Across the Sound: (Coastal Justice Suspense Series Book 3)

by Mark Stone

  "We'll see about that," I answered.

  "Now, now," Franklin said, putting his hand on the Hangman's shoulder. "Let's play nice, children. No one has to die here today, save our pretty red-haired friend, unfortunately." His eyes shot from Charlotte to me to the Hangman and back again. "Keep your noose to yourself, Clifford."

  I made a mental note of the information I'd just received. The murderer standing in front of me was named Clifford. I didn't get his last name, but I would. It would be read out loud when the charge of first degree murder was leveled against him in a court of law. I swore it to myself.

  "You let this woman go, and I'll try to speak to the district attorney, maybe even get you some leniency," I said.

  It was a ridiculous idea to say the least. These people were responsible for a drug ring that spanned at least three major areas in the state, not to mention at least two murders. There would be no getting off easy for them, but what else could I do? This was the only card I had to play. I might as well play it.

  "Is that a joke?" Franklin asked, laughing heartily enough that I knew we were both on the same page about the likelihood of him being shown any kind of mercy. "What about this situation makes you think you have any power here?"

  "Perhaps it's the fact that I didn't come alone," I said, narrowing my eyes at the man.

  "No. You certainly did not," he answered. "You brought a forensic analyst with you, and not even a very good one," he said. "I'm still trying to decide whether or not to take that as an insult. Did you really think that would be all it would take, Detective Storm? If so, you have an impressive amount of hubris."

  "You need to think about what you're doing here, Franklin," I said, trying to gauge the situation. "I'm a police officer and my friend, regardless of whether or not you feel she's formidable, knows where I am, who I came for, and why. If I disappear, she'll come looking for me. If Charlotte disappears, she'll come looking for her too, and she'll bring the force of the entire Collier County Police Department with her."

  "Color me frightened," Franklin answered. "But that won't happen, Detective Storm. You see, you're not going to disappear, and you're going to have a plausible explanation for Charlotte's death. Because you are you, they'll believe it, and then we can start the real work."

  "Real work?" I asked, momentarily setting aside the fact that nothing he said was going to happen.

  “You see, Detective Storm,” Franklin said, grinning as he looked over at me, the same look in his eyes that a cat gets when circling a mouse. “You’re going to work for me.”

  I couldn’t have thought of a more ludicrous idea. In fact, it took all I could do not to laugh in the man’s face.

  “You’re out of your mind,” I answered, my free hand balling into a fist, ready and willing to slug this idiot right across his ugly face. “I’d sooner die.”

  “I’m sure that’s true,” Franklin answered. “I’ve studied you. You’re a principled man, which is the reason I want you on board with me in the first place. No one would ever expect someone like you of being involved in something like this.” He shrugged. “Nevertheless, you will be.”

  “No, he won’t,” Charlotte said, sniffling and blinking back tears. “You can kill me if that’s what you want to do, but the man I know would never hurt anyone, and he sure as hell wouldn’t be involved with murderers and criminals.”

  Oscar reared back, seemingly ready to revisit the punch he gave Charlotte back on the mainland. I reacted, raising my own fist, but one sideways glance from Franklin stopped the man cold.

  “No,” he said, speaking to Oscar. Then, with his attention turned to Charlotte, he continued. “I’m afraid you’re wrong, little lady. Dillon Storm will work for me. In fact, he’ll ensure I’m left completely alone while doing it.” Franklin blinked, and then his eyes shot to me. “You’re friendly with that bumbling police chief. He’ll trust you to head up a new drug enforcement program in your city. I doubt he’ll even ask many questions on the matter once he knows you’re in charge. Of course, I’ll feed you low level competitors to keep him quiet while you do the real work of clearing off the border and entryways for me. It’s quite simple actually and, because I’m a businessman, I’ll compensate you fairly. It’ll be a sizeable increase to the pitiful salary you make now.” He chuckled again. “Honestly, this country pays its protectors peanuts and then wonders why crime is up and drug traffic is out of control. It’s like they want to live with their heads in the sand.”

