DEATH ON THE NEW MOON (A Troubled Waters Suspense Thriller Book 6)

by Michael Lindley

  "Whatever it takes, Franky," Lonnie said, using his friend's popular nickname in the department.

  Lonnie took the wheel of the unmarked car down in the lot and Alex took a fresh magazine loaded with fifteen 9mm rounds from his bag and slid it into his piece. He took another and put it in the pocket of one of the bullet-proof vests he pulled from the backseat. A 12-gauge Remington shotgun was secured in the rack between them, pointing up at the roof of the car. Ammunition was already loaded in the vest.

  Lonnie drove with purpose, but with no lights or sirens. The bar was less than a mile from the precinct and they pulled up to the designated staging spot a block away. The two young street cops were already there. Alex saw the other homicide detectives, Nathan Beatty and Willy Mills, walking quickly up to join them. All gathered around Lonnie who would lead the take-down.

  "Okay, listen up," Lonnie said, looking down the street in both directions. The bar was around the corner to the south. "The owner told me the shooter is at the bar in the back next to the door to the kitchen. Two other customers at the bar. No one at tables. I've been in there and it's gonna be dark. The kitchen leads to a back door into the alley that empties out in both directions." He showed a picture of the man to the group then motioned to the two uniformed officers. "I want you on both sides of the back door, far enough back to have good cover, but in position to make sure our man has no way out. If he comes your way, take no chances with this asshole. He will not hesitate to take your head off."

  Beatty said, "How we runnin' this, boss?"

  "Alex and I will go in the front door, looking like customers."

  "No vests, then?" Alex said.

  Lonnie nodded, then looked to Beatty. "You two cover the front entrance in case he manages to get past us. Do not come in unless you hear my signal on the radio or if shots are fired. Clear?"

  The two detectives nodded their heads in agreement.

  Within minutes, they were all in position. Lonnie whispered into his radio to confirm the two uniforms had the alley covered. Beatty and Mills had vests on and shotguns pointed at the ground. Alex and Lonnie had their handguns secured in their waistbands under the back of their untucked shirts. Lonnie put his radio receiver in his back pants pocket, again hidden by his shirt.

  "Franky, we move quick here. No hesitation on this piece of shit," Lonnie said, his voice steady and assured.

  Alex could feel a hum building in his ears and his pulse quicken. Images of similar moments during raids in Afghanistan came back to him. His hands felt cold in spite of the heat. He tried to dismiss the memory of a similar attempted arrest here in Charleston a few years back that left him on the ground with a hole leaking blood from his gut. He heard his partner whisper, "Let's go."

  He followed Lonnie through the front door and immediately struggled to get his eyes to adjust to the dark interior of the bar room. A long bar with bottles arrayed along the wall was to their right. Neon signs of beer brands glowed in the dim light. He came alongside Lonnie and quickly tried to assess what he was seeing. There were only two men at the bar, sitting together and hunched over half-empty beer glasses. There was no sign of Jeb the bartender or a third customer where Caine should have been sitting. What the hell?

  Lonnie crouched low and moved quickly to the left through several tables toward the back of the bar. He motioned for Alex to proceed to the bar. The two men drinking looked up as Alex pulled his gun. They both pushed their stools back and stood with panicked looks on their faces. Alex signaled with his left hand for them to get on the ground. He was sure neither man met the description and picture he had seen of the shooter known as Caine.

  Alex looked quickly over the edge of the bar, his weapon extended. "Clear," he said, loud enough for his partner to hear. He made his way cautiously around the two men on the floor, his gun extended and aimed at the metal door with a greasy window to the back-kitchen area. His heart was now pounding in his chest and the buzz in his ears sounded like a train rushing by. He could see that Lonnie had made it to the back wall of the bar and was positioned to the left of the door, crouched behind a table with three chairs. Lonnie signaled for him to take cover behind a table to his right.

  Lonnie's voice echoed out across the dark room, "Charleston Police! We have multiple units at all exits!"

