by Mark Stone
“Hey!” I repeated when the thugs didn’t look at me. “Drop that damn hammer or else!”
I grimaced a little as I walked over to them. I couldn’t believe I had just said ‘or else’ like I was in some cheesy ‘70s cop movie.
This time, it seemed I got their attention. The men turned to me, glaring at me with scowling faces and menacing stances. I caught sight of Mike behind them. His eyes were wide and his face was already bruised. Damnit. They had already started on him.
“This has got nothing to do with you, old man!” one of the men screamed at me. “You’ll just keep walking, and mind your own business if you know what’s good for you!”
“Old man?” I muttered. “I’m not even thirty-five yet.” Clearing my throat, I continued. “How about you let me decide what my business is, and what’s good for me.” I shook my head as I balled my hands into fists at my sides. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve already called the cops. They’ll be here in just a few seconds. So, you’d better run.” I looked past them, my eyes meeting Mike’s. “Did you hear me?” I asked, trying to emphasize the fact that I was speaking to him now. “I said run!”
Mike blinked and then, like a dart, shot off in the other direction.
“Damnit,” one of the men said, pushing the other one. “He’s getting away.”
The man who had been pushed started after him, Then, looking at me for just a second and shaking his head (as if to warm me not to follow), the other man rushed off after them.
I took a deep breath, hearing the man’s words in my head. I guess I didn’t know what was good for me after all, because Lord help me, I was going after them.
I felt the phone buzz in my pocket, but didn’t bother answering it or checking to see who was calling. I knew the answer. It was Dillon Storm. He was calling back to tell me to stay put, to make sure I wasn’t doing what he knew I was doing.
“Sorry, Dillon,” I said, running into the alley and after the men. “I guess I’ll never learn.”
Running into the alley, I saw the scene where the beating was about to take place. There was blood on the ground, next to what looked to be wadded up cash tossed away haphazardly.
I ignored both things. The blood would only serve to make me wonder just how badly Mike was injured, and the cash wasn’t something I was willing to stop for.
My legs pumped intensely under me, and I listened as much as I could over the sounds of my own breath and beating heart. Hoping that I would find them, I was stunned when the alley split into a fork. There were two ways to go, and I didn’t see any signs as to which way was the right one.
Scouring the alleyway, dimly lit by the glow of street lamps, I looked for more blood on the ground to guide my way. I saw none, though. For an instant, I kicked myself. If Dillon Storm, or any detective for that matter, were here, he’d know which way to turn. He’d see some clue I was missing right now. He’d deduce just which direction I needed to rush into. He wasn’t here, though, and I would just have to take a guess.
Or would I?
Before I could make a decision, a man jumped out from the darkness of one of the paths. He swung the hammer at me. He was aiming for my head, and though I wasn’t fast enough to get out of the way, I did instinctively raise my arm to block the impact.
The hammer smashed into my forearm, causing pain to shoot up it in spasms. I felt something crack in there, and hoped it wasn’t a full break. Yelping out in pain, I fell backward. Still, I managed to steady myself against the wall.
“Leave that boy alone,” I said, taking in greedy, deep breaths of air. “Just stay the hell away from him.”
“You’re gonna defend him, old man?” the man asked, shaking his head at me. “You really don’t know what the hell is going on, do you?”
Looking at the man, I saw he couldn’t have been more than twenty-one years old. No wonder he insisted on calling me ‘old man’. To him, I was probably as ancient as Stonehenge or the Alamo.
“I know you’re attacking someone in an alley with a weapon. I know you’re attacking me because I’m trying to stop you, and I know that’s not how things are done here.”
“Just walk away,” the man said. “You think I want to fight you? You think I want any of this? I’m just doing what I’ve got to. Killing some old man is not on my agenda tonight.”
I winced in pain as both my hands, including the one attached to my hurt arm, clutched into fists. The movement flexed my wounded arm and stung more than a little. Still, I tried my best not to let it show.
“Wanna know the best part about being old, kid?” I asked, reminding myself again that I was not yet even thirty-five. “It’s that you learn stuff, including how to fight.”
The instant the words left my mouth, I rushed the man. He reared back the hammer in order to strike me again, but he would be too late. I was keeping myself low, and because of that, when I slammed into his waist, it was enough to send him toppling over me. Throwing my body upright, I sent him flying into the air. I heard him grunt as well as the crash as he smashed into the pavement below, the hammer falling free of his grasp. He looked up at me, but once again, he would be too late. My foot was already pressed against his neck, holding him in place.
“Collier County PD!” a voice shouted from in front of me. Looking up, I saw a detective rush toward me, a gun held out in my direction.
“Sir,” I said quickly, holding my hands in the air and feeling the pain again. “I’m-”
“Rick Archer,” the woman answered. “I recognize you. Plus, I spoke to Dillon.”
“Oh, ma’am,” I said, swallowing nervously. “Sorry, and good,” I said, looking down at the man under me. “Have a nice night in jail.”
Pulling my foot off him, I ran further down into the alley. Seeing that it ended, I was shocked to find not only the other assailant on his knees, being handcuffed by a police officer, but Mike as well.
