by Ronnie Allen
Leaning forward into the separation between the front seats, Frank and Sam were able to see, through the front windshield, that the ESU and patrol cops had taken cover. Using binoculars, the sergeant looked up. He must have spotted Withers looking out the window. Withers fired another round that hit the armored truck. The bullet ricocheted but, in the darkness, they couldn’t see where it landed. All Frank saw were the sparks when it hit the truck. It reminded him of Iraq when he and his men were in a rabbit hole, taking cover, as their vehicle was under attack. You didn’t know when it would end.
There had only been two shots fired. God only knew how many more rounds Withers had. Frank was glad ESU had their backs. As good a shot that he knew he was, and Nick was, he had no idea how Sam could fair at long distance.
But he also knew he couldn’t just sit in the car much longer. His need to get his hands around Withers’s neck grew stronger by the moment. He needed to calm down and balance his equilibrium so, when the time came, and it would be soon, he could keep himself safe and not do anything stupid to hurt his team in the process. Most arrests did not end in a blood bath. Most arrests went smoothly, when the perp was a clear-thinking human being. He didn’t know if that applied to Withers and Lisa at the moment.
The blueprint for the building showed that Withers had a corner apartment, with windows on the main avenue and side street. The sergeant pointed to his men, signaling for them to disperse around the line of fire and get into the building. Two men ran to the right, one to the left.
Another shot rang out, and again hit the truck.
Okay, Withers isn’t shooting at us. If Withers had made the men the target, they would have been hit. Frank had trained with him at the range. This man was a pro at five hundred yards. He didn’t miss any target, even in movement exercises. That was a good sign. Maybe he isn’t prepared to die.
Three men ran through the front entrance. Withers must have seen them. A few minutes later, Withers and Lisa ran through the garage exit and down the block toward their car. Lisa was in damn good shape. She ran in better form than her husband. In fact, Dingo was slow and gasping for air. Nick, Sam and Frank bolted out of the car, wearing vests, and took cover. Sam edged down a few cars, so she’d have another angle if need be. Frank edged the opposite way so he’d come up behind them.
As soon as they came into view, Nick stood up over the hood of his car. “Freeze, Dingo.” His SIG was pointed right at him.
Withers turned toward Nick. “Yeah right, Nick. You don’t have the guts.” His wheezing was audible. He bent over, hands on his thighs. “Hold on. Gotta get my damn asthma pump.”
“Go ahead, but slow. There are shooters on the roof. Make a wrong move. You’ll be taken down in a second.”
Withers looked up and saw the sharpshooters on the rooftops before he slipped his hand into his pocket. From behind, Frank saw that his pocket didn’t protrude enough to hold a weapon, even a small one. Withers pulled out a yellow pump, held it high in two fingers for them to see, before he put the mouthpiece in his mouth and took two puffs. His breathing eased. He panted until his breath normalized. Frank saw his posture, straighten.
“Drop your weapon, Dingo. It’s over,” Nick repeated.
Lisa clung to her husband’s arm. “Dingo, please. Don’t listen to him. He won’t shoot. Not after twenty years.”
Sam stood up tall, in front of them, her weapon held with both hands straight out. “But I sure as hell will. Drop your weapons, both of you. Get on the ground!”
Withers pivoted to face her. “Well, look who’s joined the shindig. The little pain in my butt, rookie. You wouldn’t shoot, either. We’re unarmed.”
“Not true, Dingo. We heard the shots you fired,” Nick said.
Withers turned toward Nick again. “Yeah well, what do you want, Valatutti? We didn’t do anything.”
“Then why are you running?”
“Needed a--vacation.”
“You just had one. How much money did you lose at the slots, Lisa? And it was a nice trick, stashing your NYPD phone in the Lexus,” Sam taunted.
Frank closed his eyes. Come on, Sam don’t provoke them.
“Get the fuck away from us.” Lisa looked around nervously. “For Christ’s sake, Dingo, do something!” She turned around and saw the ESU team on guard, two on a rooftop, two approaching.
