by Jen Wright
"What are you asking me?" I knew, but I was playing with her. She just turned her head to the side with a quizzical smile. I could outgame her, or so I thought.
"Was this a date?"
"Did you want it to be?"
"She's a nice woman. She seems bright. Attractive."
"And?"
This was killing me.
"Were you trying to set me up?"
"Do you mind being set up with Zoey?"
"You can be so-o-o-o annoying!"
I looked at Kathy for help, but she just said, "She's good at it."
She definitely had the better of me, and I didn't have the patience for this right now.
"So, call her." Donna had a lot of patience.
"She can call me."
"Great! I'll tell her you want her to call you."
"Aaaargh!"
Chapter 11
We went up to the TV room. The news coverage was brutal. The DPD had somehow "lost" the proceeds from the biggest drug bust in the tri-state region and was urgently trying to locate the stolen or lost drugs. I confirmed to Kathy and Donna that that is what the call had been about. First thing in the morning, I had to get the probation officers into the schools asking questions. Someone out there had to know something. I would also have to talk to the adult unit supervisor to see if his agents could turn over any rocks.
As I settled into bed with my two boys, I thought about this whole Zoey thing. What would this do to my friendship with Donna? What if things didn't work out? What if they did? Shit! She was attractive and seemed to have her life together. God, I hate dating.
I always dream just as I'm falling asleep. This one was interesting. Zoey and I were walking on my trail. She stopped on the trail, turned around, and kissed me. I kissed her back. I woke up. Shit! Shit! Shit!
As soon as I fell asleep again, I had another dream. I was walking to work along the Lakewalk trail. I was carrying a briefcase I did not recognize. It was leather and quite full. I had the urge to look inside to see what I was carrying, but I didn't. I kept on walking. The air was fresh and clean. Lake Superior was a steel blue. The sky was a deeper blue with billowy white clouds. Only a few people were out. It was cold enough that I could see smoke coming from chimneys. The city up on the hill was still.
Suddenly, I began to see graffiti everywhere: on the mural next to the scenic tourist railroad tracks, on the lift bridge itself, and even on the walkway. Then a young man in baggy pants and a watch cap jumped out onto the trail, carrying a knife. I just smiled at him and began reaching into the briefcase. I felt calm and able to handle the situation. I still didn't know what was in the briefcase. As I opened it up to reach inside, I woke up.
I was annoyed. My urge was to fall right back to sleep to get the rest of the story, but that had never worked. I told myself that it was a dream. Not real. I lay there thinking about the dream and what it meant. Could it be that I already had the solution to the new gang problem in Duluth? I didn't have a clue what the contents of that briefcase might be. Someone else held all the answers, but it wasn't me.
I got up and went downstairs to rummage around in my friends' fridge. Helping myself to their food felt both strange and nurturing. I knew they wouldn't care. I found some ice cream in the freezer and filled a little bowl. I softened it up a bit in the microwave and sat myself down in front of the fire. My pups were begging shamelessly. I have a habit of letting them lick the bowl. Consequently, they stare at my every bite.
OK, Nichols said he would run this town, including the Police Department. He expected the doors of lockup to open wide for him. His bangers didn't know that he had been transferred to the jail, so they had attempted to break him out of detention. The drugs from the warehouse raid were missing, and it looked like an inside police job. The bandits were heavily armed and had financial resources. They also used the drugs they sold, made home movies of themselves, and watched porn. Their gang symbols were adaptations from the Disciples gang, but none of their graffiti had shown up around town. They were highly organized, and we weren't sure how big the gang was. Their colors were black and blue, like the Disciples. They were mostly white kids, but there were adults, too. Some of them were brothers. Nichols was in jail, as was Steve Latrell. Latrell had been to adult jail here within the past sixty days. Both came from Detroit. Nichols seemed to be narcissistic. What else was I missing? Where was the older Nichols brother, "Smithy"? He had to be the arms specialist.
