Murder in the Tenderloin (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 2)

by M. L. Hamilton

  “It’s not him.”

  Alvarez threw up her hands in disgust. Her radio crackled and she reached for it, depressing the button. “Alvarez?”

  “The house is clear,” came Miller’s voice. “We have five bodies total. None are Peña.”

  “Have we checked everything? What about the basement?”

  “We checked everything,” said Miller. “He’s gone.”

  “Shit!” swore Alvarez, slamming her gun against her thigh. “I’m coming down.”

  She and the SWAT officer left the room.

  Peyton looked at Marco. “I thought she said she had him under surveillance?”

  “She did.”

  “Well, where is Peña?”

  Marco shrugged, then his head lifted. His eyes rose to the French door. “Do you remember when we talked with O’Shannahan?”

  Peyton nodded, following where he was looking.

  “He said the houses were so close together that he could touch Peña’s balcony from his.” He walked quickly to the open door and looked out.

  Peyton followed him. If they looked to the left, they could see O’Shannahan’s balcony. They carefully eased outside and walked to the rail, looking over. It was a short jump from the railing, not even a full two feet. They moved to the right and looked over. The house on the right sat lower on the hill from Peña’s, so not only did you have a two or three foot jump, but you had a good six or seven feet fall. There was no escaping in that direction. O’Shannahan’s porch was the only option.

  “What are you thinking?” asked Peyton.

  “I’ll go over onto O’Shannahan’s balcony. You get Alvarez and Miller, and get inside the house. I’ll bet we trap him between the two of us.”

  “I don’t like this, Marco. Let’s run it by Alvarez.”

  Marco held up his gun. “I’m armed. If we don’t act now, he’ll get away, Peyton. Look what he’s done already. This isn’t a man we want running loose.”

  “Okay, but you don’t go over there until I get in position. I’m sending some SWATs up here to go with you.”

  “Good thinking. Now go.”

  She ran for the door, but paused and looked back. She didn’t like this, didn’t like being separated from him. He waved her on as he strode toward O’Shannahan’s porch. Peyton turned and ran for the stairs, taking them as fast as she dared. Alvarez was no longer in the house. She found a couple of SWATs milling about.

  “Go up and meet Inspector D’Angelo in the master bedroom. He needs your coverage.”

  They hurried to do as she said and she ran into the living room, looking around. She didn’t recognize any cops there. Afraid Marco might not wait for her, she ran to the front door and raced down the stairs. She skidded on the damp concrete as she turned for O’Shannahan’s house. She still didn’t see Alvarez or Miller. Where the hell were they?

  She fumbled for the radio on her belt as she raced up O’Shannahan’s outside stairs. Pressing the button, she called Alvarez’s name. The radio crackled, but there was no response. She grabbed the doorknob and paused, taking a deep breath. Pressing the radio button again, she shouted into it.

  “Alvarez, come in!”

  Then she stepped into the house.

  * * *

  After surveying the area, Marco climbed onto the rail and made the leap onto O’Shannahan’s deck. He knew he should wait for the officers to arrive, but he wanted to be in position in case Peña made a break for it. Beyond the balcony, there was a twenty foot drop into the backyard and then a good hundred feet to the back fence that butted up against the neighbor’s yard. He didn’t think Peña would attempt it, but he wanted to be ready.

  Once he was in position, he looked beyond the bistro table and chairs and noticed that there was a break in the railing. He rose to his full height and looked closer. A staircase led down into the yard.

  Shit, he hadn’t considered that. Why hadn’t that staircase been on the surveillance photos the tech guys had pulled up? If he was Peña, that was the route he would have taken, down the stairs, across the yard and into the neighbor’s yard in back, which led to another street entirely. All the while, the SWAT team was busy killing Peña’s men in his house.

  Marco reached for his radio as he walked over to the staircase. It looked new, the paint not quite matching up with the rest of the railing. He eased his gun into his holster and lifted the radio to his lips, but a motion to his left stopped him in his tracks and he looked up into the barrel of a gun.

