Elusive Justice (Kensington-Gerard Detective series Book 2)

by K. T. Roberts

  “Yeah, but you’re not a bad guy. You’re the good guy giving us information that’s going to put those bad guys behind bars. So are you ready?” Jake nodded. “Once we’re done questioning, you can look through the pictures and see if there’s anyone in there that you recognize. Just remember Deputy Thomas,” Zach winked at him, “we’re counting on you to provide whatever information you remember. And you know if there’s something you don’t remember now but do later . . . no matter how unimportant you think it is . . . it could be a key piece of information. You let us decide whether it’s important or not. Okay?”

  “Okay,” he groaned.

  “All right. Let’s get started.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  JESSIE SIGHED and hit speed dial as she mounted the steps to her apartment. “Are you available?” she asked Zach.

  “I have one more thing to do and I’ll be on my way,” Zach replied. “Where are we meeting?”

  “I’ve been thinking about a cold beer all afternoon,” she said. “How about O’Leary’s Pig Whistle on West 45th?”

  “Sounds pretty good. Give me about ninety minutes and I’ll see you there.” They disconnected and Jess blew out a breath as she entered her apartment, tossed her keys on the counter and headed for the shower. The spray of water against her skin was invigorating and always relaxed her, especially after the kind of day she’d had. Zach’s handsome face flashed through her mind and made her anxious to see him. It brought a smile to her face and made her happy that he’d initiated the call. Thinking back to when they’d attempted to be a couple left a lot to be desired. She sighed, wishing they weren’t so determined to have their own way. Fortunately, it hadn’t taken long for them to realize it wasn’t going to work. Admittedly, she was less flexible than he was. Nevertheless, she was happy they were still dating.

  She gave a dismissive shrug. Being friends with benefits wasn’t so bad. She wasn’t dating anyone else and she was pretty sure he wasn’t either. Days filled with investigating criminals, and death, took its toll on anyone in law enforcement. Just because the workday ended didn’t mean the mind stopped. With the divorce rate of sixty to seventy-five percent higher than any other profession, having this type of relationship with Zach was good enough for her. She shook her head in amazement.

  Harwell and his wife, Ginny, came to mind. She hoped they were working things out for the son’s sake. Their son, Max, needed both his parents. If something were to happen to that sanctity, she knew the son would most likely want to be with his father, given his interest in law enforcement. And knowing Ginny’s fragility, Jessie knew it would completely destroy her.

  Most civilians didn’t understand the commitment it took to be in law enforcement. The fact that the general public was so critical of everything they did made it twice as bad. It was like having big brother watching over your shoulder 24/7. But despite their differences, whenever Zach was around, the connection they felt ignited the fire inside her heart. Jessie exited the shower and dried off. Admittedly, she was in love with Zach Gerard and she always would be.

  Zach walked into the bar and searched the faces staring back at him for Jessie. When he heard her hearty laughter he couldn’t help but smile at her uninhibited behavior. He followed the laughter and finally found her surrounded by her male peers from the thirty-third precinct. One of the guys spotted Zach and gestured him to the table.

  “Hey buddy, how the hell have you been?” Greg Johnson asked when Zach walked over. The men shook hands and Jessie hugged him hello, no longer worried about keeping their relationship a secret.

  “Much nicer being her boyfriend than her partner,” Zach teased. “Isn’t that right, Jessie?”

  “That’s for damn sure.”

  He latched onto her arm. “Have you eaten yet?”

  “No. I was waiting for you to buy me dinner.”

  The guys laughed at her snarky rebuttal. “See, Zach, that’s what happens when you become friends. If she was your partner, she’d be buying her own dinner.”

  “Yeah, well. I guess there’s good and bad no matter what angle you take.” He winked at her. “Good to see you guys.”

  Squeezing into the booth, Jessie reached over and held his hand. “So good to see you, hotshot. I’m missing you like crazy.”

  “Me too, Jess, me too. So, how was your day?”

