by D. A. Brown
“Let’s do this.”
The ram hit the door with a crack that could have been mistaken for a gun shot. She and Tommy rushed in. She moved to the right, Tommy to the left.
“Seattle Police!” Tommy said it quickly and then repeated himself. The conical beams of their flashlights danced around the room as everyone tried to get their bearing.
“Clear,” Tommy yelled. He and Sophia moved forward slightly, allowing the rest of the team to enter and take position.
It was probably a lovely living room thirty years ago. But now it was mostly empty and littered with newspaper and plastic cups. Most likely, it had been a haven for squatters off and on for years.
Pierson and Anthony moved into the hallway and to the back of the house. Jess and Jimmy split off into the kitchen.
Sophia’s flashlight landed on a recessed door in the ceiling of a narrow hallway. A leather handle was attached to one end. She motioned to Tommy.
“Tommy, look up there when I turn off my light.”
Soft blue light leaked from the corners of the opening.
“Somethings up there. I can hear fans running.”
Tommy got on the radio.“Clear the house and then stay out of the hallway.”
Tommy and Sophia trained their weapons up to the ceiling. A shadow dipped into the light on one edge.
“Someone’s up there,” Sophia whispered.
“Not for long.” Tommy grabbed a chair and slid it to the opening.
“Tommy, what the hell are you doing?”
“My job.” He stood on the chair with one leg and then jumped back as a staircase landed against the floor with a loud ‘thud.’ Tommy toppled against the wall.
“Shit!”
All Sophia remembered seeing was the muzzle flash from the suspect’s gun as he dipped down from the opening. She fired three shots in rapid succession. Tommy flattened himself against the wall.
The suspect didn’t drop right away, momentum pitching him toward Sophia as she pedaled back, until he landed head first, two feet away. She stepped on his hand, still gripping a Sig Sauer P226 and then kicked it out of range.
“Motherfucker,” Tommy said. He sat up and scrambled toward Sophia.
“I could have killed you, asshole.”
Jimmy, Anthony and Jess ran into the hallway.
Jess jumped on the radio. “Shots fired." Three tones went out over the air, alerting officers citywide to a major incident as the chief dispatcher echoed the information with the address.
“Is everyone ok? Anyone hit?” Pierson yelled from the living room.
Sophia looked at the suspect, trying to discern a face. There was little left of his skull.
“I’m fine,” she said.
Tommy shouted again. “Seattle Police.” His flashlight and gun were aimed up at the opening in the attic.
“Where the hell did he come from?” Jess sounded out of breath. “I thought the place was empty.”
Sophia looked at Tommy, his arm shaking slightly from holding his pistol up to the attic opening, and caught his eye.
He whispered. “I’ll bet a month’s salary there’s another one up there.”
“Stinson, Benedetti. Drag him out of here. I’ll cover you,” Pierson said.
Blue lights flickered from above them, the sweet smell of old wood and rock wool insulation drifted from the opening.
Stinson leaned over just as Sophia grabbed the suspect’s right wrist and started pulling him across the floor.
“Wait for me, Beni.” He picked up the man’s other arm.
“Shit, this guy is heavy.“
“And he’s ten pounds down without most of his head,” Stinson said.
‘Yeah, I see that. Pull.”
They dragged the body through the narrow front door and onto the porch.
A dozen squad cars had arrived and were spread across the entire block. Patrol officers bolted toward the front door.
“Set up a perimeter. We’ve got enough in here.”
“Wish I could remember being that happy to wear the uniform,” Stinson said. He tapped her arm. “Incoming dipshit.”
Marcus Burton jogged up the front porch stairs in his dress blues, unusual for a man who generally shunned a uniform for expensive Italian suits. Stinson turned and went back into the house.
Jesus Christ. He’s supposed to be out of town.
“The house isn’t clear yet, sir.” Sophia moved in front of Burton. He smelled like aftershave, cigarettes and expensive Scotch. “We don’t know if there are any more suspects up there. This guy dropped out of the attic.”
