by K Elliott
“Okay, do the same thing for the soda can, but freeze when he starts drinking from it.”
When she did it she said, “Hmm. I don’t know about that one. Can’t tell for sure with this straight-ahead shot.”
Brian smiled and said, “I’ll know soon enough.”
Marissa’s cell phone rang. She looked at the screen then answered it. “Echo, what’s up?”
“I read the entire case file on Sam Hughes. I don’t remember reading anything about him being hit four times in the head.” She said, “His death was the result of blunt force trauma.”
Echo said, “I know that, but how many times was he hit in the head?”
“I don’t know the answer to that, and the x-ray of his skull has redactions for the injuries.”
“Is my cousin there?”
“Yep.”
“What the fuck yawl doing?”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m bulshittin’. Put him on.”
Brian accepted the phone and said, “Give me the good news.”
“You read the Sam Hughes case files—did you see anything in there that specified how many times the old man was hit in the head?” “Nope. Why?”
“Me and Jeremy’s girlfriend are hanging out. I might have to dig deep up in her before he gets back. Anyway, even she knows how many times Sam Hughes was hit in the head. She said she got her info from Jeremy. Any suggestions?”
“Can you beat the info out of him without leaving your damn DNA or other forensic evidence of your existence?” “Will do, boss.”
Jeremy entered his girlfriend’s house and saw her sitting in the arm chair. “What’s wrong?”
Echo stepped from behind the door pointing a handgun at Jeremy’s face. He kicked the door shut and said, “Your narrow ass is in a lot of trouble. Turn around and keep your hands on top of your head.”
Jeremy complied and looked at Kyla the whole time he was being searched.
Echo took a bag of weed, some car and house keys and five dollars from him. “Now turn around and push both of your hands deep in your front pockets.” Jeremy followed orders and still hadn’t said a word.
Echo said, “How much you pay for this weed?”
“Twenty dollars.”
Echo tossed the bag to Kyla. “You might need to smoke all of that by yourself when you see what I’mma do to your man.”
He tucked the keys away then switched the gun to his left hand. “Back up a couple of steps.”
Jeremy took two steps backwards, still keeping his hands in his front pockets.
'Now, I’m about to slap your damn skin loose. Don’t let your hands come out of your pockets. Here I go.” Echo swung his right hand back and drew a wind current slapping Jeremy’s face. He’d damn near knocked the young man over.
Jeremy staggered and wobbled over closer to the love seat. Echo walked closer to him. “Ready? Here I go.” And it happened again, a smack that sounded off like a whip cracking, this time sending Jeremy over an arm of the chair and onto the floor. He walked up and stood over Jeremy, “And that’s just for your mammy calling me out my name.”
TEN
Jeremy was now sitting on the sofa and Kyla was only a seat cushion away from him.
Echo was standing by the fake tree in her front room. He looked at her and said, “Get that rolling paper out your purse, roll up a fat joint, and start smoking it.” When she started digging inside her purse, Echo said to Jeremy, “I’mma pull out my recorder and you’re gonna tell me exactly how and why you killed Sam Hughes. I know everything about the case because my uncle was one of the detectives and he walked me through it. That means you’ll have to tell me something about the case that only the cops would know. You’ll also have to tell me something that only the killer would know.”
Kyla was so nervous; the marijuana was shaking on the paper before she started rolling it.
Echo said, “Ask yourself, would I really be here if I didn’t already know you killed the old man?”
Jeremy said, “I swear to God I didn’t have anything to do with—”
Echo rushed up to him, grabbed a handful of his hair, and thrust a knee into the man’s face, breaking his nose. Jeremy hollered out in pain.
Echo stepped back and watched him.
Jeremy’s nose was bleeding and he was holding his face.
“I felt that muthafucka crunch, so I know I broke it.” He looked down. “I got your bullshit al over my pants now.”
Kyla wished she could pass out. She was watching Jeremy, just holding the weed. She had forgotten to finish rolling it up.