  “Getting used to that damned job. My partner hates me . . . and quite honestly, I’m not terribly fond of him either. Today was a day from hell. I took an early lunch with Abby hoping it would get better when I returned, but it continued on a downhill spiral so fast my head was spinning like a top.” She made a face. “He was eating a sandwich at his desk when he found a piece of my hair inside. That was all it took to set him off.”

  He snickered. “Yeah?” he said, “Well, I think I have the world’s dumbest rookie detective in the history of law enforcement. He blurts things out to suspects he shouldn’t, scares the crap out of people, and he doesn’t listen, and on top of that, he asks questions he already knows the answers to. He’s a dimwit.” Zach drew in a deep breath and pushed it out. “I swear; McGee must have a relative in the department because there’s no way he was ready for this assignment. I don’t care how much time he has.” He released a harsh breath. “They really need to change the rules about automatic promo after so many years.” Zach shook his head. “Today, we were called to a homicide in City Island. Dispatch said the victim’s son was in the house but when we arrived he was nowhere to be found. The father was slumped over in the chair—a bullet to his neck.”

  Jessie made a face. “Oh, that poor man. What a way to die.”

  “For sure. When we arrived on the scene, there was a commotion going on next door, but I was so anxious to get started on my own scene, that I guess I wasn’t paying attention. I later found out there had been an ATF raid next door, so I sent McGee out to canvass the neighborhood. He leaves and I enter the house because I want to talk to the kid that’s supposedly inside. Except for the EMTs, the house is an eerily quiet. I’m walking from room to room, still haven’t found the kid when I hear something overhead. So I pulled the ladder down and climb up into the attic.” Jessie gave him a concerned stare. “Yeah,” he nodded, “the kid was up there. He was shaking and scared out of his mind.” Zach’s hands flew up in disgust.

  “While I’m questioning him I hear McGee’s voice talking a mile a minute about god knows what downstairs.” Zach blinked his eyes.

  “What was he talking about?”

  “I have no clue, but I do know he came back for a glass of water. He claims he heard me talking to someone and figured I might need help, so he decided to stick around and arbitrarily stops the canvass. I’m happy he thought I might need help, but for some reason, the guy does not get the importance of timing with these things. Then, we go to see the kid’s aunt later and the meathead trips on the way inside the house.” Zach’s hand rose in the air. “I’m trying to ascertain if the aunt is a suspect and he blurts out something he shouldn’t.” They ordered two bottles of beer. “Then we go back to the precinct and ATF is sitting in the lieutenant’s office and they want to talk to us. They wanted to take over the entire operation, including the homicide because they didn’t want to give me the guns that were used.” The waitress returned with the beer. Zach unscrewed the tops and slid a bottle over to her.

  “Did they turn over the guns?” she asked.

  “Yes, they finally did. So tell me how the rest of your day played out.” He slugged back his beer.

  Jessie snickered. “Ah, let’s see. I went to lunch with one of the civilian clerks, Abby, . . . my only friend in the department, and while we’re having lunch she tells me about her brother who has been missing since she was a young girl. And . . . get this!” Jessie told Zach about the women in the secretarial pool. “Of course it makes perfect sense, but for some reason it’s surprising. You know, it never entered my mind.”

  “Well, that’s because Missing Persons is a whole new ballgame for yo
u.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.”

  “Uh oh. Sounds like Mr. Warmth gave you a hard time again.”

  Jess snickered. “Ha, guess what I just found out? Bud’s old partner handled Abby’s case prior to partnering with him. I told Abby I’d take a look at the evidence and see if I could find something. Bud saw me walk into records and decided to find out what I was doing. Anyway, he saw the name on the box and went berserk saying they did everything they could to find the kid.” She gave a nonchalant raise of her shoulder. “The rest of the day, he pretty much ignored me until we were called out on a case.”

  “If you want this guy to warm up to you, reopening his old partner’s case isn’t going to win you any points.”

