by A. Gorman
“Good, ‘cause I’ll fuck you up,” I said, trying not to let the smile seep into my voice.
“Fuck off, Cowboy.”
I gasped. “Why did you call me that?”
“Vic’s been talking. I know alllll the shit.” He hung up, but not before I heard him laugh.
Damn.
* * *
Agent Black, whose skin matched his name, was a super cool dude from the field office. We sat in the parking lot of the docks in a late model jet-black, fully-loaded Cadillac which was about to be auctioned off, thanks to the douchebag drug-dealer who’d had it confiscated by the feds. Thankfully, there weren’t many cars around. I knew kids came out here to fool around, but because it was a Wednesday, the lot was mostly empty.
I used a pair of high-powered binoculars to watch the exchange between “Ace” and our undercover agent.
I loved this undercover. His name was Derrick Swanson and he could look like whoever the hell he wanted. He had tats all over his arms but not on his hands or neck, so whether he wore a 3-piece suit or a white wife-beater T-shirt and some sagging jeans, he was like a fucking chameleon. Tonight he was a street thug through and through. Of course he was wearing a wire. It was attached to his cell phone and it looked like earbuds. Most ingenious invention ever. The “earbuds” hung lazily out of his pocket and the audio was set up in Bluetooth fashion, so the other agent and I listened to the exchange through a 2-way radio.
I’d quickly typed up a script earlier today and Derrick had said he’d memorized it. We both watched as he stood on the docks of the gulf water.
“I got a guy I need you to take out,” Derrick said, his eyes shifting around as if he was nervous.
“Ace” was a tall white guy with his flat-billed hat on sideways. It was red with a fancy white “A” sewed into the front. Damn Alabama fans. Do they ever not represent? I laughed to myself that maybe this dumbass had just bought the hat because it had an A on it.
“Who’s the guy you need taken care of?” Ace asked.
“Dirty cop –”
Ace’s face became despondent, angry. “No, man. Fuck that. I don’t off cops.” He turned and walked toward the parking lot.
“No, wait,” Derrick said. He then looked toward our car and winked.
Ace didn’t stop. He just kept walking and shaking his head.
“So you’re not gonna help me?” Derrick shouted to Ace’s back, his arms in the air.
Ace kept walking and put his middle finger up behind him. Then he tossed his cigarette into the water and got on a motorcycle parked on the dock.
Derrick walked slowly away from the docks and toward us but as soon as Ace had taken off on his bike, he sprinted toward the Cadillac and hopped into the backseat.
Over the two-way radio, we heard the voice of the fourth agent, Medina was his name – he’d been hiding on his own bike ready to follow the suspect. “He’s heading back over the bridge toward Tampa.”
Agent Black pushed the button as he drove and said, “Stay with him. We’re right behind you.”
“Copy that.”
We finally caught up with the two motorcycles, staying far behind. The suspect veered the crotch-rocket over the bridge to St. Petersburg Beach and then turned right down a side street that would eventually lead to a state park-run beach area.
“We arrest him on federal land, we really won’t have to deal with the local cops at all,” Derrick said from the backseat, a smile in his voice.
I observed the brown State Park sign as we passed it. Ace veered his bike around the yellow striped arm barring entrance into the beach. Because of the late hour, the semi-private beach was closed. We were far enough back that the suspect hadn’t seen us. The agent on the bike, Medina, stopped next to our car. Agent Black rolled the window down. “Want me to go in after him?” Medina asked.
I opened the passenger window and spit a stream of chew onto the sidewalk. “Hold on.”
I lifted the high-powered binoculars to my eyes and watched Ace’s bike stop near a small brick building. It was surrounded by wooden picnic tables and showers. I lowered the binoculars and said, “Let’s go on foot. He’s gone into some buildings.”
Black pulled the car to the side of the road and Medina parked his motorcycle behind it. The four of us began walking quickly on foot until we reached the small, beige brick building. It was nothing more than a set of public restrooms and the suspect was nowhere.
