Justice Burning (Darren Street Book 2)

by Scott Pratt

  “That’s a damn lie,” I said, immediately expecting that she was wearing a wire. “I didn’t kill anybody.”

  “Well, they think you did, and they’re doing everything they can to prove it.”

  “Where’s the wire?” I said.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “The wire. The bug. The listening device. The transmitter the cops gave you before you walked in here.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  I stood, reached in my wallet, pulled out a ten-dollar bill, and set it on the table. “You can go fuck yourself. Try to take my son away from me and see what happens.”

  “Was that a threat, Darren? Did you just threaten to hurt me or kill me?”

  “Take it any way you want,” I said. “Sean isn’t going anywhere.”

  As I turned and stalked out of the restaurant, Katie stood up and yelled, “That man just threatened to kill me! He threatened to kill me!”

  CHAPTER 26

  I was in the law office of Gwendolyn Taylor at 8:00 a.m. the next morning. She was the same lawyer who had helped my mother gain visitation rights with Sean when I was in prison. In her midfifties, Gwen had long mouse-colored hair streaked with silver. The outfit of the day was faded blue jeans and a light-blue button-down blouse. She wore the tired, cynical look of a divorce lawyer, a person who fought vicious battles all day, every day, on behalf of her clients, often with children caught in the middle of the combatants.

  I told her about the conversation Katie and I had had at the restaurant the previous day, although I left out the parts about threatening Katie and being a suspect in the murders in West Virginia.

  “How rich is this guy?” Gwen asked me after we’d talked for a little while.

  “Mega, I think. Sean has told me about his place in Kentucky. He has thoroughbreds and a bunch of land, apparently. Owned a Mercedes-Benz dealership and some kind of commercial real estate development company. Katie mentioned that he was one of the biggest donors at the University of Kentucky, and I looked it up on the Internet. He’s given them nearly ten million through his charitable trust.”

  “And she said Sean has been accepted to the Punahou School? What’s so special about that?”

  I’d printed out some information about the school and set it on her desk. “Very exclusive. A bunch of famous people have gone to school there, including a former president of the United States.”

  “How much time have you been spending with Sean?”

  “I get him most weekends, but since my mom was killed, I haven’t seen a lot of him, to be honest. I’ve been pretty disconnected, and I didn’t want him to think it was because of him.”

  “He loved his grandmother,” Gwen said.

  “Yes,” I said. “He loved her very much.”

  “A court could very easily conclude that being around you is a constant reminder of her, and that moving away could ultimately be good for him. As I’m sure you know, it will all come down to what the judge thinks is in the best interests of the child.”

  “I thought about this all night, Gwen,” I said. “And honestly, I just don’t think I have much of a chance of keeping her from taking him. I’m not in a great place mentally. I’m living with my fiancée, but we haven’t set a date for a wedding. I don’t have anywhere near the money Katie’s husband has. I certainly can’t offer Sean the opportunity to go to some famous private school. He’ll experience things in Hawaii that he could never experience here, and if I’m honest about it, I just don’t have a lot of room for him emotionally right now. This is the worst possible time she could have pulled something like this. Well, the best time for her. Worst time for me. And there’s one more thing I guess I should tell you about, because she brought it up yesterday and will try to use it if we go to court: I’m a suspect in a double murder in West Virginia.”

  “I know,” Gwen said.

  “You what? How could you know that?”

  “I’m a lawyer. Lawyers are gossips. Everybody knows, Darren. At least everybody in the legal community.”

  “Can she use that if I fight her?”

  “You weren’t listening to what I just said.”

  “I beg your pardon? I don’t understand.”

  “I just said everybody in the legal community knows you’re a suspect in a double murder in West Virginia. Everybody knows that the two men you’re suspected of murdering probably murdered your mother. The judge who will hear your case is Tom Rambo. He’s a part of the legal community, Darren. He knows. He won’t need to hear it from the witness stand.”

  “So you think I’ll lose,” I said.