I got up and refilled my ice cream bowl, this time setting it down and letting the fire soften it. The other suspects in the video had not been identified, but the pictures were in every squad. The police were watching the jail. Chances were the gang would try to break Nichols out of there, or a guard might be working from the inside. There was definitely a leak somewhere. The jail staff had been alerted. Someone tossed my office looking for Lou's address, then tossed his house looking for something. Then the intruder came to my house, presumably to kill me or to deliver a message. What was his mission? Why had they sent someone to Lou's? Lou had Nichols on an open file. Lou has gang knowledge. Gangs both fear and respect him. Lou is NOT the inside guy. No way.
By the time I had finished my train of thought, my ice cream was nearly a puddle, just the way I like it. I finished it off and trudged up to bed. I slept right through the alarm. Kathy or Donna must have come in and turned it off. At eight o'clock, I padded downstairs. Coffee was in a thermos, with a note from Kathy saying she had an appointment and to enjoy. I skipped my ritual walk, hit the shower, and sped off to work.
Chapter 12
I made it to work by 9:30. The funeral for the Toivunen family was scheduled for 11 A.M. at the Hillside Community Center. Lou was in the office updating the staff about the missing drugs. I grabbed him and asked for specifics. He didn't have much. I asked him about the plans to cover the funeral. He said that there would be a strong police presence in the Center in plain clothes, as well as squads outside.
I also inquired about his sleep. He looked better, but still a little ragged. He had slept fine. The PD had put him up in a suite on the top floor of the Radisson Hotel. "Nice digs," according to Lou.
"Lou, did you ever figure out why they broke into your house?"
"I don't know. A message, I guess. The thinking of these guys is all screwed up. It's not making any sense."
"Did you find anything missing?"
"Not a thing."
"Any instincts on who is the inside guy?"
"Not a one. There are some guys on the force I get a creepy feeling about, but I can't imagine any of them being tied to a gang that is capable of murdering a whole family."
"That's the hard part. I want to see the takedown if and when they find him."
"Me, too."
"See you at the funeral?"
"Right next to you."
"Thanks, Lou."
The Central Hillside Community Center is in a huge old rehabbed school. The memorial services were held in the auditorium. The audience of nearly three hundred contained Hillside residents, police, school folks, and friends of the family. There were no immediate family members left to attend. Community activists took the opportunity to turn the occasion into a "let's reclaim our city" rally. The police handed out pictures of the bandits and asked people to call 911 if they saw anyone or anything, and to avoid contact. Police were visibly scanning the crowd for weapons. It took me a minute to realize that their fear was that everyday citizens were carrying guns, ready to "protect" themselves and their loved ones. That also scared me.
When the service ended, I gathered Don, Char, Lou, and Nate, and asked them to join me at It's a Perk, my second favorite coffee shop in town, to discuss things. They were happy to comply. I sensed their feelings of helplessness about the whole situation.
Everyone was quiet for a while as we huddled around the coffee. Then I took the lead.
"So, where do you think they took the drugs? I mean, there were a lot of drugs there. Where would they hide them?"
<
br /> Nate spoke up. "My guess is that the drugs are still in the vehicle they transported them in. The vans at the warehouse all had Detroit plates. That's a place to start. We also have those pictures everywhere. I mean everywhere. We'll get a tip soon."
Just like in the movies, Nate's cell phone rang as if on cue. When he hung up, he said a tip had come in. "You'll never believe where it came from an eight-year-old girl.
The girl's mom brought her down to the station because of what she had been talking about. I gotta fly. Lou, are you coming? Jo?"
"I'm in."
"Me, too."
At the station, we were introduced to Jane Sanders and her daughter Christine. Christine was quite the kid: very bright and definitely a talker. She said hello to each of us as we were introduced. She was small for her age with bright orange hair, and an attitude. She seemed the kind of kid who isn't scared of anyone, but who is smart enough to avoid trouble.