Four patrol cops, with weapons drawn, started to approach. Frank had put up a hand for the men to stay back. They did.
Lisa slipped her hand into her pocket, retrieved a 9 mm Berretta, and held it down at her side.
Sam shook her head, taking a defensive pose. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Lisa. We just arrested four of your former colleagues, who look desperate enough to rat on you but good, and we found money and the gun your husband used to kill Doctor Khaos’s wife in your Belle Harbor apartment,” she said. “It’s over. Drop your weapon and hug the ground. I said now! No need to make this end badly, for anyone.”
Lisa froze. The Berretta slipped from her grip and fell to the ground. As she bent down to retrieve it, Sam raised her right leg to kick Lisa backward. Lisa grabbed Sam’s leg and almost threw her off balance. Sam used her right arm and pushed Lisa sideways and down, jumped on top of her, straddled her thighs, and wouldn’t let her move. She pinned Lisa with her arms above her head on the ground. An ESU officer and two patrol officers ran to take over.
While Sam contained Lisa, Frank grabbed Withers from behind, turned him around, and, with his hands glued to his bubble jacket, smashed him back against the hood of Nick’s car.
“Why, Dingo! Why did you have to kill my wife?”
He lifted Withers, straight as a plank, and rammed him into the car two more times. He didn’t care, at the moment, how many dents he put in Nick’s car. The two ESU officers let him have Withers. So did Nick and the two patrol officers. Frank needed his time.
Withers groaned. “I’d do anything for my daughter. Needed the money for hospital bills. All the overtime in the world wouldn’t cut it. God forbid if anything happened to your son.”
“No excuse for murder, Dingo! How did you get the phone?”
“I was in the precinct when they brought that scum in. Went to where they put his stuff. Slipped it off the table and into my pocket. Didn’t know what I was going to do with it, then.”
Frank raised his fist, intending to bring it down on Withers’s face.
“Go ahead, Frank. They won’t put me in the cage. It’ll be too much trouble. Between me being a cop and the emphysema, and it’ll be a longer trial. And every perp I ever investigated who’s now behind bars, will want a retrial. Nah, Frank. They’re gonna let this slide.”
Frank paused with his fist in the air. Slowly he lowered it to grab the collar of Withers’s jacket. “They have asthma meds in lockup. And where you’re going, they’ll protect you, real good.”
Nick patted Frank on the back, signaling for him to release Withers. Frank did. Nick turned Withers around, cuffed him, read him his rights. Sam cuffed Lisa, and read her hers, without further incident.
***
Nick and Sam escorted Withers and Lisa, handcuffed, into the Brooklyn South Precinct, with the ESU team and Frank following. Withers had been hacking and wheezing the entire trip there. Everyone stood, shocked that one of their own had done the unthinkable and thought that they could get away with it. Then they looked at Frank. Standing tall. Proud. They knew the torment he had gone through over the past two years. He saw them looking at him. Pity in their eyes changed to hope. Some smiled. Many nodded.
Frank would never wish ill on anyone, but Withers suffering with emphysema, and having to give up smoking cold turkey, would be more payback than the five-minute beat down Frank would have given him.
At the moment he had raised his fist, even before Withers told him, Frankie came into his mind.
What kind of a role model for my son would I be if I came home with bloody knuckles?
FBI Special Agents Case and Simpson were in the lieu
tenant’s office. Lieutenant Rojas was there, as well, for support. Nick handed Lisa over to the federal agents without saying a word. Then he put Withers’s ID and badge on the lieutenant’s desk.
They all stared at the detective’s symbol of honor. One that he had held for twenty years.
Lieutenant Rojas only spoke five words. “Get them out of here.”
The agents pushed Lisa out of his office with ESU following them. Patrol officers from the precinct took Withers out to book him.
“You three okay?”
Nick nodded. ‘Yeah. I’m okay.”