“Wait!” I said, shaking my head and throwing my hands up in the air again. “There’s been a mistake. Mike Trapp is the victim here. He’s-”
“Rick,” a voice sounded from beside me. Looking over, I saw Dillon Storm standing there, a gun on his hip. “You’re not exactly right here. I’m afraid this is more complicated than you thought.”
Chapter 18
“What are you talking about?” I asked, my eyes narrowed as I stared at Dillon Storm from across the hospital room where a nurse practitioner was wrapping my arm. Though they thought it was a break at first, the damage just turned out to be a bad bruise. That meant it hurt like hell, but there was no need for a cast. So, the pretty blonde lady had made small talk with me as she bandaged it up and offered me a sling.
I graciously refused it as she told me about her young daughter and the birthday party they’d just had for her. Of course, all that small talk ended when the detective walked into the room to check on me. The conversation quickly turned to the night’s events, and that was when things took a turn.
“I told you, Rick. This is more complicated than you think,” Dillon said, glaring at me. “The boy you helped out back in that alley-”
“Mike Trapp,” I answered. “Daphne’s son. Justin’s nephew.”
“I know who he is,” Dillon said firmly. “He’s also in some very deep trouble. What do you think he was doing back in that alley anyway?”
“Besides getting the snot kicked out of him?” I asked. “I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.”
“That must be a luxury,” Dillon muttered. “What you were witnessing was a drug deal gone bad, Rick.”
“What?” I asked, politely shrugging away from the nurse practitioner as she finished me up and standing to meet the detective. “Mike was trying to buy drugs?”
I thought about what the boy must be going through. He had just lost his father, or at least, the man he had grown up thinking was his father. On top of that, he’d just learned his entire life had more or less been a lie and he was very likely under the assumption that his biological mother was a murderer.
Though I would never condone the actions Dillon told me he was taking tonight, I could at least try to understand them. He had been through a traumatic experience. Maybe he thought this was the only way he was going to be able to get through it.
“Not exactly,” Dillon said, shaking his head. “You’ve got the situation backwards.”
“Backwards?” I asked, my eyebrows knitting together. “You’re telling me that Mike was dealing drugs?”
“That’s what we believe,” Dillon answered. “He was selling drugs to the two men in the alley. They couldn’t afford to pay him, and when he tried to take the drugs back, things turned violent. We also have reason to believe he’s been using the unique access he had to his father’s personal belongings to write fake prescriptions using the doctor’s name.”
My heart fell. I had spent so long thinking about the injustice of what happened to Daphne that I never stopped to think what kind of person her son might have grown up to become. If even a piece of what Dillon was telling me was true, then it turned out I didn’t like the answer.
“Are you-are you sure?” I asked, swallowing hard.
“Sure enough to press charges,” Dillon answered. “And, as you know, that’s pretty damn sure, Rick.”
He was right. The state didn’t usually bring a case about that they didn’t think they could win. If they were arresting Mike Trapp, then they probably had enough evidence to be comfortable in their chances at a conviction.
“You’ve been watching him, haven’t you?” I asked, reading into the situation.
“Not personally,’ Dillon said. “I’m a homicide detective, but he’s been on the radar of the police department for awhile now. As it turns out, he had enough drugs on him for Intent to Distribute, and the people who attacked him are singing like canaries in exchange for a chance at leniency.”
I blinked a few times in succession. “So, the guys who beat the kid up are going to be in less trouble than Mike,” I said softly.
“You know how the law works, Rick,” Dillon said. “Charges are charges, and I’m going to guess by the time all of this is done, Mike Trapp will have more numerous and severe charges than the other two. Also, he’s not a kid. Mike Trapp is eighteen years old. He’s a grown man, and I’m afraid that he’ll be treated as such, regardless of whose nephew he is.”
I knew that much was true. I could see Laura Sky in my mind right now, standing across from me and telling a judge just how much Mike Trapp deserved to spend the next chunk of his life in jail. The thing was, I wasn’t sure she was wrong. Though I had seen no evidence, and though it was way too early to be able to tell anything for sure, it seemed Daphne’s son was involved in some very bad (and very illegal) things.
“Does Daphne know?” I asked, my heart picking up a little. “Does Justin?”
I called Justin when I brought Mike in,” Dillon said. “Personal courtesy and all. I’m sure he’s told his sister by now.” The detective’s head jerked a little to the side, as if to motion down the hall. “He’s being looked over by a doctor now. Once he’s finished, he’ll be brought in and booked. I think Daphne and Justin are with him now.”
“I need to go see them,” I said, moving toward the door.
Dillon moved to block me. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“I’m involved in this,” I answered. “Though I didn’t want to be, and though it was honestly a coincidence, I’m part of this now. Not only am I representing Daphne-”
“You’re responsible for what happened to Daphne,” Dillon said. “And now you’re responsible for what happened to her son. I mean, that’s not the way I see it. I personally believe everyone has to be held accountable for their own actions, but I’m not sure that’s the way Justin will see it. At least, with you involved, he might not.”
