Good Cop Bad Cop (A James Harris Series Book 1)

by Richard Nesbitt

  Dinkins was the product of an upper middle class upbringing. His family owned the nicest home in a modest community in Fort Lee, New Jersey and he had grown up with a sense of superiority because of it. He had often bullied the younger kids in the neighborhood and enjoyed flaunting his parent’s financial dominance.

  As a teenager, Dinkins had spent many an afternoon walking along the Hudson River and looking east, across to Manhattan. He’d always felt that he was above his New Jersey brethren and that he belonged among the elite of New York. He told his parents that someday he would be an important man in the big city.

  After graduating from Passaic County Community College in nearby Paterson, New Jersey, Dinkins had been recruited by an officer to join the thin blue line of the NYPD. Although being a police officer seemed a tad pedestrian to him, he was enticed by the fact that because of his degree he could become a Lieutenant and outrank most cops almost immediately. Also, it was the quickest way he could think of to get out of Jersey and into the city.

  While in the police academy, he bitterly resented the way he was treated by the instructors and training officers. It was part of the training curriculum that each cadet learn the many rules and conduct expected of them. Dinkins quickly learned that those who broke rules answered to internal affairs and that was the department that other cops feared the most. It was exactly what he was looking for.

  Dinkins applied for and was accepted into the Internal Affairs program and right away he knew he’d made the right decision. From the beginning he set out to make a name for himself as the most ruthless cop persecutor ever. He went after cops for even the slightest infractions. Whether they were good men or bad made no difference to him, he went for the jugular every time. Instead of waiting for cases to come to internal affairs, he planted snoops and spies among the rank and file looking for any dirt. By the time he’d reached detective and finally Captain, he was the most feared and hated cop on the force. Years later, when the former Deputy Commissioner and head of Internal Affairs resigned under scandalous circumstances, it was Dinkins who was chosen to fill his shoes. It was rumored that Dinkins himself had brought about the man’s downfall.

  Now, with the position he had so long coveted as the top cop in charge of the conduct of the entire police department, Dinkins went about eliminating any cops who he didn’t like or who had rubbed him the wrong way in the past. But his pet project and number one target had always eluded him.

  There was a knock on his door.

  “Come in,” he barked.

  The door opened and a large, well dressed man entered with a steaming cup of designer coffee.

  “It’s about time,” Dinkins said.

  “Sorry sir, traffic was a mess,” came the reply. He placed the coffee in front of his boss and stepped back two paces.

  Deputy Commissioner Dinkins picked up the cup and took a long, loud sip. He set the coffee down and went back to the file he had been studying. He read briefly and then raised his eyes to the man who was still standing in front of him.

  “Is there something you need?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” the man replied. “You asked me to meet with you at 8:30 sharp this morning.”

  “So come back at 8:30. “

  “Sir, it’s 8:32.”

  Dinkins looked up at the clock above his door.

  “Then you’re late,” he replied.

  “Sir, I came in at exactly 8:30.”

  Dinkins glared at his subordinate.

  “Sorry, sir,” the man corrected himself. “It won’t happen again.”

  “Do you know what this is about?”

  “I believe so, sir.”

  “I don’t want you to believe, I want you to know.”

  “Yes, sir. Lieutenant Harris.”

  “I have his daily action report and it seems he questioned a suspect in Harlem yesterday.” Dinkins handed the man a slip of paper. “Here is the man’s name and the location Harris cited. Go find anything you can.”

  “Yes, sir,” the man said again as he took the paper.

  “Do not fuck this up, Wilson. This guy’s number one on my top ten list and I’m going to have his badge. Understand?”

  “I do, Captain.”

  “Good. So let’s move,” Dinkins dismissed the man who turned and strode with purpose out of the room.

