Accused

by Janice Cantore

  She’d spent a year of her life trying to convince herself it was hate she felt toward him, not love. For several months she talked to him only through lawyers. She gave him back her wedding band, let him have the house, and told him in anger she wished she’d never met him. The wall of bitterness wasn’t hard to nurture, but it sure had taken its toll.

  Now, as she looked at Nick, the bitterness chipped and crumbled away. She didn’t even have the strength to drum up any anger to keep the bitter blocks in place. Carly shivered at the thought of Nick going down in the line of duty. An officer-down call was the worst call to hear over the radio, one that chilled other cops to the bone. She knew if she’d been working when it happened, she’d have driven like a madwoman to be near him, to help him.

  A wave of love and protectiveness engulfed Carly and washed over her like the ocean during a really good swim.

  He stirred slightly, and Carly reached for his hand. It was cold. Sleepy eyes opened and looked in her direction. He blinked and squeezed his brows as if trying to focus.

  “Carly, is that you?” His voice was weak and raspy.

  “Yeah, it’s me.” A lump in her throat made it difficult to control her voice.

  “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Don’t worry about me. What happened to you?”

  “I didn’t see the truck.” He smiled weakly, and it cheered Carly that he would try to joke. “They got me all doped up.”

  “I noticed.” She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. Smoothing his forehead gently, Carly said quietly, “I forgive you, Nick.”

  He faded out and she wondered if he’d heard her. It didn’t matter. She felt better saying it. She stayed for several minutes, stroking his forehead and holding his hand.

  32

  “There is no way Nick being shot was a coincidence,” Carly fumed as she took the stairs down to the lobby two at a time.

  “Whether it was or it wasn’t, what can you do about it?” Mark followed.

  Carly recognized the soothing timbre in his voice, but she refused to be calmed. “I know what I can’t do. I can’t sit around and wait for the next disaster.” She shoved the exit door open, then stopped and turned to face Mark. “You can’t come with me. Whatever I decide to do, I’m going to do it alone.”

  “I came along to help. I can’t do that if you go running off half-cocked.” Mark tried reasoning with her.

  But Carly was beyond reason. She stood arms akimbo and glared at him in response.

  “If you get yourself hurt or shot, what good will that do anyone?” he asked.

  “I can take care of myself. I’m sorry. It’s nothing personal. You’re a nice guy.”

  “At least call Nathan. Maybe he can help.”

  “No time. You call him for me. Make sure he does all he can to look after Nick. I’ll get in touch with him as soon as I can.” She held up a hand to stop further protest. “I’ve made up my mind. If you want to help, I guess you can pray.”

  Mark smiled and shook his head. “I wish you’d change your mind, but since you won’t, I won’t stop praying.” He stretched out his hand. She shook it, then turned and jogged for her car.

  Carly floored it out of the parking lot, tires squealing. She traveled a couple of blocks before she calmed and her thinking cleared. Slowing, she realized that the last thing she needed was to get stopped by a cop. She didn’t know who the bad guys were. Driving through town toward home, Carly took stock of her situation. She thought about Derek and the fire and shifted in her seat when the realization that she had no badge and no authority to investigate anything hit home.

  Slowly she cruised by her mother’s house, her grip tightening on the wheel as she perused the charred remains. Setting her jaw stubbornly, she made a vow. “I’m not sure who you are, but badge or no badge, I’m gonna find you. The body count stops here!”

  Carly parked on the street in front of her apartment and jogged to the front door. A plan coalesced in her mind. It was past time to check out the harbor. Nick had said he was going to. Was that why he was shot? She also remembered him saying he put in a call to the FBI. What ever happened with that? she wondered.

  I don’t have time to wait and see if the FBI will poke its nose into this.

  After grabbing a camera and a belt holster, she nixed leaving Andrea a note. The less her roommate knew, the better. Sliding Nick’s gun into the holster, she slipped it on her belt. There was only one clip and no extra rounds, but that would have to do. Carly left the apartment for her truck, stopping cold when she saw Jeff standing next to the passenger door. Reflexively, she reached for the gun at her side.

  “I’ve been looking all over for you,” Jeff said when he saw her. He wasn’t in his repairman’s clothes anymore; instead he was dressed the part of a drug addict, torn jeans and a faded T-shirt.

  “Where did you come from? How did you know I was back?”

  “Back from where?” He raised his hands when she stepped away from him. “Hey, don’t go sideways on me. I’ve been waiting. I saw your mom’s house was trashed, and I didn’t know where else to wait but here.”

  She stopped moving but remained wary. Her hand stayed on her gun. Jeff looked worse than she remembered—thinner, more haunted.

  “I’m sorry about Nick.” He spoke softly and held Carly’s angry glare. “I guess I was wrong.”

  “How or why am I supposed to believe you? You come and go like a ghost, and every time you materialize, something terrible happens.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’ve been living like a homeless man on the run for two weeks. Do you think I’m happy with the way things are?” He looked so pathetic standing there by her car. Carly admitted her options were limited.

  “What is it you want now?”

  “I know where we need to go. If you hadn’t shown up, I would have gone by myself. If you come along, the odds are better.”

