A Cop's Promise

by Sharon Hartley

  “Even at Coach’s party I noticed you eyeing The Shotman,” Gary said. “You don’t need to fantasize about paradise any longer. I’m right here for you, babe.”

  He lunged for her. Lana pivoted and eluded his grip. She stretched for her weapon.

  Gary grabbed her in a bear hug, pinning both arms to her sides.

  She screamed with everything she had until Gary clamped his smelly hand on her mouth.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHIP DIDN’T KNOW whether to be relieved or angry when he arrived home and spotted Lana’s car in the driveway. He pulled his vehicle behind hers and turned off the engine.

  She was home. So why wasn’t she returning his messages? Was she so mad at him that she didn’t want to talk to him? That would be a first for them.

  Instead of demanding she stop looking for her brother’s murder, he should have helped her without constant complaints. If she got justice for Danny, then she could finally move on.

  He stared at the house they shared. She should be awake, enjoying her first cup of tea. He pictured her shuffling through the living room, favorite mug in hand, dark hair in disarray, all sleepy and sexy... A terrified scream erupted from inside the house.

  Chip jerked up his head. Lana? What the hell.

  He jumped from his truck and ran toward the house. As he got closer, he noticed the front door was ajar.

  Another scream. Quickly muffled. Strange noises from her bedroom—scuffling, furniture shoved around.

  “Lana!” he shouted, barreling down the hallway.

  “Chip!” she yelled. “Help.”

  “Shut up, bitch,” rumbled a male voice as Chip arrived at the threshold.

  He froze in disbelief at the sight of Gary Shotwell, his beefy arms wrapped around Lana, lifting her off the floor. She furiously kicked at his shins, but he didn’t register any pain.

  Chip hurled himself into the room, grabbed Gary and pulled back to separate the asshole from Lana. It took everything he had. The dude was freaky strong.

  Gary issued a frustrated howl and tossed Lana onto the bed. He raised his arms with a grunt, dislodging Chip’s grip. Chip stumbled backward, off balance. Gary turned, rotating his massive shoulders. Then he grinned. That eerie sight sent a chill down Chip’s spine as he scrambled to regain his balance.

  Gary raised a giant fist and swung at Chip.

  He dodged, but pain rocketed through his chin when Gary’s knuckles connected.

  Chip went low and locked his wrists around Gary’s waist. He pushed off and shoved Gary back onto the bed, praying Lana had managed to get out of the way.

  He and Gary hit the mattress so hard, they broke the frame.

  With another bestial growl, Gary immediately flipped Chip to his back, as if he weighed nothing. Gary raised his fist to strike again. Chip raised both arms to block, but knew he couldn’t last long.

  Then the barrel of a gun appeared next to Gary’s temple, pushing deep into the flesh to gain his attention.

  “Get up,” Lana said, her voice low and hard.

  “What the...?” Gary mumbled an obscenity. Apparently the idiot needed to think about his next move.

  “You’re under arrest.”

  Gary laughed. “You’re not a cop.”

  “So help me God,” Lana said, “I’ll blow your brains all over this room if you don’t get up. Right. Now.”

  Gary rolled to one side, and Chip scrambled away.

  “You okay?” Lana asked. Her focus never wavered from Gary, who stared at Lana’s weapon with narrowed eyes.

  “I’ll live,” Chip said. “Did he hurt you?”

  “Only my pride,” Lana said. “Get the cuffs off my duty belt.”

  Chip found Lana’s belt draped over a chair and removed metal handcuffs.

  “Cuffs?” Gary sat up, obviously not liking the way his playtime had gone down. The guy was huge and strong, and Chip hoped he wouldn’t try to overcome them. Lana would shoot him. No doubt about it.

  “What, you into bondage shit, huh, Lana?” Gary asked.

  “Yeah, that’s right, Gary,” she said. “Cuff him, Chip. If he makes a move, I’ll shoot him.”

  “Good. Just don’t shoot me,” Chip said.