  Dinkins stared down at the manila folder on his desk. The tab read Lt. Harris and on the inside left hand side there was a picture of Harris paper clipped to the folder. Dinkins studied the man’s dossier;

  Military

  Desert Storm Veteran– Awarded Silver and Bronze Stars as an Airborne Ranger

  NYPD

  Record number of arrests in his precinct

  Record conviction percentage

  Decorated twice for valor

  Turned down promotion to Captain

  4 justified kills in the line of duty

  Bullshit, Dinkins thought as he read the last line. Four questionable kills.

  Harris was everything he hated in a cop, a macho, power hungry animal who felt he was above the law. He thought that having a gun and a badge entitled him to do whatever he wanted on the streets. Dinkins knew for a fact that Harris was dirty but every time he thought he had him the man slipped through his fingers.

  It was no secret that he’d killed a suspect in cold blood. Every cop in a position of authority knew it. Harris may have had his bullshit story straight in court, but it didn’t change the fact that he had taken the law into his own hands. They’d tried to get his old partner to testify against him, but the man remained loyal. Loyal, Dinkins fumed. Loyal to a murderer.

  Well, it was only a matter of time, he thought. Unbeknownst to even the man’s captain, he received a copy of Harris’ daily action report and he knew that it was only a matter of time before he got him. It was inevitable.

  Dinkins grabbed his coffee and took a large gulp. He would bide his time and he would make an example of this rogue cop. It was his number one priority.

  He looked again at the picture of the smiling cop and then slammed the folder shut.

  Good Cop Bad Cop

  9

  Sylvia Blumquist sat on her living room sofa. It was a very expensive and seldom found Gamma Arredamenti which she had purchased five years earlier for the price of your average car. She was being held by her husband and although she tried desperately for self control, tears streamed down her face and sobs wracked her body. Away from City Hall, and in the comfort and privacy of her own home, she had stopped being the hardnosed District Attorney. Now she was simply a mother, like any other. Rich, poor, old, young…it didn’t matter as she tried to deal with every parent’s worst nightmare. Every time she shut here eyes she saw Emily. Her imagination took over from there and none of it was good.

  “What can I get for you, dear?” Her husband spoke softly.

  “Nothing, Sheldon,” she replied.

  He kissed her on the cheek and she attempted a thin lipped smile which turned instantly into a pained frown and more tears.

  “I’m-I’m sorry,” she spoke between sobs. “I guess I’m not as tough as everybody thinks I am.”

  “Oh my God, Sylvia, you’re the strongest woman I know.”

  He tuned and held her shoulders.

  “Look at me.”

  Her eyes remained fixed on her lap as tears literally dripped down her nose and onto her Chanel pants.

  “Look at me, Sylvia.”

  Sylvia raised her bloodshot eyes and looked into her husband’s face. She saw the torture in his eyes as well and wondered how he could hold such deep emotion in check. He had been functioning almost robotically, only his eyes betraying his strong outer shell.

  “We are going to get her back,” he spoke calmly.

  “What if-if we don’t?” Sylvia shook as another wave of anxiety swept over her.

  “We cannot think that way, dear. We will hold our daughter again. We will have Emily back.”

  Sylvia leaned forward and crump
led into his arms. He held her and she squeezed him tightly. Finally she leaned back and with the side of her left hand, wiped the moisture from her face. She reached towards the coffee table and grabbed a wad of Kleenex from a silver dispenser. She blew her nose and dabbed at her eyes.

  “Thank you, Sheldon. Thank you for being so strong.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. He hesitated briefly and then spoke softly.

  “What are we going to do regarding the press?”

  “What?” She looked up at him.

  “The press. We need to prepare a statement.”

  “Are you serious? To hell with the press.”

  “I know, Sylvia. But there will almost certainly be a leak. Perhaps it would be better if you got out ahead of this?”

  “Better in what way?”

  “Well, if we come out with the news first we can control it. It might be better politically.”

  “Politically?”

  “Sylvia, you are a public figure,” he took her shoulders in his hands and looked into her eyes. “And to a certain degree, so am I. This is going to come out. I’m only thinking of what’s best.”