  “Odds? Jeff, I don’t know who you are anymore. Why should I trust you?”

  “I took a chance at an Internet café and went through what was on the thumb drive. I now know why Teresa was killed and why they tried to kill Nick.”

  “Nick?” The idea that his shooting might be connected to this mess enflamed Carly like a match strike.

  “Let’s go. I’ve hidden something we need to pick up.”

  “Who shot Nick?”

  “I’ll explain as you drive.”

  Against her better judgment, Carly unlocked the car and sat behind the wheel but didn’t start the motor. “Where are we going?”

  “Pier K. That’s where all the action is.” Jeff sounded certain of the location now, a change from the other day at Nick’s. Pier K was just past Pier J, the pier Londy said Darryl worked at.

  “You mean I visited Londy and got suspended for nothing?”

  “I’m sorry. What the drive contains is a schedule for illegal activity—mostly drugs, but a host of other crimes too. Lo and behold, there were hundreds of entries going back a couple of years. Correa has been making a fortune off that pier.”

  “Teresa was keeping that information?”

  “No, she copied it from Galen’s computer. He was keeping a record for some reason. When we arrest him, we’ll ask.”

  “Can you prove who killed Teresa and shot Nick?”

  “I can prove Galen Burke and Mario Correa are the ‘they’ we’ve been tracking. Burke’s money problems drove him to Correa. Now Correa basically owns him. The warehouse we’re going to is a cover for an illegal shipping operation. Yesterday I took a chance and broke into the warehouse. I used some technology I still had from narcotics and set up a motion-activated camera.”

  Carly frowned. “From narcotics?”

  “Don’t ask, Carly.” He grimaced. “I’m not proud of how I got it, and I’m sure I’ll have to answer for it. But I wanted hard evidence. With luck the camera recorded Correa and Burke buying drugs and arranging for distribution with their PD help.”

  “And this shows that they killed Teresa?”
Carly bit back doubt and frustration. This was not a sure thing. Jeff was desperate. Do desperate people make sound judgments?

  “There’s also proof on the drive documenting kickbacks, illegal contracts, underbidding—I could go on and on. The documentation nails Burke and Correa. If Teresa knew and threatened to expose the operation . . . well, there’s the motive.”

  “So why do I need to go anywhere? Sounds like you have the case wrapped up.”

  “Not quite. I have to retrieve the camera. It will show exactly who is involved on the PD side. I’m afraid that without photographic evidence, guilty people will be able to slither out of an arrest. The camera is small and self contained; I’ll have to get it in order to see what was recorded.”

  “Why do you need me?” This is beyond crazy.

  “What were you going to do?” He pointed to the camera she’d tossed on the dash.

  “I’m not sure.” She blew out a breath and pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “I’m angry about Nick. I can’t sit and do nothing.”

  “I’m worried about Nick too.” Jeff placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Trust me, Carly. I know I’m right. This will bust things wide open. And—” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black object about the size of a BlackBerry; Carly recognized it as a flip camera—“I borrowed this from narco as well. You’ll be able to record more with this than with the camera you have.”

  She studied him for a long moment. “Did they really have Nick shot?”

  “It fits their MO. They’ve gone after anyone associated with me. It stands to reason that they would target people connected to you. Look at your mother’s house.”

  Mother’s house was the phrase that smashed the right button. Carly threw caution to the wind and started the engine. “This better be the right move because I’m not going to rest until everyone involved is in jail.”

  33

  By the time Carly and Jeff pulled off the roadway to a dark spot under a bridge at the harbor, it was close to six o’clock. A clandestine footpath would take them to Pier K and the warehouses Jeff claimed were filled with illegal goods. Supposedly unused, and shielded somewhat by construction going on in other areas, Pier K was the perfect place to shelter illegal activity of any kind.

  Carly recognized the path. A few years ago it had led to the scene of a grisly murder/suicide. She found herself hoping her memory of the path wasn’t an omen.

  Carly locked her car and stood at the trailhead. Large containers bracketed the path, effectively concealing their planned trek from any prying eyes.

  “You made me check the rearview mirror every two seconds,” she said after watching Jeff bounce around like a caffeinated jumping bean. He acted like a tweaker, fidgeting and biting his nails. “I can almost guarantee we weren’t followed. And on this path, no one will see us from the street.”

  “I’m more worried about dockworkers on the pier. If they look, they’ll see us.” Jeff shrugged. “We just have to take that chance. You ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Jeff led the way. Carly carefully checked their surroundings as they walked.

  “Notice the empty container ship at the dock?” Jeff pointed at the water. “The drugs come off the ship and the stolen goods go on. My bet is that the warehouse is full and the loading will start tonight.”

  “What does that have to do with the murders?”

  “It’s part of the operation to clean Correa’s money. It’s also what brought Teresa down to the dock to confront her husband. She probably came down here and caught him with a shipment, told him she’d put two and two together, and he whacked her.”

  Carly shivered at Jeff’s words. Though she’d seen murder committed for the most inconsequential reasons, the thought that a man as public as Galen Burke could so easily kill his equally public wife was chilling.

