Kyle (Hope City Book 4)

by Maryann Jordan

  Along the way, she waved toward a few of the warehouse workers that she had met before. As she passed by Tammy’s door, the woman looked up, smiled widely, and waved. She smiled in return but wondered if Tammy could see the uncertainty on her face as she thought back to Kyle’s concerns that someone here had tipped off the thieves.

  “Good morning,” she said. “I was… um… just looking for Bob.”

  “Bob is probably still in a meeting,” Tammy said, then glanced at her watch. “Well, he might be getting out by now. Instead of going back out to the warehouse, go up to the third floor and I’ll bet you’ll catch him.”

  Thanking her, she jogged up the stairs to the third floor, remembering Niles’ office was here. Just as Tammy predicted, a door opened and several people walked out. Bob caught her eye and smiled widely.

  “Hey, neighbor. What brings you here? Still looking for some more stories?”

  “Now that I decided to showcase many of the people who work here, it seems like I’m always finding a story.” She smiled as a few other people walked past them and then lowered her voice. “I wanted to find you to see if you were okay after yesterday. I know you weren’t expecting to be questioned by the police on your front stoop.”

  “Hey, it was no problem. He’s got a job to do, and I respect that. He was there. I was there. It just turned out to be the right time to have a little chat.”

  Smiling, she placed her hand on his arm and gave a little squeeze. “You’re the best, Bob. Thank you. Well, I’m gonna head back down to the warehouse. I’ve got an interview with a couple of drivers today.” With a nervous smile, she headed back to the stairs.

  Niles and Porter walked out of the conference room, both moving directly to Bob.

  “I couldn’t help but overhear, Bob,” Niles said. “What did she mean by the police on your front stoop?”

  “Kimberly is dating the detective that’s in charge of the drugs stolen from the Kilton van,” Bob said.

  “You’re kidding,” Porter said, his mouth hanging open, looking between Niles and Bob.

  “Is that a problem?” Bob asked.

  Smiling widely, Niles shook his head. “No, I shouldn’t think it’s a problem. Not at all.”

  “What was she saying about one of our drivers?” Porter asked.

  “She said she was going to interview him.”

  “Is she investigating now as well?” Porter continued pressing.

  “I’m sure she’s just looking for more employees to write about,” Niles said. “Well, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.” He turned and headed down the hall.

  Porter and Bob walked to the elevator, neither speaking. Stepping out on the first floor, both men caught sight of Kimberly near the back doors, talking to Charlie. The two men looked at each other silently, then parted ways, each heading to their own office.

  “I can’t imagine how scary it must’ve been for you,” Kimberly said to Charlie. “You’ve been driving for Kilton for a long time.”

  “Yes, Ma’am. Never had anything like that happened before.”

  “It’s my understanding that while your job might not seem dangerous there are more and more thefts of pharmaceutical vans. The street value of the drugs that you transport between Kilton and pharmacies has a huge value.”

  Shaking his head, Charlie’s brow scrunched. “I wouldn’t know about that, Ma’am. I just know I’ve never been held up before.”

  “Do you think they were waiting for you?”

  “They seemed to know what they were doing. Had guns and everything.”

  “Has it changed how you feel about your job? Do you still want to keep being a driver, or have you thought of something else you’d rather do for the company?”

  “I used to work in the warehouse, Ma’am. I didn’t mind that because I like to have a big area to work in… something that’s not too closed in. But I really love being a driver. I don’t mean that it’s some kind of job I can slack off with. No, Ma’am. We have a schedule to stick to, deliveries to make, and we have to be careful with what we're carrying. But I like being outdoors. I never wanted to be a long-haul truck driver, but I surely love being on the roads in Hope City.”

  Smiling, she asked if she could take his picture for the Faces of Hope City, snapping it as soon as he agreed. “I don’t know who all I’ll be able to showcase in the material for Kilton, but I’m so glad I had a chance to talk to you today.”