  “What’s best for whom?” she asked firmly, pausing before continuing. “I would sacrifice everything I am, everything we have, to get Emily back safely. The press can go to hell.”

  “I understand my love. But they will find out.”

  “Then they find out!” She snapped loudly. “But I’m not taking our personal tragedy to them! I’m not going to be the one who gets Emily’s picture splashed on every front page and TV screen in America!”

  “I don’t want that either. But it’s naïve to think that it’s not going to happen.”

  “What in the hell is the matter with you!? They will do what they do! I’m not going to concern myself with anything other than Emily! I cannot believe this even crossed your mind!”

  Rising, Sheldon turned and walked towards the bar. He poured a tall glass of Chardonnay and returned to the couch.

  “I’m sorry, Sylvia. Let’s forget it for now.” He extended his hand, offering her the glass.

  “For now?” Sylvia rose from the couch and stared at her husband. She ignored the drink. “What in the hell is the matter with you?!”

  Sheldon remained silent.

  “How in the world does any of that that matter to you? Who cares about the press? Why?”

  “We do not have the luxury of acting like normal people, Sylvia,” he finally answered.

  “Jesus Christ,” Sylvia spoke, her voice hushed in disbelief. “Do you even hear yourself?”

  “Do not condemn me because I’m looking at the big picture!”

  “Big picture?!” Sylvia shouted. She paused and stared at her husband with disgust. “Our only child is in the clutches of some psychopath and all you can think about is how to spin it politically?”

  “That’s not fair goddamn it. This is killing me too! But for Christ’s sake Sylvia, you’re a public figure,” Sheldon felt his own anger grow. “You control the media or they control you! You know that!”

  “Dear God, Sheldon,” Sylvia responded suddenly deflated. “I don’t have the energy to have this conversation. And quite frankly, I’m disgusted that you brought it up. I’m going to bed.”

  Sheldon watched as she turned and walked out of the room. He stood in place for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Finally, he walked over to the bar and poured the chardonnay down the sink. Reaching to a shelf above the mirror, he grabbed a bottle of scotch. Wine wasn’t going to be enough tonight.

  Good Cop Bad Cop

  10

  Emily’s eyes fluttered open. Her head throbbed and she felt as if she had just awoken from a very serious drunk. Her face was pressed hard against what she thought was the floor of her tiny cell and then she noticed. The smell was different. She smelled wood, not cement. And then she struggled to rise. Nothing was working and it took her several long seconds to realize she was tied face down to what felt like a large wooden plank. Emily came out of her fog instantly and began to panic as she realized she could not move. She looked to her left and the quickly to her right and although it was dark, she could make out that both of her arms were straight out to her sides. Her wrists were tied with thick rope which ran underneath a table and held her chest pinned tightly to the hard, wooden surface. Although she could not turn her head far enough to see them, she felt her legs were also spread widely and bound just above her knees and her ankles were also firmly secured. She was completely immobile, face down and naked. Emily had never felt so vulnerable in her life.

  She began to scream and as soon as she did, a light turned on. It came from a 60 watt bulb overhead. Emily blinked as the sudden illumination burned her eyes. Although face down, she could see that an object sat facing her, very close to her face. Emily raised her chin and saw it. A video camera was set up and positioned only two feet in front of her.

  “Mama,” she whispered in panicked desperation. She stared into the round glass lens and caught her own reflection. She did not recognize herself.

  A strap fell hard across her exposed buttocks and the searing and unexpected pain caused Emily to gasp and draw in air. The sting of the blow rushed to her senses and she screamed again.

  “Shut up,” A man’s voice spoke softly from behind her left side. It was far more terrifying than the sudden pain.

  “Oh my God!” Emily cried in wild eyed horror. “Who are you?!”

  The strap fell again with a large crack.