  Alex heard one of the men on the floor beside him say, "Oh shit!"

  Lonnie yelled out again, "Place any weapons on the floor and come through the door with both hands high above your head!"

  No response.

  Alex saw Lonnie look back to him, assessing the situation. He turned back to the kitchen door. "Caine, this is Detective Smith. We'd rather walk you out of here in one piece, not on a slab. I want you coming out that door, now!"

  Alex heard a muffled sound from the kitchen like someone trying to speak out.

  Lonnie got on his radio and alerted the teams outside to the current situation and ordered them to remain in place. He heard Beatty acknowledge from the front but there was no response from the two officers in the alley.

  Shit! Alex thought and turned to the man nearest him on the floor and whispered, "Where's Jeb and the other guy?"

  The man looked back through rheumy eyes, confused.

  "Where'd they go!" Alex hissed.

  No response.

  The chaos and devastation that erupted in the next sixty seconds would haunt Alex for the rest of his life.

  Lonnie motioned Alex forward to take position on the right side of the door into kitchen, then radioed quickly for more backup.

  Alex heard a low moan and garbled voice from beyond the door. He looked over at his partner.

  Lonnie was breathing heavily, sweat staining his shirt. Quietly, he said, "I think our man is gone, he's probably taken out the boys in the alley."

  The moaning from the kitchen intensified.

  Alex tried to calm himself and keep his right hand holding his gun from shaking.

  Lonnie whispered, "We need to see if there's anything we can do for Jeb."

  Alex nodded back.

  "I'll go in low left," Lonnie said. "You take the other side. Who's out back?" he said into the radio. Mills responded saying both plainclothes were down, no sign of Caine.

  Alex felt a chill rush through him.

  To Alex, he said, "Ready?"

  Alex held his Ruger in both hands to steady himself. He tipped his head once that he was ready to go. He watched his big partner come up fast and push through the door, ducking left quickly and out of sight. He followed immediately and came into the kitchen low, his weapon extended. He first saw the bartender named Jeb laying face up on the floor near a door to the back alley, clutching his chest with bloody hands, moaning and struggling to rise. Alex saw Lonnie continuing to move slowly along the left wall past cabinets and shelves with food and cooking pots. The air smelled of grease and stale beer. Alex wiped sweat from his eyes. He felt like his pounding heart would burst through his chest. He saw two doors along the right wall in front of him. He moved quickly to the first and pulled it back, his gun extending into the room as he peaked around the door. It was a small dank bathroom and empty.

  As he would reflect back later, over and over in tortured dreams and recollections, he recalled everything from that point moving in slow motion, sounds muted and distorted.

  After a glance over at Lonnie who was kneeling low along the far wall, moving slowly toward the downed bartender, Alex started toward the second door. In his memory of the next few moments, the door flew open in his face, knocking him backward, his gun falling away and sliding across the floor. As he fell, he watched as a hand extended from behind the door with a silenced gun pointing out. He remembered trying to yell out as he fell, but never remembered what he was trying to say. When he hit the floor, he watched helplessly as the trigger was pulled in four quick shots, only a hissing spit sounding from the long silencer.

  Alex turned on his side, reaching desperately for his gun as he watched the
four rounds explode into Lonnie Smith's chest and face. The big man went down instantly in a heap and didn't move. Alex yelled out into the room, now smelling of cordite and fear, "Noooo!"

  The man known as Caine came out through the door and turned toward Alex. A smile spread across his face as he turned his weapon toward Alex, lying on the floor, his gun still out of reach, now resigned to his ultimate fate.

  Later, he would recall only a sudden calmness coming over him as he looked up at the sneering face of the hit man and the round barrel of the gun pointing at his own forehead.

  Caine spoke, but Alex would never remember his words. As he watched the man's trigger finger start to pull back, the door to the alley burst open and Mills rushed in. The assassin's gun spit again and Alex felt the bullet tear through the side of his neck, a burning hot slice of pain, likely diverted from a kill shot by Mills arrival.

