Deserving of Death (CJ Washburn, PI Book 1)

by James Paddock

“If you’re not arraigning him and not charging him, why in the hell are you holding my client, Agent Stratton?”

  It was right after Dan left to meet up with Officer Bowers, following Stratton’s call to Chief Rague, that Agent Crane came in with Gianna Onassis. She didn’t look very pleased.

  CJ put his hand on his attorney’s arm. “It’s okay, Gianna.”

  “The hell it is, CJ. This is the third time you’ve been arrested in less than two weeks. There’s been no charges filed, no hearings, nothing. What the hell is going on, and how much have you been talking to them without me present?”

  “There was an arraignment,” CJ said.

  She tilted her head at him. “Well, whoopee-do. Whose side are you on? It was right after that when Judge Delgado cancelled the hearing, the one she scheduled, and then set you free. Now here you are back and no one seems to be all that excited about it, except the press. I had to run the media gauntlet to get in here.”

  CJ looked over at the two FBI agents, lifting his eyebrows. He knew there was no way they were going to be able to keep Gianna out of it. She wasn’t considered one of the best criminal attorneys in Southern Arizona for nothing. When he looked back at her she was glaring at him.

  “There’s something fishy going on here, CJ, and if you don’t tell me I’m going to fire my favorite client and walk out of here.”

  CJ nodded at Stratton who returned it.

  “I think she needs to be on the team,” CJ said. “If she walks, the press is going to make a big deal out of it and the perps might get suspicious.”

  “Perps?” Gianna said, looking between CJ and the agents.

  “Counselor,” Stratton said. “Your client hasn’t been charged because the only thing he’s guilty of is stupidity and if that’s a crime we’d all be in jail by now.”

  “Then why is he still handcuffed to the table?”

  “Pretense.”

  “Pretense! Pretense for who?”

  “We believe the killer is getting inside information, that most likely, he’s a cop.”

  “And so you’re keeping my client locked up?”

  “For a reason we have yet to be able to determine, Gianna,” CJ said, “this guy is targeting me to take the fall for his killings. As long as I’m in custody, or appear to be in custody, he can’t kill again.”

  Gianna sat back and just blinked at him.

  “The last woman he went after was my daughter. I’m okay with being shackled and on bread and water, if that’s what it takes, as long as I know she is no longer in danger.”

  “And you didn’t want to tell me… why?”

  “Ms. Onassis,” Stratton said. “When we released CJ Monday morning there were only a handful of people who knew the location of the safe-house, yet the perp was able to discover it that same day and then abduct CJ and his daughter. There’s a leak.”

  “And you think I—”

  “No.” Stratton held up his hand. “No. We’re not thinking of anyone in particular for the leak at this point, and certainly not you. It might be that someone wrote the address down and then the perp walked by and saw it. We need to keep those in the know to as few as possible and all of us have to be extra vigilant in what we say, to whom we say it, and what we do.”

  Gianna sat in silence for a time, considering the agent’s words. “Well, if it’s any help, I never knew the location, so it couldn’t have been me who made the mistake.”

  “We already knew that, thus eliminated you. It eliminates the two of us as well,” he indicated himself and Agent Crane, “as we also did not know the location. This is a very touchy investigation,” he said. “We’re wading in blue water trying to find a poisonous fish among a giant school of fish that all look alike.”

  “And they all carry guns,” CJ added, “and have a passion to cover each other’s back.”

  “So, now that you’re letting me in, you want me to put on the pretense that CJ is still an active client and is the sole suspect in all the murders.”

  “Yes,” Stratton said. “Avoid the press if you can, but if you can’t, as his attorney you can say that you believe your client is innocent, an injustice has been done, yada yada yada; the kind of verbiage I’m sure you’re good at in front of the camera.”

  “You don’t really know me, do you Agent Stratton?”

  “No. But I do know attorneys. The good ones know how to wrangle the press. Are you saying you’re not one of those, Ms. Onassis?”