  Emily screamed again, this time with wracking sobs as sheer terror followed the assault.

  “Shut up,” The voice came again.

  “Why are you doing this to me?!” Emily screamed, ignoring the order.

  The strap fell a third time, this time harder and on her lower back. The location of the blow was very intentional and the pain it caused was blinding.

  “Shut up.”

  Emily opened her mouth wide and although she screamed so that her neck muscles bulged, veins pounding blood, no sound came from her throat. Exhausted, she let her forehead drop to the table and gave in. She shook uncontrollably as the torture and the mental strain finally knocked her into submission.

  “You will never mention your mother again,” the voice came again. “Do you understand?”

  Emily cried softly and said nothing.

  “Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” She answered weakly as she realized that to not respond would bring more pain.

  “Very good,” the voice answered.

  Emily felt a hand rest upon her bare bottom. It stroked down the back of her leg and back up to pause on her left butt cheek. She shuddered despite herself.

  “You will never call out for your mother again. You may, however, call out for your father. That is allowed.”

  He’s crazy, Emily realized in horror. I’m going to wake up any moment and realize that this has all just been a nightmare. The worst nightmare of my life, she thought.

  “Do you understand?”

  “My father has money!” Emily spoke as the words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. She closed her eyes and braced herself for another lashing. All that followed was silence. She lifted her head off the table and strained to see behind her.

  “My father will pay any amount you ask,” she continued cautiously. “I promise you. He will pay.”

  “Yes,” the man answered. “I have no doubt of that.”

  The leather strap came down again in three rapid blows. Emily grit her teeth and tried to stifle the scream that begged to be released. She sucked in air and waited for the pain to abate.

  “That is for daring to engage me in conversation. It will not happen again. Say yes if you understand.”

  “Yes,” came the weak reply. “Yes.”

  “Now, you will remember what I told you. You may cry out only for your father. Otherwise we will repeat this as many times as it takes for you to learn.”

  Repeat what, flashed throug
h Emily’s mind?

  Her eyes were suddenly drawn to the camera as a red light blinked on. Once again, Emily stared into the large glass lens and to the gruesome reflection of her own terrified image. She sensed that something horrible was about to begin and, against her will, she tensed with panicked expectancy.

  Emily gasped as something hit her back and shoulders. She felt it everywhere and realized something had been thrown upon her. A soft touch grazed her face and she looked to the left to see a lily hanging over her naked shoulders, resting lightly against her cheek.

  Flowers, she thought in bewilderment?

  Without warning the strap began falling. It sliced into her legs, buttocks and back again and again and she screamed with the intense pain. She looked into the lens and watched her own agony play out for her in a private screening. The leather strap cut into her soft skin so many times she couldn’t have counted the lashes if she’d tried. Emily shrieked with the pains white hot intensity and when she could scream no more, it finally ended.

  “D-daddy…” she whispered with hoarse exhaustion as her head fell to rest against the wood table. She struggled to breathe as she waited for the searing sting to abate, silently praying that the strap would not fall again. The room was still, an eerie quiet after the storm. Emily sobbed softly.

  And then he was directly behind her. Emily felt her buttocks being spread open and felt the warmth of the man’s flesh pressing against her. And then with a sudden horrible thrust he was inside her. He pushed her apart as widely as he could and she felt his fingers dig into her flesh. Her entire body shook as the man savaged her roughly. She felt her insides tear as he pushed deeper and deeper. Each thrust seemed to be a personal message, an attempt to own her completely.

  The pain from the strap had been nothing compared to the numbing pain she felt shoot through her entire body with this fresh assault. Emily screamed. She screamed and looked straight ahead into the unblinking eye of the camera.

  “Daaaaddddyyy! Help me, daddy!!!!” She cried over and over again. She whipped her head back and forth in a frenzied motion as she could not move any other part of her body to fight. A rushing dizziness swept over her as the room began to spin. And then Emily’s world went mercifully black.