High Risk

by G. K. Parks

  “What are you asking me?”

  “The delivery truck driver, the liquor store owner, and the woman from the subway station are already here. We’ve been conducting lineups. Only one witness has positively identified one of the men. I need you to do better than that.”

  “I don’t know if I can.” I’d seen Diego’s photo and I’d met Carter. Defense council would have a field day with this one.

  “You’re a cop. What you say carries more weight, the same’s true of Officer Cruz.”

  “I didn’t see them, sir. You read my statement.”

  Winston nodded, shifting the papers around on the table. “But you said you could recognize their voices. It’s the only way to keep it unbiased. Cruz wasn’t much help. Diego we have dead to rights because of the DNA evidence found at the scene. But the other one, he’s gonna walk if you don’t do something.”

  “Can’t you compel Carter Moore to turn over a blood sample?” Brad asked.

  “Easier said than done,” Winston muttered.

  “I got this, sir,” I said.

  “Good, and once we have grounds to hold him, Voletek and Lisco are going to need you and Fennel to assist on breaking him.” The lieutenant focused on my partner. “You said Carter’s the weak link. That he’d give up the other two. You better be right about that.”

  “He apologized to us,” Brad said. “When we spoke to him the morning we questioned his roommate, Carter Moore apologized. He has a conscience. Seeing Liv will make him feel guilty. He’ll crack.” At least that had been my theory, and the one Brad must have shared with Voletek and Lisco.

  Winston pressed his lips together. “One step at a time.” But he didn’t like this. Police work needed to be clean, and this case was anything but. “All right, DeMarco. Officer Roberts will escort you to the waiting area. Once everything’s set, you’ll be asked to ID the offenders from the lineup. We’re doing it blind. They won’t see you, and you won’t see them. Voice recognition only. And if you’re not sure…” He didn’t finish that statement. I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to lie, but I wasn’t that kind of cop.

  Forty

  “Number four,” I faced the wall, my back to the glass, “that’s him.”

  “You’re positive? You barely heard him speak. At the time, you were suffering from shock brought about by extreme blood loss.”

  “I’m positive.” I turned to defense council. “You don’t forget the man who planned to put a bullet in your head after he shoved you through a glass door.” And based on the attorney’s protest, I knew I picked the right guy.

  “Roberts, take number four into the interrogation room to get comfortable.” The officer conducting the lineup pressed the intercom and had the room cleared.

  Roberts exited, waiting at the door to escort Carter Moore to his own private suite. I remained in the closed room, just so the suspect wouldn’t see me. Winston might want to use my presence as an element of surprise. Another officer escorted the defense attorney out of the room, so he could confer with his client, who had just gone from being in the wrong place at the wrong time to facing serious charges.

  “Was a lineup really necessary?” the officer asked, glancing in my direction. “You’re a homicide detective. You told us who attacked you before we even arrested him. This was a waste.” He rolled his eyes. “Just another hoop IAD wants us to jump through.”

  “I know, but we’re doing things by the book. Every T is getting crossed. The DA’s office doesn’t want to risk anything jeopardizing this case. Not with these stakes.”

  Officer Roberts returned a few minutes later. “You ready, DeMarco? I’m supposed to escort you back to homicide.”

  “Sure.” I nodded to the officer and followed Roberts out of the room. “Hey, I didn’t get a chance to say it earlier, but thank you.”

  Roberts didn’t even slow on the stairs. “You’re a cop. You bleed blue, just like me.”

  “Yeah, but you saved my life. I can’t thank you enough.”

  Roberts grunted. We’d crossed paths several times over the years, but he never liked me much. At first, I thought it had to do with my father, but Brad thought it was because Roberts had a misogynistic streak, like a lot of men in the department. “I was just doing my job, DeMarco. And if you’d done yours better, you might not have been in that situation. But you’re okay. And it looks like we’ll get these guys, so I guess it all worked out. Just remember, patrol does a lot more than run errands and fetch your coffee.”

  I never asked patrol to bring me coffee, but I let that slide. “Regardless, I owe you.”

  He shook his head. “Your partner already thanked me with a bottle of something aged, brown, and fairly expensive.” He stopped at the door to homicide. “Just be careful out there. I don’t like going to cop funerals.”

  Brad waited for me near his desk. “Heard you did good down there.”

  “Yep.”

  “You okay?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Y’never know.” He jerked his chin toward the conference room. “Voletek and Lisco want to go over everything that happened at 24/7 Spirits again. They’re hoping they can use your firsthand account to play on Carter Moore’s emotions. If that doesn’t fly, they’ll take a crack at Diego Eisner.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to stay off the LT’s shit list.”

  “I think it’s too late for that.”

  “You better get in there unless you want to join me as persona non grata.”

  After going over everything for what felt like the millionth time, Detectives Voletek and Lisco entered the interrogation room. Lt. Winston stood beside me on the other side of the two way glass while we watched them go over the information and potential charges with Carter and his council. I kept my eyes glued to what was happening inside the interrogation room, but Winston hadn’t even bothered to face the glass. Instead, he just stared at me.