  “I’m an expert shot,” Lana said.

  Of course you are. Chip took a step toward Gary.

  Gary stood. “That’s not a real gun.”

  Lana raised the barrel of her weapon and pointed to the center of his chest. Chip held his breath.

  “Believe me, Gary, this is a real gun. And it’s loaded.”

  “You won’t shoot me,” he said. As if getting ready to strike, he moved his neck toward one shoulder and then the other, creating a cracking sound as the bones shifted.

  “Make a move and find out,” she said.

  * * *

  ARMS OUTSTRETCHED, HOLDING her weapon in a two-handed grip, her aim steady on Gary, Lana inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. People made mistakes when under stress because they took short, choppy breaths, depriving their brains of needed oxygen.

  She dared not make a mistake right now. Her life and Chip’s were at stake. If she hesitated and allowed Gary to overpower her, he’d take the gun and kill them both.

  At the police academy, she’d been taught to take her best shot if deadly force were required. Center mass of a perp’s chest was the easiest target. That protocol had been drummed into every cadet.

  If ever deadly force were required, this was the time.

  At this close range she couldn’t miss. The bullet would kill Gary. But she didn’t want to kill him.

  She wanted him to confess to Danny’s murder.

  Gary took a hesitant step toward her. She moved her finger to the trigger.

  Chip remained alert, balanced on the balls of his feet, reminding her of a panther ready to pounce, to spring to her aid.

  “I know you’re high, Gary,” she said. “But you should think long and hard about what you do next.”

  “Yeah?” Gary growled, sounding uncertain for the first time. He glanced around, as if looking for an exit strategy.

  “It could be the last thought you ever have.”

  He nodded. His shoulders slumped, a signal that he was giving up. But his gaze kept darting around the room. Lana wasn’t fooled.

  “Kneel,” she ordered.

  Gary complied. Slowly. Reluctantly.

  “Place your hands behind your back.”

  He shot her a poisonous look but did what she had ordered.

  Lana took a deep breath and exhaled slowly again. Now came the tricky part. She knew from painful experience how strong Gary was—stronger than two men. When Chip got close enough to snap on the cuffs, Gary could throw an elbow, kick a foot and easily overpower Chip.

  She was a good shoot, one of the best in her class, but if the two men were tangled up with each other... God, she didn’t want to shoot Chip.

  She needed to find a way to get Gary’s attention, prove to him that she would fire her weapon.

  She didn’t move her focus from Gary, but sensed Chip watching her, waiting for instructions.

  “Cover your ears, Chip.”

  To his credit, Chip didn’t say a word. In her peripheral vision, she saw him place his hands over his ears.

  She moved the barrel of the gun to the window and fired.

  The window exploded, the sound deafening. Lana couldn’t hear the shattered glass drop to the flooring because of the ringing in her ears.

  Gary howled shrilly and dropped into a crouch, hands over his ears. He began to sob. Loud enough for Lana to notice.

  But then bullies never did well when met with force.

  She nodded at Chip. He moved toward Gary, jerked his hands behind his back and snapped the cuffs around his wrists. She wished she could hear the satisfying click.
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  Gary didn’t resist. With tears running down his cheeks, he collapsed onto the floor, chest heaving.

  Lana nodded. He was done.

  She lowered her weapon and exhaled slowly. The danger was over. She and Chip were safe. She’d call for backup, and they’d read Gary his rights.

  She met Chip’s gaze across the room and smiled.

  “Thank you,” she said, but couldn’t hear her own words.

  He smiled back and said something.

  She shook her head, released her Glock into her right hand and pointed to her left ear.

  Chip walked over and spoke close to her cheek. “I think we’re going to lose our damage deposit.”

  * * *

  AT THE STATION, when finished giving her statement, Lana hurried to the observation room so she could watch Gary’s interrogation through the one-way window. He sat at a table, hands cuffed behind his back, ankles cuffed to the table legs.

