that. This was my chance to make things right.”
“Bravery is the choice to stand up when everyone else has sat down. That’s what you did. You chose to stand up against the biggest intimidators out there. If we’re going to change the system, everyone has to be brave, and stand up against injustice. You were am
azing.”
Jasmine opened the new fridge, and placed the cartons of milk inside. “The lawyer said the charges are going to stick to the corrupt old guys and they carry a hefty prison sentence. I’ll have to testify if it goes to trial, but he doesn’t think it’ll make it that far. He thinks Schultz and Warden will take deals long before that. They won’t be bullying anyone else anytime soon.”
The evidence that Holmes needed was all there—right from the moment the two men walked into Jasmine’s home. The live stream captured all the details of Schultz and Warden in her apartment, when they bribed her to testify, and when Warden later broke in again and couldn’t find her hidden in the closet.
The video was clear, as was the audio, saved to a website server.
She had played her part in taking down the corrupt.
“So if there are no bad guys chasing you, does that mean you’ll stay for good? The offer of a bed and free rent if you help out is still on the table.”
“I could think of nothing better.”
Wilma embraced Jasmine, pulling her in tight. “Thank you,” she whispered in Jasmine’s ear, tears welling in her eyes. “Thank you. I need you here.”
Jasmine withdrew from the hug, wiped her eyes with the back of her sweater sleeve, and smiled.
Chapter 48
Tex Hunter closed the door to his apartment, ensuring it didn’t make a sound, placed his briefcase on the dining table, and then walked to his liquor cabinet. He removed his favorite whiskey and poured a generous amount. Taking a long sip of the Pappy Van Winkle Family Reserve Bourbon, he held it in his mouth for a long moment, feeling the flavors roll around his tongue. He followed with a deep breath, before turning back to the dining table.
Hunter stared at his briefcase for a long period of time, not moving as he stood near the door, glass in hand. He didn’t want to keep the file in his office, instead, he packed it and took it home.
After Schultz and Warden were arrested, he shared a glass of champagne with Esther and Jasmine, celebrating their triumph, happy to bring down the corruption racket, but his mind was elsewhere.
As Hunter drove home, his brother Patrick called. He had found a lead with their sister, Natalie. He said he even had an address in Mexico. Hunter was excited, but that would have to wait.
Hunter wasn’t sure what he would find in the folder. It was a collection of more than thirty years of information. For all he knew, it could’ve been a collection of newspaper clippings.
The memory of his father’s arrest was clear. He was ten years old when he stood on the front porch of their family home, watching as six police cars sped onto the front lawn. The police knocked down the mailbox, and raced out of the cars, pointing their weapons in anger. There was yelling, so much yelling.
His father called him back inside, knowing what was to come next.
As a young boy, Hunter watched those police officers beat his father, their rage at the serial killings spilling into the abuse. There was so much blood on the living room floor after his father was taken away. Hunter was interviewed for weeks after that day, asked the same questions over and over. He knew nothing. There was nothing unusual in the weeks leading up to the arrest. There was nothing to suggest his father had done anything criminal. Nothing at all that he could remember.
Before the case hit the courts, his older sister, Natalie, had already gone. She’d fled to Mexico. His brother, Patrick, stayed to support their mother.
Hunter stepped towards the table. His heart pounded in his chest.
Hunter remembered the rocks that were thrown through the windows of their home in the weeks that followed, the physical attacks that haunted him for years, and the verbal abuse that shadowed him for much of his life. He was always fighting against those who carried hatred for his father, those who carried hatred for the Hunter name. He carried the guilt of the girl’s murders with him most of his life. He didn’t kill those girls, but he felt their families’ pain. That guilt, that undeniable weight, almost broke him a number of times. He had no choice but to build a wall around his emotions. It was survival.
He opened the briefcase. The file rested on top.
His mother went to prison a year after his father was locked away. She was convicted as an accessory, although she had no association with the crimes. His mother was a beautiful woman, once full of love, joy and happiness. He remembered the smell of her Sunday roasts, still the best cooking he had ever tasted. He remembered the way she used to laugh at his silly jokes, hugging him tightly afterwards. He remembered that eleven-year-old boy who cried through the nights after his mother was convicted.
He remembered burying her.
He placed the whiskey glass on the edge of the table, took one more deep breath, and reached for the cover of the folder.
He turned the page, looking at the first piece of information, a newspaper clipping, followed by an attached letter. He stared at the signature on the letter. He turned the next page, a report, with another attached note. He read the name signed at the end. Next page. Another letter. Same name.
He scanned the file. Every piece of information had an accompanying letter. Reports, newspaper clippings, lists of names. Events, photos, pages of handwritten notes. The letters referenced the illegal club, Cinco Casino, they referenced the cops who were in charge of the case, and they referenced the names of the witnesses.
But it was the name on every piece of information that caught Hunter’s eye.
It was all from the same person.
There was a note on one of the letters: ‘Don’t show this to Tex.’ Why were they hiding it from him? What did it mean?
He flicked through the folder again. Checked the name.
There was no mistaking it. No denying it.
Every piece of information, all fifty sheets, came from one source. All the information was from one person.
Hunter closed the folder.
He tried to let it all sink in. He tried to let all the information process in his head.
It was too much. Too much evidence. Too much news.
He stared at the title of the file. Reading it over and over again.
The person who sent all the information wasn’t just searching for the truth, they weren’t chasing an abstract idea. The person knew, they knew, what happened to those murdered girls. This wasn’t a random file.
This person wanted to expose the truth.
Hunter slumped into a nearby chair.
It was all there. It was all clear to him now.
The main report named a new suspect and a new witness. He knew the suspect’s name, but it was the witness’s name that sent his head spinning. She claimed to have seen a man at the site. She claimed to have seen a person with a number of the girls. She had information about the suspect.
There was a witness whose voice was never heard in court—his sister, Natalie Hunter.
Hunter closed the file, staring into nothingness. Why did she run? What else did she know? How was she involved? There was only one person that could answer those questions.
After an absence of more than thirty years, Tex Hunter needed to see his sister.
THE END
Author’s Note:
Thank you for reading Deadly Justice. I hope you enjoyed the twists and turns of this plot.
It took a long time to write this book, twice as long as usual, as when I was writing it, the Corona virus pandemic struck. For all those affected by the pandemic, whether it is the loss of a loved one, or the loss of work, my thoughts are with you.
Although I had planned the twists of the plot a long time ago, I found it really hard to write while sheltering-in-place. With my children also learning from home, I didn’t have a lot of interaction with the outside world, and really struggled to find the spark of inspiration and creativity. I’ve since realized that it’s a conversation, an experience, or even watching something happen on the street, that feeds my writing. It’s a word, a chat, or a discussion, that’s the foundation for most of my
creative ideas. Once I started to interact with the outside world again, the writing came easily. For me, it was a lesson learned in troubling times and one that I’ll take into the future.
I’ve started writing Saving Justice, the fifth book in the series, and am looking forward to revealing more about Tex Hunter’s family. There’s a number of big twists to come in that tale.
To all my readers, stay safe and well.
Much love,
Peter O’Mahoney
Also by Peter O’Mahoney
*****
In the Tex Hunter Series:
Power and Justice
Faith and Justice
Corrupt Justice
Coming soon:
Saving Justice: Tex Hunter 5
*****
In the Jack Valentine Series:
Gates of Power
Stolen Power
*****
In the Bill Harvey Legal Thriller Series:
Redeeming Justice
Fire and Justice
Will of Justice
A Time for Justice
Truth and Justice
*****
Deadly Justice: A Legal Thriller (Tex Hunter Book 4) Page 22