  She laughed. “I like you Agent Stratton. You should have gone to law school.”

  “I did, then I decided to put the guilty away instead of defend them.”

  “Or was it easier to get a job with the FBI than a law firm?”

  CJ looked between Stratton and Gianna, semi-smiles on their faces, and couldn’t tell if they were a couple of jungle cats about to jump into a fight or if they were just sniffing each other’s butts, coming to some kind of unspoken truce to share the territory.

  “Who else is in the know?” she asked.

  “Detective Payne, Officer Lisa Bowers and of course, Chief Rague.”

  She looked at CJ. “Are you planning on telling Trish and Stella why you’re still in jail, or are you going to let them go on believing you’re actually going to hang for this?”

  “I’ll tell them,” Stratton said. “I’ll swing by the hospital after we break up here.”

  “Do they have protection?” she asked.

  “We have an agent with them.”

  She looked between Stratton and Crane. “I thought you were the only two agents on this case.”

  “We now have five,” Stratton said as he looked over at CJ. “Josh has been temporarily reassigned to us from Denver. There are also two more in route from that field office.”

  “You never told me that,” CJ said.

  “I only just found out. Received the text while on the phone with Chief Rague.”

  “Did you ask Josh before you made the request?” CJ asked.

  “I never made the request. I’m assuming Josh did. I just asked for a couple of more agents.”

  “Who’s Josh?” Gianna asked.

  “CJ’s son, Agent Joshua Washburn.”

  “I thought…”

  “So did I,” CJ said in answer to her unfinished question.

  Stratton stood. “We’ve a lot to do, so unless you have more to discuss with your client, counselor, we need to send him back to his abode.”

  “No, I’m good. I just need to have a little time to prepare for the barrage of mini-recorders and cameras.”

  “Thank you.” Stratton opened the door and said to the officer standing outside. “Take this piece of crap back to his cell.”

  Agent Crane winked at CJ and stood. “Thanks for the help,” he whispered.

  The pretense appeared to be working. As CJ was escorted back to his cell uniformed officers had to step to the side to let them pass, several of whom CJ knew. CJ caught the eye of one, but the return look was anything but friendly. Overall, there was a lot of glaring going on. Another officer, who CJ didn’t even get a clear look at, elbow-jabbed him in the back. CJ stumbled and the two escorts pulled him up straight, sending his shoulder into another spasm.

  “Knock it off,” one escort said to the assailant, but his words carried so little conviction, CJ expected another jab, maybe from the escort himself.

  There were no more, but he could feel icy and acid-filled stares at the back of his head, even after they turned a corner and were alone.

  By the time they got him back into his cell, the spasm had settled to the customary dull ache. He stretched out on his bunk and for a time watched the ceiling swim. A small piece of his brain made note that there was something wrong, but before long he didn’t care and fell into, not sleep, but total unconsciousness.

  Chapter 48

  Twice CJ surfaced long enough to become confused as to where he was and to welcome the return to darkness. The third time he came fully awake to discover something was covering his mo
uth. He tried to reach up to remove it, only to find he had hardly any strength. He shook his head to dislodge the thing while struggling to get his hand up to his face, not fully understanding why he was so weak, why his left arm felt like jelly, why he couldn’t move his right arm at all, why it was trapped against his body. He remembered the abduction and a new level of panic began rising in him. But he was in jail. How? Why? Was it happening again?

  He tried yelling but the thing on his face muffled his cries.

  “Clint! It’s okay.”

  A hand touched his arm, clasped his hand; a face loomed over him.

  “Hush,” the face said.

  Stella.

  CJ’s panic subsided.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “You’re in the hospital.”

  Hospital? He reached again to try and dislodge what he finally understood was an oxygen mask, but Stella grabbed his arm.

  “No. Wait. I’ve called for the nurse.”

  He nodded, though knowing the panic hovered close by, that if the thing wasn’t removed soon he’d lose control. He looked in her eyes, pleading for her to tell him what happened, aware that he was breathing too fast.