  “I have no doubt, but it’s possible he missed something. Christ, how many times does that happen? We become so familiar with the case, know our jobs so well, sometimes the simplest things go unnoticed. I’m not trying to make his old partner look bad.” She waved her hand in disgust. “So if he doesn’t like it, that’s too bad. At the time he got all pissy on me, I’d already had all I could take, so I told him if he wanted to go to the lieutenant and ask for a transfer or a new partner, to be my guest.”

  Zach smiled and then reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled. Having him sit across the table from her was exactly what she needed. “So tell me, Zach, we left the two-one . . . why?”

  “You wanted to date me.”

  “Oh, yeah. That’s right. And how’s that going for us?”

  “You tell me?”

  She leaned in to kiss him. “You know, it’s really a shame we couldn’t get along living together.”

  “It is, but this dating is much more exciting, don’t you think?” he said, “although I worry you’ll find someone else if I don’t keep tabs on you.” He winked.

  “Yeah, right.” She grinned. “So shall we get out of here and go somewhere else?”

  “Sure,” he gave her a sexy side-glance. “What’d you have in mind?”

  “Hopefully, the same thing you do.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “CAN I HELP YOU?” Irene Stone said, obviously surprised to see two men dressed in suits standing at her front door at that hour of the morning.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Stone,” the US Marshall said. They both pressed their law enforcement shields up against the screen to assure her they were legit. Still in her pajamas, she crossed her arms and rested them against her chest as though embarrassed.

  “First of all, it’s Miss, and secondly, it’s seven o’clock in the morning, for God’s sake. What do you men want at this hour? I’m not even dressed yet.”

  “We’re sorry, ma’am, but we have urgent information we need to discuss with you. I’m Deputy US Marshal Frasier and this is Agent Moses,” he gestured. “We’re from the U.S. Marshal’s service and we’d like to talk to you.”

  “What is this all about?” she asked, looking perplexed.

  “The Thomas boy. May we come inside?”

  “Was it necessary to come to my door at seven o’clock in the morning?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Okay,” she said with a long sigh, “Come inside.” She backed away from the door and headed toward the living room, the two men in tow. “What is this all about?” she asked before glancing at the time again. “You should make it quick. The kids I watch will be here in an hour.” She sighed, “So what can I help you with?”

  “We have a situation with Jake Thomas which also involves you,” Frasier said.

  Her face capped into mass of confusion. “Me?” she paused. “What about me?”

  “It seems the boy can identify one of the perpetrators involved in the shoot-out, and whom we believe was responsible for his father’s death. Since he spent a great deal of time here with you, we need to provide protection for both of you.”

  “In what way?”

  “Witness Protection,” Frasier said.

  “You mean like that show on television, “In Plain Sight?” She snickered. “Like that?”

  “Yes ma’am, like that,” his deadpanned expression never changed.

  She smirked. “So are you suggesting that I pick up and leave without telling anyone where I’m going?”

  “Exactly.” It was obvious she wasn’t expecting Frasier to give her such an abrupt response because her facial expression changed from a smile to a bundle of panic in a matter of seconds. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but that’s the way it works. This is no process for an eleven-year old to go through by himself without a single familiar face to help him.”

  “What exactly are you suggesting?”

  “That you accompany the boy. You’ll both need protection.

  “You can forget that. There’s not a chance in hell that’s going to happen. I’m not disappearing out of thin air without letting my family know where I’m going. And what about the kids I watch?”

  “Precisely, Miss Stone,” Frasier said. “Staying here puts everyone, including those kids, in danger. Do you want to be responsible for their deaths when there was something you knew you could have done to prevent it?”

  “This is a joke, right?”

  “No, ma’am.” The muscle in his jaw flickered. “This is no joke.”

  Air whooshed from her lungs as her eyes darted around the room. She began to shake uncontrollably. “When do I need to leave?” she asked in a wobbly voice.

  “Right now.”

  “But Christine and the kids . . . what am I going to tell her at the last minute?”

  “If you hurry and pack a bag, when she knocks on the door, she’ll realize you’re not here and leave with the kids.”

  “Can’t I call her and say I’m not feeling well so she doesn’t make a trip all the way over here?”