  “Money?” I balked, bile rising in my throat. “Do you really think you can buy me off with money? Do I seem that shallow to you? Do I look like the type of man who’d turn his back on his principles for a payday?”

  “Of course not,” Franklin said, throwing his hand over his heart in a mock sign of hurt. “I would never think such a thing of you. Like I said, I’ve studied you, Detective Storm. I know where your heart lies and that is why, when I finish talking, you’re going to raise that gun of yours and shoot Charlotte squarely in the head.” He shrugged again. “I’m afraid it’s the price of entry for our little group here, proof that you’ll be loyal to me. Well, that and the tattoo.”

  “I would never—”

  “I’ll kill him,” Franklin said quickly, cutting me off. “I wanted to be more lyrical and civilized about the way this unfolded, but you simply won’t allow that, will you? So I’ll have to throw it around like a caveman with a branch. I am a powerful person, Detective Storm. Powerful enough to have you killed where you stand, powerful enough to have this woman killed where she kneels,” he said, motioning to Charlotte. “So, wouldn’t it stand to reason that I could kill a defenseless child without much of an issue?”

  “Oh my God,” Charlotte choked out, realizing what Franklin was talking about a split second after I did.

  “I know where he sleeps. I know where he eats. I know the classroom where doodles pictures of dinosaurs when he should be doing math worksheets. You swear yourself to me by putting a bullet in this woman’s skull or, I swear to all you hold holy, I will murder her son.”

  Chapter 29

  My mind started twirling, spinning so fast that it became hard to me to compile a string of thoughts, let alone a sentence. Was he serious? How he would actually kill Isaac if I refused to work with him, if I didn’t kill Charlotte right here and right now? And, if he was serious, did he actually have the capability to do something like that?

  I knew the answer to those questions. I had seen the proof with my own eyes. This man was a killer. He had killers in his employ, and if he could lockdown a hospital and take out a priest with the chief of police standing guard, I had little doubt he could snatch Isaac off the street and do something horrible to him.

  I reached into my pocket and fiddled with the new phone I’d bought after the other one was destroyed in the hospital. A plan began to formulate in my head.

  “I can see it in your eyes, Detective Storm,” Franklin said, folding his arms over his chest. He really wasn’t afraid of me at all. “You know that what I’m saying is true. You know I can and will do what I say, but listen to me now. If you do as I wish, if you kill this woman and swear yourself to my service, I’ll let the boy live. In fact, I’ll do better than that. I’ll make sure he has everything he’s ever wanted. I’ll make sure he goes to the finest school, gets whatever job he wishes for when the time comes, and I’ll make sure his memory of his mother is of a good and pristine woman. In the end, what more could any woman want for her son?” He shook his head as I thought about the disgraceful nature of what he’d said, of using Charlotte’s desires for her son to have a good life against her. “You know I’m a man of my word. I just need you to be one too.”

  I wanted to spit at this bastard, to pull my fist back and punch him through this church and right into services next week. Maybe he’d learn something useful there. Physically attacking him wouldn’t do any good though. He had me outnumbered and, worse than that, Charlotte’s life was on the line. So, instead of punching, I spoke lo
w, clear, and from the heart.

  “I think you might be the devil,” I said. “I think you might actually be the devil.”

  “Oh, Detective Storm,” Franklin laughed, going so far as to give me a pat on the shoulder; a move that sent shivers down my back. “Didn’t they teach you anything in Sunday school? The devil comes in pleasing forms. He seduces before he corrupts. He uses a feather. I prefer a hammer.” He looked over at the Hangman.

  Before I knew what he was doing, the man slugged me twice, once across the face and then, when I was reeling, in the gut. I tried to stay upright, but he pushed me to the floor. I felt the gun slip out of my hands as he kicked me repeatedly, leveling into me over and over again.

