Unlawful Justice

by K. Langston

  Then there’s Liv.

  After everything that’s happened to her, she remains strong. She doesn’t show an ounce of bitterness when she has every right to feel that way. She’s stronger than I gave her credit for, but I should have known better than to doubt her. The way she shoved aside her fear and went out to the diner with me, then stood up for Fletch in front of everyone… I shake my head.

  Pulling into Eddie’s driveway, I see his old pickup parked around the side of the house, a Confederate flag license plate mounted proudly on the front bumper. It’s something I wouldn’t have thought twice about before, but now I have to wonder—does he display it as a symbol of his heritage or hate? I know the history behind it, most educated people do, but all too often it’s been used for far more than a representation of southern pride. After what Liv heard him say yesterday, I’m assuming it’s the latter.

  As I get out of the truck Eddie walks out onto his front porch with a beer in hand, dressed in dirty jeans and a wifebeater. His fourteen-year-old son, Brian, steps out behind him and watches me wearily, probably wondering if I’m here for him. The kid has a serious attitude problem and a short temper. He’s been brought in a few times for fighting at school.

  “Deputy Taylor, what brings you all this way?” Eddie asks, before taking a swig of his beer and propping his forearm on the post next to him.

  “I need to speak with you alone, Eddie,” I say, lifting my chin toward Brian.

  Eddie twists his head and gives his son a dismissive nod. Brian hovers for only a second before shutting the large wooden door.

  “What can I do for ya, Grayson?”

  I decide to forgo any bullshit and cut right to the chase. “What was the purpose of your visit with Walter Bradshaw yesterday?”

  He shrugs. “Just wanted to check on Olivia is all.”

  “You sure that’s the only reason?”

  His eyes narrow suspiciously. “Yeah, I’m sure. Why?”

  I shrug. “Things seemed tense when I showed up.”

  “Of course they were. We were checkin’ up on Walt’s granddaughter, who was raped and beaten. Shit ain’t gonna be pleasant. Especially when those bastards are still out there somewhere, just waitin’ to strike again.”

  “The police are on this and we’re doing everything we can. Trust me, I won’t stop until they’re found.”

  He shakes his head. “That’s not enough. It’s going on weeks now since the attack on her. The respectable people of this town are concerned for their safety and can ya blame ’em when this town is filled with their kind?”

  Anger coils low in my gut, but I keep my cool because this is exactly what I want. I want him to crack. I want to hear him say it with my own ears. “Tell me, Eddie, what kind are you talking about?”

  “You know exactly who I’m talkin’ ’bout,” he grinds out, jaw clenched.

  “Actually, I don’t.”

  “The hell you don’t,” he snaps, his eyes flashing with indescribable hate. “Don’t play that shit with me, Taylor. This town is fallin’ apart and it’s been a long time comin’. Ever since that coon, Clarence Rodgers, got elected mayor, Harmony Falls is overrun with them motherfuckers and they brought their fucking drugs and crime with ’em. We ain’t standin’ for it no more and we’re gonna do somethin’ about it.”

  To hear him spout that about Clarence makes me wonder if it was him who burned the cross on his lawn. I take a step toward him, rage pumping viciously through my veins. “This isn’t about race goddammit, this is about some asshole thinking he had the right to break the law and seek vengeance for a crime that Liv nor Walter committed. The exact same thing you and Lane are trying to do. This shit stops now.” The curtains shift behind the window, which I assume is Brian. I gather my control and lower my voice but move in closer, only inches from his face. “Listen to me carefully, Eddie. If I find out either of you are interfering with this case, I will haul your asses in without question. Do you understand?”

  Defiance rages in his eyes, a hatred so powerful it electrocutes the air between us. “Whatever you say, Deputy Taylor.” My name falls from his mouth with disgust before he takes another pull of his beer.

  I don’t believe him, not with what I see staring back at me. “For your sake I hope you mean that. Don’t go out to Liv’s again. There’s no need for you to be there.”