  “They found you unconscious in your cell, couldn’t rouse you. On the way to emergency you stopped breathing.” Tears filled her eyes and she appeared to have to gulp something back. “I think you died.”

  I died? He wanted out of the bed, NOW! He tried to get up but couldn’t fight against Stella’s iron grip. “Let me go!” he yelled but the mask converted the words to something he was sure was unintelligible, making him sound like a mad man. “Let me go!” he yelled again.

  “Mr. Washburn, knock it off!”

  It wasn’t Stella. It was a nurse and she went straight to removing the mask. CJ just stared at her.

  “Is that better?” she asked.

  CJ nodded and dropped his head back. “Water,” he said, his voice raspy, his throat dry. A bottle with a straw appeared in front of his face. He sucked at it until he couldn’t anymore, then rested. “Thank you.”

  It was thirty minutes before CJ felt somewhat human again, though extremely exhausted. The bed had been raised and the oxygen mask staged close by. There remained an intravenous tube in his arm. Stella never left him once, though she remained out of the way while the nurses worked. A doctor came in and poked at him, asking questions similar to those posed by Dr. Blask the day before.

  When the doctor left and the nurses stopped fussing, Stella took his hand. “You scared the hell out of me. Between you and Trish, I've been going crazy.”

  “Thank you for being there for her.” He took a little more water, couldn’t seem to get enough. “How is she?”

  “Much better. They plan to move her out of intensive care into a regular room sometime today.”

  “Is she nearby?”

  “Yes.” Stella pointed. “Just down the way.”

  “Wish I could see her.”

  “Eventually. She sends her love.”

  “Me too.”

  In the silence that followed, CJ could tell that Stella wanted to say something else. She was on the verge of tears again. He squeezed her hand. “What?”

  She wiped at her eyes and sniffled. “They think you overdosed on your pain medication, that you tried to commit suicide. I told them you wouldn’t do that.” She opened her mouth to say something else, then closed it.

  Overdose? CJ tried to remember when he took his last dose, but there was still too much fuzz in his brain. Did he at anytime consider ending it all? He shook his head at her. “I didn’t…” Suicide? “…at least I don’t think so.”

  “You’re not sure?” That seemed to upset her even more.

  “I can’t remember the last time I asked for the pain killer,” he said.

  “Asked for? You had to ask for the pills?”

  He blinked at her for a time, considering her question, suddenly understanding her question. “Yes!” He rose up from his pillow and immediately had to wait out a wave of dizziness. When, finally, it cleared, he said, “I had to ask for them.”

  “The prescription bottle was found in your cell, almost empty,” she said.

  “That’d be impossible. There’s no way they’d put someone in a cell with even a bottle of aspirin.”

  “Oh.”

  CJ had to cut through his mental fog in order to come up with why it was impossible. “All dispensing of medicine to prisoners….” He fell back against his pillow. “It’s controlled; suicidal reasons.”

  “My God!” Stella said. “That means he got to you.”

  “Yes.” He listened to his own raspy breathing for a time, considering the implications. “If he can get to me in jail, he can get to me anywhere. Any doubt about being a cop… gone.” He looked toward where the nurses flitted about, just outside his curtains. “Who’s guarding me? Who’s guarding Trish?”

  “Josh is with Trish right now. She’s never been left alone. Either Josh, me or Pat have been with her around the clock. It was against the rules but Josh flashed his badge and talked to someone. He stayed with her all night.

  “Also,” she said, looking toward the nurses, “you have a police officer just outside.”

  CJ looked closer and saw the edge of a uniform, realizing, not for the first time since he’d awoken, that he was not restrained. There were no handcuffs. “Who?” he asked, at first thinking that there were no uniformed officers on the team. Who did they put on him? How did they know who they can trust?

  “Officer Bowers right now,” Stella said. “Dave’s daughter, Lisa. You remember?”

  “Of course I remember. I’m not an invalid.”

