Trevar's Team 2

by Kieran York

  Curtis Rhodes, formerly holding himself out as doctor, and Andrew Carleton had lawyered up, but had both signed confessions. They’d already made their confession to my sweet little wire. They had already implicated one another. From my experience in criminal law, they would each be charged as full blown coconspirators. Or as I liked to call it, partners in crime. And as I predicted, they had severed. Two separate trials would probably not benefit either. But at least it would give them their legal reality show – each with top billing for a week or two. It would be two performances of who ‘done’ what, and to whom.

  Tom and I hovered over his desk as he made an announcement. Andrew might have a trade in mind. Information. “Carleton indicated that he might want to work a deal to get himself out of a death penalty trial. He claims that white supremacists are infiltrating enforcement. He has some people he won’t mind giving up for his own clemency. Getting life, rather than death.”

  “Ah, hell,” I cursed.

  “I’m not sure Rachel will be in agreement. But if we’ve got bigoted, racist cops, we’ve got to get them stopped.”

  “She still hasn’t got complete control of her movement. Her ribs aren’t healed and …”

  “You know we’re on Rachel’s side,” Tom declared. “But if we can get some of the rotten cops off the force, well, we want to do that too.” He added, as if he might be attempting to soften me to the idea. “Life in prison isn’t easy on a cop. And Rachel would want bad police off the streets. Many of the racial haters are also haters of LGBT. You know that.”

  “So does Rach. I’ll talk with her.”

  After I’d signed the papers, and was ready to leave, Tom’s eyes twinkled. “Aren’t you going to ask me if the test on the Pixy, er, Lacey Wyatt case, came back?”

  I whirled around. “The surveillance tape, and the lacrosse stick?”

  “Surveillance tape showed more definition. It was either Ryder Hodge or his twin. The blood evidence on the head of the lacrosse stick was concluded to be the blood of Lacey Wyatt. The wound on the neck – a forensic pathologist is willing to testify that it’s a perfect match with the lacrosse stick top. And prints matched Ryder’s driver’s license prints. Perfect match. Enough for an indictment.”

  “You’re going to storm the Hodges’s palace?”

  “I was waiting to see if you’d like to go with us? However, I’m betting he isn’t there.”

  “I’d love to, but I’d better get back to The Radclyffe. We’re now concentrating on finding Ryder. He may call to deal for the lacrosse stick. I don’t want to miss his call. My guess is that there is evidence at his home, but he won’t be there. John has stashed his precious, high-priced son somewhere else.”

  “Be careful out there,” Tom warned.

  “You too. And Tom, Ryder is probably responsible to for the attempted murder of Evan, and several of our sources have eluded to the fact that he has knowledge of bombs. He bragged about couple of the area’s minor bombings. Ryder was tinkering with explosives back in high school. Back then, it was common knowledge, but no one would report it because of his powerful father. But I have a hunch that there may be a bomb factory over at Ryder’s palace. So please take care.”

  Tom’s concern deepened. “I’ll call the bomb squad. Thanks, Trevar. If there are ingredients, we’ll test them against the bomb that went off in your friend’s car. That will add to the charges against the little punk.”

  “Ryder wants that lacrosse stick. He’ll call me again.”

  “Oh, before you leave, stop by the evidence vault. We have a facsimile stick. They muddied it up, banged it around and it looks just like the real one. But it’s phonied up.”

  Nodding, “Great. We’re ready for him. And I’m off to chase down the little punk.” I wanted to snare his butt, and see that butt slammed in the lap of electric chair. I was seasoned enough to know that in a courtroom, evidence was often discounted. I wondered if all the evidence we had could keep Ryder contained.

  Arriving back at the yacht, I found Rachel at her desk. Hanna was just leaving, and I gave her a sisterly hug. “I’m sorry if I’ve been a little resistant to you,” I uttered.

  “We all know I’m abrasive and opinionated,” she offered with a smile.

  Rachel quickly added, “And egotistical, conceited, vain…”

  Hanna’s head nodded in agreement. “All that. I’m trying to rein in my vanity.” Pausing, her hand slid over her face. “I feel the need to show my authoritarian side with patients. I want them to help me to care for them. I want them to believe I can help them. Their belief in healing is such an important part of their cure.”