Burton ignored her and grabbed her arm as she turned to walk through the doorway.
”I’m still a cop, detective. I can take care of myself.”
“Sir, we need to let the medics get to this guy.” She waved at the three EMT’s standing at the end of the walkway.
Burton looked down at the body and then at her.
“I think you and I both know there’s nothing that can be done for this man. He’s missing his head for chrissakes. Who is he?”
“No idea, sir. A surveillance team has been sitting on this house for a couple of days. We believed it was empty.”
“Well, clearly there this was an operational failure. Who’s in charge of this mess?”
“My sergeant’s inside.”
“That didn’t answer my question, detective.”
“I’m the lead detective, sir. Sgt. Pierson is my supervisor.”
Jerry Filson walked up onto the porch, pulling down the ID panels on his raid jacket so the word POLICE was visible.
“Can I tell these patrol guys to stand down? I’m worried they’re gonna shoot one of us.” He looked down at the suspect.
“Nice shootin’. This your handiwork, Benedetti?”
From inside the house Stinson yelled.
“Show me your hands! Show me your hands!”
There was a loud thump and a scream.
Sophia ran inside. Dressed in cargo shorts and a sleeveless white shirt, a man lay on his stomach, one arm awkwardly pinned under him, the other stretched out to his side.
“Get that hand out, now!” Stinson peered down through the attic opening, his gun aimed at the man on the floor.
Anthony pulled the suspect’s arm from underneath him and handcuffed him. When the detective rolled him over the man screamed in pain.
“My arm! It’s broken. That motherfucker pushed me.”
The man’s stomach cascaded over his belt as he lay on his side. Sophia pulled him over onto his back.
“Hey there, Eldon.” Sophia grabbed him and with assistance of Anthony and Jess, got him on his feet.
“This is harassment. You fucking bitch. I know you.” Eldon turned back to Sophia. “You and your fucking piece of shit husband.”
“What did you say?” Sophia walked over and took his jaw in her hand.
“Nothin.’ I want my lawyer.”
She shoved his head back, nearly hitting Anthony.
“Slow your roll, Beni. We got this asshole.” Anthony pushed Eldon out the front door and led him to a waiting patrol car.
Sophia lowered her voice. “Did you hear that?”
“Yes,” Jess said.
“I need you to go with Anthony. See if you can get Eldon to talk, even small talk. Get him to mention David again. I want to make sure I know where this is headed.”
“Are you sure? We haven’t cleared the attic yet.”
“Speaking of that, where’s Tommy?”
“Last I saw him, he was headed up there.” Jess pointed to the hallway ceiling.
“Holy shit,” Tommy said from above them.
“Are you ok, Stinson?”
A single set of footsteps creaked above her.
“I’m fine. It’s all clear.”
“I’m coming up.” Sophia grabbed the highest rung she could reach and pulled herself up until her foot landed on something solid.
“You gotta see this.”
It was a short climb. In the dark, she could make out hundreds of blue lights, blinking incessantly like fire flies. She pulled herself up the rest of the way. Stinson had holstered his gun. The attic wasn’t small, but with all of the machinery crammed into the space only a few full-sized men could fit up there without having to double over under the rafters.
Sophia scanned the room.
Row after row of servers lined every square inch of wall in the room. Two desktops sat near the opening. A couple of folding chairs were scattered up against the wall, most likely a product of the two men scrambling to react to the entry team. Even with several fans running on high, the heat was stifling. It was a wonder that anything actually worked. Sophia walked over to a piece of plywood hanging over a vent and pulled at it until it fell off. The dim light of dawn filtered into the space. It was larger than she had originally thought, one of those houses with an attic that would have been easy for a second story build-out.
“I need some air.”
“This is the fricken’ mother lode. This is where these shit heads have been running their enterprise. We got the bastards.” Stinson leaned down and grabbed a computer mouse and moved the curser over the monitor screen.
