False Witness

by Worthington, T. S.

  Was that the grudge against Bennet?

  Declan was just musing now and coming up with theories, but it sounded plausible. He’d seen crazier shit than that over his years as a cop.

  After another quick search he discovered that Harold Shutts lived on the East end of town and he had an address. Maybe it was time to pay the man a little visit and introduce himself in person.

  All he needed was one piece of concrete evidence and he was putting a bullet in that fucker’s brain.

  Chapter 10

  “Break In”

  Shutt’s house was a ranch house in a fairly nice neighborhood. Declan was surprised to see that the man had actually turned his life around. He knew that Shutts owned a dry cleaners a few blocks from his house. Declan almost wished the bastard was home so that he could hurry up and end this once and for all. But he couldn’t do that here. There might be a witness. It was an open neighborhood and Declan had no reason for entering this man’s house that was legitimate, or at least that could be explained to anybody.

  He had to just politely knock on the door and take it step by step.

  Declan didn’t bother telling his partner where he was going. Sinclair had finally showed up to work, talking about some stomach flu, and Declan told her that she should stay in the office and work some paperwork on some of the cases they were assigned to. She protested of course, but he said he refused to ride in the car with people who were infected by nasty junk, which was pretty much true. Declan had always hated germs. He was a bit of a neat freak and it drove Maria nuts sometimes.

  He casually strolled up to the house and knocked on the door politely. While waiting to see if he was going to get an answer he glanced around the neighborhood. Most of the parking lots were empty and he did not see any open windows or anyone peeking out. It didn’t mean they weren’t there of course, but he decided to risk it.

  He had bigger things to worry about.

  After waiting several minutes Declan decided to go with plan B. He pulled his small lock picking kit out of his pocket, inserted it into the lock and in another minute he was walking into the house.

  The home was nice inside. It was cozy, neat, and well kept. The furniture looked nice and comfortable and Harold had a fifty inch smart TV that made Declan a bit jealous; his was only thirty-five inch.

  Declan pulled his gun out and cocked it. He was just daring Harold Shutts to jump out from somewhere and try his luck. He had fantasized all day about blowing that man’s head off his shoulders. He actually thought he was smarter than a seasoned cop and that he could force him to commit murder. The bastard had no idea who he was dealing with. He was making the same mistake that a lot of criminals had made over the years—he was underestimating Declan.

  He moved through the living room into a small, but nice kitchen with brand new appliances and a nice tile pattern on the walls. The floor was a smooth, sturdy hardwood. Declan was impressed. This did not look like the house of a former junkie, but a fairly respectable businessman who was a pillar of the community. Harold probably was all of those things, but he’d allowed something he had no control of to mess with his head and twist it to the point that he had lost control. And he’d lashed out at the first opportunity that presented itself.

  The park where Declan had killed John and Harold had witnessed the brutal act was only three blocks away. Declan thought this perp might be close by, but he didn’t know. It could have been anyone just passing through. And he had no evidence to tie anyone to it. Until now.

  Declan stepped out of the kitchen and made his way down a hallway. It ended with a small bedroom on the right that was being used as a study and across the hall was a small bathroom. It was clean and orderly, but still masculine. Declan was impressed again. Most men he knew were total bathroom slobs. Any of his friends that he sometimes played poker with—he’d been in all their houses several times—had bathrooms just like that. It was beyond gross.

  Declan checked behind the shower curtain and in the closet that was located in the study. That closet just had a few totes in it. He made a note to come back and go through those in a few minutes, as soon as he made sure that he was alone in the house.

  Declan left the study and walked through the door at the end of the hallway. The master bedroom was tidy. It contained a queen sized bed, a nice dresser, a smaller television, and a small leather recliner in the corner in front of a couple bookshelves filled with paperbacks.

  Declan checked a few of the titles. Mostly James Patterson and Stephen King. A decent collection. If he did not know what a creep this man really was and the fact that he had to kill him Declan probably would have liked Harold Shutts.

  He held the gun out in front of him as he opened the closet door, ready for anything. His backup was not here for him this time; he was on his own. It was embarrassing as hell for him to be saved by his rookie female partner when he should have held a stronger stance expecting Michael Wright to come at him like that. He’d tried not to think about it, but it was really pissing him off. It was humiliating. He did not tell Maria anything about it that was for damn sure.

  The closet was empty, except for some shirts and pants. The floor of the closet contained a pair of work boots and a pair of dress shoes. He imagined Bennet was wearing sneakers if he was anything like him, thus rounding out the only footwear any man ever needed, unless he liked to wear flops in the summer.

  That was when Declan saw the door to the basement. He had not at first glance when he walked up to the house notice that it had a basement. He was aching to get back to the study to open up those totes and file boxes. They had to contain some information, but he didn’t exactly want to get shot in the back while he was pouring over them either.

  Declan walked slowly to the basement door, remembering the issues he’d had at Wright’s house. His heart was pounding and he was starting to sweat profusely, even though the house was cool. He was starting to think that Shutts had the air conditioning cranked down to sixty-five because the entire house felt like an ice tray. It was warm weather; why the hell did it have to be this cold though?