  “Sorry. She and Officer Kramer are going to be taking turns with you, though I haven’t seen Kramer yet. So far it’s only been Lisa or one of the Denver agents.”

  CJ took a breath and relaxed. Stratton had talked about getting Officer Kramer reassigned to the task force.

  “You said that Trish would be downgraded from critical this morning,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “That means… What day is this?”

  “It’s Thursday. This happened to you yesterday afternoon. The Denver agents flew in last night.”

  He’d lost most of another day. He thought about the fourteen hours he lost after he was abducted and then drugged, waking up in the motel room, confused, feeling the same as he felt in the previous hour. Exactly the same, as a matter-of-fact, it suddenly occurred to him. It was the same drug, the date-rape drug, the official name of which he could not remember. The street name was Roofie. But how could the perp have gotten into the cell and injected him without his remembering it? No one came in to see him after he returned from the meeting with Stratton and Dan, and Gianna. Two cops escorted him back. Could one of them have poked him with a syringe without his realizing it? If one of the officers had squeezed his arm until it hurt, then CJ would not even have felt the needle.

  And then he remembered the elbow jab to his back.

  “Where’s Stratton?” CJ blurted, sitting up again.

  The suddenness of his question made Stella jump. “I don’t know. Why?”

  “There’s no way they could have forced a bunch of pills down my throat. I’d remember that. I think I know when he got to me. It wasn’t an overdose. The prescription bottle was staged.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Are you sure?”

  “There’s no other explanation. Find Stratton and get him here. Have him bring in the doctor, preferably Doctor Blask from the other day.”

  Stella went to talk to Officer Bowers while CJ laid his head back. The burst of excitement had him suddenly feeling very tired and cold, and the room was spinning. He pulled the flimsy blanket up to his neck, wishing he had another. He closed his eyes.

  Chapter 49

  “Clint.”

  This time when CJ awoke, he had enough of his mental facilities to realize he was wearing the oxygen mask again, and it was Stella talking to him. He started to reach up to remove the mask, b
ut she beat him to it.

  “The nurse thought it would be better that you have the mask when you’re sleeping,” she said. “Agent Stratton is here now.” She moved aside, taking the mask with her, and Stratton stepped into view.

  “How are you doing, CJ?”

  “Feel like I’ve been dragged through the cow pasture, twice. Other than that, quite peachy.”

  “Stella told me what you said about being drugged again. That’s exactly what happened. Your tox screen didn’t indicate an overdose of the pain meds as was initially assumed. What was found was that you received another huge dose of Roofie. She says you know when it happened?”

  “Yeah.” He pointed to the water, and Stella retrieved it for him. Once he’d managed a good sip he continued, although it still felt like his tongue wanted to stick to the roof of his mouth. “When I was being escorted back to my cell, after meeting with you and Gianna, someone jabbed me in the back. It had to have been a uniformed officer because I don’t remember noticing anyone in civilian clothes. At the time I thought the jab was an elbow.”

  He sucked up more water.

  “As I’m sure you’re aware, I’m not very well thought of around the police department, so it didn’t surprise me at the time. Now, to think back on it, I’d be willing to bet there was a hypodermic needle involved. That’s why I asked for Dr. Blask. He’d be able to find the injection point and know for sure.”

  “We’re still trying to find him. Did you see the person who jabbed you?”

  “No. I went down to my knees and my escorts had to pull me back up; hurt my shoulder like hell. They should remember the incident and may have noticed who it was.”

  “We’ll pull them in, put them on the hot seat. Anything else?”

  “The prescription bottle.”

  “What about it?”

  “It was planted, so you need to dust it for prints. Someone who has access to that and the holding area threw it into my cell. Did you get prints off my wallet and credit card?”

  “There was no wallet,” Stratton said. “Do you remember having one when you gave up your personal effects?”

  CJ closed his eyes and tried to recall. Between the aftereffects of the first drug and then being hit with it again, his brain kept slipping in and out of fog. “I don’t know.” He closed his eyes.