  As they started to part, Charlie looked to the side and said, “Here’s somebody you want to talk to. This is Joe, my partner.”

  She observed the other man with a small bandage on his forehead, noting his gaze darted between her and Charlie, his expression proclaiming he would rather be anywhere than talking to her. With her bright smile, she walked over. “Joe, how nice to meet you. I hope you’re feeling better.”

  “Uh… yeah… yes,” he muttered.

  “I was just talking to Charlie about the holdup. That must’ve been terrifying for you. Were you able to help the police in identifying the thieves?”

  His eyes widened as he jerked his head back and forth. “No! They had masks.”

  “Oh, that’s right. But they separated the two of you, didn’t they? Charlie on one side of the van and you on the other. I wonder why they did that?”

  “Couldn’t say.”

  Charlie, still standing nearby, piped up, “You must’ve been brave, I’ll give you that. I could hear y’all talking on the other side.”

  “Oh, really?” Turning her attention back to Joe, she cocked her head to the side and adopted a wide-eyed expression that she hoped looked more like awe than interest. “What were you talking about? Were you threatening them or telling them to leave you alone?” Giving her head a little shake, she added, “I can’t imagine what I’d say to someone holding a gun on me!”

  “I don’t remember much,” Joe mumbled.

  “Well, I was just telling Charlie that I know how much street value those drugs were worth, and whoever robbed you must’ve known what they were doing and had a plan.” Joe’s gaze jumped to hers, his eyes widening ever so slightly. “I’m just so glad you weren’t hurt more seriously.”

  Saying goodbye, she walked back through the warehouse, her insides quaking as she once again waved toward a few of the workers that she had met. I would just bet Joe knows something. Walking along the sidewalk between the buildings as she headed back to her office, she held her phone and dictated some of her impressions, never realizing how many eyes could be on her from the windows of the various buildings.

  Kyle climbed the steps to the second floor of the rundown rowhouse. Just like his observations of the architecture of the old townhouses, this one was no different. Room in the front from the street, leading to the kitchen. Stairs in the middle, a couple of bedrooms on the second floor. Only this one hadn’t been flipped. No renovations. No updates. In fact, he wasn’t sure it had been cleaned this century.

  Alex had his back, keeping an eye on the people on the first floor. Walking into the bedroom toward the back alley, he found the man he was looking for. A card table sat in the center, an old towel thrown on top.

  Lifting an eyebrow, he grinned. “You gettin’ ready for a card game, Marquee?”

  “Yeah, Detective McBride. Just gonna be me and a few of my friends having a little game of poker.”

  “Poker, huh? And why the hell did your mama give you a name like Marquee?”

  “Said she knew my name was gonna be all lit up one of these days.” He laughed loudly, his open mouth exposing rotted teeth from years of using meth.

  Kyle shook his head. “Jesus, man.” Inclining his head toward the table, he said, “I take it you don’t want me to lift that towel up to see your… poker chips.”

  Marquee’s face fell, giving him a hound-dog appearance. “Aw, man. You got better stuff to do today than bust me. I got a few dime bags, that’s all. That’s not even enough to waste your time doing paperwork to haul me in.”

 
; “Word on the street is that you might know about some additives to put into your bags.”

  Shaking his head emphatically, Marquee replied, “I don’t add nothin’ to my shit.”

  “But you hear who does?”

  Marquee scrunched his nose as though smelling something unpleasant, which Kyle found odd considering the entire house reeked of rotten garbage.

  “I don’t want no trouble.”

  Kyle said nothing, letting his silence speak for him.

  “Shee-it,” Marquee finally said on an exhale. “There’s a place up on Baxter. From talk, there’s someone there who gets the good stuff. Name is Raffie or somethin’ like that. Sells huge to some major dealers. Hear he rakes in the money without getting his hands dirty.”