  She nodded her head. “Given my experience in these matters, which, unfortunately, is quite extensive, I think the judge will allow Katie to move your son to Hawaii and will grant you visitation when he isn’t in school.”

  “Which will be about two months a year if I’m lucky.”

  “That’s probably about right. You’ll get him in the summer.”

  “What if he doesn’t want to come? What if he loves Hawaii and doesn’t want to come back here in the summer?”

  “He’ll want to see his father. I can’t sugarcoat this for you, Darren. It’s going to be extremely hard for you, but you’re going to have to make an extra effort to stay in touch with him. You’ll have to call him a lot. FaceTime with him. Do whatever you can to keep your relationship loving and viable. Write him letters. Send him gifts. You’re going to have to show him how much you love him, how much you really care.”

  I put my head in my hands and leaned forward with my elbows on my knees.

  “I can’t believe this,” I said. “I can’t believe that snooty, spoiled rotten, belligerent bitch is going to take my son from me.”

  “She can take him out of the state, but she can’t take you out of his heart,” Gwen said. “You’re the only person that can allow that to happen. Now promise me you won’t do anything rash.”

  “Like what?”

  “Just don’t do anything to get yourself in trouble.”

  “Are you insinuating I might harm Katie?”

  “Her lawyer called me yesterday afternoon after the two of you met. He knew you’d come to me. He said you threatened to kill her.”

  “I didn’t threaten to kill her,” I said.

  “Stay away from her,” Gwen said. “I’ll call her lawyer and work out the custody details and make sure you get a chance to say goodbye when the time comes.”

  I got up and walked out of Gwen’s office in a daze. She could say whatever she wanted about keeping my relationship with Sean alive while he was thousands of miles away on a beautiful island. I knew it would be next to impossible.

  First Mom, and now Sean. Grace would be all I had left.

  CHAPTER 27

  I put the situation with Sean out of my mind by focusing my anger on Ben Clancy. I suspected that Clancy was a creature of habit, and I was right. Each morning at around 7:00 a.m., he left his house and drove a short distance to Charlie’s Cove Road. It ran along a steep ridge above the Tennessee River. Some developer with more money than brains had apparently believed he or she could sell vacant lots along the road, but the slope leading down to the river was so steep, so rocky, and so long that not a single lot had been sold, not a single house had been built. I watched Clancy for two days from my car, and then I watched him from a perch above the road, lying flat on my belly, in the gray light of the morning for three more. He would park at the beginning of the road where it cut off from Somerset Road, which was the street on which he lived, and walk to the end of Charlie’s Cove Road. It was just under half a mile to the end where it formed an oval cul-de-sac. Clancy would walk around the cul-de-sac, return to his vehicle, and drive back home. He carried a walking stick and was alone. I’d read in the newspaper or heard on television less than a year earlier that his wife had died while he was in jail awaiting trial. As I watched him from above, I thought the walks were a metaphor for his life. No dog, no friend, no wife. He wa
s alone. It was appropriate for a man like him.

  On the third day, after watching him, I decided I needed some help. It would just be too difficult and too risky to grab him by myself. I called Big Pappy.

  “Going to need some help with that thing I was telling you about,” I said.

  “Yeah? What do you need?”

  “A one-inch, manila hemp rope, fifteen feet long, and I need you to soak it and stretch it. Then I need you to wax about five feet on one end.”

  “Say that again?”

  “Do you need to write it down?”

  “Yeah, let me grab a piece of paper. One sec.” He came back on the line shortly thereafter and I repeated the instructions. “So you’re going to hang the man?”

  I’d decided to hang him while obsessing about what he’d done to my uncle, to me, to James, and to the others I didn’t know about. Shooting him or stabbing him would be too quick and too messy. I figured we could grab him off the street and then take him to a contained, concealed spot. That spot was Granny Tipton’s barn. I’d driven up and spoken to her about it, and she was in agreement. We could hang him there, but before we did it, we’d have a little time to allow him to reflect on his behavior.

