by C. J. Pinard
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 an 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 spit 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 th
ey 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?
Someone slipped in next to me and sat down. Duke! The two days I’d not been able to see him had been awful. He smiled at me and squeezed my hand and I held onto his tightly. His hand was warm and I just wanted to snuggle into his chest and tell him how happy I was he was here. I settled for the hand-holding. For now.
I watched as the Watsons’ attorney said something into the suspect’s ear and he shook his head, an angry look coloring his face. The attorney sighed dramatically, then whispered something else.
The suspect stood up and I noticed he had handcuffs on behind the back of his orange jumpsuit. His bald head reflected the lights from the courtroom. “Fuck you! I ain’t no rat! Fuck all of you!”
The judge pounded her gavel. “Bailiff, remove him immediately!”
Two uniforms came over and dragged him out of the courtroom.
“The prosecution calls Rayanne Lynch to the stand.”
I flinched at hearing my name. Duke let go of my hand and nodded at me in support. I walked woodenly to the stand, wondering why I hadn’t been briefed on this.
After asking me to state my name, and informing the court that I had already sworn in during these proceedings, he asked me to sit.
“The young man who was just removed from the courtroom, did you recognize him?”
Shit. “Um, not really.”
“Can you answer yes or no, please?” he asked.
“No, I did not.”
“Did he look familiar to you in any way?”
I nodded. “Yes, I just don’t know why.”
“Did you get a good look at the men who were chasing you and Special Agent Hawthorne in Virginia after the assault on Special Agent Morris?”
The Watsons’ attorney stood up. “Objection. Leading the witness.”
“Sustained,” the judge said. “Reword, Counselor.”
The prosecutor nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Ms. Lynch, could you describe those who were chasing you to the cliffs when you and Special Agent Hawthorne had to run?”
“No, I’m sorry I can’t. I only recognized Shane Watson because I had met him previously, as I said in my previous testimony. I did not get a good look at the other two, as they had hoods on. And I was scared out of my mind.”
“Just one more question,” the attorney said. “Were they all males?”
I wrung my hands together and glanced at Duke. He just looked at me but didn’t make any motion to help me out. “I don’t know.”
“Thank you, that’s all.”
Relieved, I left the stand and went to sit back next to the new love of my life.
I watched Dockins and Jones sitting on my new sofa watching some kind of sports on TV and hoped it would be the last time I’d have to look at that. Both sides had made closing arguments today, and the jury immediately went into deliberation. I was hopeful we’d hear something by tomorrow. I couldn’t take much more of this intrusion on my life.
I’d tried to argue with the agents that since Shane and his friends had been caught, that the threat was over. They’d explained that until a verdict was reached and the Watsons were sent off to prison, that I still needed to be looked after, as a precaution. I hadn’t even bothered to argue.
“I’m going to bed,” I called out to the two agents.
They both waved and kept their eyes on the TV. I shook my head and went into my room.
I waited a couple of minutes, then I reached into the nightstand and pulled out a small prepaid smartphone. Duke had slipped it into my jacket pocket sometime when I was on the stand today. I was glad I hadn’t discovered it until I’d gotten back to the condo.
When I powered it up, I had three texts from “Cowboy” – I had immediately laughed. He programmed my name into the phone as, of course, Blondie.
Blondie, keep this phone a secret. Do not take it out of the house.
I just need to know you’re safe.
I miss your beautiful ass.
I texted back immediately: You surprise me, you know.
Cowboy: How’s that?
Me: I think you know, Royal.
Cowboy: Don’t call me that if you want me to keep responding.
I chuckled and texted back: Okay, you win, cowboy.
I grinned and then sighed like a schoolgirl and replied: Goodnight, my knight.
God, we were so disgusting already. I flipped the light out, powered off the phone, and put it back into the nightstand under my journal.
The jury had deliberated less than a day. I think the testimony from the nurse and a couple hospital staff, and the capture of Shane and Eric had sealed it. Then I found out the third suspect had been a female, and she had sung like a canary in exchange for no prison time.
“Please rise for the reading of the verdict.” We all obeyed. I was so nervous. I held my breath as the jury foreman read from a paper in his shaking hand.
“We, the jury, find the defendant, Elmo Gerald Watson, guilty of failure to pay corporate taxes in excess of one million dollars. We, the jury, also find Elmo Gerald Watson, guilty of murder-for-hire in the murder of Angela Silvey.”
Elmo’s wife began crying hysterically, sobbing into her daughter’s arms. The judge shot her a warning look.
Then I saw Angela’s husband and mother hug each other, they were both openly crying. I had to look away and swallow down the lump in my throat.
“Please continue,” the judge said to foreman.
He nodded. “We, the jury, find George Edgar Watson, guilty of failure to pay corporate taxes in excess of one million dollars. We, the jury, find George Edgar Watson, not guilty of murder-for hire in the murder of Angela Silvey.”
George hung his head and I could see he was weeping. Elmo just looked livid. His face was red and he was shaking.
“Thank you for doing your civic duties, ladies and gentlemen. Court is dismissed. You are free to go.” Judge Johnson pounded her gavel.
I openly hugged Duke and he squeezed me back.
Duke, myself, Dockins, and Jones stood outside of the courthouse in the sunshine. Dockins ended the call he was on and smiled at me. “You are free, young lady. It’s been a pleasure.” He shook my hand.
I smiled at him in gratitude. “Thank you, both of you.” I looked at Jones, too. “I appreciate all you’ve done.”