  She rubbed her right arm, which was sore from where he had squeezed her. The sight of him restrained and so docile made her feel a hell of a lot better.

  The jerk had lawyered up immediately, refusing to say anything until his attorney arrived. But he didn’t have a criminal attorney, only a divorce lawyer, and Mr. Jim Howell was apparently in no mood to rush to his client’s defense.

  So the detective from Vice, Randy Clark, had left Gary alone to think about his situation. Anxious to hear Gary’s confession, she paced the small room.

  Chip had already given his statement and left the station. He’d missed class, but her lieutenant had promised to speak to his prof, if necessary. She and Chip hadn’t discussed what had gone down with Gary. At first her ears had been too messed up from the gunshot, and then the cavalry had arrived. It was standard protocol to separate witnesses before they made their statements.

  By the time she’d finished hers, thankfully her hearing had improved, although it was still a little wonky.

  She glanced through the window again. Whatever Gary had been high on was wearing off because his shoulders slumped more with every passing minute. He might slide under the table any minute.

  If the lawyer didn’t get here soon, her lieutenant intended to stash Gary in a cell. She actually hoped LT did just that. A little time behind bars with fellow lowlifes who stank like they’d slept in a dumpster might persuade the son of a bitch to talk.

  Lana shivered at a sudden flash of memory. Gary’s breath had smelled disgusting as he squeezed her arms to her body, his mouth close to her face, trying to kiss, or maybe bite, her cheek. She stopped moving and closed her eyes, not wanting to relive what had happened, but unable to stop the images. She’d come close to getting raped and badly beaten in her own home. Because of whatever illegal substance he was on, Gary had been weirdly strong. She’d been stunned by his strength. Nothing she’d done to defend herself had worked.

  She’d never been so terrified.

  And the disaster had been of her own making. She’d made terrible decisions, had put Chip in danger, too. She’d told herself she was doing it for her mother, but what had her mother done to find Dan’s murderer? She’d barely gotten out of bed in years.

  I am definitely not my mother.

  If Chip hadn’t arrived when he had, God knows what would have happened. She shook her head, remembering Gary had slugged Chip when he’d intervened. No doubt his jaw would be sore for weeks. She wanted to talk to him so badly but when the—

  Lana became alert when the door to the interview room opened. Detective Clark and a suit in his midfifties entered.

  “Wake up, Gary. Your lawyer is here,” the detective barked.

  Gary opened his eyes and made an effort to sit up.

  The suit glared at his client with distaste. “Have you said anything, Gary?”

  “No, man. Nothing. I waited for you.”

  The suit nodded. “Give us some time, please, Detective.”

  Clark nodded and then exited, shutting the door behind him. A minute later he entered the room where Lana waited, closed the drapery shield and turned off the intercom. Gary was entitled to a private consultation with his attorney, but Lana wasn’t worried.

  The police had arrived in her home within minutes after her frantic summons. When they’d searched Gary, they found suspected controlled substances. Based on her statement, Clark had obtained a warrant, and his team initiated a search of Gary’s home. The search was still ongoing, but they’d already discovered a huge stash of drugs and paraphernalia. Lab results weren’t back yet, but no one questioned whether the results would be positive.

  Gary was going down for possession, possession with intent to distribute, two counts of assault and attempted rape. He’d do serious time.

  But that wasn’t enough for her. She wanted him to cop to murder. Danny’s murder.

  Clark eyed her. “You doing okay, Officer Lettino? You’ve had a rough day.”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Did you read my report about this perp?”

  “Yeah, I did, actually,” Clark replied. “You think he’s good for an eight-year-old homicide?”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  Clark nodded “I’ll fold that into the mix. His attorney can’t do anything for him on the assaults and possession, but let’s see Shotwell’s reaction when I hit him with a murder charge.”

  “Good,” Lana said. Finally someone believes me. “Thanks.”

  At a knock on the window, Clark cocked an eyebrow. “Showtime.”

