Imperfect Escape

by Gregg E. Brickman

"I'm thinkin' you did," Ray said, rubbing his goatee.

  Ope glared at Ray.

  "You were the only one who had access to the information. We designed it that way. You were here when we had the planning meeting. You were caught on camera entering this room and going through the materials."

  "Camera, what camera?" Ope's voice cracked.

  Ray pointed to the fish-eye lens in the corner of the ceiling. "New addition."

  "I was curious, is all. I didn't tell anyone."

  "Actually, my friend, I believe you did," Ray said.

  "You can't prove anything."

  The conversation continued in a similar vein for an hour.

  "Ope, it's obvious you won't fess up out of a sense of honor. So, let me tell you a few facts. We know Deputy Krantz had inside information on numerous raids, showing up to help when he wasn't part of the team. A witness will testify that in several of those instances he saw you talking to Krantz after the planning, but before the raid. This time, we have the call log from the dispatch phone showing you called Krantz after reviewing the materials in the conference room." Ray laid several documents on the table in front of Ope.

  "I want a lawyer."

  "Fine." He shoved the landline over to Ope, stood, and left the room with Mullins following. "I was hoping to not have to reveal so much to get his attention."

  "Especially because the part about the testifying witness isn't true." Mullins chuckled.

  "There is that."

  Ray and Mullins returned to their offices, leaving Ope alone.

  The lawyer appeared two hours later. Holly Aster, a woman of about thirty, wore a conservative black suit, white blouse, and two-inch heels—courtroom clothes. She asked to meet with her client.

  At one o'clock in the afternoon, they reassembled, this time with Aster also in attendance.

  She said, "I've counseled Mr. Ope to cooperate with you on the condition he does no jail time for his involvement."

  Mullins nodded. "Could be our recommendation, given he helps us resolve this situation."

  "Anything you want, Chief," Ope said. "Anything. I'd be a dead man in lockup."

  "Mr. Ope," Aster said, "please let me do the talking. We need a commitment, Chief, not just a maybe."

  "Fine. Ms. Aster will you join us, please." Mullins stood and left the room, followed by Ray and Ms. Aster.

  Five minutes later they returned.

  Ray said, "Ted, the DA has committed to no jail time, providing you do what we ask."

  Aster nodded. "Go ahead with your questions. We'll see where they lead."

  "I've carried this with me for a long time. Now is the time to get shed of it."

  "First," Mullins said, "I want to know why you went over to the other side. I trusted you."

  "Krantz has something on me, and he threatened to tell." The old man looked pale. His hands shook until he grasped them together.

  "What?" Mullins voice was forceful, though quiet.

  Ope shook his head.

  "We'll find out from Krantz anyway when we bring him in and charge him with his part in this fiasco. If you want our cooperation and leniency, then you have to be up front, Ted. Totally."

  Ope rolled his head back and exhaled. "When I was on the force, I'm sorry to say, I strong-armed Clarence Jasper. Old Jasper was growing weed in his barn at the time, so he had no choice but to pay me. Problem was, Krantz knew about the weed, too, and was poking around. He overheard the conversation and has been dogging me ever since."

  "Is he still calling you for information now that he's on the west side of the county?" Ray said.

  "Every damn day. And every other damn day he threatens to reveal my secret."

  "Why did you care?" Mullins said.

  "Because my family lives in this town. I don't want them to know. They've always admired my place on the force." He looked down, studying his hands.

  Mullins exhaled. "Stone, continue."

  "We want you to wear a wire when the time is right." Ray leaned forward, crowding the old man and hoping he was up to the task. "Meanwhile, you'll keep doing dispatch and carry on with business as usual. Be sure to keep telling Krantz little bits of information, which I, by the way, will supply. After we've dealt with Krantz and his meth lab connections, you will quietly resign, never to grace these premises again."

  "No charges?" Ope said.

  "We'll arrange with the District Attorney for you to plead no contest and receive a suspended sentence," Mullins said.

  "That's the best you can do?"

  "That's the best I'm willing to do," Mullins said.