“What the fuck?” Black said.
I looked into the distance and squinted. “Look. He’s left his bike here and headed on foot to those homes over there.”
We’d just made a big fucking circle. I had no idea why this guy had gone through the state park just to head back to a part of the beach that was littered with what looked like extravagant personal homes, but he did. Maybe he knew we were tailing him and decided to try to lose us. Maybe he didn’t want his bike parked near the home. Either way, we stayed in the shadows as much as we could, our weapons out, and followed him until we reached a huge beach house that looked like it had been recently built.
“Text your IRS and ask him to run the address on this place,” I said to Black. He nodded and began typing into his phone and then asked, “What’s the address?”
I used the binoculars to look at the front of the house. “1150,” I said. “No idea what the street name is.”
He nodded and pocketed the phone. “Smith’s on duty tonight. He’ll find it. Uses Google Earth or some shit to pinpoint stuff. Dude’s a genius.”
“I agree. He helped me today. I liked him the minute he opened his mouth.” I spit more chew into the sand under our feet. “And I don’t like a lot of people.”
Derrick chuckled. “I get that.”
“Fuck you, hood rat.”
He chuckled. “Nah, I get enough pussy, thank you very much.”
I bit back a smile. Asshole. I liked him too.
Agent Black put his finger to his lips for us to be quiet and pointed at the lights burning in the house.
Derrick, Medina, and I nodded.
“I’m gonna go look in a window,” Black said. “I’m the darkest, won’t be seen as easily as you glowing boys.” He smiled.
“Yes, but your bald-ass head is reflecting the light from the moon,” I said, pointing at it. I swear to God, it looked like he polished the fucking thing with shoe polish and a microfiber cloth.
He flipped us off double fisted and ran to the back of the house. I watched as he carefully stepped up the two steps onto the wooden back deck. With stealth, he slowly peered into the back window. I was silently telling him to duck down, but he kept looking in. He even turned his head to the side as if he was confused.
Crap.
He finally ducked back down and sprinted toward us. He wasn’t even out of breath when he said, “Shane Fucking Watson is on a bed in there. He don’t look good, either, all sweaty and pale. Our suspect was next to his bed pacing. There’s a chick there too. She looks like a street whore who’s trying to play nurse.”
I grinned and spit the rest of my chew out. Looking at Derrick, I said, “We don’t need a warrant when we have reasonable suspicion that a wanted fugitive is inside, do we?”
“Hell nah,” he replied, putting out his fist to hit.
Black pulled his phone from his pocket and looked at it. He smiled and turned the screen toward us. “This is the house, right?”
I squinted at the picture of the house on the screen. It was dark out tonight, but the full moon gave me enough light to be sure. “Yeah, that’s this one for sure.” I pointed at the massive house in front of us.
“Well it belongs to George Watson.”
I chuckled ironically. “So Shane’s holed up in his uncle’s beach house with a crack whore taking care of him? That’s fuckin’ rich. This’ll be like taking candy from a baby.”
The other three laughed quietly.
“Call for backup,” Derrick said. “Then let’s ambush these assholes. Oh and make sure you call a
n ambulance for the idiot.”
We all had our weapons drawn and ready. “We’ll take the back door. You two take the front door.” Agent Black looked at Medina and me and pointed to the front of the house. I nodded and headed toward the front door.
We still had our radios on us. They were black hand-held walkie-talkie type things. Mine was clipped to my belt and I reached over and turned the volume down so I wouldn’t be heard.
Medina and I reached the front door. As I was about to kick at it, he held up his hand. “Hold on,” he whispered.
He reached over and tried the knob. It was one of those fancy ones where you use your thumb to push the button and the rest of your fingers curl around the ornate handle underneath. The door opened when pushed on and allowed us access.
I shook my head at Medina and whispered, “It would have been more fun to kick it off its hinges.”