“Don’t touch anything, Tommy. We’re going to have to get an addendum to the search warrant. We need CSI and the forensic guys out here to handle all of these computers. I don’t want to lose anything.”
The adrenalin was still pumping. Rivulets of perspiration ran down her back under her Kevlar vest.
“I’ve got to get out of here.” She looked over at Stinson who was double clicking on various files on one of the desktops.
“Seriously, Stinson. Stop it. Leave the damn computer alone.”
“I know what I’m doing. I just want to see one little naked girl so I can go down there and pound the shit out of that freak.” Stinson’s face was blue from the light of the computer screen. His eyes darted around the files, thousands of them listed in blank, unnamed folders set against a desktop of daisies.
She pulled Stinson’s hand away from the mouse. “Stop.”
“Well, what have we here?” Marcus Burton squeezed through the opening, crawling into the attic.
“Warm up here, eh?” Burton bent over and brushed dust off of his knees.
“I think we have the heart of the operation right here. We need to tweak the search warrant before we start looking at this stuff.”
Sophia followed Burton’s eyes as they scanned the room. The muscles in his jaw tightened. She moved over and stood in front of him.
“We really don’t want to mess this up, Chief.”
Burton stepped around her and walked over to one of the computers. He leaned over and then pointed to a folder on the screen.
“What’s this?” He grabbed the mouse and started to double click on the icon. A cascade of folders bounced out onto the screen, but before Sophia could turn off the monitor, Burton clicked on another folder. A picture of a naked woman straddling what looked like an enormous zucchini filled the screen.
“Damn!” Burton moved closer to the screen. “Isn’t that, uh, shit what’s her name, what’s her name?” He closed his eyes. “I got it right on the tip of my tongue. Oh, you know who I’m talking about. Stinson, come over here and take a look.”
“Yeah, Chief I don’t really wanna see anything that’s on these computers,” he said.
“This doesn’t look like a child to me, detective,” Burton said. “I hope you didn’t shoot that man for nothing.”
“Stinson, why don’t you get a couple of uniforms to keep people from coming up here. Post them in the living room. I’m going to head back to the office and bang out the addendum.” Sophia reached for the mouse and then turned off the monitor.
“We really need to get out of here, Chief. At least until the warrant is updated.”
“I get it, Ms. Benedetti.
“It’s Detective Benedetti, sir.”
“Yes, I get it, Detective Benedetti. You two go ahead. I’ll ensure this scene is secure until you get the uniforms in place.”
She looked at Stinson. He shrugged his shoulders and walked toward the attic opening. She caught up with him as soon as they hit the floor.
“Jesus Christ. Why is he here? Pierson said he was going to be out of town.”
Stinson adjusted his holster and wiped his forehead. “Because he’s up to his ass in this case.”
“Which is exactly why we can’t leave him up there alone.”
“Send one of the uni’s up.”
Sophia pulled out her shirt and let the sweat run down her abdomen. Stinson’s cell phone played the opening bars from Shaft. He pulled it from his belt holster and answered.
“Hey, baby.” Sophia knew he wasn’t talking to his wife. Now more than ever, she needed him to have her back, and from the smile on his face, she knew her welfare was the furthest thing from his mind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Despite the warmth of the day, stepping out of the front door felt like a blast of air conditioning. There were still a couple of patrol cars parked on the street in front of the house, their occupants busily running names and plates on their mobile data computers. She scrolled through her contacts on her phone, trying to locate George Anderson’s number.
“Looking good, Benedetti.”
Sophia looked up. Sergeant Daryl Parker stepped from his patrol car, his eight-point hat tipped back on his head. In the academy, he’d been fit and lean, a newly discharged Marine. Now, he was a member of the ‘blue button’ club, his belly so large it protruded over his belt exposing the blue buttons on his uniform shirt meant to be neatly hidden in a pair of dark blue wool pants.
“Not now, Daryl.” Sophia looked up and gave him a weak smile.