“Sam? Frank?”
Sam sniffled. “I’m okay.”
Frank blew out a deep breath. “I’m okay.”
“Go home. The three of you.”
Nick patted Frank on the shoulder, nodded, and started to leave the office. There were no words. Then, his cell rang. “Hello, Valatutti.”
“Hey, Nick, John Trenton.”
Sam turned to Nick with a smile. They all yelled into the phone with their voices, tripping over the top of each other.
“Hi, Doctor Trenton.”
“Well, did it happen yet?
“What did she have?”
Trenton laughed. “Yes. They’re here. A boy and a girl.”
“Ooh, ooh, ooh! How sweet! Congratulations!” Sam yelled into the phone.
“Names yet?” Frank asked.
“Yes, Khaos, Alexi Summer and Zachary Lance.”
“Congratulations to you, both!” Loo said.
“Thanks, guys. Have to run. Speak with you soon.”
“Send pictures. Send pictures!” Sam yelled again.
“Will do.” Trenton laughed and disconnected.
“I’m going to the men’s room. Give you two some time to talk.” Loo said as he followed Nick.
Frank took Sam in his arms, as she slipped hers around his neck. He looked down at her, tears trickling down his cheek. “It’s over, princess.”
She wiped his tears away with her thumbs as her hands caressed his face. “Yes. It’s over.” She paused. “I made a decision.”
“What decision?”
“I’ve earned the right to be a detective. I belong working here as a detective--with you.”
He held her tight, kissed the top of her head, and rested his lips there.
***
Frank’s first stop was his in-laws house on a tree-lined block in Mill Basin, Brooklyn. He always teased Sam that her parents lived so close to her. He’d soon have to tell her his in-laws lived closer, around the corner from him. They had been the only babysitters Frankie had known. To Frank, they were Mom and Dad. Like him, they had been waiting for closure for over two years. He sat in the car, contemplating how he would tell them that their daughter’s killer had been taken into custody.
Do they need to know the entire story? No. But they deserve to know.
He didn’t know why he had felt so pained now. Relief hadn’t kicked in, yet. The reality that he could now move on with his life hadn’t kicked in. He knew he was falling in love with Sam. Probably already there.
Am I ready?
Doubt riddled him.
Am I using Jen’s open murder case just as an excuse not to move on? To close myself down from relationships?
He was getting too old for just a whirlwind of casual sexual flings. He was getting tired of going to women’s homes and even having his secret place.
Why should I be secret?
He knew why. He didn’t want Frankie to grow up to be the kind of man who hopped from woman to woman. Frank swallowed hard.
He had a lot of psychoanalysis to do. On himself.
Okay, Frank. The time has come to make a major upheaval in your life, no matter how frightening.
As he exited the car, security strobe lighting came on, illuminating the driveway and area leading up to the front door. He knew his in-laws would be asleep at this hour and the lights would wake them. He used his key to open the front door. As he entered, his mother-in-law appeared at the top of the steps. His father-in-law appeared a moment later. Frank greeted them with a huge smile as they came down the steps.
“Frank, what’s wrong? Frankie’s sleeping.”
“Nothing’s wrong, Mom. Come on, sit down.”
He sat on the dark burgundy couch and they sat on the adjacent love seat. He didn’t waste time. Their anxiety had been high enough with him coming over unannounced at such a late hour. He told them that Jen’s killer had been apprehended. Tears ran from both of them as his in-law’s hugged each other. They didn’t let go. He saw that the love they had for each other was the same he and Jen had shared. That undying spiritual love. The unconditional love that grew stronger every day and through each hardship, each tragedy. He hoped he could move on and find the same kind of love.
With Sam.
He gave them time to compose themselves and then he went on to tell them the entire story of the embezzlement plan and that Jen’s murder was to cover it up. They sat squeezing each other’s hand the entire time he spoke. They hadn’t asked any questions. Frank had told him all they needed to know. They embraced him in love and gratitude. Gratitude for him not giving up.