He cut me a sideways smirk. With our weapons out in front of us, we crossed the fancy foyer as quiet as ninjas to the back of the house where I wondered how Black and Derrick were doing. A woman’s scream caught our attention and my adrenaline kicked into overdrive.
We rushed to the back of the house where “Ace” was struggling with Agent Black and a white female dressed like nothing more than a street walker was trying to punch Derrick.
“You help him.” I pointed at Derrick.
Medina nodded.
I rushed over and grabbed “Ace” by his hair and pushed my gun into the back of his head. He yelped.
“Stop moving, asshole, or I’ll decorate this room with your brains.” I spit again, this time onto the floor of the room, because I really didn’t give a shit.
I turned him toward Shane on the bed and smiled as he groaned. The guy was completely out of it. Then I heard sirens in the distance.
With one hand still pushing the gun into the back of Ace’s head, I pulled my handcuffs from their holder at the back of my belt. I held them out to Agent Black. He quickly slapped the cold metal onto Ace and I shoved him down into a chair in the corner of the room.
Derrick had put cuffs on the female and sat her on the floor next to Ace. She looked like she’d seen better days. She had a bruise beginning to blossom on her left cheek and her lip was split. She looked as though she could use a shower and some food.
“This guy’s not gonna live much longer,” Medina said, using his gun to point at Shane, who was covered in sweat. The bandage around his neck was soaked black with blood and did not look like it had been changed in quite a while.
Derrick came down from the staircase next to the room and said, “The house is clear.”
“You’re a fuckin’ cop?” Ace asked, glaring at Derrick as if he suddenly recognized him from earlier.
He smiled back. “Yep. And you were too easy to catch.”
I addressed Ace. “You risked your freedom and your life to pull this douchebag out of the hospital?” I pointed at Shane.
He just stared me down, his blue eyes and pale face trying to look tough. He had some light colored stubble around his chin, but his head was shaved bald.
I could hear the sirens getting closer. I crouched down and got into his face. “Answer me.”
“Fuck you.” He spat in my face.
I couldn’t help it, it was automatic. My fist balled and smashed into his nose before I knew what I was doing.
“Ow! You broke my nose, you fuck!” Ace yelled, blood dripping down into his mouth.
Shane groaned on the bed. Medina looked down at him. “Ambulance is on the way.”
I thought I heard Shane whisper, “No.”
I spied an adjoining bathroom and went in there and grabbed a towel. I wiped my face with it, then looked at Black. “Stand him up.”
He lifted Ace by his arm and handed the towel to Black, who put it up to Ace’s bloody face and held it there for him. I searched his pockets and found his wallet, keys, and a nice, shiny switchblade along with some coins in his front pocket. I threw them all on a small table except the wallet. I opened it up and read it out loud.
“Eric James Patten, 1150 Beachwood Drive, St. Petersburg.” I looked at him in disbelief. “This is your house?”
He just stared at me, the towel still pressed against his face by Agent Black.
“Hold this,” Black told me.
I grabbed the towel and held it as Black pulled out his phone and dialed. “Hey, Smith, run this name for me.” He gave him Eric’s name and address and waited.
“Oh is that so?” I heard Black say, as the sirens were so close now, the red and blue lights were beginning to shine through the windows.
“Thanks, dude.” Black hung up.
“This scumbag is cousins with Shane, nephew to George. This house belongs to the Watsons. He’s the kid of George’s wife’s sister, that’s why the last name is different.”
“They’re letting me crash here for a while, I’m between jobs,” Eric/Ace finally spoke, muffled under the towel. I removed it from his face as the bleeding had stopped. I didn’t think his nose was broken. I breathed a small sigh of relief I hoped nobody heard. I didn’t need to catch any more shit at work for “brutality.”
I shook my head. “Between jobs! Like what? Murder-For-Hire?”
His eyes went wide. “Hey! That was not me. That was Shane. He asked me to help him with stuff, but I did nothing.”
