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

by Richard Nesbitt

  Sylvia simply stared at the two, unable to comprehend what she was witnessing. She could not allow herself to believe this was possible.

  Harris held the taser at arm’s length towards the terror-stricken man. He depressed and released the trigger quickly and a blue line of electricity crackled for a split second.

  “This is extremely painful,” Harris explained as he knelt down beside the man.

  “You’re insane,” Sheldon said in a hushed voice. He tried to back away but Harris simply grabbed his ankle and held him. Sheldon lashed out to kick him with his other foot but Harris simply leaned back allowing the kick to miss him.

  “Not nice,” Harris spoke softly. He let go of the man’s ankle and shoved the taser into Sheldon’s thigh as he depressed the trigger.

  Sheldon screamed loudly in pain, the horrible cry piercing the room. He writhed on the floor and shook as the electricity coursed through his nerve endings with searing heat. Finally Harris released the trigger and pulled the taser back.

  “Dear God…” Sylvia breathed. She had thrown both hands over her mouth and her eyes were wide with disbelief and horror.

  “A name, Sheldon,” Harris repeated sternly. “And this stops.”

  Sheldon threw his head from side to side as his body continued to spasm. Harris allowed the man to deal with the pain and when it looked as if the worst had subsided he asked again.

  “A name, Sheldon.”

  “Oh my God,” Sheldon finally spit as he began to cough violently. “I don’t know who has Emily! I swear it!”

  “Maybe not,” Harris answered. “But I know you suspect who might.”

  “I-I swear…”

  “You’re doing this to yourself,” Harris spoke calmly as he pressed the taser into the man’s leg a second time.

  “AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!” Sheldon shrieked as he rolled violently to escape the device. Harris simply jammed it harder into the man.

  “Stop! Stop!” Sheldon gasped. “Please!”

  Harris pulled the taser away and waited as the man dealt with the subsiding pain. The smell of burnt flesh had joined the overwhelming body odor which hung thickly in the room like a dank cloud. Sheldon’s dress shirt was soaked almost completely through with perspiration. Finally the man lay still, gaping at the ceiling and gulping air.

  “Just give me a name, Sheldon.”

  The real estate tycoon struggled for words as he sucked air violently. He nodded his head furiously to indicate that he was trying to comply.

  “Time is a factor here, Sheldon,” Harris said to the man.

  “What-what kind of cop are you?” Sheldon finally broke his silence. He struggled to form the words through his labored breathing. He glowered at Harris. “I will see you in prison you bastard.”

  “Wrong answer,” Harris said. He jammed the device a third time into the man’s thigh and depressed the trigger.

  Sheldon screamed and jerked away. He slammed his eyes shut and waited for the jolt of agony to engulf him. When that didn’t happen, he simply looked down at the thing pressed into his leg.

  “Shit,” Harris muttered. He stood and examined the taser. Pulling the trigger he saw that the blue arc was gone. “Out of juice.”

  “S-Sylvia!” Sheldon stammered wildly. “Call for help! Put an end to this madness!”

  “You’re wrong, Jimmy!” The cry came from his right. Sylvia, standing now, stared at Harris and shouted. “You’re wrong!”

  Harris stood over the man and turned to face her. The two stared at each other for several seconds and then Sylvia shook her head frantically. Her bloodshot eyes pleaded for mercy. Harris looked back to the man at his feet. There was no way, Harris thought. He had to know. He simply had to.

  “Jimmy you have to stop,” Sylvia pleaded softly this time. “He couldn’t possibly.”

  Harris took a deep breath through his nose and exhaled slowly. If he was wrong about this then that was it, Emily would die. He looked again to the man at his feet. Sheldon, despite the pain he’d just been through, had a glint of triumph in his eyes as he felt the tides of his fortune shift. He glared at the officer who stood over him.

  “You’re going to prison you miserable bastard,” he spat.

