Avenged

by Janice Cantore

  “But we know he has a partner, maybe two if Victor is right.” Carly described the bearded man, though she couldn’t give many details.

  Nick leaned back, thoughtful. “We have one name, a visitor for Barton, who logged in several times over the years—Michael Carter. ATF is trying to track him down. It’s possible he’s the partner. Maybe our answers will come when we find him. Maybe he was victimized by the Ninjas. In any event, once we get a sketch of the guy Trey says gave him the guns, if it looks like Barton, it will be easier to get a judge to sign a warrant for him. When I go back downtown, I’m going to dig deeper into this Michael Carter.”

  “And we have to find Barton to find his partner. I knew he was trouble with a capital T, but . . .” Sighing, she thought of Erika and Ned.

  21

  AT THE END OF CARLY’S SHIFT, though she was tired, she volunteered for another shift. Nick was planning to watch the sketch artist work, and she wanted to stay and be a part of things. The station was buzzing with ATF agents. Trey’s decision to talk had injected new life into the federal investigators, and they were clamoring to talk to him.

  And there was good news from the hospital. Mickey was alert and talking, and while he was still in ICU, his condition was upgraded to serious.

  Since Nick was still working, Carly didn’t want to go home, but there was no slot for her on any of the teams working overtime.

  “Sorry, Trouble,” a tired Captain Jacobs told her as he finished up a press release on the shooting and then denied her request to keep working. “We’re straining the overtime budget as it is. And we’ll need even more when we evict Oceans First. You know that if I had something for you to do, I’d give you a job.”

  “Yeah, I know. Call me if anything comes up.”

  He nodded and punched Print for a hard copy of his release.

  Carly left him to his work. With a yawn she stepped out of the police station and headed for her car, careful to avoid the cadre of press setting up in front of the station. Once across the street, she paused before entering the parking structure and looked for Ginny Masters on the off chance Dean Barton was with her. She realized it was a long shot since she had no idea the nature of their relationship, but she had a minute.

  And there was the bleached-blonde head across the street, touching up her makeup in a mirror. No sign of Barton.

  Carly continued to her car and then headed for Half Baked and Almost Grounded. Time to talk to Ned about his brother.

  •••

  Even though she remembered Ned saying he’d kicked Dean out for good, as she entered the shop, she did a quick survey, looking for him just in case. Relaxing when she saw only the usual patrons, she turned to the counter. She did a double take when she saw who was behind the counter. Londy. She knew he’d been talking with homicide for hours.

  “Londy, you okay?”

  He nodded and she saw his bloodshot eyes. “I couldn’t miss work. They depend on me. How is Officer Mickey?” His genuine concern didn’t surprise her. Londy was a caring soul.

  When she thought about what this kid had been before he became a Christian, tears pressed her eyes. She blinked them back. “He’ll be okay. He lost a lot of blood, but his surgery went well. What happened out there last night?”

  “Not sure. I was talking to some guys after the funeral. I saw Sergeant Anderson and Officer Mickey, said hi. Things were cool. Then a few minutes later someone screams, ‘Drive-by.’ People started running and ducking . . .”

  Carly nodded. This was pretty much what Nick had told her.

  Londy continued. “Officer Mickey saved my life. Pushed me out of the way. If he hadn’t . . .” His voice broke, and he took a moment to compose himself. “I’m praying for him. So are Mary Ellen and Pastor Rawlings.”

  Carly cleared her throat. “Me too.”

  “Can I get you something?” Londy asked.

  “How about a large French roast.”

  “Sure thing.” He turned to pour the coffee.

  “Is Ned in today?”

  Londy handed her the coffee. “Yeah. He and Erika are in the back. You want to go back there?”

  “If I’m not interrupting, I’d like to talk to them.”

  Londy reached under the counter and hit a buzzer so he could lift the counter and let Carly in. “I think they want to talk to you.”

  Carly sipped her coffee and walked through, Londy closing the counter behind her. She stepped through the double doors. The office door was open and she could hear Erika and Ned. Erika was seated at the desk, facing the office door.