“If not now, when?” He stood up and straightened his hat. “You know I like a woman who sweats. And I especially like one who’s a good shot.”
“You want to go through the next several months of bullshit with me?” She knew from watching other officers go through the scrutiny in the aftermath of an on-duty shooting, the second guessing was going to be fierce. Then there was the press, always ready to find a reason to make a good shooting look bad.
“If you were my girl, you bet I would.” He smiled. “I’ll be there in spirit, baby.”
“Jesus, Daryl. You’re always just shy of an EEO complaint every time you open your mouth.”
“Damn, girl. Why do you have to come at a brother like that?” He smiled, leaned closer and lowered his voice, “Besides, how bad can it be? You killed a kiddie diddler. You did us all a favor. They’ll be parading you all over the news.”
“Thanks.” She paused. “I think.”
Sophia looked back at the house. “Hey, I need you to do me a really big favor.”
Parker tucked in the back of his shirt.
“Anything. What do you need?”
“That asshole Burton is up in my scene. I need you to grab one your guys and post him up there with Burton until I get back.”
“Happily. I hate that fucker.” Parker locked his cruiser.
“Do your best to stay civil.”
Parker chuckled and adjusted his duty belt.
Sophia forced a smile and put her hand on his arm. “Make him uncomfortable. Keep an eye on him. I need some time to get the addendum to my warrant signed and then get back in there. I have a bad feeling about this one.”
Parker smiled. “For you, I’ll do it.” He turned on his heel and yelled at a rookie busy getting crime scene tape out of his trunk. “Foster, come with me.”
The officer dropped the tape back into the trunk and walked over to Sophia and Daryl.
Out of the corner of Sophia’s eye, she noticed a mass of cheap suit headed toward her. Sgt. Glenn Mullins was moving like a marionette. His legs were long and spindly. His left arm swung as his right hand cradled a phone to his ear. As he got closer, he held up a finger.
“Don’t tell them anything. Nothing. We’ll release a statement lat
er. In the meantime, stall ‘em with some bullshit about getting child molesters off the street blah, blah, blah.” He winked at Sophia. “Yeah, that’s it.”
He hung up and reached out his hand. “Glenn Mullins. I’m your guild rep. You did the shooting, yes? You haven’t made any statements, have you?” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it hard, the way insecure men always did. She’d forgotten that one of the first calls an officer made after a shooting was to ask for a Guild representative, someone who would walk the officer through the maze of administrative protocol.
“No one’s asked me anything. Well, Burton walked all over my scene but he didn’t ask me about the shooting.”
“Burton? I thought he was out on personal leave. Hell, what do I know. I can barely keep up with my own schedule, much less the comings and goings of an assistant chief.” Mullins looked at his phone. A call was coming in but he put the phone in a holster on his hip.
“Good. I’m glad you’ve kept your mouth shut. You wouldn’t believe some of the stuff I’ve heard guys say after a shooting.” He looked past her at the house. “It’s normal, you know, what you’re feeling right now.”
“I’m not sure you do,” Sophia said.
Mullins pulled his shirt cuffs out from his jacket sleeves. He still moved and twitched as if he wore a bullet proof vest and wool class A uniform pants.
“We’re going to have to head downtown, give a statement to homicide. I’ll be there the whole time, you know, to help you out in case it gets tricky.”
“Tricky?”
“Muddled. It happens.”
“There’s nothing muddled in this for me, Glenn.”
“Good girl. That’s what I like to hear. Still, I need to be in there for the interview.”
“Good girl? Are you looking at me? I want to make sure you can actually see my eyes rolling back into my head, Mullins.”
“No offense, Benedetti.”
“Sure.”
Sophia looked up at the attic. Burton was up there, doing God knows what, and the rest of her crew were waiting to process the scene. Pierson stood by himself, lost in a conversation on his phone, his face downcast and weary.
Sophia eyed Stinson who leaned back against a department pool car, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He looked at her and then glanced over at the medical examiner’s assistant as he pulled a gurney from the back of the ME’s van.