  “As soon as I’m healed, you’ll leave me?” Rachel sat as near to attention as she could with her wound.

  “I’ve been meaning to tell you that I’m transferring to New York in a couple weeks. I’ll be head of Emergency Care. I can’t turn it down, Rach. It’s very important. Big title, huge pay raise. But I want you to come with me, Rachel.”

  Shock blanched Rachel’s face. “I was kidding about you dropping me.” She looked hurt.

  “Rachel, I want you to come with me. We can even marry.”

  “I’ll consider it,” Rachel looked back at her computer screen.

  “That’s all I ask. Consider it. I do love you,” Hanna said as she left.

  When the door shut, panic flooded me. “Rach, you aren’t considering a move like that. Leave the Team?”

  She swung her office chair around. “Not long ago you thought of leaving for a woman.”

  “But not leaving. Just moving off the yacht. I was still Team.”

  “Beryl, I’m a little lost right now. Give me time. She saved my life. I nearly died. I’m thinking about so many important life matters. I have no answers now. Please give me space, and understand me.”

  Walking away, I felt an emptiness. My concerns swiftly changed to panic when I glanced out at the parking lot. “Rach, where did Summer go?”

  “After her run, I think she must have gone out to finish checking her list. She wanted to find where Ryder might be.” Rachel picked up a list. “She had one or two final places to check. I’m pulling the addresses now to send them to Tom. Here.” She handed me the list. “Did she take her bike?”

  “No, she didn’t come back from her run. The vehicles and her bike are still out there.”

  “Oh, hell no,” Rachel gasped as she scanned her calls. Her face was ashen, and she replied, “No calls from her.” She tried calling Summer’s number. “No pick up, nothing.”

  “Tom is searching Ryder’s home. Call him and tell him.”

  I rushed out to the parking lot. The two posted guards had seen her leave for her run on the beach, and she hadn’t returned.

  Running, full force along the beach sands, I tried to find Summer’s running shoe prints. They were easily identified. After sprinting half a mile of beach, I spotted tire tracks. I called Rachel to report my findings. Summer had been abducted. Trying not to lose imprints of the scuffle. I saw at least two other sets of prints. And Summer’s tracks comingled at the place where she had been loaded into the vehicle. Two large men’s tracks. And Summer’s tracks had stopped.

  I waited for what seemed an eternity. Finally, a squad car pulled up. I pointed out the crime scene. The officer called for reinforcement. I gave him my phone number, and told him where Rachel was. And to get hold of Tom Powers.

  Back aboard the yacht, I told Rachel about what had happened. I grabbed the phony lacrosse stick – the bait that could possibly return Summer. Rachel handed me the list of abandoned Hodges properties in West Palm.

  Breathlessly, I made it to my car. The tires squealed out of the parking lot. I had no direction, but I had a suspicion that they would be in West Palm. Perhaps this was a matter of Ryder wanting revenge. He knew he was going to be caught eventually. Why not go out with a killing or two. In his eyes, we were responsible for his problems. Just like the women he’d raped had been the responsible party, not the victims. Trevar’s T
eam was his enemy. He was going to kill Summer, and me.

  Rachel had given the list to the police, with instructions to watch each of the addresses, but not move in. Surveillance only until we were alerted to where Summer had been taken.

  I leaned the lacrosse stick on my car’s passenger seat. I drove expediently to West Palm. Glancing at the list, I found a logistically centered spot. From there it was only five or ten minutes to each of the abandoned properties. I didn’t wait long. My phone rang. I put it on speaker phone and patched it to Rachel. She would in turn alert the police. She’d wired me before I left, but she probably believed I would forget to turn it live. I hadn’t.

  “I’ve got your Team buddy, Summer. You want to come get her?”

  “If you’ve harmed her…”

  “Not yet. But if you don’t get here in a hurry, she will be going boom.”

  My imagination whirled. He had a bomb.

  “Ryder, where are you?”