  It pointed out of the partially open sliding glass door of O’Shannahan’s house.

  * * *

  Peyton pressed the button again. “Alvarez,” she whispered, feeling oppressed by the silence in the house. She didn’t want to go up the stairs alone. Not until someone else got there. “Alvarez.”

  The radio crackled. “Brooks? Where are you?”

  “Listen. I need to you to send men to O’Shannahan’s house. We think Peña might have jumped the balcony and wound up here.”

  “Don’t move. I’m coming.”

  Peyton replaced the radio and lifted her gun. Don’t move. Shit, if Peña was in here, she wasn’t going to stand there like a Christmas goose for the offing. She moved toward the study where they had interviewed O’Shannahan. Pushing open the doors, she stepped inside, crossing around to his desk. Leading with the gun, she checked under it. Nothing.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, she straightened. As soon as she did, something large and heavy hit the ground upstairs. Peyton didn’t think. All she knew was that Marco might need her. She tore into the entryway and raced up the stairs. Once on the landing she was faced with five different doors, but the one on the far right was half ajar.

  Running for it, she threw it open and came to a halt. Raphael Peña was standing by the sliding glass door and in front of him was Marco. Marco was just climbing to his feet again, his hand pressed to the back of his head when Peyton burst into the room, her gun pointed at Peña’s head. They both looked over at her at the same time.

  “Don’t move!” screamed Peyton, steadying the gun in her hand.

  Peña ignored her, lifting his own gun and pointing it at the back of Marco’s head. “La belleza, how nice to see you again. Now let’s take it easy here and no one has to get hurt.”

  “Put the gun down, Peña. It’s over. You’re under arrest.” Peyton could see the shadow of a SWAT officer with his gun trained on the door, but Peña had stepped back so only Marco was in view.

  “How trite. We both know you aren’t going to do anything while I’ve got the gun pointed at your partner’s head. So, let’s deal.”

  “I’m not dealing with you, Peña. Put the gun down!”

  Peña’s arm never wavered. It was pointed at a spot beneath Marco’s ear. Marco tried to make eye with her, but she wouldn’t break her concentration. “Put down your gun, la belleza, and take out your radio. We can make a deal.”

  Peyton could feel the tremors start, crawling from her stomach into her arms. This is what she feared most of all, this is what woke her in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. The idea that Marco would be in danger and she could do nothing to prevent it.

  Peña sensed the shift in her resolve and he pounced on it. “You know I will kill him. You know it means nothing to me. The situation is already beyond salvaging. The only thing we have left is negotiation. Put down the gun and take out your radio.”

  Peyton gritted her teeth, fighting to steady her hand.

  “Put down the gun,” Peña repeated.

  Marco must have seen it in her face too because he suddenly spoke up, “Don’t do it, Brooks. Don’t put down your gun.”

  “Put it down or he dies!” shouted Peña.

  “Don’t do it, Brooks!” cried Marco. “Peyton, don’t give up your gun.”

  Peyton could see Peña tighten his hand on the trigger and she couldn’t let him shoot Marco. No matter what happened, if he killed them both, she couldn’t be responsible for Marco’s death. She took her left hand
off the gun and held it out.

  “Okay,” she said, “okay, you win!”

  Marco shut his eyes.

  Peyton opened her fingers so the gun swung from her thumb. “You win. We’ll deal.”

  She slowly bent to place it on the floor. She hadn’t yet released it when a bullet whistled by her head and slammed into Peña, launching him backwards into the wall. Blood splattered over everything.

  Marco hit the ground and Peyton reacted, snatching up her gun and pointing it at Peña, but it wasn’t necessary. The bullet had caught him clean between the eyes.

  Alvarez stepped over Peyton and moved toward the body.

  “Never, never surrender your gun, Brooks!” she scolded, advancing with her gun in hand. “You okay, D’Angelo?”

  “Yeah,” he said breathlessly, staring at the carpet between his hands.