Echo snapped his fingers, getting her attention. “Get back to work.” He backed up to the fake tree again and said to Jeremy, “I know you don’t want to go to prison for murder, so I don’t blame you for lying. A broken nose is better than life in prison.”
The blood on Jeremy’s face and hands was also running down inside his sweatshirt.
“But I’m being paid to get answers, so your crunchy-ass nose ain’t gonna do me no good. If you wanna stay out of prison, I’mma make sure you can’t kill another old man.” Then, he said to Kyla, “You got two minutes to finish with that joint and get your ass in the kitchen to get me a big butcher knife so I can cut your boyfriend’s hands off. I can watch you in the kitchen from where I am, so don’t think about trying anything.”
She flicked a lighter and lit the joint. “Jeremy, whatever you know about the incident please tell him.” Jeremy was crying now.
“Nah, he don’t know shit. He swore to God, so he must be telling the truth. Get you a couple of puffs and pass it to Jeremy. His stupid ass better smoke now while he still got hands. Oh, and here’s something else to think about, Jeremy. You know when I cut them hands off Kyla is gonna leave you. I mean, you won’t even be able to dig in your ass no more and wipe it. She ain’t sticking around for that.”
Kyla sucked on the joint as she got up from the sofa.
“Matter fact, get naked, Jeremy. I almost forgot about how your mammy treated me this morning. I’m cutting your dick and your nutsack off.”
Jeremy raised his bloody face up to his hands and said, “I killed him because I owed two black guys some money. I knew he had those coins but I didn’t know how much they were worth.”
“That’s good. Kyla, sit back down.” Then, he said to Jeremy, “How much did you owe and how much did they knock off the coins?” “I owed sixteen hundred dollars and they cleared the whole bill.”
“I bet they did.” Now start over from the beginning when I start my recorder. I won’t ask a single question; just run your whole story so I don’t have to castrate your ass. And smoke some weed and relax. You’re safe now.”
ELEVEN
The next day Brian flew down to Macon, Georgia, and met with 21-year-old Julie Hughes, while Marissa was looking into another case out of California.
Brian met with Julie in the parking lot of a grocery store. She hopped inside the Durango and closed the door. They had spoken briefly over the phone, but now they exchanged pleasantries again.
Brian said, “I have a CD with Jeremy Bunto’s full confession. It clearly checks against all the evidence and reveals a few things that the cops had failed to connect.” “Is he in jail now?”
“No. I’ll mail the disc to you, and you can tell the police that someone anonymously sent it.”
“Does he say why he killed my great grandfather?”
“Yeah. It’s al in the confession.” He looked at her but she was looking away. She was a recent college grad and looked like the typical college white girl, attractive and friendly, easy to take advantage of.
She said, “And the coins?”
“They ended up in the hands of some drug dealers. He owed them money. That’s another story and another case, and after seven years there’s probably no hope of finding those coins.”
Julie was quiet for a while.
Brian said, “You don’t have the balance, do you?”
She looked at him. �
�I tried, and I thought I would have it by the time you were done with the case. You actually solved it too fast for me.” “So, it sounds to me like you will have the money sometime in the near future.”
“Maybe two months.”
“Okay, let me work this out,” Brian said. “You paid forty percent on seventy-five grand, so you owe forty-five grand. Personal question: How do you plan to come ç with that kind of money in two months? My sources tell me that you’re just a smart college student with no history of employment. How did you even come up with the thirty grand?”
“I borrowed it.” She sighed, a sound of exasperation.
“You borrowed it because you thought you’d get a big return, right? You thought Godsend Investigations would find those coins and make you $750,000 richer, or whatever they’re worth by now. You’re college smart but you don’t have common sense.”
“What are you talking about?”
Brian smiled at her. “I’m talking about a 14-year-old girl named Julie Hughes who wanted to be with a 16-year-old boy named Jeremy Bunto. He kept putting you off as too young for him, and you kept looking for ways to make him want you.”
