“What? You mean, there was something there to figure out? You were right about this the whole time?”
“I don’t have time to explain right now, Jason. I need you to focus on what I’m telling you. I’ll explain it all later, alright?”
“Okay,” Jason agreed. “Call George. Tell him to ‘report it’ to Officer Connolly. Anything else?”
Michael looked at the clock, “it’s still early,” he said to himself. “I still have some time.”
“Time for what?”
“When you tell George to call, make sure he mentions the name Lindsey O’Neil. He has to say that name, okay?”
“Anything else?”
“I need you to call them, too,” Michael added. “But after George does.”
“Why?”
“Because!” Michael yelled. “Because,” he calmed his voice slightly. “They have to understand how urgent this is.”
“And what do I say when I call?”
“You just tell them that something is happening at this address,” he wrote down Lindsey’s address on an old receipt he found in Jason’s cup holder. “But you can’t call until after 8:30, okay?”
“After 8:30?”
“Not long after, around 8:45-8:50, not too much after, but definitely not before.”
“I don’t know if I want to be involved in whatever this is that you’re doing, Michael.”
“Don’t worry,” Michael replied quickly. “It’s over; at least, it’s almost over. Please, Jason. Just do this for me, okay? I promise, after today, the whole thing will be done. My obsession with Rachel’s death, letting myself wallow down deeper and deeper into my misery—it’s done! I just need you to do this one thing.”
“Fine,” he said reluctantly as he pulled into the parking lot where Michael’s car was still waiting for him.
“Thank you so much, Jason,” Michael said before pushing open his door. “And wait until you’re pretty far away from me before you call George, okay?”
“Whatever,” Jason said, too focused on remembering all of the orders Michael had given him to argue or ask more questions.
When Michael got into his car he looked down quickly at the clock—7:10. “I still have a little time,” Michael said to himself, turning on his car and pulling quickly out of the parking lot.
He drove in no apparent direction, hoping that if the Underground Mafia was still following him, he could at least lead them as far away from Jason, George, and that part of his plan as possible.
After a while, he found himself driving out to Rachel’s apartment. He hadn’t realized he was going that way, until he was just a block away. When he pulled into the parking lot, he made it up in his mind that he would go inside. But, as he sat there just staring out at the block of buildings in front of him, he couldn’t bring himself to exit the car.
He expected that the moment he got the answers he was looking for, he would be filled with an overwhelming sense of relief and satisfaction, but he wasn’t. Lindsey was right. It didn’t bring her back; it didn’t make the emptiness in his heart seem any less real and any less painful.
One thing he did notice, however, was in that moment, sitting there in front of Rachel’s apartment, he wasn’t only focused on his pain. For the first time in eight months, his feelings weren’t the only thing on his mind. He was worried about Lindsey. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t just thinking about himself and about his misery.
He looked down at the clock again—8:12. It was time. He turned the car on again, and pulled away from Rachel’s building. “Let’s get this over with,” he said to himself as he turned in the direction of Lindsey’s apartment.
Chapter 20: One Last Go Around
Pulling into the parking lot connected to Lindsey’s complex, Michael took a few deep breaths, trying to mentally prepare himself for whatever he found upon entering her apartment. Leaving his gun tucked into the back of his jeans, and his phone shoved down into his coat pocket, he made his way for the door. The closer he got the harder and faster his heart pounded in his chest. He knew that eventually the cops would show up; at least he hoped they would. He just had to keep everyone talking and civil until then.
He didn’t have to knock because when he reached the door, it was quickly pulled open, and the man with the scar stood there, smiling at him. “Michael,” he said motioning for him to come in.
He pushed past the man quickly, wanting to find Lindsey. “Not so fast,” another man stopped him before he could enter the living room. Michael recognized his voice immediately as the man who took Lindsey with him the night before last. He wasn’t wearing a ski mask this time. He had short black hair, and dark brown eyes. “Check him for weapons,” he ordered two other men who were standing behind him.
