Keller County Cops Book Seven: Code of Vengeance

by Melanie Atkins

  "Makes sense."

  "I know. I'm not as dumb as you seem to think I am."

  "I never said you were dumb, Keegan." He pushed himself up in bed, and a fresh spear of pain sliced into his shoulder. He winced and held his breath until the agony eased. "Damn."

  "You're in pain." Keegan jumped up, dropped her purse onto the chair, and edged closer to the bed. "Should I call the nurse? Maybe you need some more pain medication."

  "Not right now." He sucked in a deep breath, and the pain lessened a bit more. He pointed toward the morphine pump. "Once we're done, I'll take a hit of the good stuff. That'll help."

  "Why don't you do it now?" she asked, her voice sounding small and confused.

  Surprised by the depth of her concern, he frowned. "Because I'm not through questioning you yet."

  "I didn't pay anyone to shoot you, Sheriff Blaylock. And I was at the Kitty Kat Klub that night because I'd followed Barry there, and yes, I called nine-one-one when that unbalanced man stabbed Dirk." She scowled. "What else is there for me to say?"

  "Dirk?"

  "What?" She did a great job schooling her face, even though he'd obviously startled her.

  He tilted his head. "You called the victim Dirk instead of Mr. Woodward."

  "Well, isn't that his name?" She wet her lips. "I mean--"

  "Using a person's first name is a lot more personal than calling them by their last name. Dirk Woodward was an inch away from being your brother-in-law before your sister died. You must've known him pretty well."

  "Like you said, he was about to marry my sister," she said, the words tumbling out in a rush. "So I knew him. We weren't friends, however. I never liked him."

  "I see." His shoulder throbbed. He pressed his hand to the bandage stuck to his skin beneath the thin cotton hospital gown, ignored the pain, and focused on her angry expression. "Anger sometimes causes us to do things we might not normally do."

  "Yes, it does." She rose and gripped the bed rail with white-knuckled fingers. "I did my best to talk Jenny out of marrying Dirk, but she refused to call off the wedding even though he beat her up the day of her first wedding shower."

  "Whoa. Stop right there." A combination of anger and disgust filled Rick. He rolled his head to could get a better view of her face. "He hit her?"

  "Oh, yes," she rasped, tears filling her big green eyes. "I lost count of how many times. And then, finally... he murdered her."

  *****

  "The techs ran the prints from the shooter through AFIS and got a hit." Amazed they actually had a lead, C.J. put down the phone and turned to Jonah.

  His fellow detective gaped at him. "Already?"

  "Yeah. The guy's name is Zeke Perini. Just got out of Parchman after doing a dime for an armed robbery and aggravated assault in Forrest County. The judge gave him twenty years, but with time served before his trial and time off for good behavior--"

  "He only did half the time."

  "That's right." C.J. consulted the information he'd pulled up on his computer while jawing with the lab tech. "He'd also ex-special forces military, so he knows his way around guns."

  "Whoa. I'm surprised Blaylock's not in the morgue right now."

  "Me, too. If the guy had gone for a head shot instead of center mass--"

  "We'd be getting ready to attend the sheriff's funeral." Jonah shook his head. "That was a damned close call."

  "Too freaking close." C.J. scowled. "What I don't understand is that the guy was arrested in Hattiesburg, so he doesn't have a connection to Blaylock or any reason for revenge, unless they knew each other some other way, and that doesn't seem very likely. Perini's from Dallas."

  "Unless they met in the service. Blaylock did a couple of stints in Iraq, back when he was in the National Guard." Jonah met his eyes. "But my guess is somebody paid Perini to take out the sheriff. Somebody with a grudge against him. I mean, Perini's fresh out of the joint and needs cash, so he's looking for work. Why not take out a member of law enforcement while he's at it and make the job even more satisfying?"

  "Makes a helluva lotta sense to me."

  "Yeah, and he got away, so he might try again if he finds out Blaylock survived." Growing more solemn by the minute, Jonah reached for the telephone. "We need to let the boss know to be on the lookout for him."

  "Damned right." C.J. got up. "Why don't you give him a call, then put a deputy on his door at the hospital. We can't be too careful."

  "Will do. I plan to head over there myself in a little while. Where are you going?"