“Dillon,” I said. “I just-”
“Stop,” he said, holding his hands out. “That’s not the only reason I wanted you to stay. There’s something I need to warn you about. I have some friends at News station 6. I was talking to one of them earlier, and they told me about a story they’re running with tonight.”
“Okay,” I said, my mind instantly going to the trial and to Daphne Knight. “I’m getting the feeling this isn’t about the latest truck recall.”
“It’s a woman,” Dillon said. “Some lady named Fallon O’Keefe. She’s going to do a sit-down interview with them tonight at ten, and apparently, the subject of that interview is you.”
Chapter 19
Knocking lightly on the door of the second floor waiting room, I met eyes with Justin Knight. He stood to meet me, his sister standing as well and starting to walk toward me.
Though Dillon had warned me about Fallon O’Keefe’s intention to talk about me on the news tonight, I needed to keep my focus on the main things at hand. Besides, depending on what Fallon O’Keefe said, there was a good chance that- after tonight- having me as a lawyer wouldn’t be in Daphne’s best interest.
“What are you doing here?” Justin asked as Daphne lightly grazed my arm.
“He’s hurt, Justin,” she said, looking down at the bandage covering me. “Can’t you see that.” Her eyes met mine now. “You did that saving my boy?”
“I got hit with a hammer,” I answered almost sheepishly. “I’ll be fine.”
“What were you doing down there?” Justin asked, glaring at me. “Were you following him?”
“Who? Mike?” I balked. “Of course not. I was working, Justin. If you’d actually talk to me, you might know that.” I shook my head. “Hope might have found a lead for us to chase down to get to the bottom of what really happened to Stephen Trapp.”
“Really?” Daphne asked, her eyes widening. “That’s great. Did you hear that, Justin? Rick said-”
“I heard him, Daphne,” Justin said. “And he should know better than to throw half-assed theories out at a woman who is staring down the barrel of a life sentence.” He cocked his eyebrows a me. “I’m assuming this is the same theory Hope presented to me earlier today? If so, it’s a shot in the dark at best.”
I balked. Perhaps I should have known that Hope was going to bring this up to Justin, but it took me by surprise. More than that, I wasn’t sure it was quite ethical, given Justin’s connection with the defendant in this case. Though, I suppose the connection as exactly the reason Hope wanted to tell him in the first place.
“Shots in the dark are better than nothing at all,” Daphne said, touching my shoulder and squeezing it. “Thank you for intervening back there. I’m not sure what would have happened if you didn’t.” The woman wiped an errant tear from her eye. “I just hope he’s alright. That’s all.”
Justin sighed and wrapped his sister up in a hug. “Why don’t you go grab some coffee from the cafeteria,” he suggested. “It might make you feel better and I need to talk to Rick on my own for just a few minutes.”
Daphne pulled away, nodding and brushing more tears off her face. I watched as she left, realizing Justin and I now had the entire waiting room to ourselves.
“You expect me to apologize again?” I asked, looking over at my best friend.
“I expect you to listen,” he answered. “He’s a drug dealer. That boy has been pushing prescription drugs and harder for who knows how long now.”
“I know,” I answered. “I talked to Dillon.”
“Good,” Justin said. “Then you get how severe this is.”
“Drug distribution? Yeah. I get it,” I said quickly.
“Daphne is going to ask you to take him on as a client,” Justin said. “She wants him to have the best counsel possible, and she’s already brought it up to me. I’m going to ask you to say no.”
“You want me to refuse to represent your own nephew?” I asked, staring at the man.
“I want you to do what’s best for my sister,” he said. “Think about the optics of this. Mike Trapp is, at the very least, a low-level drug dealer. He’s used his father’s occupation to create a side hustle of illicit activity. A
dd that onto the fact that he’s my sister’s biological son, and both of them having the same lawyer throws Daphne in the same lot with him. They become a pair in the mind of the public and the jury. You’re going to have a hard-enough time getting Daphne off for this. Having to prove Mike is a person worth saving as well might be a mountain too high to climb, and I can’t risk that.” He took a deep breath. “Plus, this changes things a bit.”
“Changes how?” I asked, though I knew what he was getting at. Justin’s mind was running on the same wavelength as mine. It always had. Given that, I knew he was going to reach the same conclusion I did not five minutes after Dillon Storm told me what Mike was being arrested for. Still, I needed to hear him say it himself.
“The kid doing this, being this kind of person, it opens up new possibilities,” Justin said uneasily. “If Stephen Trapp found out what his son was doing-”
“Then that would open up motive for Mike to harm him,” I said, finishing his thought. “It would make Mike a plausible suspect in the murder of his father, and if I’m representing him as well- even in another matter- bringing him up as a suspect might be seen as a conflict of interest.”
“It’d be questionable at the least,” Justin said.
“Are you sure that’s something you want to do?” I asked, cementing my stance in front of him. “I mean, I have no problem telling Daphne I won’t represent the kid. I agree with you about it being a sticky situation, but throwing him under the bus is a completely different story.”
“And what if what we’re doing isn’t throwing him under the bus?” Justin asked. “What if he actually did do this? Then all we’re doing is uncovering the truth, all we’re doing is our job.”
“Me,” I said, shaking my head.
“What?” Justin asked, his mouth tightening.