  “No. I’m sorry. Now please . . . go pack a bag quickly. We have no time to waste.”

  “But what about my family, my furniture? My treasures? What happens to all of them?”

  “Your family will probably come over when everyone realizes you’re not here.”

  “This is not fair,” she whined. “We’re not related at all. I shouldn’t have to suffer because the kid was too damn stupid to look the other way.”

  Frasier didn’t respond to her whining, he merely pointed toward her bedroom. Neither Marshall showed any signs of emotion. They remained straight-faced until she reappeared with her luggage. Dressed in a warm-up suit and sneakers, she rolled her luggage out into the room. Moses took her luggage and guided her out to the car.

  “I’ll lock up,” Frasier said to her.

  Irene no sooner stepped out through the door than the Deputy Marshall walked into her bedroom. Reluctance to be swept away into a Witness Protection program without a word always left victims feeling anxious. His eyes scanned around the room and stopped when he saw something sticking out from underneath the corner of her jewelry box sitting on top of her dresser. He lifted the box up. Sure enough, she’d left a note for her mother. He shook his head and stuffed the envelope inside his jacket pocket, locked the door and walked to the car where Irene was sobbing as she stared at her home. Moses pulled away as quickly as he could to avoid prolonging the agony.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ZACH MADE his customary Starbucks stop for coffee and something sweet before heading for the Pelham Parkway station. The US Marshal Service had invited him to sit in on the meeting with Jake and Irene’s official entry into the Witness Security Program, as it was formally known. Zach knew the invitation had been extended to him strictly as a courtesy and to give Jake some minor comfort by having another familiar face in the room. His life was about to be turned upside down once more. Since the meeting was scheduled for ten o’clock, and at the southern tip of Manhattan, he decided he would take the subway as opposed to fighting the traffic. He was already feeling a little apprehensive about the turn of events in this poor eleven-year old’s life. Nevertheless, he knew it
was for his own good; it didn’t feel very comforting. He hadn’t seen Jake in a couple of days since their session with the mug shot books. From what he’d been told, Jake and Irene had been taken to a safe house and would remain there until everything had been finalized for their permanent move. None of this felt good, and he suspected Jake wasn’t terribly happy about it either. Despite that, he knew this was the right thing to do.

  He stood on the platform and waited to board the number five train. Inside, he weaved his way through the crowd hoping to hold onto a strap, but they were all taken. That meant he had to latch onto the pole with numerous other people, each having their own distinctive smells. Not at the top of his list for sure, but it reminded him of why he didn’t use the subway often.

  The train jerked at start off, causing everyone to sway into one another. He held on a little tighter. The ride was a long one and gave him plenty of time to go over what he would witness today at the meeting. He didn’t know anything about the US Marshal’s organization, but he’d done some research in preparation for this meeting even though he wouldn’t be saying anything. Asking questions during the process would surely be frowned upon, especially since he’d already alienated Agent Springer. He didn’t need to get into any more trouble with his boss. What he discovered had surprised him. Witsec was the very first law enforcement organization in the country and consisted of ninety-four districts, aligned precisely with the districts of the Federal Court system. In fact, the original mission had been for the protection of those courts and judges.

  When the train finally jerked to a stop, he blew out a breath of air relieved to be free of the claustrophobic environment. Following the crowd through the tunnel, music bounced off the walls from the musicians performing for money. A guy performing magic acts was planted directly across from the guitarist, pulling scarves out of his sleeve. Zach smiled at the large crowd gathered around him. When he reached the end of the tunnel, he saw a homeless man sitting in the far corner, his German shepherd dog sound asleep at his feet and a bucket with a sign next to him begging for money so he could feed his dog. Zach hoped people realized it wasn’t the dog the man was concerned about. It was the amount of money he could pull in with his act in order to support his alcoholic habit. Rushing up the stairs, the smell of urine attacked his nostrils. He held his breath until he reached the sidewalk and walked to the district’s headquarters on Pearl Street.