  As Alex fell back, he saw Mills fire twice and then go down as Caine caught him in the face with deadly aim. Mills fell in the open doorway and Caine turned back toward Alex just as Beatty came crashing through the door from the bar behind him. Alex watched as Caine bent low and rushed toward the back door. He heard Beatty yell out, "Jesus!", as he fell beside him on the floor. Then the explosion of Beatty's weapon firing twice as Caine disappeared out the back door, wood splintering on the door jamb from the shots.

  Alex heard Beatty yell out again, "Oh Jesus!" as he lost consciousness.

  Chapter Six

  Hanna was finishing up a call when her assistant, Molly, leaned into the room. "There's someone I think you need to see. She doesn't have an appointment. Her name is Calley."

  "Send her back, thanks," Hanna said, clearing a few files and stray papers on her desk. She looked up when a young girl, maybe sixteen, came through the door. She was dressed in faded jeans, bright blue running shoes and wore a tight sleeveless t-shirt with a yellow smiley face on the chest. Her blond hair was pulled back in a short ponytail. She wore no make-up and her face was deeply tanned.

  "Hello, I'm Hanna, she said, walking up to shake the girl's hand and then leading her over to two worn leather chairs in the corner of the small office. "Sit down, please."

  "I'm Calley Barbour. Thank you for seeing me."

  Hanna said, "Can I get you some coffee or water?"

  "No... no, I'm fine.

  What can I help you with this morning?"

  The girl hesitated, looking around the office, settling on the two diplomas on the wall. Finally, she said, "I think I need a lawyer."

  "And why is that?"

  Calley squirmed in her chair, then the girl's cell phone buzzed in her jean's pocket. She struggled to get it out of her pocket. As she looked at the screen, she said, "It's my parents. They must have gotten the call from school I didn't come in this morning." She declined the call.

  "Why are you missing school?"

  "I told you, I think I need a lawyer."

  Hanna said, "Calley, tell me what's going on."

  The girl took a deep breath and then stared directly into Hanna's eyes. "I'm pregnant."

  Hanna thought for a moment before answering, pushing back memories of a similar situation she found herself in as a young girl in college. "Tell me what happened."

  The girl pushed a stray bit of hair from her eyes and said, "I barely know this guy. We met at a party out at the beach, at a friend's house."

  "So, how far along are you?"

  "I've missed two periods."

  Hanna hesitated, then asked, "And why do you think you need an attorney?"

  "I don't want the baby. My parents will freak. They're super-religious and will probably throw me out of the house."

  Hanna felt a familiar sadness come over her, remembering a similar time. "So, you think you want an abortion?"

  "I know I want an abortion," the girl said firmly. "This guy raped me... or that's what I remember. We were really drunk and ended up out on the beach making out. I wanted him to stop and I couldn't make him."

  "Calley, I'm so sorry. You didn't report this to the police then?"

  "No, like I said, my parents would go ape-shit. I'd been drinking and doing some weed, let alone having sex with this guy. I don't even know his name or where to find him."

  "How old are you?" Hanna asked.

  "I just turned sixteen."

  "You know in South Carolina your parents will have to sign an authorization for an abortion until you're over seventeen?"

  Hanna saw tears forming in the girl's eyes. She wiped at them with both hands and looked down. "I know that and that's why I need your help."

  "Calley, the law is very clear on this. You need parental consent."

  "But I was raped!" she cried out as she tried to hold back her sobs.

  Hanna shook her head, trying to think through all the implications, legal and moral. She had faced these same doubts and fears when she found herself pregnant from a man who had left her in college and never knew about the child. Calley Barbour's crying brought her back to the moment. She looked at the sorrow and despair on the young girl's face. I wish I'd had someone to help, she thought. Despite her past experiences, Hanna remained a Pro-choice advocate and was sympathetic to the girl's situation.

  Calley said, "I read on the website for the local abortion clinic that a judge could give a waiver. My parents wouldn't need to know."

  "It's called a Judicial Bypass," Hanna answered, begrudgingly, not knowing the full extent of the legal ramifications.