  Harris felt a burning in his gut. It was hot and it spread outwards. All of the frustration that had built this past week began to boil over. In his mind he saw the rape of Emily, her cries for this pompous man who lay beneath him. The kidnapper had forced her to call for her father. It was the only thing that made sense. Harris looked into the face of Sheldon Blumquist and saw a man who held himself above all things. He had an arrogance of entitlement that could allow him to separate facts as he saw fit. He knows, Harris thought. He felt himself losing control.

  Gritting his teeth, Harris leaned quickly over the man and grabbed him by the soaked collar with his left hand. He aimed a vicious punch which caught Sheldon right below the eye. He knew better than to hit him in the jaw and risk knocking him out.

  “Lieutenant Harris!” Sylvia screamed. “No!”

  Harris whipped his head around to glare at the District Attorney. His eyes were ablaze with anger.

  “He knows!”

  He punched the man two more times in rapid succession and then quickly dropped him and sprinted to the large, mahogany desk. He circled around to find the drawers and pulled them open with a quick yank. It only took a second to find what he was looking for. Harris grabbed the letter opener and dashed back around the desk. He straddled the D.A.’s husband.

  “STOP!” Sylvia screamed in terror.

  “He knows!” Harris yelled a second time at the unnerved woman. There was a fury in his eyes that silenced her.

  Sheldon thought he knew fear earlier. He thought that he’d taken Harris’ best shot and weathered it. This was a different type of panic. Gone was the arrogant look of superiority, replaced by sheer terror.

  Harris dropped a knee on him. He reached forward and grabbed a handful of the man’s hair. Yanking Sheldon’s head off of the floor he pulled it upwards as he lowered his own so the two men’s faces were inches apart.

  “All right you motherfucker,” Harris hissed with a deadliness that left no doubt to his commitment. “Fun and games are over. I’m going to cut you into so many pieces that the boys in the morgue will need a week to put you back together. I may go down but you’re going first.”

  He pressed the point of the letter opener into the side of Sheldon’s neck just below his ear and with a painful rip, pushed it in half an inch. Blood began to flow and although Sheldon tried to twist away, the much stronger man held him easily. Sheldon’s panicked eyes locked onto Harris’ and he saw the murderous intent that could not be denied. He knew with complete certainty that he was about to die.

  “SALVADOR CASTILLO!!” Sheldon shrieked.

  Harris froze. He continued to hold the man’s head but he withdrew the tip of the blade. He stared in astonishment into the wildly gaping eyes. The room had gone from pandemonium to utter stillness in the blink of an eye. Sheldon looked broken, defeated. He went limp.

  Good Cop Bad Cop

  53

  “Who the hell is this?” Bonnie asked. She held the cell phone against her ear with her left shoulder. Alongside her mother, she rolled meatballs and placed them on a cookie sheet.

  “It doesn’t matter who I am,” the male voice answered. “What should matter to you is who Christi Sellinger is.”

  “Hold on,” Bonnie said impatiently. She shrugged at her mother who was eyeing her with curiosity. Walking to the sink, Bonnie quickly washed her hands while still cradling the phone with her shoulder. Drying her hands on a nearby dish towel, she grabbed the phone with her right hand and switched ears. She walked out of the kitchen.

  “Okay. Now what is this all about?”

  “I cannot tell you what it’s all about. You’ll have to ask your husband.”

  “Who in the hell is this?” Bonnie asked again with obvious annoyance. “What the hell are you talking about?”
>
  “When you hang up, I will send two pictures to your phone. These pictures may be disturbing to you. I apologize for that. Her name is Christi Sellinger and she is a reporter for the New York Gazette.”

  Bonnie looked at her cell phone. Caller ID Blocked.

  “Is this how you get your kicks?” She demanded angrily. “Harassing cop’s wives, you twisted asshole?”

  “I am sorry. Look at the pictures. Goodbye.”

  “Wait…” She began, quickly stopping as she heard the call disconnect. “Shit.”

  Bonnie stood in the living room and stared at her phone. She looked back towards the kitchen and saw her mother staring out at her. With an irritated wave of her hand, she sent the woman scurrying back to her meatballs. A moment later her phone chimed twice in rapid succession. She opened her texts and saw that Caller ID Blocked had send her 2 attachments. A nervous feeling suddenly swept over her and she hesitated. Her thumb hovered over the attachment link.