  Declan took a deep breath and opened the door. He saw nothing but darkness in front of him as the door swung open, creaking slowly. He paused a moment watching the darkness as if he thought Harold Shutts was there with a gun pointed right at him. And he very well might have been. But he probably would have been shot by now.

  Declan stepped forward and flicked the light switch on.

  The light flooded his eyes, blinding him just enough that he didn’t see the Rottweiler leaping at him ready to rip him to pieces.

  The dog was big. It hit Declan hard instantly latching onto his right hand and biting down hard, forcing him to drop the gun. Declan landed hard on the floor as the dog continued to bite and to tear, shaking its head violently from side to side as if trying to rip his arm clean off. He could feel the teeth sinking deeper and deeper into his jacket. It felt like it would almost be scraping bone soon. The power was like a vise around his arm, squeezing harder and harder, cutting off the blood supply.

  He was screaming totally independently from his mind now, his throat feeling like it might burst at any second. Luckily he was wearing his leather jacket. The bite and the pain would have been even worse if he was bare armed. The power of the dog’s jaws was insane, still ripping and biting at him. The dog had been trained to do this.

  Declan’s only hope was to get his gun back he had to get his gun and had to take this animal out or he was going to be mauled to death. The pain was searing, sharp. He felt like he might be starting to pass out or even going into shock from the violence being done to his body.

  The gun had landed a few feet away from him in the hallway. He could see it now above him from where he lay. He tried to climb to his feet and the dog began to shake even more violently, trying to pull him down the steps into the basement with it.

  The dog was definitely trained. It was trained to attack and it was trained to jerk
people down the steps. He wondered how many other people the dog had killed. How many people had fallen prey to its vicious bite?

  He was determined to not become one of them.

  Declan got to his feet and grabbed his arm with his other hand and using his entire weight began to pull the dog backwards into the hallway. He was going to get that gun. He was almost there. He just needed a few more feet.

  Standing toe to toe with the dog he could now see that the dog was huge. It was by far the biggest Rottweiler he’d seen. It had to weigh one hundred and fifty pounds at least, maybe one seventy-five. He only had about thirty pounds on the thing and it was so damn strong. Even pulling with both arms it kept knocking him off balance with the power of its jaws and its powerful neck, jerking and pulling him back to its lair.

  The gun was right beside him now. He bent down and grabbed the gun, wheeled around and pointed the weapon at the dog. He was getting ready to pull the trigger, his finger was itching but his conscious brain came to life right then. If he killed the dog then he would have an even bigger problem.

  He had to go another route.

  Declan clicked on the safety, turned the gun around in his hand, and whacked the dog over the head with the butt of the gun as hard as he could. The dog’s grip lessened and it made an odd whimpering sound, obviously stunned.

  Declan grunted and hit the dog again on the top of the head. And again. And again.

  On the fifth blow the dog released its grip and whimpered back a few steps. It was staggering around on its feet and acting very confused. Declan felt sorry for the poor beast for a split second. Right before he kicked it in the face and knocked it back down the stairs.

  Declan closed the door. He stood there against the door, thankful the ordeal was over and trying to catch his breath.

  He sauntered over to the bathroom and carefully removed his jacket to inspect the damage. His arm was bleeding pretty badly; he probably needed a tetanus shot now, but good luck with talking himself into doing that. Maybe he needed a rabies vaccine as well? He didn’t know. He was about ready to give up on life altogether anyway. Just when he thought things were getting less complicated the entire world decided to blow up all around him.

  Declan checked the medicine cabinet, found some medical tape and some gauze bandage. He carefully cleaned his wound up with some alcohol and placed the bandage on it. Then he put his jacket back on over the wound. It would have to do for now. The bleeding was subsiding. The tough leather coat he always wore no matter how hot it was had saved him a bit of wear from those nasty teeth.

  He carefully gathered up all the medical trash he had and made sure the sink was cleaned of all traces of his blood. He inspected the floor where the fight had taken place and used some wet paper towels to wipe that up as well. He placed all of the medical waste in the pocket of his jacket. It was a bit gross, but it was all his stuff he figured. He couldn’t very well have Harold come back and see someone’s blood all over the place and his dog injured with what was probably a severe concussion.

  He was hoping that Harold might think the dog just lost its step on the stairs and took a nasty tumble. It was a dog; shit happened.

  Besides if Harold was the person forcing him to commit a murder in a few days then he was damn glad he had beaten that dog senseless. The thing was a menace and should have been put down.

  He felt like calling it a day and just leaving, but he was only getting one shot at this. He was running out of both time and opportunity; he had to strike while this was still hot.

  He was walking back to the study when his phone suddenly rang. He felt like ignoring it, but he was probably running over his lunch and he had some work to do back at the office. There were interrogations to be done and he was sure that Rachel was anxious to get right to it.

  But it was the unknown number again.