Shane groaned and tried to say something as he began to try to move, but he was too weak.
Medina had his arms folded across his massive chest. “It’s called being an Accessory, dumbass.”
“Fuck you,” Eric said, glaring at Medina.
“Real wide vocabulary you have there,” Agent Black laughed.
Eric went to open his mouth again and Black held up his hand. “Let me guess. Fuck you?”
We all snickered a little when we heard the front door open.
“Police!” a male voice shouted.
“FBI,” I shouted back. “We’re in the back room.” I looked at the other three. “Holster up and get your IDs out.”
They obeyed as St. Petersburg PD came through, along with paramedics holding a stretcher. We showed them ID.
Derrick stood the girl up, who had said nothing the whole time, just sat there crying. I wish we’d had time to question her, but if I was a betting man, I’d say it was just a girlfriend who this douchebag had roped into trying to help Shane since they knew they couldn’t take him to the hospital.
The police escorted them both out, and I shouted, “I want my cuffs back!”
One of the officers said, “You guys need to come to the station anyway.” They escorted them out the front door.
As the paramedics loaded Shane onto the stretcher, I asked Derrick for his cuffs and he handed them over. I handcuffed Shane to the front and searched his pockets but found nothing.
“Is that necessary?” a young, female paramedic asked me, looking at the cuffs.
“He’s wanted for murder, assault on a federal officer, and absconding from the hospital.”
Her eyes went big and she nodded. “Do you wanna cuff him to the bed too? Just to be safe?”
I chuckled. “Can’t do that, but one of us will ride in the ambulance with you.”
“Thank you.”
Medina offered to ride with Shane and the paramedics and the three of us walked back across the beach where our vehicles were parked.
I was tired but I knew I had to go down to the police station and let them know these were federal prisoners and to give a statement. No harm in letting them sit in the county lockup for a while, though.
There was no way to describe the relief I felt knowing we had caught these guys. All I could think about was Rayanne, and the look on her face when she found out the threat was gone. I hoped the federal prosecutor could add this to the case and maybe speed up the guilty conviction. God, they better find those assholes guilty.
Chapter 30
Rayanne
I couldn’t believe I was actually happy to be sitting in
court again. The last two days had sucked. Apparently there was some new evidence and they had called a two-day recess so both sides could examine the evidence and prepare their information. Nobody would tell me what was going on, though. Even Dockins and Jones seemed to be clueless on what this new evidence was. All we knew was that it was good for the prosecution, and I prayed that meant this whole thing would be over soon.
It didn’t go unnoticed by me that there was another guy sitting at the defense’s table next to the Watsons today. The guy looked mildly familiar to me but I couldn’t quite place him.
“The prosecution calls Adria Green to the stand,” the attorney said.
I watched as a short lady with beautiful skin the color of caramel and some funky colors striped into her hair walk toward the stand. Then I noticed the medical scrubs she wore.
“State your name for the record,” the prosecutor said.
“Adria Green.”
She was then sworn in, her hand on the Bible, and was asked to be seated.
“What is your occupation, Ms. Green?”
She didn’t look nervous at all. With her chin raised, I was able to see the small diamond piercing in her nose glint off the courtroom lights. “I’m a Registered Nurse at Tampa General Hospital.” She spoke boldly.
“Were you present for the escape of Shane Watson?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The man who orchestrated the escape, is he in this courtroom, Ms. Green?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Please point him out,” the prosecution said.
She nodded her head toward the guy sitting next to the Watsons, and pointed at him. “He’s right there.”
“You’re sure?” the prosecutor asked.
“Absolutely sure,” Adria said with a small smile.
The prosecutor looked at the judge. “Let the record reflect Adria Green has identified Eric James Patten.”
“So noted,” the judge returned.
The U.S. Attorney asked her a few more questions about what had gone down during the escape but I tuned it out. My eyes were wide and I began to get excited. Did this mean they caught Shane, too, since they’d caught this guy?