  They walked the rest of the way in silence. Armed with a flip camera and a loaded 9mm with no extra clips, Carly debated their sanity. Would reasonable and prudent people really take the chance they were taking against men who had actually killed at least three and attempted to kill a fourth?

  But it was too late to turn back now.

  They came to a fence and found a small hole already cut in the chain-link. Carly squeezed through, followed by Jeff. They both jogged about fifty feet to the first warehouse. There was a cold wind blowing in from the ocean, but the anxiousness Carly felt kept the chill away.

  The dock was older and dirtier than the state-of-the-art docks built by redevelopment funds on the other side of the harbor. There were two warehouses—long, low, rough-looking buildings. The windows were clouded glass, and the surrounding landscape was bleak and overgrown. Illegible graffiti decorated just about everything. I never would have known to look here. I would have thought it deserted.

  Jeff motioned for Carly to be very quiet as they approached the back of the first warehouse. The door was securely padlocked. Carly noticed several of the windows were halfway open.

  Slowly they made their way around to the front of the warehouse. The two warehouses faced each other, so coming to the front of one put them in the middle of both. The buildings were locked up, and there was no sign of any activity. No cars were nearby. Carly scanned the area for any blue harbor-patrol cars and came up empty. She snapped some photos with landmarks so it would be easy to prove later which warehouses they were searching.

  The buildings were dark and quiet. Desolate, in spite of the fact that they were minutes from the heart of the city. She watched as Jeff peeked inside an open window. Doubts flooded her mind. What have I let him get me into?

  Dusk settled in, and Carly realized neither of them had thought to bring a flashlight. Not only would it be difficult to find their way around the warehouse—she wondered if they’d be able to find their way back to the car. She grabbed for her gun when the exterior lights clicked on.

  Jeff placed a steadying hand on her arm. “They turn on automatically when it gets dark,” he whispered as he motioned to Carly that they needed to climb up and into the window. He went first. Shoving the small camera into her back pocket, she jumped and pulled herself up into the window after him.

  Inside the building, the darkness was murky. A bit of outside light spilled through the windows. Large shapes loomed, and as Carly’s eyes adjusted, she saw cars and pallets of merchandise.

  “The camera is set up in that office over there.” Jeff pointed to the far corner near the door. “Take pictures of what’s in here. I’m sure those cars are stolen. I’ll be a minute.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’ll just remove the camera, and then we’ll go,” he said over his shoulder as he left her standing in the diffused light.

  Suddenly Carly felt uneasy. Is this a trap? There’s nothing for me to do now but play along. She picked a spot and began taking pictures. When she reached an area that had enough light, she switched to camcorder mode and narrated in a whisper where she was and what she was doing.

  The place was filled with all kinds of merchandise, mostly cars. Carly noted that they were models most often stolen. She moved around the room with the camera, amazed that it picked up images even in the low-light environment. She was halfway back to where Jeff had left her when car lights cut into the warehouse from outside. They’d pushed their luck too far.

  “Jeff, someone’s coming!”

  She heard him curse as she sprinted toward the window they’d climbed in. Crouching at the window, she strained to see any movement in the warehouse, any sign of her coconspirator.

  More than one car crunched across the gravel to a stop in front of the warehouse. Carly returned to where she’d last seen Jeff and ducked behind a pallet of television sets. She could hear doors slam and muffled voices. The front door rattled, someone unlocking the padlock.

  The pallets would hide her from the open door. I could leave now. I’m sure I could make it out the window without being seen. B
ut where is Jeff? I can’t leave Jeff. Just as she considered moving, Jeff came up behind her so quickly she jumped.

  He barked a whispered order. “Quick! It’s them. Move forward and hold up the camera; it will pick them up even at this distance.”

  “What do you mean? We need to get out of here!” Carly fought to still her pounding heart.

  “No time to argue. Just film all of them together. The more evidence we have, the better.”

  The metal door of the warehouse clanked loudly as it rolled up. In a few seconds, lights clicked on and the darkness fled. Carly and Jeff crept slowly toward the sound of the voices. The televisions provided great cover. Carly got down on the ground, sliding to her stomach, and peered around the corner of the pallet.

  The men were standing under naked fluorescent lights. Two had their backs to Carly, blocking her view of a third. A fourth man she didn’t recognize stood at the door, talking to someone outside.

  One of the men moved and Carly recognized him immediately. It was Galen Burke. She held the flip camera up and hit the Record button, wondering if Jeff’s camera had come up empty.

  Two more men came into the building. Karl Drake was one. She almost dropped the camera. This is a man who, two days ago, stood on my mother’s doorstep begging for help. He had the nerve to try to convince me we were on the same side!

  Anger flared as she realized it was probably Drake who torched her mother’s house. He had known she was there, and the more she thought about their conversation, the more she felt as though he’d been threatening her. Carly kept filming. I wish I could hear what he’s saying.

  Carly didn’t recognize anyone else, but she made certain she filmed as much as she could.

  The rough rumble of a forklift engine vibrated across the room, and soon Carly could smell diesel exhaust. She pulled down the flip camera and shut it off. There was a lot more activity on the dock. The warehouse is going to be emptied and the ship loaded.