  She drew the drapes, turned on the intercom and waited. From what she’d seen of Clark so far, the guy was good. He’d know how to wrangle the truth out of Gary. This was a detective she could learn from.

  Just as Detective Clark entered the interrogation room containing Gary and his lawyer, Lieutenant Marshall joined her.

  “LT,” she said respectfully.

  “Officer Lettino. Good work today.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “You need some time off?”

  Lana straightened her spine. “No, sir. I’m good.”

  He nodded. “You let me know.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  LT faced the glass. “So, you think this is the guy who killed your brother?”

  Lana stared at her commanding officer, wondering if her mouth had fallen open. She thought she’d hidden her efforts to find Dan’s murderer, but apparently the department knew more about her hobby case than she’d realized.

  “I was a detective for nine years, Officer Lettino,” LT said. He shot her a look. “I know what’s going on in my district.”

  “Of course, sir,” Lana said, and turned to enjoy the sight of Gary going down for murder.

  Detective Clark approached the table, where Gary and his lawyer huddled. Clark tossed a sealed evidence packet onto the tabletop. Both men stared at the bag, but it was opaque so they couldn’t see what it contained.

  “What’s that?” Gary mumbled.

  “Don’t say a word, Gary,” Mr. Howell said. “Not unless I instruct you to.”

  “So your client doesn’t want to make a statement?” Clark asked.

  “He wishes to invoke his right against self-incrimination.”

  Clark raised his eyebrows. “I haven’t asked any questions yet.”

  “He has nothing to say,” Howell replied. “We’ll see you at the arraignment.”

  Clark nodded and casually unsealed the evidence bag. He spread its contents out on the table. Lana stepped closer to better see what had been inside. Mostly jewelry. Jeez. Had Gary been a thief as well as a murderer and rapist? Nothing like an equal-opportunity felon.

  “Exactly what are you doing, Detective?” Howell asked.

  “Admiring some of the objects we found in your client’s home as a result of our warrant.”

  “That appears to be his personal jewelry,” Howell st
ated. “I don’t see the point.”

  Clark removed a heavy men’s ring with a large purple stone in its center from the evidence on the table. Gary’s eyes widened.

  Lana sucked in a breath. Danny’s ring. Oh my God. That has to be Danny’s ring.

  Clark held the ring at arm’s length and read the inscription. He whistled appreciatively. “‘Southeast Miami High School. State Champs.’ Wow. Were you on that great team, Gary?”

  “Don’t answer that,” Howell instructed.

  The detective brought the ring closer to his eyes and squinted, trying to read something on the inside of the band. “No, I was wrong,” Clark said, shaking his head as if full of regret. “This couldn’t be your ring. The initials are D.P.L.”

  Danny’s initials. Daniel Paul Lettino. Lana held her breath. She couldn’t look away from Gary’s face. He looked like he was going to be sick.

  “I think we’ve got a problem.” Clark leaned across the table and held the ring close to Gary’s face.

  Gary closed his eyes. “Take it away.”

  “Where did you get this ring, Gary?”

  “Don’t answer that,” Howell said.

  Lana leaned closer. Yes, answer that.

  “From Coach Robby,” Gary said. He scrubbed both palms across his face. “Coach Robby gave me Danny’s ring, and I can prove it.”

  “I need another conference with my client,” Howell said, his tone now demanding. Urgent.

  Coach Robby had Danny’s ring? That made no sense. Lana shook her head, waiting for more.

  But Mr. Howell wouldn’t allow his client to utter another word.

  She wanted to slam her palm against the wall when Detective Clark left Gary and his attorney alone for the requested conference. Gary had been on the verge of confessing. She was convinced of it. Almost there, but not quite.

  “Who the hell is Coach Robby?” LT demanded when the detective joined Lana and Lieutenant Marshall in the observation room.

  “A legendary high school football coach,” Clark said.

  Lana explained about the retirement party, how she’d later questioned Coach Robertson in his office and that his car had arrived at Gary’s home in the middle of the night.