  He tenses. “You can’t tell me I can’t go out to Walt’s.”

  “Actually, I can. Walter and Liv don’t need you out there stirring up shit. Leave them the hell alone and let them deal with this in peace.”

  A smug look transforms his face as realization hits. “So that’s what this is about. You got a hard-on for Olivia, is that it? Like preying on the victims, Taylor?”

  My composure snaps. I knock the beer out of his hand and grab him by the front of his grungy shirt. “Watch your fucking mouth, Willard.” I grit. “If you’re smart you’ll fucking listen, because you won’t like the consequences if you don’t, trust me. So stay the fuck away from her and Walter, and stay the hell out of my case.”

  “Eddie?” The screen door squeaks open and his wife, Janet, steps out with a cigarette dangling from her mouth, looking her usual haggard self. “Everythin’ all right?”

  I release Eddie’s shirt and back out of his personal space as she comes to stand beside him. “Yeah, s’all good, darlin’. He assures her by wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in close.

  For the sake of pleasantries, I acknowledge her with a nod. “Janet.”

  “Grayson,” she greets back, her glassy eyes roaming down my body with appreciation, something I’m used to from her. I can’t count how many times she’s come on to me at Tucker’s, the local watering hole, when I’ve gone in for a drink while she’s waitressing. It got so annoying that I don’t even bother going if she’s working.

  I shift my attention back to Eddie. “Make sure you give Lane my message.” As I start back down the stairs he calls out to me. I turn back around to face him.

  “If you care so much about Olivia then what do you give a shit about them niggers for anyway?”

  My jaw locks down tight, as I try to restrain myself from going back up there and laying him out. “How do you even know they’re black, Eddie?”

  His back straightens. “What?”

  “How do you know if the people who hurt her are black? Maybe they’re white or Hispanic.”

  It’s Janet who scoffs. “Please. Everyone knows they’re black, it’s all because of that kid Walter shot. It was in retaliation and—”

  “Exactly,” I snap, cutting her off. “This is about vengeance, not color.”

  “Fuck that!” Eddie barks. “It is about color. They’re goddamn animals, every last one of ’em, and it’s time they took up somewhere else.”

  “Damn right!” Janet agrees, taking another pull of her cigarette.

  As I stare back at them, seeing their hatred fueling one another, I finally realize what the hell is wrong with Brian and where all his anger comes from.

  It has me remembering what just went down at the store with that kid. There’s no point in trying to reason with this level of ignorance. Instead, I point my finger at him in warning. “I’ve got my eye on you. Remember what I said, back the fuck off, and stay away from Liv and this case.”

  I head back to my patrol truck, fury branding the blood beneath my skin. The entire drive back to the station I wonder what the hell I’m going to do. I don’t care what the sheriff said, what I just heard Eddie spew is far from being some harmless redneck. Dixon needs to lock this shit down and fast.

  By the time I pull up to the station my rage has been reduced to a simmer, but I can’t stop thinking about what went down with Eddie. I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I don’t hear Terrell enter my office until he takes the seat across from me, his gaze sharp and assessing. “You okay, man?”

  “Yeah.” I lie. “Why?”

  “Because you look like you’re ready to kill someone.” He le
ans forward. “What’s up, Taylor? Talk.”

  I pull a hand down my face, trying to clear my head. “I’m fine, just pissed off. I paid Eddie Willard a visit and it went worse than I expected.”

  “Why? What’d you go see him about?”

  “Him and Lane went out to Walt’s yesterday and Liv overheard him say some things that made her uncomfortable.”

  “Like what?”

  “Racist shit,” I reply vaguely, not wanting to offend him.

  He grunts. “And you’re surprised by that?”

  “A little, yeah, and to be honest I’m sick of the bullshit. I’m tired of everyone making this about race.” I tell him what happened at Pillar’s, then the diner yesterday with Liv and how they sent Fletch away.

  He shakes his head, his anger mirroring mine. “Yeah, well, what else is new?”