  "Now," Ray said, "What can you tell me about Hinter?"

  Chapter 26

  Ray

  Ray drove down the crowded Interstate towards Crestville and the county jail while mulling over the meeting with Ope. The former officer had looked like a broken man, shuffling as he clung to his walker on the way to his desk. Gone was the bravado. Ray didn't feel sorry for Ope—the man had brought his troubles on himself—but he sensed Ope's remorse for his actions was heartfelt.

  Ray's cell buzzed—he'd silenced the ring during the interview. He glanced at the screen, then hit speaker. Sophie. "Hey, sweetheart. What's up?" He glanced in his mirrors, pulled into the left lane, accelerated, and bypassed an eighteen-wheeler, ending up behind a string of slow-moving cars. As a whiff of diesel fuel entered the Taurus, a vista of tree-covered hills appeared to the right, only to be blocked by another huge truck.

  "I thought you might like to know the doctor discharged Bubba Flocker to county custody a few minutes ago. A couple of deputies brought him out through the ED."

  "I thought that happened on Monday." Ray glanced at the time while looking for a way to move quicker.

  "It was supposed to, then the doc decided to hold him for a couple of days."

  "How'd he look today?" He moved right and bypassed part of the jam, then found himself behind another truck.

  "Like he could breathe better. He gave me a big thumbs up and thanked me for saving his ass."

  "More than his ass, I'd say."

  "Whatever. The nurses upstairs said he was a model patient and prisoner. So much so, the deputy left his station for a few minutes this morning to flirt with one of the staff."

  "And?" Ray paused. "I feel like there's more." A sign announced the first Crestville exit. He stayed in the right lane.

  "Yup. While he was unguarded, his mama dropped in to see him."

  "No one called the deputy?" He didn't like the breach of protocol.

  "No. They said it was his mama. The problem with all that is I heard a couple ranting in the cafeteria about how the deputy allowed the mama to visit, but he always went into the room with her. They thought that was an invasion."

  Ray fumed. "I've forgotten how folks in the south think, I suppose." Ray exited the highway and stopped at the sign at the end of the ramp. "What do you want to do for dinner? I was thinking we could try the new Cuban place in Crossville."

  "Sounds good. First one home feeds Mischief and takes her out."

  "I'm at the Sheriff's now. Maybe I'll track down Flocker while I'm here. Just to be social."

  "Right. Mr. Ambassador himself."

  Ray laughed. "Love you." He disconnected, parked, and made his way inside.

  The department had interview rooms on the second floor. He found Detective Shim, who agreed to show him the ropes on how to have a prisoner brought upstairs to interview. As it turned out, due to budget deficiencies, there weren't enough jail deputies available to deliver Hinter. Shim slipped on his sport coat and led the way to retrieve the prisoner. A well-muscled, male deputy—guard—met them at the door on the second floor of the department and escorted them to the minimum-security cellblock.

  The aging facility, which was painted ugly beige with poop-brown trim, was much too small for the population. Ray learned it had a capacity of around two-fifty and today held nearly four hundred inmates. The deputy escorting them explained two things were in play. First, f
unding for expansion was limited, as was money for staffing. Second, the county was forced by state law to accommodate overflow from the prison system. The state also required them to keep some of their own prisoners beyond the customary one-year county jail maximum. They even had a lifer in the maximum-security section, which Ray found disconcerting.

  Ray stroked his goatee and peered through the windows into the various cell blocks. Men played cards and paced in circles in the crowded enclosures. Mattresses covered much of the floor space and others were rolled and shoved against the wall. The interior of the no-privacy bathroom was partially visible from the window. Flashing to the cleaner and more humane facilities in Coral Bay, Florida, where he last worked, he was shocked by the comparison.

  He spotted Hinter talking to Flocker on the far side of the room. "That's him. Why isn't Flocker in sick bay?"

  "There weren't room, so we put him here." The guard shrugged.

  "Is the sheriff willing to accept the liability? The man was on a ventilator a couple of days ago."