  “You feel like having a conversation, DeMarco? Because I’d love to know what you were doing at that liquor store while off duty at that time of night.”

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  He sipped his coffee. “How’d you know they’d be there?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “But they were. And I have a hard time believing that was purely coincidental.”

  “Of course it wasn’t coincidental,” I fought to hold my tone in check, “sir. Diego Eisner’s been there before. I’d bet my badge on it. That’s his preferred location. I just don’t know why.”

  “According to the liquor store owner, our suspect is not a regular. He only recalls seeing him once before, and that’s from the morning in question.”

  “No, he’s been there before.”

  “How do you know that, DeMarco? Where’s your proof?”

  “I don’t have any.”

  “And yet you were so convinced of this fact that you drove there in the middle of the night to question the store owner again.”

  “I was right, wasn’t I? Diego was there. They were all there, lieutenant.”

  “But how did you know that?”

  “I didn’t. If I did, I would have waited for backup. I might have even called in tactical.” I looked away from the window, realizing Winston really didn’t understand. “They used Jonathan Gardner’s credit card at that liquor store a few minutes after they killed him. It had to be significant. It’s the only thing they’ve done that hasn’t made sense. Everything else has gone from point A to point B. But that was just a random unconnected event. Why do it?”

  “So why did they do it?”

  “I don’t know. Originally, Fennel and I thought it might have been to confuse us or the timeline surrounding Gardner’s murder. But that never quite fit. After what happened,” I touched the bandage on my neck, realizing I hadn’t changed it this morning, “and the threat Tarelli left and the theft of the police uniforms, I think he wanted to get his hands on some cops when they got off shift. I think that might have been the go
al.”

  “But since he couldn’t get his hands on any first responders that day, he bought a bottle of hooch to celebrate?”

  “I guess.”

  “Which he?” Winston asked. “Tarelli’s the brains behind this. He’s the violent killer, right? But Diego’s the one who we found at a different liquor store last night. And the owner of 24/7 Spirits identified Diego as the man who bought the bottle of Jack and threatened his life. So what am I missing here? Do we have it wrong? Are you sure Tarelli has the bloodlust and not Diego?”

  “The man who wanted me dead didn’t sound like Diego Eisner. He had a gravelly voice and a bad knee. Diego has neither.” I turned back to the glass. “Did you drug test them?”

  “Carter came back positive for marijuana. Alcohol too.”

  “And Diego?”

  “Alcohol.”

  “Nothing else?”

  “No.”

  “That might be it.”

  “What’s it?”

  I shook my head and left the observation room. “Brad,” I went to my desk, finding the computer off and a dozen or so get well cards stacked in the center, “you wanted to know where that CBD oil came from. Did you ever find out?”

  “It wasn’t a prescription. The proportions were off. Ellie thinks it might have been a homemade concoction.” He lowered his voice. “Emma’s pharmacist friend said the same thing.”

  “Thanks.” I turned to head back to the observation room, shaking off the unexpected dizziness. You’re still not 100%, the voice in my head reminded me. But I was on to something.

  When I returned to the observation room, I found Lt. Winston waiting for me. “Well?” he asked.

  “Diego and Tarelli were cellmates. That’s how they hooked up.”

  “Brilliant deduction,” he said sarcastically.

  “Carter doesn’t connect to Diego. He connects to Tarelli. I’m not sure where or how, but I’m guessing Carter’s fondness for pot and Tarelli’s use of CBD oil is how they met. It’s possible Tarelli picked some up in the grocery store where Carter works. It’s also possible they initially crossed paths at the dispensary. Since CBD doesn’t have THC, it’s legal in most places and doesn’t require a prescription.”

  “Which means there’d be no record if they sold it to Tarelli. And that might explain why they had to kill the shop owner. Good job, DeMarco. Let’s see if your assumptions pay off.” Winston turned on his heel and entered the interrogation room.

  I leaned against the table and watched the lieutenant take over. Within minutes, he convinced Carter Moore that we knew more than we did and it was just a matter of time before we could prove it. And while Carter tried to wait it out, the man who masterminded the entire thing would continue with his plan, kill more people, and escape to some tropical island with his ill-gotten gains.

  “You attacked two cops,” Winston said. “You put them both in the hospital. One of them nearly went to the morgue. You spoke to her. Twice, if I’m not mistaken. Both times you apologized, but sorry’s not going to cut it. Right now, you’re the only one we can prove has been violent. We have two cops who’ve pointed the finger right at you. So unless you give us something to indicate you aren’t behind this entire thing, like you insisted by apologizing to the detective you almost murdered, I’d say we’re done here. I’m sure your buddy, Diego, will have a lot more to say. He’s been inside. He doesn’t want to go back. He’ll deal. And all it’s going to take is for him to point the finger at you and it’s game over.”

  Carter swallowed, his leg jittering up and down as sweat dripped down his temple. I almost felt bad for the guy. Almost.

  The defense attorney came back with an argument of his own about wanting to see the evidence and the list of potential charges Carter might be facing, but Carter would have none of that. Despite the warning to remain silent and not incriminate himself, Carter’s conscience won out.