  I tense. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Wake the fuck up, Taylor. It’s always been this way for as long as I’ve lived here.”

  “The fuck it has,” I fire back, my blood igniting. “No one has ever been kicked out of a place of business for the color of their skin until this shit with Jamal Jenkins went down.”

  He shrugs. “Maybe not, but racism has always been strong around here.” I shake my head but he doesn’t let me speak. “Really? We played football together for four years. Four fucking years and not once did we hang out. Why do you think that is?”

  I rear back, floored by his insinuation. “Well it sure the fuck wasn’t because you’re black. I’ve never treated you differently than anyone else, Johnson, and you damn well know it. We may have run in different crowds, but out on that field we were a team. I treated you the same way I did everyone else.”

  He grunts. “Yeah, well you were the only one. Don’t you remember when I got rocked on the field by Banks, and I was out for two weeks because of it?”

  I throw my hands up. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

  “Because Phelps purposely didn’t fucking block me,” he bellows.

  “The hell you say! Phelps was one of my good friends, he would have never done something like that.”

  “You’re fucking blind.”

  “I’m not fucking blind, you’re fucking crazy.”

  “Oh yeah?” He stands, resting his hands on the edge of my desk.

  “Yeah! And if you wanna play the fucking race card then let’s turn this the other way and look at what happened to Liv.” I stand, matching him stance for stance. “Those bastards hurt her because they think Walt shot Jamal because he was black, but he didn’t.”

  “I fucking know he didn’t! I’ve known that old stubborn bastard for years. He would never do something like that.”

  Our voices continue to rise, both of us consumed by anger and irritation.

  “Exactly! So it’s not just one-sided.”

  “I never said it was!”

  “Then why the fuck are we fighting about this?”

  “I don’t fucking know!”

  We glare at one another, our chests rising and falling with frustration.

  The sound of snapping gum knocks us from our stare down. We turn to see Lucy watching us from the doorway. “I don’t know why you two idiots are fightin’ either but it’s highly entertaining,” she remarks with a smile before blowing another bubble and walking away.

  With a chuckle, I turn my attention back to Terrell and find him watching me with amusement. “You know I got your back, right? That I would never judge you or anyone else because of the color of their skin?”

  “Yeah, Taylor, I know that. I’ve always known that. Sorry I got so worked up, but the thing is, not everyone here is like you. I understand you might not see it because you haven’t been subjected to it, but it does happen, a lot more than you think. My father once said something to me when I was just a kid, and it’s something I always try to remember but sometimes it’s really fucking hard to do.”

  “What’s that?” I ask quietly.

  A beat of silence passes.

  “When the eyes of hate are upon you, look away.”

  I stare at him, unsure of what to say. To think his father needed to say something like that to him as a kid makes me wonder if I really have been blind.

  “You’re right though,” he continues. “It has been happening on both sides, especially lately. Look what just happened with you at Pillar’s this morning. But honestly…can you blame the kids being fearful these days?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Looking over his shoulder, he ensures we’re alone before leaning in closer and lowering his voice. “Look at what went on with Daryl Baker.”

  I grimace. “What about it? Prichard was cleared of the allegation.”

  “He may have been cleared but are you so sure he didn’t do it?”

  Before I can ask what the hell he’s talking about, Dixon comes stalking in with a set of papers clutched firmly in his hand. “We finally got the results back from the lab, and we have a match.”

  Our conversation forgotten, we both give him our full attention. “Who is it?” I ask, adrenaline sparking in my veins.

  “Reggie West.”

  That motherfucker!

  “Shit!” Terrell curses. “That son of a bitch’s alibi was locked up tight. His employer confirmed it.”

  “Well, he lied, and this confirms it,” Dixon says, holding up the incriminating proof. He pauses and brings his sole focus to me, his eyes boring into mine. “Traces of Olivia’s blood were found on his necklace. There’s no doubt this is our guy.”

  That’s all I needed to hear. “Address.” I demand.