Their talking woke up Frankie who stumbled down the stairs, rubbing his eyes. “Dad, it’s the middle of the night.” He looked at his grandparents. “Why are Grandma and Grandpa crying?”
“Come here, champ.” Frank scooped him up into his lap and hugged him. It took him a moment to think about how to phrase it. “We caught the man who hurt Mommy.”
“Did you hurt him?”
“No.”
Frankie stared up at him, clearly bewildered. “Why not?”
“Because that wouldn’t have been the right thing to do. But he’s going to be in jail for the rest of his life.”
“Good.”
Frank kissed and hugged him for a few minutes. “Okay, go back upstairs to bed. See you tomorrow after school.” He needed to go home and get some sleep.
Maybe for the first time in two years, he’d be able to fall asleep in less than a few hours.
***
Refreshed from a good night’s sleep, and thanking God that his torment had ended, Frank strode down the hall to AriellaRose’s secure hospital room. He had gotten minimal tests back from the psychologists he had sent in to examine her. Mainly because of her lack of cooperation. He had already decided not to release her into police custody, yet.
For one, the X-rays still showed signs of pneumonia in her right lung. It had only been two weeks and, for a woman who didn’t take care of herself, that wasn’t unusual. Without the psych tests, he wouldn’t be able to diagnose if she was mentally able to stand trial. More importantly, he doubted if she could get along within the regular population in a prison environment. The decision would be his. He had made that clear enough to his department.
He hadn’t been here the last couple of days, with trying to apprehend Withers, so he doubted he’d get a warm reception from Miss Larcon.
He straightened his tie as he reached her door. Even though he hated it, for this young lady, he wanted to come across as more formal, rather than a tough guy she’d think she could jerk around.
Yeah, it’s all in the approach.
He unlocked the door with the key hanging amongst a bunch on his belt. As soon as he opened the door, AriellaRose greeted him with a closed-lip smirk.
“That happy to see me? Huh, AriellaRose?”
“I hate it when you come in here with that suit and tie.”
He approached the bed and pulled over a chair. “How come?”
“Ugh, you plan on staying?”
At least her voice went back to adulthood. Frank paused before he spoke. “Certainly do. Have a lot to talk about.”
“I knew it. When you wear that, you’re all business.”
“Good. You read me well. That’s a plus.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “What do you want, now?”
“For one, why haven’t you been co
operative with the staff I’m sending in to talk with you?”
“Yeah, that sucks. Why are you doing that?”
“To get an idea of how you think. Why you’ve done what you did.”
She rolled her eyes.
He put his lips together. “Well the grand jury indicted you.”
“Yeah. My shit lawyer told me. Well, you can all fuck off.”
“Do you want to know what’s going to happen?”
“When can I go home?”
“To your brownstone?”
“Duh! Yeah, no shit Sherlock, my brownstone.”
He frowned, not quite understanding her delusional thinking at this point. “That’s not happening.”
“Like, hell, it’s not.”
“Why do you think that? After everything you’ve been told?”
She stared straight into his eyes, blank expression, giving no clue as to her thinking. “I don’t know why you’re giving me a hard way to go.”
“Do you remember what you told me a couple of days ago? You just about admitted everything.”
“You’re stressing me out. You know that?”
Denial like this was a symptom of something quite serious. And he didn’t get the impression that AriellaRose was playing games. He took a chance. “AriellaRose who do you think would know about what you’ve done?”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“Who’s BlackRam?”
She blinked repeatedly. “What? What kind of name is that?”
“It’s a Wiccan name. Emma was BlackFlower, Rachel was BlackCloud, and Meredith was BlackMoon. We deduced from the evidence in your ritual room at the brownstone you were BlackRam.”
He noticed a transformation in her facial expressions. Her eyebrows straightened. She paled. Evil spewed from her hardened, glacier eyes, again. She contorted her face, twitching her nose, her body writhing on the bed as if something had taken over.