  This is ridiculous, she thought to herself, and pushed the link.

  The first picture showed her husband and a very pretty, young lady entering a restaurant. Not a big deal, Bonnie thought as she scrolled down. The second picture caused her stomach to turn. It was a picture of Jimmy and the same woman, exiting their house…her house. The date on the corner of the shot showed that it was taken just last night.

  Bonnie stared at the picture as time slowed to a crawl. She felt nauseous and fought the urge to scream. As quickly as that feeling came and went, she felt guilt. Jimmy was a lot of things, but he was not a cheater. There had to be some rationale explanation. But still, a restaurant and then their house. She felt sick again as her mind wandered with the sordid possibilities.

  “Bonnie, what is it?” Her mother asked meekly, as she poked her head around the corner. “Are you okay?”

  Bonnie, who was facing away from her mother, struggled to regain her composure. She clicked her phone to sleep and shoved it in her front pocket. Turning, she smiled at her mother.

  “Everything’s fine, mom. How’s it going in there?”

  “Just tidying up,” her mother said. She eyed her daughter with suspicion. “What’s going on, Bonnie?”

  “Nothing mom, I’m fine. Really.”

  Bonnie walked into the kitchen. She paused to give her mother a quick hug and then walked to the sink and began to clean the pot they had seasoned the meatballs in. She scrubbed for a few seconds and then stopped and turned to her mother.

  “Do you feel like having a wine?”

  “A wine? It’s 11am,” her mother replied.

  “Oh,” Bonnie answered absently. “Is it?”

  “Dear,” her mother spoke softly. “I’m not going to pry, but I know you too well. You can keep it to yourself or you can talk to me. I’m always here.”

  “Mom, I can handle it.”

  “I know you can, Bonnie. But I’m here if you need my help.”

  “Thanks, mom.”

  Bonnie walked slowly to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. She sat slowly, as if unsure that the chair would hold her weight. She stared blankly at the far wall, a million thoughts flying through her mind. Why in the world would Jimmy have her over to the house, she wondered? After taking her to dinner? The thought crossed her mind that none of this would seem so bad if the girl wasn’t so damn pretty. She grimaced as she realized how sophomoric that sounded. Her mother finished washing the dishes and went to the next room. The TV came on.

  As she sat in silence, Bonnie wrestled with one childish and angry thought after another. After several minutes of self torture and doubt, she finally came to a realization. To hell with it, she said to herself. There was only one way to handle this.

  “Mom,” she spoke loudly as she grabbed her car keys and coat. “I’m going to run home for a little while.”

  “Do you want me to go with -” the woman’s question was halted as she heard the kitchen door slam shut.

  Bonnie had already dashed out the side door towards the drive way and her car.

  Good Cop Bad Cop

  54

  “What?” Sylvia’s trembling voice broke the dead silence.

  Harris released his grip on Sheldon’s scalp. He remained atop the man and simply stared at him. He too was exhausted by the sheer emotion of what had just transpired.

  “What…did…you…say?” Sylvia hesitated between words, unable to grasp the reality which now hung in the room. She rose from the couch and stared down at her husband.

  Harris also rose and took a step back from the man.

  “Sylvia,” Sheldon sobbed. “I don’t know that for sure. I think that maybe, there is a very remote possibility that it might be him, but most likely not. It couldn’t be…it simply couldn’t be.” The man broke into sobs.

  Sylvia looked to Harris with horrified disbelief. Harris returned the look and softly, slowly began to shake his head.

  With an ear piercing scream of rage, Sylvia ran towards her prone husband. She threw herself on top of him and began scratching, clawing and punching. She labored frantically to get past his arms which struggled to hold her back and to protect himself.

  “You goddamn monster!” She shrieked with blinding fury. “How could you! How could you watch those videos and…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. She slammed at his head over and over as the man tried desperately to deflect the blows.