  “Brandon Tarelli. That’s who you want. That’s the guy who wanted me to shoot that cop lady. He,” Carter swallowed, “he said he’d kill me if I didn’t do it. He put a gun right to the back of my head.”

  “That changes things,” his attorney said. “My client was acting under duress. Forced to participate while fearing for his life.”

  “Save the arguments. We’re not in court yet,” Winston warned. “But we’ll take that into consideration.” He placed his palms on the table and stared at Carter. “Where’s Tarelli now?”

  “I…I don’t know,” Carter whimpered, rocking slowly from side to side. “He said we had to stay together. He didn’t trust me. He wanted to kill me.” Carter jerked his chin up and pointed at his neck. “He tried to choke me, but Diego stopped him. Diego stopped him when Brandon tried to shoot me too.”

  Lisco put her hands on her thighs and leaned over to get a better look. At least someone in the interrogation room had the decency to pretend to care. “So you and Diego are friends?”

  “Sort of. We’ve been hanging out a lot lately. Ever since we met.”

  “When was that?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Like two weeks ago. I ran into Brandon Tarelli at the dispensary when I was filling my prescription. I have anxiety.” Carter looked Winston in the eye for the first time since he entered. “Seriously, you can ask my doctor.”

  “We might.” Winston wouldn’t even give an inch. “So you met Brandon there.”

  “Yeah, he heard me joking around with Mr. D.”

  “Mr. D.?” Voletek stepped in. “You mean the man who ran the dispensary? The one who was murdered just outside his shop?”

  Carter bit his lip, tears forming in his eyes. “Yeah. You gotta believe me. I didn’t know that was going to happen. Brandon never said anything about hurting anyone, just like the security guard in the dry cleaner’s. I didn’t know about that either. Everything just went to shit real fast. I didn’t know what to do. I just…I didn’t want to die.”

  “All right,” Winston said, “start at the beginning.”

  The attorney glared at the homicide lieutenant. “I want it put on record that my client is cooperating and that he was an unwilling participant in these crimes.”

  “Let’s hear his story first before we start pinning medals on his chest,” Winston retorted.

  “Brandon followed me out of the dispensary and struck up a conversation while I was waiting for my rideshare to pick me up. He asked what blend I liked the best and how long I’d been going to that dispensary. I guess I must have told him that me and Mr. D. went way back.” He got a little choked up. “I don’t know. I’ve had a lot of weird conversations with people at that shop, so I didn’t think too much about it. Then while we were talking, Diego shows up. Somehow, we just ended up hanging out at a bar and talking most of the day.”

  “About what?” Winston asked.

  “The dispensary mostly. I had some crazy stories that Mr. D. had told me or that I’d heard from Mike’s friend.”

  “Michael Tolliver, your roommate?” Voletek asked.

  Carter looked around. “I don’t want to get him in trouble. He doesn’t know anything about any of this. He’s a good guy. Leave him alone.”

  For the next half hour, Carter spilled his guts on the things he’d overheard Michael Tolliver and Jonathan Gardner saying about the night watchman gigs. And Carter had shared all of that with Brandon Tarelli and Diego Eisner. That must have been when Tarelli came up with his scheme to rob the armored truck. Based on Carter’s story, it sounded like Tarelli might have planned to knock over the all-cash business but decided it’d be more lucrative to go for the truck instead. But since Carter possessed most of the intel needed, Tarelli invited him to join them. Since the pothead could barely scrape by on his two minimum wage jobs, he probably didn’t need that much convincing.

  “Brandon swore to me no one would get hurt. These were supposed to be victimless crimes. We go in, get some uniforms, then unload the back of the truck, and walk away. It was supposed to be easy money. But none of it went the way it wa
s supposed to. When he killed the security guard at the dry cleaner’s I knew I had to get away from him, but he made us stick together. It’s like he knew.”

  “So when did he leave?” Winston asked.

  “He left maybe fifteen minutes before you showed up. Diego wanted to get a drink. So he went to pick up some booze. Before he got back, Brandon said he needed to run an errand and he’d be right back. He told me not to go anywhere.” Carter bit his lip. “By the time I worked up the courage to make a break for it, you guys busted in.”

  “Voletek,” Winston jerked his chin at the door, “see if you can get some corroboration.” Voletek slipped out of the room and went across to the other interrogation room. I remained where I was, watching Winston continue the interview. “We know he has police uniforms. What is he planning to do with them?”

  “Don’t answer that,” the attorney warned.

  “If he doesn’t answer, Diego will.” Winston waited. “And Diego didn’t slice open my star detective’s throat with a glass door.”

  “No, it’s okay. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. I’m sorry that happened. Is she okay?” Carter asked.

  “She should be fine,” Lisco said. “But whoever Tarelli goes after next won’t be. You know that. You know what he’s capable of doing. You’ve seen it firsthand. Help us save someone’s life.”

  “We were supposed to take out the armored transport tonight. He said it’d be filled with cash. All we had to do was dress the part, open the doors, and walk away. Brandon had the subway routes mapped out. We were going to split our shares and split up. I’d never have to see him again.”

  Winston shoved a pad and pen in front of Carter. “We need the location and time. Every detail you know.”