  "To pick up Perini, provided I can find his sorry ass." He blew out a frustrated breath. "Somehow I doubt he's at the address he gave the Department of Corrections."

  "Me, too. You should take somebody with you."

  "I agree." He pulled out his cell phone. "I'll ask dispatch to have a deputy or two meet me there. If we don't find Perini, I'll put out a BOLO."

  Dispatch sent Tiffany Ransom and Hayden Bird to meet C.J. at Perini's address, a rundown double-wide trailer centered on a narrow shaded lot on the north side of Hunter's Bayou. He climbed out of the car and met the deputies at the edge of the man's unkempt yard. No sidewalk led up to the door. They had to traipse through ankle-deep grass to reach the chipped concrete steps. The warm air around the trailer smelled like sweat.

  "Hey, C.J.," Tiffany said. "Is Abby taking it easy while you work?"

  "Yeah." He grinned. "She's working nights; I've got days. It's not fun, but we'll survive."

  "I know the feeling. Mitch and I run into that all the time." She hooked her thumbs in her gun belt and studied the trailer. "What are we looking at here?"

  "Perini gave this address to Corrections when he left Parchman a month or so ago. Claimed he'd found a job down this way, courtesy of a guy named LeDarius Roach, but he never checked in with his parole officer. Roach has lived here for a couple of years, I think."

  "Wasn't very smart for Perini to give 'em a fake address," Bird piped up. He'd been standing nearby, silently taking in their exchange. "Neither was leaving DNA at the secondary crime scene. You'd think he'd know better."

  "Yeah, well... I'm guessing he's not a rocket scientist." With a hearty smirk, Tiffany turned back to C.J. "You think he's really living in this dump?"

  "Hell, no. Roach is, but I don't expect to find Perini anywhere near here."

  "If he knew what's good for him, the bastard probably left town after shooting Sheriff Blaylock." Bird drew his brows together.

  C.J. started for the door. "I'm hoping Perini's not that smart."

  "I'll go around back," Bird said. "Just in case."

  "Good idea." Tiffany nodded. "Thanks."

  Bird acknowledged her, and then took off through the shaggy grass and disappeared around the end of the trailer. Birds chirped in the trees lining the street, but otherwise the area was quiet. A haze of heat radiated off the aluminum trailer.

  C.J.'s nerve endings tingled as he mounted the steps and pounded on the rickety door. "Keller County Sheriff's Office. Open up."

  Tiffany climbed the steps beside him and peeked into a grimy window off to the right. "Can't see anything but the couch."

  "Figures." C.J. banged on the door again. "Police! Open up, Perini."

  Still no answer.

  Tiffany looked at him. "You know, if he's on parole, he has no expectation of privacy."

  "Meaning we don't need a search warrant to go inside." C.J. grinned. "I was about to point that out myself."

  "Then what are we waiting for?" She lifted a brow.

  Delighted by her humor that reminded him of Abby, he laughed and twisted the knob. To his surprise, it turned easily. He halted, met Tiffany's wary gaze, and pulled his weapon. If someone was inside, they should be prepared to at least shoot back.

  She must have been on the same wavelength, because she drew her gun as well, gripped it with both hands, and fell in behind him on the steps.

  "Police!" He yanked open the door and plunged inside the dark trailer. "We're coming in. If you're in he
re, show yourselves. Now! Lemme see your hands!"

  "Clear," Tiffany barked as soon as she entered the tiny living area.

  C.J. continued into the kitchen and edged down the narrow hallway. The place was ratty, but fairly clean. A low-pitched yowl made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He spun back around to find the deputy at a standoff with an angry orange tabby that must have slinked from under the table. The animal's fur stood up in spikes, he had his back arched, and his tail was at least twice its normal circumference.

  "Be careful, Tiffany," C.J. murmured.

  She trained her pistol on the cat. "Planning on it. Go check the rest of the place while I entertain Mr. Tabby here. He appears to be fixated on me."

  "Typical male. Don't hurt him."

  "Do I look like a cat murderer?" She shot him a perplexed look. "Really?"

  "No." He swallowed back a laugh. So much like Abby. No wonder Mitch had married her. "Sorry, Deputy."

