by G. K. Parks
“How many?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
“What?” She eyed me through the rearview mirror, and I leaned forward toward the glass barrier that separated us.
“How many dead?”
“I don’t know. The coroner wasn’t called.” She seemed uncertain what to do or if she should answer. Her partner or TO was probably still on scene, but since I was the only female suspect, they must have figured she could handle me. “Do you want to tell me what happened, ma’am?” Her training was taking over, and soon we’d be going through the fun of booking.
“How many arrests were made?”
Her eyes turned cold, like I was trying to manipulate the situation. She removed the keys, slamming her car door and opening mine. “This way, ma’am.” She pulled me from the car, and the desk sergeant buzzed us into booking. Next would be holding, and who knew how long I’d be there.
“If you don’t let me wash these chemicals off and rinse my eyes soon, I’ll make a formal request for medical attention. Then it’ll turn into a complaint about police brutality. Do you really want to deal with that kind of paperwork and internal review?”
“Oh, so we have a frequent flyer,” the desk sergeant mused, overhearing my words. “Take her to get cleaned up before she starts squawking to some shyster civil rights attorney. But keep your eyes on her and don’t let her get away, y’hear that, Officer.”
“Yes, sir,” the arresting officer said, leading me toward the ladies’ room. “Don’t try anything, I’m not in the mood,” she whispered in my ear, opening the door and pushing me inside.
It was an individual bathroom with a single sink and a toilet. She stood at the door, watching me lean backward over the sink to turn on the water with my hands secured behind my back. Once it was on, I had to kneel on the floor in order to get close enough to the sink. Giving up on washing my face, I placed my entire head underneath the faucet, letting the water soak through my hair and run down my shirt. It was better than nothing. When the burning ebbed and my face felt clean, I stood up, dripping water everywhere.
“Y’know, I get it,” I said, flipping back around to turn off the sink with my bound hands. “I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same thing, but the police department harps on respect for a reason.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll keep that in mind.” She wanted to appear tough, like she had something to prove.
“So when do I get my phone call?” I asked, letting her take charge as she opened the door and dragged me back to the desk.
“Once you’ve been processed.”
A quick glance answered my question that none of the KXDs had been brought in yet. “Where’s everyone else?”
“Don’t worry, your friends will be here shortly, but they don’t allow visitation among prisoners. But if you behave, maybe I’ll let you say goodbye before we ship you out to a women’s holding facility.”
“Can I have some water?” I asked as she led me past the desk sergeant, and I caught the slightest eyebrow raise. I couldn’t tell if he was proud of her or worried that I’d claim it was abuse. Either way, maybe I should work on making friends while I waited for someone to spring me, instead of annoying the officers on duty.
After being processed, I spent some time in lockup before getting moved into an interrogation room. At least in here I was given a bottle of water. It wasn’t exactly cold, but the liquid helped sooth my throat. Despite the harrowing events of the last few hours, I was oddly at peace. My nerves were fairly settled, and the slight nausea due to the adrenaline, tear gas, and smoke grenades had faded quickly. Maybe I was finally becoming immune to this crazy shit.
The door cracked open, and I heard voices outside. “Here’s the form for her transfer. We need to ask her questions in relation to our ongoing investigation. Once that’s settled, we’ll relinquish her back to you. I’ll be waiting outside when you’re through with her.” Lucca? I strained to hear, but the voice wasn’t loud enough to clearly decipher. “Is she shackled?” More garbled responses. “Make sure. Ankles too.”
Oh, for god’s sake. Biting back my anger, I took another sip of water, knowing that an officer was about to enter the room, unhook the cuffs from the bar in the center of the table, resecure them, and then shackle my arms and legs together. With my luck, it’d be the arresting officer that I pissed off that would get to do the honors. She’d probably pour the rest of the bottle over my still wet hair and hope I’d freeze to death on the way to the federal building.
Instead, Detective O’Connell stepped inside. He didn’t acknowledge that he knew me, and from the warning look in his eyes, I knew some of the KXDs must be nearby. He was hoping to keep my cover intact, and I gave a slight nod, acknowledging that I understood. As we moved through the precinct, the chains clanged, solidifying in everyone’s mind that I was facing some serious charges.
Moving to the loading bay, Nick opened the rear door of a government-issued SUV and helped me inside. “Good luck,” he whispered, making a show of securing the chain to the hook in the floor. His facial expression never faltered as he shut the door and returned inside.
Agent Lucca caught my eye in the mirror, but he didn’t say a word until we were on the road. “Are you aware that phoning ahead would have been advisable?”
“I tried, but the battery was drained.” My forehead creased. “You mean to tell me you didn’t send ESU to intervene?”
His eyes darted back to the rearview mirror. “Track and trap? Is that really the operational phrase you were taught to use in a situation like this? Maybe you should have read up on proper protocol and code words before we planted you in the apartment.” He chuckled at the icy glare I cast at him. “But with that arrest, Nicholson’s been burned. It looks like you’ll have to hang up the g-string and pasties. Are you prepared to wear actual clothing and report to the office on a daily basis?”
“Ready, willing, and able. And from that playful tone, shall I assume that progress has been made?”