  “I’m near Belvedere Road and Congress Avenue. Go there, we want to be sure you’re not being followed. Just hang out at that intersection.”

  I began to give him my auto identification, but he already knew I was driving my convertible. “Look, you’re going to have to give me some time to get there.”

  “I got time. Summer doesn’t.”

  I heard him disconnect. “Rach, did you get that.”

  “Yes, from where he’s directing you, I’d say he’s at the Belvedere Road property. Copy Tom?” She asked.

  I could hear Tom’s reply that he was covertly surrounding the property. And he cautioned me not to go in if it looked too dangerous. However, he warned there would probably be more directions. It was too congested in that area.”

  I parked near the intersection, as directed. A sedan pulled behind me and honked. My phone rang, and I was given instructions to follow the car, and not try to communicate on my phone. I agreed.

  Following behind the car, I identified Javier Ramon as the driver. I knew he’d be watching in his rearview mirror to make certain I wasn’t talking. I texted Rachel as I drove. Something I detested, and never did. Until now.

  He turned into the parking lot at the back of a vacant building. I texted the directions to Rachel. The building was shabby and empty. We parked behind the lower-level dock. My car was thirty-feet from the doors. The unloading dock was built with the idea that the truck could pull in backward, trailer doors toward building. Slanting downward, a wedge shape driveway allowed entry. Unloaders could then unload their freight.

  The door had been lifted. In the base of the dock were Ryder, and Summer. She was taped to a chair. She wore a bulky vest. Her mouth was taped, and her eyes were frantic.

  Javier ordered me out of the car. “Leave your phone and weapon here.” He had pulled a small caliper gun from his waistband.

  My car door opened. As he began to turn, I ducked behind the door. I pulled my Beretta out. “No,” I yelled. “I’m not going anywhere until he releases Summer.”

  Javier shrugged to Ryder. “She won’t come,” he yowled back in frustration.

  I clutched my gun. “Javier, I have a clear shot. Hands up and drop your gun,” I said with authority. We were at a standstill. But my partner was being held. “Javier, you’d better do as I say,” I commanded. “I’m about to blow you across this lot. You tell him to release Summer now!”

  Peripheral vision told me that Ryder stood beside my bound and gagged partner. I could now see that attached to the vest were explosives. Summer’s eyes blinked rapidly. Her head was stretched back. Her body tense.

  Ryder’s weird grin was teasing, frightening, and irritating.

  I again screamed at Javier, “I recognize you from your yearbook photos. Football. A tackle. I remember saying that Javier is one mean tackle. In person,” I continued, “you look twice as mean. And you don’t look one damned bit brighter than you looked back in high school.”

  Javier’s glare told me that he hated being stupid. I would play on that. Use it to my advantage. Now, I was softening them both up. It was my way of entering their foxhole. I wanted them to believe I had nothing to do and nowhere to go. I could hang out with these goofs all morning.

  “Shut your mouth,” Ryder yelled.

  I grabbed the lacrosse stick and waved it with my left hand. It was bait. Yes, and I would use it carefully. “I have something you want.”

  He pointed to Summer, “And I’ve got someone you want.” Ryder pulled a phone from his pocket. “You see this phone? I hit the right number, and your friend goes flying across the state.”

  “Yeah,” Javier’s expression showed a flash of delight.

  I knew Ryder wouldn’t be standing that near to the bomb materials if he planned to detonate it. Unless he had a delay rigged up. Ryder’s voice was merciless. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

  Javier added, “Me too, Ryder.”

  “Jav,” Ryder hollered with irritation, “Fuckin’ idiot. Cover her with your gun. Don’t take your aim off her.” His mumbles showed his distress.

  Javier waved his gun as he moved toward me.

  I cautioned, “You take one more step and I’m blowing your brains out. I may have to fire twice to hit your little brain. Because as Ryder says, you’re shit-simple stupid.” I continued in a conversational voice. “I’ve got to concur with Ryder. Javier, you aren’t smart enough to see that your friend is leading you to a death sentence.”

  “Death sentence?” His quizzical look was nearly pathetic.