The two men rushed up on Michael quickly, patting him down. They found and quickly retrieved the gun he had tucked into his jeans. “That’s it,” one of them said as they handed it over.
“Good,” the man with the scar said, pushing past the small group and leading them down the hall. When they entered the sitting room, Michael’s eyes immediately went to Lindsey. She was sitting on the couch, her hands still bound behind her back, but her mouth was no longer gagged. Her eyes were wide with fear, but filled briefly to an expression of relief upon seeing him.
“Michael!” she yelled out to him.
“Lindsey!” he said running over and kneeling in front of her.
“Take a seat, Michael,” the man with the scar ordered him. When he had positioned himself next to Lindsey on the couch, the man continued speaking. “My name is Luke Kippling, but my friends call me Kipp. This,” he said motioning to the man who took Lindsey hostage, “is Darrel. The others,” he motioned to the three other men in the room, “are our associates.”
“Why wait until now to tell us your names? If you were just going to tell us anyways, why didn’t you back in the beginning of all of this?” Michael asked.
“Just in case you got a little jumpy and decided to go to the cops,” Kipp explained. “If you didn’t have any names to give them, then that’s obviously better for us.”
“Well, don’t worry, I didn’t call the cops,” Michael said firmly. It was the truth—he didn’t call the cops. But hopefully both Jason and George did.
“Good,” Kipp said walking over and sitting on the coffee table in front of them. “so, let’s talk, Michael.”
“What would you like to talk about?”
“Well, as I mentioned to you before, we know that you figured out who our friends, The Lords and Kings were getting their supply from. The Meditech Pharmaceutical Company.”
“You had to have known before,” Michael assumed. “The black Impala—all you had to do was follow it.”
“You’re right,” Kipp said leaning back. “We knew that Meditech was somehow involved, but the thing with the receptionist at the doctor’s office, that we didn’t know—we didn’t know how the drugs were getting from point A to point B. And the lawyers involvement wasn’t clear to us either.” He tilted his head to the side as he continued speaking. “And besides, even if we did figure it out, getting all those important businessmen in one place at one time would have been pretty difficult for us, not to mention getting them all arrested. As I’m sure you can imagine, we aren’t very big fans of the police. Even if we did call, they probably wouldn’t have believed any leads that came from us, and more than likely we would have ended up getting arrested as well.”
“Well, it’s done now—at least the business side of it. All that’s left are The Lords, which I’m sure you’ll be more than happy to take care of for yourself.”
“Very true,” Kipp agreed with a firm nod.
“So, this whole arrangement has been great, but I think it’s time for you to leave,” Michael said standing up quickly.
“Not so fast,” Kipp replied, standing up as well and resting a firm hand on Michael’s shoulder. Behind him Darrel and his men raised their guns and pointed them at Michael an
d Lindsey.
Michael lifted his hands and sat back down on the couch. Next to him he could hear Lindsey’s breathing become shallow and quick. She was trembling slightly. He reached his hand out and set it on her knee. “What else do you want from us?” Michael asked him.
“See,” Kipp said walking around the table and standing next to his men. “I know you’re both reasonable people and I’m sure that if I asked you, pretty pretty please don’t take this whole little mix-up to the cops, you would both agree, eagerly, to keep your mouths shut.”
“Yes,” Lindsey said, her voice shaky. “We won’t say anything, we swear!”
“But, Ms. O’Neil, I’m not an idiot. I know you’re a cop, and I know that you used to work in the gang unit.”
“Not anymore,” she tried to convince him.
“Please, don’t insult my intelligence. I know that no matter what, someday this whole thing will come up in some conversation, maybe with your partner, maybe with your boss, it really doesn’t matter with who, but I know it will.”
“So, what are you going to do?” Michael asked, even though he had a pretty good idea he knew the answer.