The boy scout actually smiled. “Ink’s drying on a few search warrants. Arrest warrants are in the works, and the DEA’s in the process of making their biggest international bust of the year, thanks to us.”
“Wonderful, now how about passing a handcuff key my way?”
“Not until we’re inside the OIO offices. It’s possible you might run into a detainee, and we don’t want to risk another security breach, do we?”
“Fine.” I hated restraints. Agent Lucca stifled a chuckle, and if my feet weren’t bound to the floorboard, I would have kicked the back of his seat. “But wipe that smirk off your face, Lucca, or the boy scouts will confiscate your merit badges.”
He shook his head. “God, Parker, what the hell makes you think I was a boy scout?”
“You love following the rules.”
“So what? They’re in place to ensure we stay on the right side of the law and our evidence and cases aren’t thrown out of court. You’d benefit from being more of a stickler. This is the second time your cover’s been compromised on this op. And you should have sent word of Bard’s plans so we could have been laying in wait. I’d hate to be you when the Director hears about this?”
“All right, Lucca. You win. I won’t call you a boy scout anymore.”
“Thank you.”
“Kiss ass.”
Thirty-five
My go-bag had been stored in Mark’s office, and after taking a shower and changing clothes inside the women’s locker room, I was ready to get to work. The information I’d gathered only helped solidify our suspicions and strengthen our case. But most of what was about to occur was already in the works. Raids would commence on the locations that Steele had taken me. At the moment, surveillance vans and tactical teams were positioned outside the KXDs’ stash house behind the diner, at the lab we went to the night before, and throughout the neighborhood. Additional units were keeping tabs on the coffee shop, the Black Cat, and the club where Steele dropped me off to sell cocaine. In the meantime,
arrest warrants were pending on Steele and Bard.
“Any word from Heathcliff?” I asked after spilling my guts to the room full of agents who’d been working this case since the beginning.
“Parker, Detective Heathcliff is not one of our assets,” Jablonsky said, his tone silencing any other questions I might have asked. “The PD is still processing the dozen arrests they made and scouring the pizzeria and connected areas for additional evidence. They are too busy to share their intel with us.”
“We’ll grab their records in the morning, make sure there aren’t any game-changers, and plan to execute the search warrants simultaneously tomorrow afternoon,” Cooper said.
“Casualties?” I asked, rubbing crusty gunk from the corners of my sore eyes.
“Parker, we don’t have the police reports yet,” Cooper repeated. “The only thing we’re sure of is DeAngelo Bard and Francisco Steele were not taken into custody.” Remembering the rushed footfalls, I suspected Bard had made a break for it, and he and Steele must have escaped with thousands of dollars worth of narcotics. Blanching, I shivered, breaking out in a cold sweat for some unbeknownst reason. Cooper scooted closer, casually placing a gentle hand on my wrist and nonchalantly taking my pulse. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah,” I shook the cobwebs from my brain, “I just can’t make sense out of what happened earlier tonight.”
“Let’s reconvene first thing in the morning,” Jablonsky ordered, pushing away from the conference table. “These long hours are taking a toll. Unfortunately, there isn’t much more we can do until the court orders are signed and the PD sends us their reports. Go home, everyone. We’ll start fresh tomorrow at seven a.m.”
“Eight hours from now,” Agent Lawson muttered sarcastically under his breath, but no one acted like they heard him. Hell, maybe I was hallucinating.
“Parker, hang back a minute,” Mark said before I could stand. And he waited for the room to clear before he spoke again. “Honestly, how are you?”
“I’m good.” I felt like I had a cold, but other than that, I couldn’t complain. Truthfully, the last twenty-four hours were a blur, and none of it had set in yet. “Maybe a bit numb,” I admitted.
Pressing his lips into a thin line, his expression looked grim. “C’mon, you need a drink and a ride home.”
* * *
Upon waking, I was so congested that I would have been a shoo-in for a cold medicine commercial. Beneath my head was a balled up suit jacket, and I was covered in mismatched bedding. Where the hell was I? Rubbing the grit from my eyes, I looked around the room, spotting Mark’s furniture and questionable décor.
“You’ll be happy to know you weren’t talking in your sleep,” he said, coming down the steps and making a beeline for the adjoining kitchen. “But you did everything else in your sleep. Scream, thrash, grunt.” He set the coffeemaker to brew and grabbed a box of cereal from the pantry. “And you wonder why I’ve always hesitated to let you stay at my place.” He rolled his eyes as I stretched and joined him in the kitchen. “Just let me eat my breakfast. Then I’ll drop you off at your place, and you can get ready for work.”
I slumped into one of the kitchen chairs and propped my head up in my hands. “I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t plan to crash on your couch.”
He poured two cups of coffee and brought them to the table with his bowl of corn flakes. “You needed to stay somewhere safe.” His eyes focused on me, looking for things that he probably didn’t want to see. “I get it. I’ve read your reports and reviewed the surveillance feeds. We’ve talked regularly enough, but I know what you’ve shared has only been relevant to making a case against the KXDs and identifying their drug supplier. And that’s only the tip of the iceberg. What you’ve dealt with on a day-to-day basis has been much more difficult. You’ve been living in fear for the last two months.”