  Peyton didn’t move for a moment as she watched Alvarez lean over Peña. Then she dropped her gun and scrambled to her feet just as Marco was rising to his. She didn’t hesitate, but threw herself in his arms, ignoring the blood and gore on his back.

  He folded his arms around her and pressed his cheek to the top of her head. “Man up, Brooks,” he said.

  EPILOGUE

  Rosa exited the deconstructed command center and moved toward Marco. He was leaning on the counter at the front of the precinct, waiting for her.

  Miller followed her, carrying boxes. He gave Marco a head nod and a short, “D’Angelo.”

  Forgoing the head bob, Marco lifted a hand toward him. “Miller,” he said.

  Rosa stopped in front of him, shaking her head as Miller pushed open the half-door with his hip and headed toward the outer one. “Men.” She gave him a critical once over. “How’s the head?”

  “Two stitches. Still hurts, but it’ll heal. My pride suffered a worse wounding.”

  Rosa folded her arms across her chest. “Why? Because a woman saved you, or because El Viento got the drop on you?”

  “Mostly the second.”

  “Good, ‘cause I hate a man who can’t have a woman save him once in a while.”

  Marco smiled. “Thank you for that.”

  “Ah.” She waved him off. “But tell your partner to never surrender her gun under any circumstances.”

  “I’ll tell her, but it’ll do me less than no good.”

  Rosa smiled. “I figured as much.” She looked down and cuffed her pump against the carpet. “You ever get out to DC, you look me up, yes?”

  “Yes,” he said. “You ever come this way again, ditto.”

  She tilted her head and gave him a coy look. “You got it.” She lifted a hand in a gesture of goodbye, then turned. “See ya, D’Angelo.”

  “See ya, Alvarez.”

  She walked to the half-door and followed a techy into the parking lot.

  Marco waited until he couldn’t see her anymore, then he wandered toward his desk. Peyton was leaning on the edge of hers, watching Captain Defino talking to a Hispanic woman and man in the break-room. Twin boys were sitting at the table, eating donuts.

  “That Magdalena’s family?” he asked.

  “Yeah, they’re bringing her in from the hospital right now. Captain’s debriefing them, then I’m going to take her in.” She cocked him a look. “Say goodbye to Alvarez?”

  “Yep.”

  “You okay?”

  He gave her a frown. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Peyton rolled her eyes. “Right. It was just sex, no emotions…even though the uptight broad saved your life.”

  He bumped her with his shoulder, then winced when it jarred his head. “Jealous much.”

  “Yeah.”

  When he gave her a surprised look, she burst into a smile. “I wanted to save your ass. Just think what you’d owe me then.”

  “Cute, Brooks, real cute.” He went to his desk and grabbed his jacket, sliding it on.

  “Where you going?”

  “Since I was involved in a shooting and I was a target, I have to have three sessions with a shrink.”

  Peyton laughed. “Can you imagine what things a shrink might uncover messing around in your head?”

  “Laugh it up, Brooks. You’ve got to do it too.”

  Her smile faded. “Shit.”

  He leaned over her and kissed her on the forehead. “Can you imagine what things a shrink might uncover messing around in your curly little head?”

  She swatted at him, but he danced away.

  “See you tomorrow, Brooks.”

  “Later, Marco Baby.”

  He waved over his shoulder as he headed to the door.

  * * *

  Magdalena arrived with an attendant, looking thin and frail, but her hair was clean and pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore a green skirt and blouse that made her look her age. Peyton met her in the front of the precinct and suggested the attendant wait in the chairs lined along the front wall.

  Taking Magdalena’s cold hands in hers, Peyton looked her directly in the eye. Magdalena didn’t exactly make eye contact, but her eyes didn’t have that vacant look to them any longer. “Remember what I told you on the phone.”

  “You said my parents are here.”

  “Right. And they are desperate to see you.”

  Magdalena’s eyes touched Peyton’s, then slid away. “Do they know what I did? What I was?”

  “They know you survived. That’s all that matters to them.”