  I heard Charlotte over me, her sobs and pleas for them to stop only acting as daggers in my heart that hurt much worse than the assault.

  “That’s enough,” Franklin finally said. The kicks stopped and when I opened my eyes, I found Charlotte over me, still on her knees, tears running down her face.

  “Tell him,” Franklin said, looking at her with stern eyes. “Tell him what we both know has to be said.”

  She looked up at the man, swallowing hard and shivering as she turned back to me. “Dilly,” she started.

  There was a time when hearing the sound of my name coming off her lips like set me to flying. I would have sworn to you that it was the closest to Heaven I’d ever be, the closest I ever needed to be. Hearing it now though, coerced by the worst man I had ever met, it sounded like an aberration. It sounded like a lie.

  “No,” I muttered weakly, tasting blood and metal.

  “Dilly, you have to listen to me, okay,” she said. “This is the way it has to be. It’s the only way it can be.” She looked up at the ceiling, as though she was hoping something might swoop down and save the both of us from this horrible fate. Nothing did, of course, and she looked back at me, tears flooding her eyes anew. “You have to kill me, Dilly. It’s the only way.”

  “No!” I answered, my heart lurching up into my throat.

  “You listen to me!” She shot back, her mouth twisting downward in pain. “I know this is hard for you to hear, and Lord knows it won’t be easy for you to do, but you have to.” She reached down and stroked my hair, the way she used to when we were together. “There was a time when I loved you more than anything in the entire world, and I know you well enough to know that’s true for you too. But it isn’t true anymore, Dilly. Not for me, because the thing I love most in the world is probably eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and wondering what we’re going to do after I pick him up from school. He’s my whole life, Dilly. He’s the only thing I ever did that matters and, if you ever loved me, you’ll do what you have to to keep him safe.”

  I found tears in my own eyes now. I did love her. I always would in a way, and that boy was my own blood. I’d die before I ever let anything happen to them, but I couldn’t kill her. It wasn’t in me.

  “This is God’s house,” I said, looking up at her.

  “I know that, and I wish it was somewhere else,” she answered. “But please just know that it’s what I want, and I won’t hold you responsible, Dilly. You tell Isaac not to hold you responsible either. You tell him it was robbery or a car accident or something. You tell him I loved him until the second I left this world, and you tell him that I’ll love him every minute until we’re together again.” She found my hand and squeezed it. “You teach him to be the kind of man that you are, Dilly. Don’t give him the money this man is offering. Don’t make it easy on him. I want my boy to have character. I want him to know the value of work and to know right from wrong. I want him to make a good husband, to make a good father. You promise me, Dilly. You promise me you’ll never leave him. No matter what.”

  “No matter what,” I answered.

  She nodded and looked up at Franklin. “Give him his gun.”

  I felt the cold steel press against my palm, and I closed my hand around it. Charlotte took my arm, and guided it to her chest. She knew I wouldn’t have the strength.

  She leaned in closer, so close that her face was inches from mine.

  “I should have gone with you,” she whispered. “I should have done what I said I would do all those years ago and met you at the airport. It should have been you, Dilly. It should have been you.” She leaned in, kissing me gently on the lips. I felt her body press against the gun. “Do it,” she whispered.

  In that moment, I felt a lot of things; anger, horror, fear, hurt. But, more than any of those things, I felt clarity. I knew what was true. I knew what was important. Life was important. Protecting the people I loved was important, but there was more than one way to do that.

  Charlotte said she wanted Isaac to grow up to be a man like me. But what kind of man would I be to kill his mother, even to save his life? What kind of man would pledge himself to drug dealers in front of an altar and help them ruin countless lives for profit? Not the man I was, not the man my grandfather helped raise, and sure as hell not the man I wanted Isaac to become.

  “Do it,” she repeated.

  “Okay,” I said, and felt her entire body tense, preparing to meet her maker.