  She looked up when Carly appeared in the doorway and rolled her eyes with a smile. “Wow, were your ears burning? We were just talking about calling you.”

  Carly smiled and stepped inside. Ned sat leaning on a desk in the back of the office. The space was large, with two desks, several file cabinets, and four chairs. He raised a hand in greeting.

  “Let me guess the other part of your conversation,” Carly said as she sat in a chair Ned pointed to.

  “He’s my cross to bear,” Ned said, running his hand down his chin. “I wanted to apologize for that morning I let Dean call you stupid. I should have decked him right there. But I was so shocked to hear he was out of prison and more shocked when I found out he was in town asking to see me.”

  “We probably owe you an explanation,” Erika added. She looked at Ned with such love and protectiveness that Carly almost sighed.

  “You don’t owe me anything. But I am worried because Dean has enough anger toward you to plant a bomb in here. But if we can’t prove it . . .”

  “The ATF guys are working with the device. Dean may have an alibi now, but something in the device will trip him up, I’m certain,” Ned said. “He always messed up when we were kids.”

  “Did he show up here to avenge some wrong he perceives you did to him?” Carly asked, holding off on telling them about the possibility that Dean had smuggled guns into town to start a gang war.

  Ned folded his arms across his chest. “Probably. I didn’t realize he hated me enough to commit murder. But I better start from the beginning.” He blew out a breath. “And the beginning was a long time ago. Dean is actually my half brother. His mother, my dad’s first wife, was killed in a car accident when Dean was about eight. A couple of years later my dad married my mother and I was born a year after that. To hear my dad tell it, Dean never recovered from losing his mother and has been acting out ever since.”

  “He’s been abrasive and difficult for as long as I’ve known him,” Erika added.

  “Anyway,” Ned continued, “he’s been in and out of jail for years. Growing up, it seemed like every day my folks were fighting about Dean. My mom hated him and apparently the feeling was mutual. She wanted him out of the house and wanted my dad to stop bailing him out every time he got in trouble.”

  He paused to take a deep breath. “My parents are wealthy—my dad is involved with several successful business ventures—and he always helped Dean out of whatever scrape he was in. This caused constant friction with my folks. When I was seventeen and counting the hours until I could enlist in the service and get out of the house, Dean crossed the line. He’d been arrested for selling crack, and my dad bailed him out. Mom was furious, didn’t want Dean in the house, but my dad couldn’t turn him away. I’d just gotten home from school. Mom had been to the market and was putting groceries away. Dean had been sleeping all day and got up demanding breakfast. Mom lost it and basically told him he was good for nothing and to leave. Dean cursed her and slapped her in the mouth.”

  Ned closed his eyes. “I didn’t really know Dean. We grew up in the same house, but he was older and never gave me the time of day. When I saw him hit my mother, I snapped. I was bigger, played football, worked out with weights. Even though he was older, he wasn’t all bulked up like he is now, and it wasn’t much of a fight; he had no chance.

  “Anyway, to make a long story short, the cops came. They knew Dean was the troublemaker, and in
spite of the fact that I’d given him quite a beating, they took him back to jail. When Dad came home and saw my mother’s face . . . well, that was it for him, too. He refused to take any calls from Dean, got a restraining order, even cut him out of the will. Basically he disowned him. We were living in Rancho Palos Verdes at the time. That was when my dad relocated to Arizona. And that move probably saved my parents’ marriage, but Dean just got into more trouble.”

  Carly’s interest was piqued at this information. “You mean you grew up here on the coast?” Rancho Palos Verdes was an expensive coastal community, a suburb of Los Angeles not far north of Las Playas.

  “Yeah, we lived there until I enlisted in the Marines. My parents moved to Arizona shortly thereafter.”