  “Sylvia, please! It’s not-it’s not possible! It’s not what you think!” Sheldon cried in anguish as he struggled against the assault. “It’s very complicated! The deal went bad! There was your position as D.A. to consider!”

  “I want you to die!” Sylvia screamed. Her wrath ran unabated as she continued her attack. She was barely conscious of the fact that a pair of strong arms had wrapped around her waist. She could only decipher the fact that the target of her eruption was suddenly no longer within her reach. She clawed at the air intensely, longing to get at him again.

  “Sylvia!” Harris barked loudly. He spun her around to face him and caught a right hook to the side of his head. He managed to grab the left that followed and it took all of his strength to hold her at bay. Sylvia’s face was a mask of rage as she tried desperately to free herself.

  And then as quickly as it had struck, her rage turned to anguish. She broke down and sobbed, pulling Harris close. He held her and said nothing.

  “It’s complicated…there was so much to consider,” Sheldon continued to ramble, sobbing as he remained on the floor. “So much to risk when you’re unsure…”

  His mumbling grew softer and indiscernible.

  Sylvia finally stopped crying. Harris released his grip and took her by the shoulders.

  “I’m so sorry, Sylvia,” he said with quiet sincerity as he lowered his face towards hers. “But we don’t have time to waste. Please take a seat.”

  For the second time that morning, Sylvia allowed herself to be walked to the sofa. She sat. Harris then walked to the French doors, reached up and slid both bolts out of their locked position. He opened the doors and found Christi waiting. She had heard the entire episode and tears streamed down her face as she experienced Sylvia’s pain.

  “Go to her,” Harris whispered.

  Christi wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt and nodded to Harris. Glancing down at Sheldon with disgust, she walked quickly to the sofa and sat beside the District Attorney. She wrapped her arm around her. Sylvia responded by placing her head on Christi’s shoulder.

  Harris watched the two and felt a profound sadness. He’d realized beforehand that if he succeeded in getting Sheldon to crack, it would mean the end of the Blumquist’s marriage. On top of everything else Sylvia had been through, he was sickened that he had to add to her misery. But he also knew that the bigger picture was more important. Sylvia would willingly wade through this hell if it meant getting Emily back.

  His thoughts were interrupted as he heard Sheldon weeping on the floor. He looked down and saw the pathetic figure, still on his back, sobbing into
his hands. Harris felt his anger return.

  Walking over to the man, Harris grabbed him under the arms and lifted. Sheldon could barely keep his feet under him as Harris began to pull him from the office.

  “What-what are you doing?” Sheldon whined in anguish. “You can’t arrest me! I haven’t done anything wrong!”

  When the two were out of the study, Harris spun the man around so that he faced him.

  “Where is Castillo from?” He growled.

  “From?” Sheldon answered in a daze, not expecting further questioning.

  “Where is Salvador Castillo from, you son of a bitch!?” Harris pulled the man closer to him in a threatening manner.

  “Columbia! He’s from Columbia!” Sheldon answered desperately. He turned his head away in fear.

  Columbia, Harris thought. That was it. He looked at the sniveling man in his grasp and felt a wave of revulsion wash over him.

  “Give me details,” Harris growled again. “How do you know him? Where can we find him?”

  “I don’t know! It’s probably not even him!”

  “How do you know him?!” Harris demanded.

  “We had a real estate deal that got,” Sheldon hesitated. “Sticky.”

  “Sticky?”

  “When I found out the type of man he was, I severed all ties with him! I didn’t know!” Sheldon cried, pleading with Harris as tears streamed down his face. “You can’t blame me! I didn’t know!”

  “Where is he?!”

  “I don’t know! Colombia I guess! It’s not even him! It couldn’t be!”

  Harris realized that he would get nothing more from the man. But now he had a name, it was something to go on.

  “May God have mercy on your worthless soul,” Harris spat as he spun Sheldon around so that he faced the front door. He placed a foot solidly on the man’s backside and pushed hard, sending him stumbling down the hallway towards the foyer.

  “Get the hell out of here, you gutless maggot,” Harris spoke in a low voice to avoid upsetting Sylvia further.