  I pulled my hand up sharply, sliding the gun from under her. Aiming it at the circle of people who’d surrounded us, I began shooting, firing bullets at our tormentors without discretion.

  They scattered like crows in a field and I pulled myself up quickly, feeling the sting of the damage the Hangman had done and pulling Charlotte along with me.

  I jumped up, pulling her to her feet, and began shooting. I didn’t even look back. Every person in this place was willing to watch me kill a woman in cold blood, and all of them would likely murder the both of us now if they had the chance.

  I rushed up to the altar, throwing Charlotte behind out and darting behind it myself. Bullets whizzed past. Of course they were armed, and of course they were coming after us.

  “What do we do now?” Charlotte asked, crouching toward me. “How many bullets do you have?” She asked as they fired at us.

  “Not enough,” I admitted. “Not nearly enough.”

  Chapter 30

  We sure were in a bind this time. Bullets were flying toward us and, with very few of my own left, it would only be a matter of time before Franklin, the Hangman, and his mob overtook us.

  My head filled with horrible pictures of what would happen then. He wanted me to work for him, to run his drugs and keep the Naples police department off his back. He wanted me to kill Charlotte as a sort of ritualistic entrance into his sick little club and, while I would never do that, I couldn't say for sure what I would do if they took Charlotte captive as opposed to killing her outright.

  If they had Charlotte in their grasp, would I really say no to those awful acts if it meant keeping her alive? Would I allow Isaac's mother to be killed just to stop myself from doing the wrong thing and, if I did. What kind of person would that make me?

  I had no intention of finding out. I might die today. I might get shot fifteen times before my body hit the floor, but Charlotte wouldn't. I was going to do what I had to in order to keep her safe and make sure she was able to get back to her son. I grew up without a father and it was hell. If I wouldn't have had my mother to see me through, I'd have never made it. I wouldn't condemn Isaac to that fate. He would have her in his life, even if it cost him me.

  Of course, that meant I would have to move quickly. I had a minute, maybe less, to do what I needed to.

  Shots fired through the air, whizzing by us and defiling a beautiful church as I turned toward Charlotte.

  "Listen to me really carefully, because I'm only going to have time to say this once," I started. "There has to be another exit to this place. It's state law. When I give you the word, I want you to run toward the back. I think that's where it will be."

  "What are you going to do?" She blinked at me, her eyes full of tears and fear.

  "I'm going to make sure you're safe," I responded.

  "The hell you
are!" she said, realizing what I meant.

  "Charlotte," I started.

  "No," she said, grabbing my hand. "You're going to through yourself out there like some sort of living, breathing distraction? They'll kill you, Dilly!"

  I swallowed hard. "I know that, Charlotte, but they won't kill you."

  "Dilly, I—”

  "I'm dead anyway," I said quickly. "There's no way both of us get outs here. Do you understand that? This is an either/or situation. Either one of us gets out or we both die here, and you know Isaac would never make it if that happened."

  She stared at me, her mouth agape.

  "This is my job, Charlotte," I said, bullets still flying overhead. "This is what I do. It's what I signed up for. Hell, it's the reason I was born, I think. To help people, to save them. I've done it my entire life. Let me do it one more time, the time it counts the most."

  "I can't, Dilly," she answered, shaking with emotion. "Letting myself die was one thing, but you—”

  "Now you know how I felt," I answered, squeezing her hand, but then letting it go. "You take care of that boy, and you don't let anybody tell him he's less than they are. He's just as good. You understand? He's every damned bit as good as everybody else."

  "He's got some of you in him, Dilly," she answered, running a hand down my cheek. "He's better."

  I nodded, looking at this woman who had meant so much to me. If I was going to die, it seemed fitting somehow that I would do it with her, to save her.

  "I'm going to count to three," I said.

  "Dilly, I'm scared," she said, unable to keep the tears from spilling from her eyes and falling down her cheeks.

  "Don't be scared, Charlotte," I said, biting my lip. "I won't let them get you. I promise, sweetheart. I swear it."