  “Ned and I met in Rancho,” Erika said. “My dad was stationed here for a couple years while I was in high school. My family moved to Germany just before graduation. Ned and I crossed paths years later when he was stationed in Germany.” Erika got up and went to lean next to her husband, holding his hand in both of hers. “It was love at second sight.” Then her smile faded. “I’ve always remembered Dean as mean. When I saw him after Ned’s injury, it was at Walter Reed, during Ned’s physical therapy. He showed up out of the blue and found me. And do you know what he said?”

  Carly shook her head, touched to the core by this story and the two people in front of her.

  “He grinned and said, ‘The little brat finally got what he deserved.’ Then he laughed.”

  “A short time after that he went to prison,” Ned said. “You know the rest. Erika’s family moved to San Diego, and we eventually ended up here to open the shop. I never thought I’d see Dean again.”

  “What did he want here? Was he after money?”

  “That was the odd thing. He had lots of money. He kept flashing rolls of hundreds.”

  “Hmm.” Carly digested this for a moment. “Where would an ex-con get that kind of money?”

  “Claimed he had a partner and they bought a business,” Erika said. “I hoped he’d changed. He is still family. And after spending six years in prison . . .” She hiked a shoulder. “When he showed up here, even after his run-in with you, for Ned’s sake I hoped he was different.” She and Ned shared a look.

  “But he wasn’t,” Ned continued. “He pulled money out of his pocket and some crack fell out. Same old Dean. I asked him to leave and he tried to start a fight. It was Londy who kept us from getting into it. Then he left, screaming that we’d be sorry because he was going to hold all the cards soon. He must have come back that night after we closed and set the device.”

  “What did he mean by holding all the cards?”

  Ned arched an eyebrow. “He claimed that the woman he’d hooked up with—you saw her, that blonde—he said she was going to break a big story and eventually write a book and have a television show that would make millions. And he was along for the ride.”

  Carly thought of Ginny Masters and her brow furrowed. “How long has he been here? He told the guys who talked to him the other night he’d just gotten into town. How did he have time to hook up with anyone?”

  “He told us he’d been here a couple of days,” Erika said. “I think he knew her from before.”

  “Before he went to jail?”

  “Maybe. They seemed too close to have just met.” Erika held Carly’s gaze and smiled. “I know what you’re thinking. Dean looks quite beat-up and dangerous. But he’s never had a hard time attracting women. With Ginny . . . well, he must have known her in Arizona. She was obviously quite devoted to him.”

  “And if Dean knows anything, it’s how to exploit any situation to his favor,” Ned added.

  “Did he say any more about his partner? Or what kind of business they bought?”

  Ned and Erika exchanged glances. “No, he didn’t, and I asked him point-blank about what kind of business would generate that much cash,” Erika said.

  “He just smiled like the cat who ate the canary and said we’d understand it all in a few days.”

  “What about Michael Carter? Do either of you know someone by that name?”

  They both shook their heads.

  Carly looked up at the ceiling before meeting Ned’s gaze. She told him about Trey and the description of the man who gave him the guns.

  The room was quiet for a minute.

  Finally Ned said, “Well, I hate to say it, but I would not put anything past my brother.”

  22

  BY THE TIME CARLY returned to work for her shift that night, there was an APB out for Dean Barton. He still hadn’t been connected to the coffee shop bomb, but the sketch drawn up based on Trey’s description was a perfect representation of his face. That was enough for the law enforcement agencies involved to decide that he needed to be found and questioned.

  Dean also had an extensive LA County arrest record from when he lived in Rancho Palos Verdes. ATF was looking up all his known associates, guessing that his partner was someone from his past who was still doing crime in the LA area. But none of the known associates from LA was named Michael Carter.

  Carly was glad to hear about all the manpower and resources dedicated to finding the guy, but one bit of disturbing information also came with it: Ginny Masters was nowhere to be found. Had she gotten in over her head with a dangerous man?

  Nick had come home around four in the afternoon and was still sleeping soundly when Carly left for work at nine thirty. She took pains not to disturb him because she knew he needed to rest.

  She drew a solo car again because even though Kyle was at work, he was assigned to work with a rookie whose training officer was sick.