Christine and her mom lived next door to some of the guys whose pictures had been on the news. She went on to say that the neighbors had people going in and out all the time, and Christine had been keeping an eye on them from her window at night. She said they smoked a lot of pot, explaining that she knew what it was from the DARE (Drug Abuse Resistance Education) program at school. She could write well enough to give us a statement, but we didn't think we would need one to get a warrant. The mom confirmed that there had been a lot of traffic, but she didn't recognize the pictures.
After the interview, Lou and I bought Christine and her mom soft drinks in the cops coffee shop. Nate was chasing down a warrant. This kid was a stitch. She wanted to know all about the case. Were these the guys who had stolen all of the drugs back from the police? Would she get a reward? How about an award then? Maybe she would be a police officer some day. Her mom just sat there quietly. I wondered whether she was depressed or just tired.
The police were setting up a plan for the raid. Access to the information was limited due to the previous drug heist.
The SWAT team was called in. I was afraid for the lives of these bad guys. Every cop was keyed up to the max. The boys in blue were not thrilled about looking like idiots for losing the drugs. However this played out, it was not going to be pretty.
Chapter 13
I decided to go along as an observer. The address was in the East Hillside area. As usual, my mind wandered during the drive. The East Hillside was the third area to be developed in Duluth. The first, interestingly enough, was the West Hillside. Houses were built into a steep hill. Materials had been carried to the work sites by a rail system, and by goats. It baffled me why Duluth's earliest residents would build on the steepest part of a city in that day and age. Maybe it had to do with the excellent views of Lake Superior. The East Hillside, developed after the Central Hillside area, is not as steep as the other two, but it doesn't command quite the view of the Port or the famous lift bridge. Houses for sale in the eastern part of Duluth are sometimes advertised as having a lake view, when only a slice of the lake is visible from an attic window. Several creeks meander through the East Hillside area in their search for Lake Superior. There are also a couple of parks with recreational trails, so it is still a nice neighborhood to raise a family in. Most of the houses in this area were built between 1900 and 1920.
The suspect's house was at 1544 East Fifth Street. It was a large, three-story house built long and narrow, only four feet from the neighboring house where our eight-year-old tipster lived. I could see why it was easy for her to spy on the activities next door. Lou and I drove by the house and parked a block past it. We then walked within view. The SWAT team was dressed in camouflage and wearing helmets with big plastic-looking shields. A team of five rammed the front door as another team of five rammed the rear entrance. Several uniformed officers maintained a perimeter around the house so that citizens would not be endangered. I heard shots, yelling, more shots. Then more yelling, and finally silence. I held my breath. Lou elbowed me and told me to breathe. I took in a big breath and slowly exhaled. I could see helmets running throughout the house in and out of every room. I presumed that they were securing the building. Several officers walked three men out of the building. The men/boys were belly chained and shackled. The first officer yelled, "All clear. Three in custody. Two inside."
I presumed the two inside were dead.
We waited several minutes and then approached Police Chief Knight. He briefed us: "Three individuals were in the living room playing a video game. Two men pulled weapons and failed to respond to commands to drop them. One of them turned off his safety, and officers fired on the two armed suspects. The third individual dropped to the floor and covered. The other two were in an upstairs bedroom, unarmed, and they surrendered without a fight. A preliminary search has turned up keys to a U-Haul moving van, several handguns, and one sawed-off shotgun. We found evidence of recreational use of crack, powder cocaine, and pot, all three drugs in small amounts. All five match the video pictures. They also have sweet little matching tats covering both arms. Gang symbols. We have enough for arrests for possession and resisting. We can pull some facts from their activities in the video and crank out a few more charges. One of the perps we have in custody is a juvenile. The rest are adults, including the two who were shot. None of them matches the description of the Nichols brother. We'll get something out of them and locate that van. We can call U-Haul to find out who rented the van and make some progress there."