  “That’s the plan. I also need some hand and wrist restraints, a gag, a van, and a willing assistant.”

  “When?”

  “When can you come?”

  “Three days.”

  “Perfect.”

  “So I’ll see you Tuesday,” Pappy said. “I think I’ll just drive the van up. You’re sure you don’t want a gun this time?”

  “Shouldn’t need one.”

  The next three days seemed like three months. I got up early the next two days—which was no problem since I barely slept, anyway—and made the trip out near Clancy’s. He didn’t vary from his routine. In fact, he was downright anal about it. You could set your watch by the guy.

  I was extremely careful about cops. I was careful to the point of paranoia. I read everything I could get my hands on about modern surveillance and countersurveillance techniques. What I learned was fairly simple. They couldn’t track me electronically if I left my phone at home, and they couldn’t track me physically if I did plenty of walking, used public transportation, and went to as many crowded places as I could and melted in among the people. Then I’d simply slip out a door, grab a cab or a bus, and move to the next destination. I knew that even though I was a suspect in two murders, those crimes had been committed in West Virginia. The Knoxville guys might be bird-dogging me some, but it wasn’t really their case and the department wasn’t going to commit a huge amount of resources. I hadn’t heard from anyone in West Virginia, and unless they were getting really close, I probably wouldn’t. I’d crossed state lines to commit two murders, which meant the feds could have gotten involved, but I hadn’t heard from them and hadn’t noticed anyone that even resembled a fed anywhere near me. And finally, I’d killed two merciless scumbags who had deserved killing. Most cops don’t like vigilantes, but they like cowards who bomb the homes of defenseless women even less.

  The plan was for Pappy to stay in a small hotel near Maryville on the second night and then meet me three blocks from Grace’s apartment at five on the third morning. Grace usually slept until 6:30 a.m., had to be at the office at eight, and got home between 5:30 and 6:00 p.m. She and I hadn’t been talking much, and my libido had cooled considerably since that first night after I’d killed Frazier and Beane. Still, I tried to keep up the impression that I was trying, both at home and at work. I hired a middle-aged secretary named Brenda Brown, who was experienced and smart. I left in the mornings and went to the office. I worked my cases. I went to court.

  I also told Grace I was continuing to see a grief counselor, and I would occasionally make up things we had discussed. She believed me, but I could tell she was growing a bit impatient, maybe even distant.

  On the day I planned to kill Ben Clancy, I told Grace I had an early meeting with a client so I would be leaving at 4:30 a.m. I also told her I wanted to go to the gym, which I’d been doing occasionally, and that I would shower and dress there after I worked out. I walked out the door as though I was going jogging before my workout, and that’s exactly what I did, making sure there were no cops around. I got in my car, drove to the gym, and parked in a corner of the lot. Pappy pulled up in a brown van with tinted windows right on time. I got in and we pulled out. Clancy’s house was thirty minutes away, so we went to a Waffle House about fifteen minutes from Grace’s apartment and ate breakfast. Both of us were wearing fake beards and hats. I’d glued my beard on during the drive to the Waffle House, and Pappy was already wearing his when he showed up.

  We lingered over the breakfast and coffee until six and then headed toward Clancy’s. At 6:50 a.m., we turned onto Charlie’s Cove and went to the cul-de-sac at the end. I drove. We’d decided that Pappy would grab Clancy because Pappy was just so damned big and strong. I put the van in park, and Pappy climbed into the back. The van had a sliding side door, and very soon, he would be jumping out.

  At precisely 7:10 a.m., I saw Clancy top a slight ridge about a hundred yards from the end of the cul-de-sac.