“He’s a liar if he told you that.”
“I don’t think so. You wanted to impress him, so you told him about some valuable coins that your great grandfather had had in the family since his grandfather. You even told him exactly where the coins were kept in the attic. At the time you didn’t know Jeremy was in trouble with some drug dealers, so how were you supposed to know he would kill for those coins?”
She shook her head, disagreeing, almost wanting to cry.
“You knew that those rare coins would not be spent by now, but common sense should have told you they would be sold.” “I have the common sense to know that, which is why I hired Godsend to find my great grandfather’s killer.”
“My assistant told you how this agency works, so you knew you’d have the evidence and that no police would be involved unless you gave the evidence to them. I think you were planning to blackmail Jeremy for those coins.”
“Are you going to give the disc to the police?”
“Nope. Mr. Hughes is dead and you’re his only family. You don’t want justice or closure. I’ll keep the disc and Jeremy will be a model citizen for the rest of his life. As for you, get out of my truck. And thanks for the thirty grand.”
TWELVE
Brian was at his sister’s house, standing in the front yard talking to Marissa with his 4-year-old daughter on his neck. He was holding LaRia’s hands while he stood at the driver’s door of Marissa’s car. He said, “So we didn’t lose money on the case, but we didn’t make what we expected. And since we won’t make a dime on the active FBI case, you think the IRS will give us a tax write-off for the month of November?”
Marissa smiled. “Not until we start paying taxes on our illegal income. But November might not be such a bad month after al. It turns out that Angel Brookshire, the lady I met with out in California, is the head of an advocacy group called UCASTU, which stands for Unsolved Cases Are Special To Us. The members have either a relative or friend whose case is either unsolved or once was. These are homicide cases and missing persons, our exact line of work.”
“Sounds like a non-profit organization.” He bounced a little just to shake his daughter up.
“The members donate only five dollars per month, which goes toward things like private investigators and burials. The group was founded six years ago and is now 81,000 members strong in the U.S.”
“Oh, this sounds excellent.”
“They’ve only had seven cases solved in the six years they’ve been around. I was honest with her, and told her that Godsend is illegal and does not play by any rules when it comes to suspects. She said she would have to get back with me once she runs that by the group’s committee. She doesn’t mind Godsend’s approach, but the decision isn’t hers alone. And even if the committee approves, she wants to know how UCASTU would pay Godsend $75,000 per case?”
“What does that mean?” he said.
“They’re legitimate; we aren’t. They can’t spend that kind of money without documenting or reporting where it went.” “Ooh. That is a problem, but that’s your department, so you work that out in case her committee approves.”
“I thought you’d say something like that.” She slipped the gear into Reverse. “Bye, bye LaRia.”
“Bye Marissa,” the child said.
Brian said, “Cal me if you come up with something.” He headed toward the backyard, bouncing with each step, making his daughter laugh. “Let’s go see what your crazy cousin is doing.”
When they reached the backyard, Echo was tightening the top on a shampoo bottle and leaving Fraction’s pen. Fraction was LaRia’s 4-month-old German Sheppard. Brian said, “What are you up to?”
“I’ll explain it later.” Echo locked the gate to the pen.
LaRia said, “I wanna play with Fraction.”
Brian said, “You can’t play with him until I move you back home with me and we get him a good bath. He can stay in the house with us after we get him trained.” The puppy had his front feet up to the gate, head cocked, looking at Brian and LaRia. He barked as he wagged his tail.
Echo said, “Fraction wants to swear on a stack of Bibles. He knows it’s only gonna get colder out here.”
THIRTEEN
Two weeks had gone by and Brian and Echo were just outside of Charleston, West Virginia. Brian pulled his Durango up to a busy construction site, and they got out and headed for the office trailer. They were dressed in jeans, dress shoes, and blazer jackets. Brian wore shades but he took them off when they reached the steps of the trailer. There was a thin haze of dust because of all the heavy operating equipment in use.