“Well, that’s why this spot was such an ideal location to have you come with the hopes of saving your dear friend here.”
“Why?” Michael and Lindsey asked in unison.
“Because it’s a great place to stage the murder-suicide that’s going to take place.”
“The what?” Lindsey asked, terror thick on her voice.
“Oh, yeah,” Kipp said casually. “Michael is going to kill you, then himself.”
“No one will buy it,” Michael said gruffly. “No one will believe that angle.”
“They won’t?” Kipp said walking around and sitting down in front of them again. “Let’s see, the grief-stricken ex-Navy Seal with anger issues discovers that it’s a drug-related operation that led to the death of his dearly departed fiancée.”
“So?” Michael questioned.
“And, who do we know that was supposed to have stopped that very gang just a few short months before her death”
“Me,” Lindsey said quietly.
“Exactly!” the man said with a hint of amusement in his voice. “You see, Michael, getting the answers you were looking for didn’t help to quell the paralyzing pain you felt because of your loved one’s death. You still needed revenge. Not only did the men who were responsible for the operation need to pay, the police officers that failed to get that scum off the street did, too.”
“He’s right,” Lindsey sobbed next to him. “If we had been able to stop The Lords back then, none of this would have ever happened!”
“Lindsey,” Michael said turning to her and resting his hand on her knee again. “Do you hear what you’re saying? That’s ridiculous!”
“But I could have stopped it! I should have kept searching; I shouldn’t have let my partner’s death detour me like it did!”
“You have to be out of your mind if you think anyone is going to buy that story!” Michael yelled.
“Oh, they will, especially when they find this.” He held up a suicide note, typed up on a computer. He read it out loud, slowly, so that the words washed over Michael and Lindsey. It outlined exactly what he had just said, explaining that once he had completed his mission of vengeance and making those who were responsible for Rachel’s death pay for what they had done, Michael was able to once and for all find peace—with her. He was happy, because he was going to be with her again and for forever. “All that’s missing is your signature.”
“I’m not going to sign that,” Michael said firmly.
“Darrel,” Kipp said over his shoulder to his right-hand man. “I think Michael needs a little motivation.”
Darrel walked across the room and grabbed onto a handful of Lindsey’s hair, pulling her head back forcefully and letting a fist fly across her face. “Stop!” Michael yelled jumping up to his feet and throwing his weight against the large man, pushing him back away from her.
He heard the click of guns being loaded echo out around him. “What does it matter?” he said turning around quickly and looking at them. “Kill us now, kill us five minutes from now. Either way, it’s clear that you won’t let us walk out of here alive!”
“But the process could be so much less painful,” Kipp pointed out. Michael looked back at Lindsey. Her eye had already started to swell from the blow, and tears were flowing down her cheeks. “We know what we’re doing Michael. We can make this quick and easy, or long, drawn-out and very, very miserable for the both of you.”
“Fine,” he said begrudgingly. “I’ll sign it.” He walked over to the table and waited for Kipp to hand him a pen. He leaned forward and signed the paper, slowly. He only needed to stall for a few more minutes. He was sure that soon the police would be there. He just had to keep them from pulling the trigger until that happened.
When he was done, Darrel grabbed him forcefully by the arm and pulled him back away from where Lindsey was still sitting on the couch. “Good,” Kipp said stepping to the side as well, letting one of his men move forward, pointing his gun at her.
Her eyes met Michael’s, and he couldn’t help but feel his own tears begin to flow. “I’m so sorry, Lindsey,” he said to her. “I shouldn’t have gotten you into this.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Kipp said cutting him off. “We’re all so heartbroken.”
“I don’t blame you, Michael,” Lindsey spoke, despite Kipp’s obvious lack of patience for them to exchange their goodbyes. “You didn’t force me to help you; I wanted to!”
“I should have just left it alone!” Michael exclaimed, more trying to buy them more time than to get his last words in with Lindsey.