  He wanted to break his phone into a million pieces right then. He clenched it in his hand just raging to squeeze it into bits.

  Declan took a deep breath and answered the phone.

  “Leave. Now.”

  The voice sounded even angrier than usual.

  Declan couldn’t hold back a smile. “Oh, I don’t think I want to leave just yet. I’m just getting to the good stuff. If you want me out then come and throw me out, Harold.”

  Declan waited with baited breath to see how he responded to being called his real name. He wished he could see the look on his face right then.

  “Oh, you think that you are in my house? Really?” The voice chuckled softly. It was an eerie cackle that sent a shiver up Declan’s spine. This guy was getting creepier by the second.

  Declan knew Harold was bluffing. “Just admit that I caught you red handed. You have no idea who you are messing with.”

  “That’s cute. But our friend Harold is still at work at that stupid dry cleaner’s he owns, although he is getting ready to leave for lunch. You have the wrong guy, I’m afraid.”

  “You are bluffing. You won’t admit that it’s you. You know that I have you. And you can run, and you can talk crap all you like, but I am going to find you. And I am going to bring you down,” Declan said.

  “I don’t care if you believe me or not. You don’t know who I am and you have no idea who you are dealing with. Remember the video. If you aren’t out of that house in thirty seconds I press send and release it to the internet and to your boss, Captain Mathews. Do not mess with me.”

  Declan froze. The little bastard had him. He still wasn’t sure if it was Harold or not and he didn’t have time to go through all of Harold’s stuff to make sure. And he had the video. Declan did not doubt that this man would release that video if he didn’t do as ordered. As much as he wanted Ted Bennet dead did he want to frame Declan more?

  It was too big of a gamble. He did not have the upper hand here, not matter how hard he had fought to get it.

  “Ok. I’m gone,” Declan said.

  He hurried out of the house and got in his car. No sooner did he turn the ignition on then he saw Harold Shutts pull up in front of his house. Walk up the sidewalk with a typical, careless strut and enter the house.

  Damn. Declan felt that Harold was the guy, but what if he was wrong? What if he went back in there and tried to scare Harold, get him to confess to it all? Suppose he did that and the guy did not say anything or did not know what he was talking about. He would have to kill Harold just because now he would know too much. That would just make a sticky situation that much stickier, right? And then the real asshole would send the video out to the world and he would be screwed and possibly tied to another murder.

  The guy had him. There was no wiggle room and no way out of it. And he was running out of time.

  Declan put his car in drive and drove towards the precinct. The rest of the day was going to be so long. He was just so tired. He just wanted it all to be over. Whatever it took.

  He needed it all to be over.

  Chapter 11

  “Interrogations”

  “Come on, tell us what we want to know. This will go over much easier if you just cooperate.”

  Declan watched Rachel getting into her tough cop routine trying to chew Wright out about what he knew. The guy was not talking no matter what and there was not a thing we could do to change that. He’d spoken to his lawyer who had advised him not to speak. Of course he was already giving us the silent treatment; having his lawyer there just made it more fun for him because now there were two people not talking to us. A third if you counted his girlfriend Amy Banks.

  “My client has told you everything he knows. He is not selling drugs or involved in anything of the sort. And he has no knowledge of this other dealer you are after. He has heard of him, but then again everyone in the area has. You have found nothing with any of your investigation and you have wasted his time with an insipid warrant.”

  Declan hated lawyers with a blind passion. All they did was get in the way of justice and gave rights to criminals who had
no business to have rights.

  “Well, insipid warrant or not that did not give him the right to attack a police officer,” Declan said.

  “He did not know you were a police officer. You did not identify yourselves when you went into the basement and you surprised him. All he saw was a strange man in his house with a gun.”

  “Don’t give me that. We identified ourselves at the door with a warrant, which is all we are required to do,” Declan said.

  “Do I have to reteach you some things you should have learned at the academy or in your tenure in law enforcement, Officer Pierce?” The lawyer, Craig Dutton, said.

  Declan simply smiled sarcastically at him. He knew Dutton from way back. The guy was the go to lawyer for virtually every drug dealer in town. He was a pariah. He was beyond pathetic.

  “No, I don’t think any of that is necessary,” Declan said.

  “Because I will inform you that when walking through a private domicile even after serving a warrant you must acknowledge your presence as a police officer when walking into any room, whether you believe it to be occupied or not.”

  “Well, that is more of a guideline than an actual rule,” Rachel said coming to Declan’s defense.

  “Well, you chose to ignore this guideline and that is why you were beaten severely by my client. He acted in total self-defense and any jury would see that.”

  “There wasn’t any self-defense going on there and you both know it. Your client is going to stand trial for the assault charge if nothing else. At least we have grounds to hold him while we compile more evidence. We have a few sources who put him in touch with other higher level dealers and I’m sure we will find other things.”

  An officer escorted Wright back to his cell and Declan and Rachel left the room, moving back up to their department and respective offices.

  “Ugh! I could just strangle that guy!” Rachel said.