  Dixon rattles off the address, located in a shitty part of town. “Go with him, Johnson. I’m also sending Prichard and Wilkinson for backup,” he says, referring to the rookie.

  I don’t give a fuck who he sends. West’s ass is mine.

  Terrell hesitates. “Do you think we should be the ones to go? This case is personal for the both of us.”

  My gaze snaps to his. “What the fuck are you saying? Of course we’re going. This is for Liv and it’s my goddamn case. I’m going to be the one to take him down. Now are you coming or not?”

  He exhales a heavy breath. “Yeah, man, of course I’m comin’.”

  Dixon hands over the warrant before Terrell and I head out to my patrol truck. Prichard and Wilkinson hop in the one beside us and wait for us to take the lead out.

  We forgo the sirens, not wanting to alert or draw attention. “How much do you know about him?” I ask.

  “Not much more than you. Moved here a few years back from California after a two-year stint in LA lockup for drug trafficking, as you know. Lived with his aunt for a while, Jamal’s mother. He works construction for Security Builders over in Springfield.” He shakes his head. “I still can’t believe his foreman, Fernando Cortez, gave a sworn statement that he was working when the rape took place. Once we have him in custody we need to pay Mr. Cortez another visit.”

  “Agreed.”

  “That’s pretty much all I know about West, but Darius says he doesn’t fuck around.”

  “Do you think Darius or Kenton were a part of this, too?”

  He immediately rejects the idea. “No, no way. I’ll admit they were crushed about what happened to Jamal, but there’s no way in hell they’d hurt Liv. They know she’s not to blame, and Darius can’t fucking stand Reggie. Trust me, they had no part in this. I would know.”

  I want to believe it, and I hope that’s the truth, but who the fuck knows? I feel like I don’t know anything anymore.

  My hand flexes around the steering wheel, my control slipping the closer we get.

  “You sure you can handle this, Taylor?” he asks cautiously.

  “Yeah, I got this.”

  I hope.

  The thought of coming face-to-face with the man who hurt Liv, who put his fucking hands on her and brutalized her in the worst way imaginable is what I’m struggling with. The anger I feel toward him has buil
t a fire of hate in my soul, and I’m doing my best to stomp it out and do my job without thoughts of killing the motherfucker. I need to keep my head.

  I have to.

  We arrive a few minutes later. I park down the street from the house, not wanting to alert them of our presence and Prichard pulls in behind us. “I still can’t fucking believe Dixon sent not only Prichard but also a fucking rookie,” Terrell mumbles, shaking his head.

  His earlier words come back to me, but I shove them aside for a later time. All I care about is taking this motherfucker down. “We need backup right now. Who knows what we’re walking into. All that matters is bringing this fucker in.”

  He gives me a stern nod, agreeing with me even if he doesn’t like it.

  We hop down from the truck, quickly retrieving our vests from the backseat before meeting up with Wilkinson and Prichard, who are both suited up and ready to go. “Seems like we might have a full house,” Wilkinson remarks, gesturing to the few cars parked out front. I also take note of the music beating loudly from inside the house.

  “All right, here’s how we’re going to work it.” I begin. “Wilkinson, you cover the back and Prichard you come in with Johnson and me. The three of us should be able to contain whoever is in there and get to West. We give no warning; let’s get in and get him out. Got it?”

  Prichard responds with a lift of his chin and Terrell cocks his gun.

  I look to Wilkinson. “You got this?”

  “Yes. No problem.” The confidence in his voice is exactly what I want to hear.

  “All right, let’s do this.”

  Weapons in hand, we point them to the ground, then with stealth movement we make our way to the house, surveying the neighborhood. Most of the dwellings are rundown, some even falling apart, a clear sign of poverty and neglect. There’s about a dozen teenagers playing basketball across the street while an older woman sits in a rocker next door. A little girl squeals, peddling her bike down a nearby driveway as fast as she can, a toddler wearing nothing but a diaper following her.