By the time we got back to the office, it was after six o'clock. There was no one except the intensive unit to brief. I filled them in on our progress. Lou was going to the PD to see if he could help out with the investigation, document the tattoos, and try to get a clearer picture of the hierarchy and how these guys fit into it. We needed to get a handle on who was still out there.
When I got to their house, Kathy and Donna had lasagna in the oven and had waited for me. They both had conspiratorial smirks on their faces when I talked about how my alarm hadn't awakened me that morning. Kathy asked how the funeral had gone. I explained how worked up the community was and that I was afraid of vigilante justice. I was worried that some not-so-balanced citizens could mistake regular children for gangsters and hurt innocent kids. Lots of kids looked and dressed like gangsters these days. The baggy jeans, caps, and starter jackets were in fashion. To the average citizen, they all looked alike.
Donna said that there was a message from Zoey asking me to call her. Donna got another smirk on her face and just looked at me innocently.
I built up my nerve and asked Donna, "Why do you think we would be compatible?"
"I don't really know, Jo. I just sense it. It seems good to me."
"How well do you know her?"
"I talk to her every day."
I bolstered myself again. I was determined to break the habit of not asking the hard questions.
"Have you thought through how this might impact our relationship? Our friendship? I mean, what if things don't work out? That could get complicated. What if things do work out? That could get complicated, too."
"I'm not worried about it. You are not a jerk. She is not a jerk. Either it will work out, or it won't. Whatever happens, I'll deal with it. You and I will just have to figure it out either way."
She made it sound so easy. Could it really be that easy?
After dinner, Kathy and I walked the dogs. She seemed to think that Donna could really be that clear about boundaries and that I could trust her not to distance herself from me if things didn't work out. She also said that I should call Zoey. I contemplated the timing of it. I was consumed with this investigation. I couldn't even live at my own house because of it. I thanked her again for letting me stay with them and told her that the case was progressing.
Even though we didn't have the older Nichols boy in custody yet, I longed to go to my house to see if everything was all right. Leaving my house may have kept me safe, but it did nothing to keep my house safe. Kathy sensed my unease and put an arm around me. I
asked her to accompany me to my house after the walk to check it out. She agreed.
From the outside, things looked fine. I gathered my mail, and we trudged up the walk. The motion light activated correctly, and that reassured me. The house was warm inside, and the broken window was fixed. There was no sign of the break-in. Buddy had left me a bill indicating that he had had to replace the entire window. It was right at the amount of my homeowner's insurance deductible. I was just glad it was fixed; the damage could have been worse. I grabbed some clean clothes and just stood there looking around at my house. I had the urge to clean it to reclaim it. Kathy allowed me some time to deal with my feelings. Later, I thought.
In the car on the way back, she asked me what I had been thinking about. I told her I wanted to clean. She laughed and said, "You are a little compulsive, aren't you?"
I laughed and said, "I should get points for resisting."
I called Zoey from an upstairs bedroom. She invited me to dinner at her house at 7 P.M. Friday night. I told Kathy and Donna I would be late because I had a dinner date. I was more afraid of this dinner date than of anything about the case. I didn't tell them that, though. We played a game of hearts, and I went to bed exhausted.
I started to dream as soon as I fell asleep. I was walking my boys in an open field. The field was planted in some kind of ornamental grass: acres and acres of green grass. I ran full throttle with the dogs, and then rolled and tumbled and wrestled with each of them. We all lay down together for a sweet nap in the sun. The clouds were sparse. It was summer, and the sky was an intense blue. The sun was warm on my face. Cocoa was sleeping with his head on my shoulder. Java was at my feet.
Then, out of nowhere, it began to rain. The raindrops were blue. When they hit us, they melted into vapor. When they hit the grass, they turned it brown. I got up to run away from the grass, but my dogs just stood there. Java tried to run, but every time he put his paw down on the brown grass, it hurt him. He just looked at me. His eyes were pleading with me to stay with him. His face turned into Lou's.