“I wasn’t afraid.” But he saw through my lie. “Just anxious and confused. I’ve been in a state of flux and uncertainty since the beginning. Never knowing how to act or react. Toeing the line of getting close without being too close.” My mind drifted to the Black Cat, Francisco, and the wounded KXD member. “You asked Detective Heathcliff to watch my back.”
“After the Lords tried to make an example out of you, it was clear that you needed on-site support. And if I sent in any of our agents, you would have found a way to make their covers irrelevant. You didn’t leave me a choice.”
“Do we know who gunned down the Lords the night I was attacked?”
“We have our suspicions. Like Steele said, the bulk of Bard’s drugs are coming from a Mexican cartel. We’ve pulled nearby footage and CCTV feeds, and after a thorough analysis, we think Bard asked the cartel to assist in sending his rivals a message.”
“Okay, so any leads on the whereabouts of the SUV or its occupants?”
“Parker, we’ll go over everything at the office.”
“What about Derek? Francisco wants him dead.”
“I thought they were on good terms. Heathcliff was supposed to be an honorary member of the KXDs or some shit like that.”
“Steele’s acting alone. Things got dicey, and I made some promises I couldn’t keep. Before I could talk my way out of them, Derek provided the perfect excuse, except he’s still undercover even though Nicholson’s out of the picture.”
“The PD has more irons in the fire than they’ve been willing to share. Heathcliff has his own agenda given to him by narcotics or the gangs unit. Regardless, he’s been at this longer than you have. He’ll be fine.” After putting the cereal bowl in the sink, Mark secured the holster to his belt, double-checked that his credentials were beside it, and grabbed a fresh suit jacket which looked only slightly better than the one I had used as a pillow. “Let’s go, we’re already running late.”
“It’s 6:15,” I protested.
“Yeah, that gives me forty-five minutes to drop you off at your apartment and get to the office. And don’t think that means you get special treatment just because you were tackled by ESU and gassed yesterday. You’re expected at seven a.m. sharp, just like everyone else, Agent Parker.”
“Actually, we might be a few minutes late. My credentials and car are still at Martin’s.”
Mark glared but resisted the urge to reprimand me for the break in protocol. My government-issued firearm and badge were supposed to be on my person at all times, but undercover required some finagling and exceptions to be made. Although, leaving these items inside a lockbox at Martin’s was beyond the scope of acceptable. But since Mark discovered these facts while off duty, he could pretend to have plausible deniability. Or at least that’s what I told myself while he conducting some rudimentary countersurveillance before flipping on the lights and sirens and heading to Martin’s compound.
* * *
Slipping into the back of the conference room, I hoped my tardiness wouldn’t be noticed, but as the door swung closed, all eyes turned to me. I gave a curt nod and took an unobtrusive seat at the far left corner of the table. Agent Cooper was standing in front of the large monitor that was mounted to the wall, flipping through images taken by ESU during last night’s raid.
Five of the six KXD members that had accompanied Bard and Steele were now in police custody. And eight of the Lords were also arrested. Two of them had been discovered hogtied behind a dumpster. Another four of them had sustained injuries ranging from abrasions and contusions to gunshot wounds. Despite the amount of ammunition that had been expelled by the rival gangs, no one was dead or in critical condition.
The police department was investigating the turf war and the impetus that had been building. Heathcliff said this had been in the works for quite some time, but the only other agency the OIO was sharing information with was the DEA. Despite cries for transparency, interagency cooperation didn’t exist by any stretch of the imagination.
Thankfully, misinformation was sometimes better than the truth. The single female who had been arrested was thought to be wanted for quest
ioning in connection with a dozen or so previous crimes and was currently being detained by the FBI, or that was the cover being planted to explain Alexia Nicholson’s disappearance. Neither the KXDs nor the Lords should believe any differently, particularly since the majority of the police department didn’t know any better. Sure, Detective O’Connell was aware of the situation. But he wouldn’t compromise our operation, and neither would Heathcliff.
From chatter that filtered into the OIO through outside contacts, it was apparent that the PD’s gangs unit was conducting random checks of known gang establishments. Instead of letting the gangbangers duke out their differences on the streets, the police commissioner must have thought there would be less bloodshed if he united the different factions against a single enemy – the police department. Thankfully, no shots were fired, but it had only been twelve hours since last night’s raid. ESU’s interference probably wasn’t widely known yet, but once it was, it would be open season on our boys in blue.
“We’ll use their random checks to our advantage,” Cooper announced, drawing me from my reverie. “They know the police busted a stockpile of drugs last night. So we’re hoping the KXDs will either move additional men to safeguard their stash or attempt to relocate their supplies. We already have units on the various locations Agent Parker discovered.”
“Why haven’t we moved in yet?” I asked.
Lucca glanced up from an open laptop. “The DEA wanted us to wait until after they storm the cartel’s compound. From the updates I’ve been receiving, agents are positioned outside the cartel’s base of operations. The exits are surrounded and the Federales have been alerted. They’re set to move right before daybreak.” Lucca looked up at the clock, calculating the time zone difference. “T minus twenty and counting.”