Brian knocked on the door.
“Come in,” said a man from inside.
Brian and Echo barely heard him because of all the construction noise. As they entered, Echo looked back at the framework on an 18-story building. “How can I help you gentlemen?” The man behind the desk and computer said.
Brian and Echo both flashed federal credentials. Then, Brian said, FBI, Special Agent Richard Gaston and this is Special Agent Louis Raymond.” The man nodded and said, “I’m Jeff Freeheart, the foreman, and I didn’t do it.”
Brian smiled. “You have an employee here by the name of Vincent Meeks. We have a warrant for his arrest.”
Echo slipped a hand inside his blazer and displayed a folded document. If the foreman wanted to inspect it, but it was highly unlikely that he would know that the federal warrant was fake.
The foreman grabbed his two-way radio and called for Vincent.
Fifteen minutes later Brian and Echo were escorting Vincent with his hands cuffed behind his back, many of his co-workers staring away. Vincent was almost thirty-four and exactly Brian’s height. He was a strong white man and had been in the construction business since he was nineteen. His hair was long, his face was dusty, and his boots were worn-worn.
When they reached the Durango, Echo gently pushed Vincent’s head down and helped him into the backseat area. Echo hopped in beside him while Brian got in the driver’s seat.
Brian backed up for fifty yards then turned the vehicle around and sped away.
Echo said, “Well, Vincent. Your dusty ass is in a lot of trouble.”
“What’s this about?” Why are you arresting me?”
Echo said, “We got some good-ass questions for you, and we don’t want you thinking a lawyer can help you.” “Questions about what?”
“Murder. Rape. Fucking old ladies in the ass and pissing on them.”
“Hey, man, you guys are not going to pin that shit on me. You guys questioned me about that several years ago. I did my time for my crime, and I was just a juvenile back then.”
Brian kept glancing at him in the rearview mirror.
Echo said, “And even as a juvie you broke in an old lady’s home while she was bathing.”
“I didn’t know she
was home.”
“Doesn’t matter; you knew her and you targeted her because she was old.” “What’s that got to do with the reason you’re arresting me?”
“Shut up. You’re the only suspect whose DNA the Feds don’t have.”
“If you plan to take my DNA from me, I’ll need to see my lawyer first.” Vincent turned his back to the passenger’s door and faced Echo.
Echo said, “If we was really federal agents we would be mad at you right now. I’m getting your DNA, and if you act a fool I’ll get it as a blood sample.”
Vincent was quiet now. He used his peripheral to watch both men. Brian slowed for a stop sign and was almost back in the city.
Suddenly, Vincent leaned his back against the passenger’s door and managed to grab the door handle. He used both feet to thrust Echo against the other door while pushing himself out of the moving vehicle.
Brian slammed on brakes.
Echo jumped out to give chase but Vincent was not far from the woods now. Echo told Brian, “Get out of here. I’ll call you when I got him.” Brian pulled off while other drivers and passengers were being nosey, so Echo held up his FBI credentials for them to see then dashed off toward the woods.
FOURTEEN
Echo hit the woods sprinting at nearly full speed. The damn dress shoes were slowing him up because he felt like he would run up out of them. He scurried down the temporary path Vincent had produced and used his hands and forearms to swipe at vines, and thin tree branches. The wooded area was not as dense as it appeared from the outside.
Vincent was already exhausted; he was not used to running. His hands were cuffed behind his back, so he was having a hard time with his balance. He kept turning his face and sometimes running with his head down to prevent the branches from attacking his face. He looked back and stumbled but kept pushing forward. He was a good sixty yards deep into the woods when he looked back and saw a black man catching up, and when he looked again a thin, flimsy branch swiped him across the eyes. He batted his eyelids furiously to clear his vision, then stumbled, tripped, and fell to the ground. He just lay there, didn’t even try to get up.