  Magdalena’s hold tightened. “No, do they know what I’ve done? Everything, including El Griego.”

  “They know everything, Magdalena, and it doesn’t matter. They just want to take you home. They don’t care what happened, they only want to help you get over it, recover from it.”

  Magdalena’s dark eyes searched her face. “What about my sister? Is Esperanza here?”

  “No, she’s in Texas, getting treatment at Shriners. Your parents say she’s responding well, but you know what I found out about illness.”

  “What?”

  “Miraculous things happen for people when they have their family around them. You have a second chance now, Magdalena, a chance to make everything right.”

  “Venus said you told her that too. It didn’t work out for her, did it?”

  Peyton straightened, but she didn’t release Magdalena’s hands. “Well, here’s the thing about chances – you gotta take them when they’re offered to you. Your door is open now, Magdalena, but you gotta go through it by yourself.”

  Magdalena studied her intently, then she drew a deep breath and released it. Peyton could see her shoulders lowering. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  Peyton wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her toward the break-room. The moment they saw her, Magdalena’s parents started toward her, but Captain Defino made them wait.

  Magdalena’s steps slowed as she got closer and her grip on Peyton bordered on painful.

  “It’s all right,” said Peyton, easing her forward.

  They made it into the room before Magdalena couldn’t go any farther.

  Peyton carefully extricated her hand and held it out to Magdalena’s mother first. “Mr. and Mrs. Hernandez, I am Inspector Brooks.”

  “Gracias, Inspector Brooks,” said her mother.

  “Gracias,” said her father.

  Both of them had tears in their eyes. Magdalena didn’t move, just stared at them. Peyton began to worry that maybe this wasn’t going to work, that maybe she was more like Venus than Peyton wanted to admit, but then Mrs. Hernandez opened her arms, welcoming her daughter into them unconditionally.

  “Oh, Lena,” she sobbed, tears running down her face.

  And Magdalena was moving, stepping into her mother’s arms and holding on tight. After that, the torrent burst and they began crying and talking to each other. It was hard to understand anything with all of the crying, but Peyton understood the emotion.

  Defino moved to Peyton’s side. “These moments help make the rest of it bearable.”

  Peyton nodded. “I know wh
at you mean.”

  “Brooks?” came Maria’s voice at their back.

  Peyton looked over her shoulder.

  Maria was leaning in the break-room door with a piece of paper in her hand. Together Peyton and Defino moved out into the squad room.

  Maria gave Peyton the paper, but before Peyton could read it, Maria summed it up. “Luis Garza is dead.”

  Peyton’s fingers tightened around the note. “How?”

  “He took a shiv when they were moving him from the showers to solitary. Got him through the back, right into the heart.”

  Both Maria and Captain Defino watched her closely. She gave them a tight nod. She wasn’t sure how to feel. He was gone and she had to admit it was a relief. At the very least, she felt a sense of absolution.

  The rest would have to wait. Shit, maybe that was something she and the shrink could discuss – her feelings about her father’s killer being dead.

  * * *

  Jake saw Peyton sitting at her desk. She hadn’t moved in a long time. Just sat there and stared at a piece of paper. He pushed his chair back and walked over to her.

  “Hey roomie, where’s Adonis?”

  She blinked, then looked up. “He went to see a psychiatrist.”

  “That’s a comforting thought, cops with guns needing a shrink.”

  “It’s required after a cop involved shooting. I have to go too.”

  He looked down at the paper. She had wadded it up, so he couldn’t read it. “What’s that?”

  She pressed it out straight with her hand. “That is…” She sighed and made eye contact. “Luis Garza is dead.”

  “My God that was fast.”

  “Yeah, you don’t piss off a gang. The hit probably went out on him even as we were going after Peña.”

  “What are you feeling?”

  She gave a strange laugh and leaned back in her chair. “God, I wish I knew.” She thought for a moment, then added, “Relieved. I know that, but…”

  “But?” He grabbed the chair from Marco’s desk and pulled it close to hers.