  "Sheriff accepts worse. If Flocker weren't okay to be here, the doc shouldn't have sent him." The guard opened the door and waited.

  Ray and Shim entered the cell block.

  The smell of unbathed bodies engulfed Ray. He ignored the stench and approached Flocker. "Sophia said you'd been discharged from the hospital today. Glad to see you've recovered."

  "Fine woman you have there, Stone." Flocker snickered and stepped away, putting several feet between himself and the detectives.

  Ray thought to pursue the comment, noting a hint of threat in Flocker's soft voice. He mentally filed it next to Sophia's report of her ED conversation with the man.

  Rather than take Hinter back to the detective division, Ray and Shim escorted Hinter into one of the interview rooms in central booking, cuffed him to the chair, stepped outside, and left him alone.

  "You might want to hang around if you have time." Ray said. "Hinter sells the majority of his shit within my city limits, but he ventures out into the county, too. I have reason to believe he may be one of the biggest dealers outside of Silken's network."

  After Shim raised a questioning brow, Ray repeated Ope's response to his question about Hinter. "That's what I'm here to pursue."

  Shim nodded and followed Ray into the room, taking a chair next to the table in the center of the room.

  Ray sat across from Hinter and surveyed the small space. The unadorned ugly beige box held a bolted-down, battered metal table and four unmatched chairs. Once settled, he poked at Hinter with loaded questions suggested by Ope's comments.

  "Listen, man," Hinter whined, "I admitted I use the stuff. I admitted I stole the stuff off Silky. You confiscated the goods from the store. That's the whole deal. Now, take me back to my cell and leave me the hell alone."

  Ray nodded to Shim, and they both left the interview room.

  "I suggest you call the prosecutor," Shim said. "Maybe we can get a deal for him to flip. If what Ope told you is true, Hinter has inside information on the meth trade in the county." After telling the guard they were leaving Hinter alone to cook, Shim led the way upstairs to his desk.

  Ten minutes later, Ray had secured the DA's promise to not prosecute Hinter with any crimes he might confess to in the course of the interview. The charges for theft of the appliances and possession of methamphetamine would stand. Hinter needed to plead guilty to those and accept the standard sentence or risk additional charges and jail time.

  Shim pushed back his chair. "I'll hang around until you're done downstairs."

  "Good." Ray called Holly Aster, the public defender assigned to Hinter, who agreed to come right over from the courthouse next door when she finished a hearing. "I'll meet you downstairs in the lobby and update you on what's happening." He waited for about thirty minutes near the Sheriff's Department rear door, using the time to review the case and his suspicion Hinter was in up to his scrungy hair.

  When Ray saw her approach, he extended his hand. "Twice in one day."

  "Hello again, Detective."

  "Do you think you have a conflict representing both Hinter and Ope?" While it was possible to do so without conflict, it was, he believed, difficult to walk on both sides of the same fence with objectivity.

  "No. I'm court appointed for Hinter. If the lawyers in town didn't represent more than one person charged with drug related crimes at the same time, we'd need to quadruple the number of practicing attorneys in town, which isn't going to happen."

  "Point taken."

  "Trust me, I can keep their concerns separate. If there's a problem, I'll go to the court and ask to be replaced."

  "I suppose that's fair." Ray took a moment to update Aster on the proposed deal with Hinter, then waved in the direction of lockup.

  "You'll give me a few minutes with my client," she said, "then we'll go from there."

  Once back in the jail, another deputy—this one a short, plump female—opened the door to Hinter's room for Aster and Ray.

  Hinter reared back in his chair and likely would have stood but for the restraints. "What the hell is she doing here? You have no right."

  "Mr. Hinter," Aster said, "I assure you he does have a right. You were read your rights at booking, and you asked for counsel. We met, we talked, and I told you at the time not to discuss your case with the detectives without me present. Now, you and I need to talk about what is going down here. You have some important decisions to make."

  Hinter glared at Ray. The befuddled-druggie persona gone. Hinter jerked his head, signaling the lawyer he'd talk with her.

  She stepped into the interview room and pulled the door closed behind her. A few minutes later, she reappeared. "Let's get this over with."