  He left her with the enraged feline and poked his head into the bathroom. No place to hide in there. The miniscule closets lining the hall were both filled with jeans and work clothes, so apparently LeDarius Roach worked construction.

  He wasn't home now, however.

  Or was he?

  A vile odor rose up to choke C.J. the second he breeched the bedroom door. He halted and gaped at the body lying face down on the bed in a pool of blood.

  Was it Roach?

  *****

  "Let me get this straight." Sheriff Blaylock cocked his head at Keegan and fixed her with a stormy glare. "You're saying Dirk Woodward abused your sister?"

  "Yes, the entire time they dated, but she refused to break it off with him no matter what he did. Then he killed her. Only, the jury acquitted him and--"

  "I remember."

  "You should." A whirlpool of anger swirled within her. "He murdered her, but your department screwed up and he got off without even a slap on the wrist."

  "You're blaming my department? Try taking a look at the DA's office." Fury flamed in the sheriff's eyes. "And I suppose you plan to stick with the lame-ass I-was-following-my-boyfriend story about the night Woodward died, right?"

  "Of course I am." She crossed her arms to keep him from noticing how much she was shaking. "I sure as hell didn't murder Dirk."

  "I know you didn't. I've seen the surveillance video, remember?" He sneered at her. "That aside, you don't have a boyfriend at all, do you? You never did. So that's not why you were at the club that night. You were there for another reason."

  "I did have a boyfriend, but not anymore." She lifted her chin. "I kicked him to the curb."

  "Because he went to the strip club after telling you he wouldn't."

  "Exactly."

  "Bullshit." Blaylock narrowed his eyes. "I'll bet my next paycheck Barry Jones doesn't even exist and that you were at the club that night to stalk Woodward and find some way to pay him back for killing your sister. What was her name again?"

  "Jenny. And that... that's not true." Hammer, meet nail. She did her best not to cringe under his blatant stare, because then he'd know for sure she'd just lied to him. Again.

  He lay back against the pillow. "I don't believe you."

  "Why not?" A wave of defiance swept over her despite her web of lies, and she opened her mouth to defend herself. The ringing of Blaylock's cell phone cut her off, however, to her relief, and she fixed her gaze on him. Would he pick it up, or ignore it and continue to torture her with more questions she didn't want to answer?

  Finally, he cursed and snatched up the shrilling device. The movement must have hurt him, because he grimaced again, dropped back against the pillows, and drew in few gulps of air. Then he brought the phone to his ear, and his expression darkened further.

  "Yeah?"

  Intent on eavesdropping on his end of the conversation, Keegan almost missed the bleating of her cell phone. Damn it. Why was someone calling her now, instead of while the sheriff had been raking her over the coals? She opened her purse and pulled out the gadget before it could ring again. A familiar number flashed across the display screen.

  Eager to find out what the call was about, she hurriedly accepted it. "Hello?"

  "Keegan," one of the court clerks said. "The jury's back."

  "Already?" Her stomach clenched. Less than two hours had passed since Judge Rouse had given the twelve their instructions. That probably meant they'd voted to acquit Wicker.

  The clerk sighed. "Yes. Judge Rouse wanted to reconvene this evening, but Abington refused. Guess he's dead set on prolonging the inevitable."

  "Probably." Keegan's nerve endings tingled. If the jury acquitted the bastard, she'd have to act no matter what the sheriff believed. Rosemary Wicker deserved the same justice Jenny had gotten at the hands of a stranger. A strange sense of calmness settled over Keegan. "What time did Rouse say we'd reconvene?"

  "At nine a.m. He said something about a fishing trip, so I think he wants to get out of town as soon after court as possible. He hasn't had a vacation in a while."

  "Seriously?" Keegan groaned at having to be at the courthouse an hour earlier than normal until she realized the clerk's call just might give her an out. If she played it right, she could get out of here without having to answer any more of the sheriff's questions. She glanced at him and found him watching her the way a hawk eyes a mouse even though he was still on the phone. She hurriedly ended her conversation and slid her phone back into her purse.

  "Thanks, C.J. Keep me posted," Blaylock barked into his cell. "Yeah, sure. I will."

  Soon as he hung up, she cleared her throat and got up. "Sorry, Sheriff, but I have to go."