  “Here we go,” I said, and Pappy put his hand on the door handle. I put the van in drive and started out slowly, but as I moved toward Clancy, I stomped on the gas and the van leaped forward. I skidded to a stop next to Clancy. He was wearing a long, gray overcoat and a goofy-looking fur cap that covered his ears. I saw his gray eyes widen as Pappy slid the door open and leaped out of the van. Clancy tried to raise his walking stick, but Pappy grabbed the old man in a bear hug and flung him into the van like a sack of flour. Clancy tried to yell, but Pappy had him on his stomach and thrust his knee into his back so hard Clancy couldn’t even breathe. He stuffed a bandana he’d brought into his mouth and covered it with duct tape. Then he bound Clancy’s hands and feet with plastic restraints. He picked Clancy’s walking stick up off the floor and handed it to me.

  “Souvenir,” he said. “I’m keeping it.”

  I’d started moving as soon as Pappy had thrown Clancy in the van and shut the door. By the time Clancy was gagged and fully restrained, we had passed his car and were on our way to Granny Tipton’s mountain home.

  CHAPTER 28

  Granny, Eugene, and Ronnie were all waiting for us when we pulled up. The barn door opened, and Eugene waved us in. I drove the van inside and the door closed behind us. It was just after eight in the morning. I’d driven up the mountain and spoken to Granny a couple of times since James’s funeral, just to make sure she was still all right with what I was going to do. The last time I’d visited was the day before. She seemed more eager than ever to gain some revenge for what Clancy had done to James.

  One of the things we had talked about during our first discussion was how Clancy should die. Granny was the one who’d mentioned hanging him. Her barn, like many barns on small farms in the South, was set up for multiple uses. People kept livestock in stalls, stored hay and straw and feed, parked their tractors out of the weather, et cetera. Many of them also used their barns for curing tobacco in the fall, and Granny’s barn was set up for that. The Tiptons, like many small farmers in Tennessee, hadn’t grown tobacco in many years, but the posts that crisscrossed the barn starting about ten feet off the ground and continuing to the top of the gabled roof were still in place. Granny had had Eugene and Ronnie cut two fresh posts from large oak branches they’d found on the property, each about twelve feet long, and those had been bolted together and then lashed to two thick support beams in the center of the barn.

  I waited for Ronnie and Eugene to help Pappy pull Clancy out of the van, and then I backed it out of the building. Ronnie and Eugene closed the large door, and I walked back in through the small door a few feet to the right of the large one, carrying the fifteen-foot length of hemp rope Pappy had brought. I looked around before I walked back in. I knew Eugene and Ronnie’s children were in school, and I was certain their wives had learned long ago to
look the other way and never ask questions. When I got inside, Clancy was lying on the ground on his side in the middle of the barn floor. I looked at him and didn’t feel the slightest pang of mercy or regret.

  “Put him in a chair and take that gag out of his mouth,” Granny said to Ronnie and Eugene as I started fashioning the waxed end of the rope into a hangman’s noose. It was a fairly simple knot that one of my friends had shown me when I was a kid. I never thought I’d use it for the real thing.

  Once Clancy was seated, Eugene walked over by the wall and picked up a stepladder. He set it down directly behind Clancy. I handed him the rope and he climbed up to the two oak posts and started wrapping and tying until the other end of the rope was secured around the posts. When he climbed back down, the noose hung about seven feet off the ground.

  I don’t think what was about to really happen dawned on Clancy until I took my fake beard, my glasses, and my hat off. I walked over and pulled the fur hat from his head. His red hair had thinned and faded to gray, and he’d lost some weight in jail. His gray eyes looked at me with utter contempt.

  “You,” he said. “I should have killed you years ago.”

  “Let’s not talk about me,” I said. “We’re all here to talk about you. This is Luanne Tipton here to my right. She’s a lovely lady, but I’m sure you’ve never met her and wouldn’t give a damn if you had. James Tipton was her grandson. You remember James, don’t you? He was the guy you used to frame me for a murder you coerced him into committing. I’m sure I don’t have to go into all of it. You know what you did. You do know that James blew his brains out with a hand cannon, right? Did you hear about that? I’ll bet you did, and I’ll bet you smiled.