  Radio traffic was sparse and routine when her shift began. She welcomed the quiet because she was tired. And there seemed to be resolution in the air with the wanted poster for Barton. Maybe he was the key to all this. Maybe he and his shadowy partners had a twisted motive for all the mayhem in Las Playas, starting with the shooting of the gang members.

  By 2:30 a.m., as the afternoon units logged out of service, Carly was battling drowsiness. She decided to get out and walk around to keep from falling asleep. She picked the Bluestone as the best place for a stroll. Maybe she could kill two birds with one stone—wake up and satisfy her curiosity about what Victor had told Londy about following his brother to the construction site. She knew Harris and Romo had checked the place out after she told them what Victor had said; they had come up empty, but Carly was fairly certain they wouldn’t mind her poking around.

  The ten-story hotel sat on the ocean side of Seaside Avenue on a rise between the new marina and the old marina. Rooms on one side of the hotel would look down on the new tourist marina and shops while the rest of the hotel would look out at the old marina and ocean. Off to the left as she drove up, Carly could see the lights of a huge billboard advertising the upcoming grand opening and pedestrian bridge dedication.

  The entire property was fenced off and padlocked with a city lock, in case emergency services needed to respond to the site for some reason. Carly had an SM6 key, a master key for any city padlock. She typed in her location as code 6, out for investigation, and sent it to dispatch on the computer. When she stepped out of the car to unlock the gate, her gaze went to a beautiful full moon. It was a gorgeous June night, and the parking lot was bathed in moonlight.

  Leaving the gate open behind her, she drove to the front of the hotel and parked. Several floodlights illuminated the area, but the Bluestone itself was dark. The building had been a striking piece of twenties art deco construction, but now only the bones remained. Its first major setback had been a big earthquake in 1933. It had been rebuilt and thrived for about fifty years before becoming little more than a flophouse for drug addicts by the time Carly was hired on the force. Now it was stripped nearly to the frame and wrapped in opaque industrial plastic so no asbestos fibers would escape.

  Carly climbed out of the car, her mind going over what Victor had told Londy about the day he had followed Crusher. Victor had admitte
d to entering the property through a hole in the fence. Carly was surprised Oceans First hadn’t found it. She made a mental note to stop by in the morning and tell the foreman he needed to secure the lot better.

  She shone her flashlight toward the dark building, then started around toward the back, not wanting to search for a hole in the fence in the dark. Victor had said his brother met the three white guys on the back side, near a small building.

  Boots crunching on bits of plaster and rocks, Carly skirted the corner of the building, shining her light ahead of her. Above her a slight breeze ruffled the plastic here and there and made a flapping noise. The property was littered with various forms of construction equipment. Three huge aerial work platforms were lined up, blocking her view of the harbor. A large storage container, which probably served as the job office, sat on the other end of the terrace.

  She moved closer, only to realize the container was nothing more than a storage unit. Frowning, Carly considered that maybe Victor thought it was a small building. Then something shiny caught her eye.

  At the far corner of the container she bent to pick it up. It was a bullet—a 9mm round. Not something needed for a construction site. An interesting find, but not worth much in terms of evidence. An unspent round couldn’t be tied to a gun.

  She moved the beam of her light and spotted a worn trail in the dirt between rows of ice plants that ran down the embankment. Where does this go? She started down the path and ended up at the construction yard for the new marina.

  Huh, Carly thought. The construction company working on the Bluestone isn’t the same company working on the marina, so they wouldn’t need to go back and forth. Why is there a path here?

  The yard itself was well lit in the middle, but shadows along the fence created some completely dark places. Her light bounced up against the fence and she saw the hole.

  Down on one knee, Carly could see that the fence had been cut and then pulled together to appear as if it were whole. She stood and took out her radio to ask for backup, explaining that she wanted to investigate a hole in the fence at the construction yard. The dispatcher asked her exact location. As she looked around the area, she realized the quickest way to reach the spot was to follow her footsteps. She’d left the gate open at the Bluestone, so the responding officers wouldn’t have to pause and open a gate.