  "Well, that's pretty damned convenient." He narrowed his eyes. "How much did you pay whoever that was to break up this little party?"

  "I didn't pay anyone. You got a phone call, too." Her whole body vibrated with tension. She lifted her chin. "The jury's ready to deliver a verdict."

  "A verdict in the Wicker case?"

  "Yes." She looped her purse strap over her shoulder. No need to tell him the trial won't reconvene until in the morning. Let him think it's tonight. Once I'm out of here, I'll at least be able to breathe again. She met his curious gaze. "What does it matter to you, anyway?"

  "My department handled the case." His gaze darkened. "On the other hand, Ronald Wicker is accused of murdering his wife -- just like your almost brother-in-law."

  "That's right." She frowned. "What are you getting at?"

  "What'll you do if he's acquitted?" Blaylock tilted his head.

  She shrugged. "The same thing I'll do if he goes to prison. Go home, kick back in a tub filled with hot water and bubbles, and have a glass of wine."

  "That's it?"

  "Yes, sir. I plan to go home and relax." She drew in a deep breath. "Now, if you don't mind, I really do need to go."

  "By all means. Don't let me keep you."

  "Fine." She fled before he could stop her.

  *****

  C.J. lowered the phone and stared at the body sprawled across the unmade bed. The victim was broad shouldered, with smooth mahogany skin and short, messy dreadlocks. All he had on was a pair of pants. He lay face down in a pool of drying blood, with two bullet holes in his back. Flies buzzed around him, and the odor wafting from his soiled jeans filled the room.

  "Nasty." C.J. choked back a surge of bile and covered his mouth and nose. The poor guy, probably LeDarius Roach, hadn't been dead for very long, because the odor hadn't yet drifted to the rest of the trailer. After another hour or so, however, the whole place would stink.

  He wanted to be out of here long before then.

  "Tiffany!" he shouted, his eyes watering from the stench. "We've got a body back here. I've already notified the sheriff, but I need you to call dispatch."

  "Okay!" she yelled back. "That's just perfect. Back off, you damn cat."

  Another furious yowl echoed down the hall, followed by Tiffany's footsteps thudding against the worn linoleum. She entered the room and jerked to
a halt, her weapon at the ready.

  "Christ. Is that Perini's pal?"

  "Roach?" C.J.'s hand muffled the man's name. "That'd be my guess."

  "Mine, too." She pulled out her phone and backed from the room with her nose wrinkled. "Come on. No point in losing what's left of your lunch. Hell, it's almost time for supper. After this, I'll probably skip it."

  "Not a bad plan." He followed her out, ignored the cat crouched beneath the table, and gratefully descended the steps into the yard. The fresh air did wonders for his aching lungs. "Tell 'em to send an animal control officer out, too. They can take the cat to the no-kill shelter out on Highway 463."

  "Roger that." She got on her radio and asked the dispatcher to send out CSU, animal control, and the county coroner.

  C.J. drew in a few more deep, cleansing breaths. The warm, sweet-smelling fresh air helped to soothe his swirling gut. He met Tiffany's eyes once she got off the radio. "Perini's in the wind. I'm guessing he might've done this."

  "Is he from here?"

  "No, even though he gave Corrections this address." With a frown, he pulled out his phone and called Jonah. "He's from Dallas."

  Tiffany walked off to meet another deputy who'd arrived on scene, followed by an animal control officer in a white pickup bearing the KCSO logo.

  "Yeah, buddy," Jonah said in lieu of hello when he answered the phone. "Did you find Perini?"

  "No. Just the guy who owns the trailer. LeDarius Roach." C.J. paused. "He's dead. Shot twice in the back."

  "Son of a bitch."

  "You can say that again. It's nasty in there." He dragged a hand through his hair. " Find out if Roach has a car and run it down, will you? Chances are that if he did, Perini stole it. Then contact the closest airports--"

  "Gulfport, New Orleans, Jackson, and Mobile."

  "Yeah, you know the drill. Grab whoever else you can to help you and have 'em check Amtrak, the bus terminals, and rental car agencies... plus any other entities you believe might help us find that scumbag. We need to catch him before he leaves the area. If he makes it to Dallas, where he might still have family, or even Atlanta, with it being such a big travel hub, we'll probably never find his sorry ass."