  “You ought to know, Marquee. Everyone in this business gets their hands dirty.” Turning, he walked back down the stairs, the sound of Marquee’s cackle turning into a cough ringing in his ears. Collecting Alex as they walked back outside, he sucked in a deep breath, needing to clear his lungs and nostrils of the stench.

  “Get anything?” Alex asked.

  “Yeah,” he replied as he climbed into his truck. “We’re heading to Baxter. Seems like Raphael might be who we’re looking for.” He called in for a pickup of Marquee, knowing the officers would get the bags Marquee was working on. Waiting until they showed, he gave them directions. A few minutes later, they walked out with Marquee in handcuffs and evidence bags filled with what Kyle was sure would be heroin, either pure or laced with something. Knowing Marquee, they’d be laced with something cheap just to make his heroin go a little further.

  Pulling away from the curb, he and Alex traded one run-down area of town for another. Parking a block away from his destination, he glanced around, knowing Alex was doing the same. It didn’t matter that they were both in jeans that had seen better days, faded T-shirts, jackets, and boots, or that their hair was long and their tats were showing. To many, they would fade into the background, but to the people that hustled this part of town, they’d still stand out as police.

  As though the fates were smiling down on them today, it didn’t take long to spy Raphael walking down the street.

  “Looks like he doesn’t have a fuckin’ care in the world,” Alex said.

  Grinning, Kyle opened his door. “Let’s give him something to fuckin’ care about.”

  Raphael twisted around and saw them coming up behind him, then took off running down the block, darting into an alley. With no words needed between them, Kyle and Alex separated while still in pursuit. Kyle took the more direct route, following Raphael into the alley.

  Their prey was just turning the corner at the end of the alley when Kyle observed him tossing a bag to the side. Knowing Alex had everything under control, he jerked a glove out of his pocket and stopped long enough to snatch up the bag of pills. Racing around the corner, he heard a loud crash and ‘umph’. Raphael was face down on the pavement, Alex securing his hands behind his back.

  “You ain’t got nothing—”

  “Shut it,” Alex barked, then looked up at Kyle and grinned when he saw the plastic bag of pills in his grip. Alex stood and hauled Raphael to his feet.

  “Well, well, I figured we’d spend half the day looking for you and the other half trying to find where you had your stash. And here you were walking right down the fuckin’ street with this shit in your pocket. Must be our lucky day.”

  “Fuck you,” Raphael growled.

  “It’d be luckier if we didn’t have to be in the stinkin’ alley with the garbage,” Alex muttered.

  “You talking about the garbage in the cans over here or the garbage you got standing right in front of you?” Kyle asked, dropping the plastic baggie of pills into an evidence bag. Looking up, he said, “We’re hauling you in while we get these pills analyzed. You can save yourself a lot of hassle by going ahead and telling me what I got.”

  “Fuck you,” Raphael repeated.

  “I knew you were a dumb shit, but I figured you’d made it this far having some smarts. Looks like you don’t even have that.” He held the other man’s gaze for a moment. Raphael was clear-eyed, his clothes clean and looking fairly new. Dangling the bag in his hand, he said, “You're clean. You’re not using the shit you peddle, but if this turns out to be what I think it is, you’d be smart to start talking.”

  Raphael said nothing.

  “If I call for a team to do a sweep of your apartment building and come up with the rest of the shit, you lose making a deal.” He waited a few seconds and watched as the wheels began turning behind Raphael’s eyes. “I’m telling you, man, I don’t just want these pills off the streets, I want the ones higher up calling the shots. That ain’t you, I know that much.”

  “Shit, man, I just get the stuff and move it on.”

  “You process it? You crush it and add it before moving it on?”

  Raphael shook his head, his hair slinging back and forth. “No! The people that buy the shit can do what they want to with it.”

  “Like Marquee?”

  Raphael’s eyes jumped up to his. “Shit! That fucker gave me up?”

  “Doesn’t matter how we got you, we got you. And what you’ve gotta decide is what the fuck you’re going to do.”