  "Right, a bypass," Calley said. "That's why I need your help."

  Hanna thought for a moment, then said, "First of all, I'm not advising you to do anything yet, certainly not keeping your parents out of this decision."

  "But I thought you could help me!"

  "Please, Calley, let's take some time to really think this through. I know there are many constraints to a judge giving this release from parental consent."

  "You won't go to my parents!" the girl said in panic. "You're a lawyer. You can't talk about my case unless I agree."

  "Calley, I'm not your lawyer yet, but I do want to help you."

  "Please don't go to my parents!"

  "I won't speak to anyone about this until we understand all our options and agree together how best to proceed."

  Calley Barbour had just left her office when Hanna's cell phone buzzed. It was a local number she didn't recognize, but she decided to take the call. "This is Hanna."

  There was a brief pause before an unfamiliar voice said, "Hanna Walsh?"

  "Yes, who is this?"

  "My name is Jim Guinness, I'm the Captain down at Alex Frank's precinct."

  Hanna felt a numbing dread come over her. "What's happened...?"

  "Alex is okay at the moment..."

  "At the moment!" she cried out into the phone. "What's going on?"

  Captain Guinness continued with hesitation in his voice. "There was a shooting this morning during an attempted arrest."

  "Oh God!" Thoughts of a similar call from the police when her husband had been found shot and killed on a sidewalk in downtown Charleston flashed through her mind.

  Guinness said, "Alex is at the hospital. He's stable, but not out of danger yet. I'm sorry, Hanna."

  "How bad is it?" she pleaded.

  "He has a gunshot wound in his neck. Again, they've stabilized the situation, but he's lost a lot of blood."

  Hanna felt faint and leaned back in her chair. "What hospital?"

  The police captain informed her where Alex was being treated, then said, "I'm afraid I have more."

  "Oh, please..." Hanna said, her heart sinking.

  "I know you were close to Alex's partner, Lonnie Smith."

  Hanna managed to answer, "Yes?"

  "He's gone, Hanna. Lonnie was dead at the scene from his gunshot wounds."

  She couldn't respond but thought immediately about Lonnie's wife and family. She heard Captain Guinness continue, "I'm down at the hospital with
Alex. I'm so sorry."

  "I'm coming down," Hanna managed. "I'll be there as soon as I can. Who is with Lonnie's wife, Ginny?"

  "I have a team of people over there with her."

  Hanna didn't know if she could stand, let alone drive to the hospital. She said, "Thank you, Captain. I'll be down as soon as I can."

  She ended the call and looked up to see Molly standing in the doorway. "Is everything okay?" she asked.

  Hanna just shook her head. "I have to down to the hospital. Alex has been hurt."

  "Oh my God!"

  "His captain says he'll be okay, but he's been shot, and it sounds bad."

  "Oh, Hanna. I'm really sorry."

  "His partner has been killed."

  Molly didn't answer, tears starting to drip down her face.

  "I'll be going to see his wife Ginny sometime later. I'm sorry to leave you with all this, but I need to go."

  "Of course," Molly answered quickly. "Just let me know what I can do to help."

  Chapter Seven

  His first conscious thought was the image of Lonnie Smith falling to the floor with blood spreading out across his face and white shirt. Alex tried to sit up and felt a searing pain in his neck and lay back down. A bright light above was blinding and he put an arm over his eyes.

  "Alex?"

  He heard the voice and looked to the side of the bed. It was his captain, sitting in the chair beside him.

  "How you feelin', partner?" Captain Guinness asked."

  "What the hell happened?"

  Guinness didn't answer, just stared back. Random fragments of memories were coming back to him and a sinking feeling in his gut made him think he might throw-up. He tried to gather himself and asked, "Where's Lonnie?"

  The police captain took a deep breath. "He didn't make it, Alex."

  He pressed back down into the pillow, staring up at the bright light on the ceiling. His first thought out loud was, "Oh my God, Ginny."

  "I have people with her."

  "I need to be with her," Alex insisted.