“But you wouldn’t have gotten your answers,” she countered. “Now, at least Hamilton and Lewis will pay for what they did.”
“Alright,” Kipp said shifting his weight around impatiently. “I’m a sentimental man and all, but this is just going on a little too long. I have places to be.”
“I’m sorry, Lindsey,” Michael said. “I tried.”
“Great! Let’s just get this…” Kipp started, but his words were cut short when a loud bang rang out down the hall in the direction of the front door, and five men, dressed in riot gear, rushed into the room.
Kipp’s men turned their guns away from Lindsey and trained them on the men who had just entered the room. The shots rang out loudly. Michael stepped back quickly, ducking around the corner leading out of the sitting room and into the kitchen. He remembered Lindsey telling him about the gun she had hidden in there, and quickly ran to the side of the refrigerator. Reaching up into the cupboard, he threw the loaf of bread he found there to the ground and retrieved the firearm from the place Lindsey said it would be.
When he returned to the sitting room, he saw that Lindsey had rolled onto the floor and crawled to a protected spot behind the couch. She had her knees pulled up to her chest and her head buried between them.
Two of Kipp’s men fell to the ground, pools of blood forming around them, while Kipp, Darrel, and one of the other men tried to flee the fight, running in the opposite direction down the hall towards what Michael assumed were the bedrooms. He ran after them, the men in their riot gear following close behind.
He heard them order him to stop, and let them continue on, but he ignored them, his sights were set on getting to Kipp. Darrel and the other man ducked into the first room on the right. Michael continued after Kipp who was still running straight. He heard a few of the men behind him break off and follow after the other two.
As he continued down the hall towards the master bedroom, he heard shots ring out, and when a cry came from the room behind him, he knew that at least one of Kipp’s remaining men was down. He kept his focus on the man running in front of him. He quickened his step, trying to close the small distance between them.
In a blur, Kipp ran into the room ahead of him, and directly to the back window. When Michael ran into the room, he turned
and looked at him, an expression of panic and fear in his eye. He turned his attention back to the window, desperately trying to pull it open, but Michael was able to get a shot in before he did. He aimed for his side, careful not to wound him fatally. As Kipp fell forward, Michael ran to where he was lying on the ground and hovered over him, pointing the gun at him. “I forgot to tell you,” he said looking down at the pathetic huddled mass in front of him. “I didn’t call the cops, but I think a friend of mine might have.”
When they had Kipp in handcuffs and were escorting him out of the house, Michael felt a sense of relief and satisfaction he had been holding at bay since getting his answers finally rush over him. He hurried over to where Lindsey was still sitting on the ground and undid the ropes binding her hands. “We’re saved!” she yelled at him when she was free, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close. “Thank God, Michael! We’re saved!” She leaned back and looked up at him. “How did they know where to find us?”
“I had a few friends make a few calls,” he smiled at her. “I made sure they asked specifically for Officer Connolly, I figured he’d know what to do, as much as I can’t say I have much respect for the man.”
She rolled her eyes at him and smiled. “Well, despite your history with him, at least he came through this time.”
“It’s the least he could do,” Michael pointed out.
“Did you get your answers?” she asked, almost as if she had just remembered what the entire ordeal was all about.
“I did,” he said to her, patting her leg and pushing himself up to his feet. “Finally, I know the truth behind Rachel’s death.”
“Good,” she said a genuinely excited smile spreading across her face. “Maybe when I’m not still shaking from the idea of being shot and killed, you can sit down and tell me all about it.”
“It’s a date,” he said holding out his hand and helping her to her feet.
Chapter 21: October 14th
It had only been a few weeks since Derek Hamilton and Mark Lewis had been brought in for questioning, but to Michael’s surprise, the cops were already making a lot of headway into their investigation. The case was scheduled to be brought to court a few months later, and Michael was planning on attending as well as serving as a witness for the prosecution.
Unforgiven: A Conspiracy Thriller Page 15