  Ray entered and took the chair across the small, square table from Hinter and motioned Aster to another. As Ray had suspected, Hinter was smarter than he acted, playing the part of the confused—hick meth head. "So, Hinter, I've been led to believe you haven't been forthcoming."

  "Who says?"

  "We're asking the questions." Ray took his time removing a sheet of paper from his pocket and laying it on the table. "I know Ms. Aster explained it, but here's the deal. In exchange for your truthful testimony, the DA will not press additional charges. If, on the other hand, we find you were less than truthful, we will throw out the deal and charge you with every crime you've committed."

  "That's what my lawyer said."

  She nodded.

  "What's your decision?"

  "I'll go along to get along." His tone remained in control, the meth head gone.

  "We know you've been dealing meth," Ray said, leaning closer. "Who's your supplier?"

  "More like, who was my supplier. I got the goods from LeRoy Vast."

  "I thought LeRoy cooked for Silken? At least, that's the word on the street."

  "Oh, he did. But he made a lot more meth than he sent up the line to Silken. Me, and some other boys, worked for Vast. Ran his product all over the county." Hinter laughed. "Drives Silken friggin' nuts. Can't figure out who his competition is."

  "How did you explain your activity to Silken?"

  "Didn't. I sell for him, too. Yeah, I swiped the appliances, but I didn't steal product. I stop down there, and he hands the stuff to me. That way he knows I'm selling. He just don't know how much shit I got moving."

  "What do you know about the explosion at Vast's?"

  "Nothing, man. That's the God's honest truth." Hinter slipped back into his meth-head persona. "I think Silky's behind it, though. Maybe someone ratted on us."

  "Who else was selling for Vast?"

  "Can't say." Hinter stiffened. "I gots to live here for a spell. I don't want to end up dead."

  Ray stood. "We'll give some thought to whether you're living up to your end of the agreement. We'll have more questions later. This interview is over."

  "Ms. Aster, let's go." He led the way upstairs to the detective suite and held the door for the lawyer.

  Aster stopped near Shi
m's desk and faced Ray. "He was forthcoming. Do I have your commitment to the deal?"

  "Actually, ma'am, I think he left out a load of stuff. Why else would he have said he felt threatened and then clammed up? There's more for your client to say on the matter."

  "Be sure I'm there for the whole conversation next time, whether he wants me there or not. Or, next time we'll be talking to the judge." She scowled and clenched her jaw.

  "Of course." Ray turned away.

  After a miffed Aster left the office, Ray said, "If Hinter agrees to testify against Silken—and Vast, when we find him—I'm inclined to take the deal. There is still a missing piece. I'm sure of that, but I don't think we'll get it from Hinter."

  "Let me run the agreement and Hinter's statement past the sheriff first. But, I think he'll be good with it. You'll be able to bag Hinter again when he's back on the street. He never behaves for very long."

  Chapter 27

  Ray

  Following the less than satisfying jailhouse interview with Ken Hinter, Ray headed up the mountain to Plateauville. A quick check of traffic conditions on I-40 confirmed the minor eastbound backup earlier that morning was now a major jam, thanks to the scheduled road repair.

  He opted for US-70N, the original highway crossing the state. Built on the Avery Trace, it led pioneers to that section of Tennessee land the government said they could own if they farmed it, resulting in the area being dubbed The Promised Land.

  He needed to think, and the two-lane road would provide the opportunity, along with lush trees, the occasional sharp drop off, and a scattering of well-maintained farms, little white churches, and homes in every state of repair. That particular stretch of US-70N reminded him of the road outside his hometown in Virginia. It brought back memories—some of them pleasant. Others, like the death of his first wife and the unlawful behavior of his former chief, caused him to shudder and redirect his thoughts to the criminals in Plateauville.

  The road east of Crestville began with a gentle slope. Ray sped up to sixty, a smidge over the limit, and settled back to enjoy the drive, knowing he'd be slowing down numerous times for tiny residential areas and curves severe enough to warrant yellow, rectangular warning signs.