  I pointed my gun at Javier. “Toss your gun down now.”

  “Hell, no, bitch,” he answered. “And I never killed anyone,” he defended. He was trying to figure out how he was in any way culpable for a killing.

  I would give him a little lesson in the law. “Jav, Ryder has implicated you in murder. Capital murder. Death penalty.”

  Javier’s eyes popped with fear. Back and forth from me to Ryder. “Hey, Ry, I didn’t kill anyone. Can’t we leave now. Go to another country. You said we could,” Javier was pleading.

  “Jav,” I said with a sisterly voice, “don’t you see, you are over twenty-one. You will be eligible for the death penalty. Ryder will skate. In cases like this, the court tends to believe the older one coheres the younger perp.”

  “He’s twenty-one,” Javier argued.

  “But at the commission of Pixy’s murder, he was twenty that night. You were a solid twenty-one. That is if you were implicated?’

  Javier quickly replied, “Naw, I didn’t kill that girl. We robbed her a few times. But I never killed her.”

  “So maybe you won’t be charged with accessory to commit murder. If you relinquish your gun now, and you’re taken into custody, you’ll get a petty larceny charge. A hand slap and a couple months – maybe even probation. But now you know that Ryder killed Pixy, and attempted to kill someone with a bomb, and is now attempting to kill someone. Well, that changes your status. You will be an accomplice.”

  I was slathering it on thick.

  Javier gulped hard. He answered, “But I didn’t know about any of that until Ryder told me.”

  “You are sliding from misdemeanors to felonies, right on down the slipper-slide to murder one conviction. In a few moments, this place is going to be crawling with cops. The Swat Team will have you in their sites. You’ll be surrounded by too many enforcers to even think about fighting back. Death row is a rough place to exist. I wouldn’t call it living.”

  Ryder screamed, “Don’t listen to her. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” He looked down at his phone. “Stick with me, Jav. I’m taking you with me. We’ve got a hostage. We can get to the airport. My dad has his plane ready. He got us new identities. We’ll go to Jamaica. Do some partying.” He was being as enticing as possible. And implicating John Hodges.

  “Or jail,” I said as I saw two squad cars pulling nearer. I held up my arms beckoning them to stop. “You’re surrounded. You haven’t got much time left. Drop your gun, and put up your hands,” I ordered
.

  Javier shifted. He twisted around for another look at Ryder. Then he rapidly obeyed. The gun slid from his fingers. With arms in the air, he slowly walked toward the police vehicles. A sigh of relief puffed from my lips.

  I turned my attention to Ryder. My gun was carefully aimed. Slowly, I planned to advance on Ryder and Summer. I walked out from behind the opened car door.

  As I neared, his arm lifted to show me the phone. “One button tap and she’s dead,” he blustered wildly. He pulled a gun from his waistband. He pointed it in my direction. “And I’m shooting you as I press the key. We’ll all go together.”

  My right hand hugged the Beretta. It became heavier each moment. I felt a slickness of the gun handle as my hand sweat. In my other hand was the lacrosse stick. I gave it a little flick. I saw his anger, and his fear. I watched both his hands.

  “Let’s take a deep breath, Ryder. Think this thing through. Don’t do anything hasty,” I lulled. “There’s a way out of this. Give it up now. Save us all,” I implored. I continued walking nearer to him. “We can disarm, and talk.”

  “Naw,” he was blinking wildly. “I set the bomb to go off in a few minutes. I thought I’d be gone, and then she’d die anyway. I can either press the correct number now. Or wait until this fucking bomb goes on autopilot.”

  Time-bomb! My throat was dry, and my mind was throbbing. Time-bomb, strapped on Summer. Suddenly time was not my friend. Panicked, terror reached for me and grabbed me. I could see Ryder skirmishing with thoughts of death.

  I knew the bomb squad was waiting at the edge of the parking lot. They could diffuse the bomb. But time was ticking. Could they get to it before it detonated? “Ryder, we don’t have time to screw around. Put the phone down, move away. Give the bomb squad time to save us. Please,” I begged.

  “No,” his eyes glared with hatred. “No one is going anywhere.”