  They waited another minute, then Kyle growled. The stench of the alley following on the heels of the stench of Marquee’s building had him lose his patience. Pulling out his phone, he called for backup.

  “I didn’t say I wasn’t gonna let you know anything,” Raphael bit out, his jaw hard.

  “I don’t think you get it. You’re not calling the shots. And we’re not standing in this fuckin’ alley any longer. So, I got officers gonna do a sweep of your building, and you’re coming down to the station where your ass is going to be in a chair while we have a little chat. And on the way, you can think real hard about how you want this to go down. ‘Cause I got no problem nailing you for everything even though I want the higher-ups.”

  As soon as the officers arrived, they directed some to the apartment building and another car took Raphael down to the station. Scrubbing his hand over his face, Kyle said, “Let’s go to the lab and see what we can get before we question him.”

  Glad that the lab was not overly crowded, they headed directly to one of the technicians. It didn’t pass his notice that the antiseptic odor of the lab seemed daisy-fresh after having been in the stench of Raphael’s and Marquee’s residences.

  The technician smiled as they approached. “What can I do for you?”

  Alex handed him the bag as Kyle said, “Just need an identification off of these for now.”

  Nodding, the technician looked at the pills under a microscope, jotting down the individual notations. He grinned as he lifted his head and said, “I take it you’re hoping these are from Kilton Pharmaceuticals since they had that van robbed? Well, it’s your lucky day… these are definitely from Kilton Pharmaceuticals.”

  “I notice they’re all the same kind. Can you tell us what the drug is?”

  Rolling his eyes, he said, “Geez, come here sometime and ask me a hard question. What you’ve got here is their brand of fentanyl.”

  Alex had stepped to the side to take a phone call and Kyle felt his lungs deflate as the air rushed from them. He thanked the technician and turned to his partner.

  Alex grinned as he disconnected his call. “Officers on the scene at Raphael’s apartment building have discovered boxes labeled with Kilton Pharmaceuticals. We’ll need to cross-check, but it looks like we may have found what came from the stolen van.”

  24

  Kyle stalked into the interview room, slapping a folder onto the top of the table while sliding into the seat opposite of Raphael. Not in the mood to drag things out further, he flipped open the folder and began. “The drugs that were in your possession have been identified as being from Kilton Pharmaceuticals. The boxes of drugs that were in your apartment have been identified as being from the Kilton Pharmaceuticals van theft. Your fingerpr
ints are on the bag that was in your possession. Your fingerprints are on the boxes, and we have identified from other fingerprints several of your comrades. They are currently being rounded up or are already in custody. The drugs that were in your possession in the bag have been identified as fentanyl. Right now, you’re looking at multiple charges and a long stay as a welcome guest of the prison system.”

  Snorting, Raphael leaned back in his seat. “Then what the fuck am I doing here? Throw me in jail and be done with it. It’s not like I can tell you anything that’s gonna get me out of this.”

  “You’re partially right. But just how long you’re going to be a welcome guest could very much have everything to do with what you start telling me.”

  Raphael sat quiet, and Kyle took that as a positive sign.

  “We know you’re part of a larger scheme. What I want to know is who else can be connected above you. I’m not convinced you stole the truck or were driving it the day the Kilton Pharmaceuticals van was robbed. But that was armed robbery and a man was injured. I’ll have no problem pinning that on you.”

  “It wasn’t me!”

  “Then give me something to go on.”

  “Hell, you think everybody sits around the table and plans this shit? It’s not like I got some memo telling me who’s doing what.”

  Kyle looked at Alex sitting next to him and grinned. “I like that. A memo.” Turning back toward Raphael, his smile dropped. “When I get finished throwing everything at you that I think will stick—plus some that might not—you’re going to wish you had a fuckin’ memo.”

  Raphael slumped in his seat. “I wasn’t in that truck. Wasn’t part of the robbery. I was told that someone was gettin’ shit to me. I start selling and keep a percentage.”