by Rick Murcer
He glanced at Josh then back to the picture on the phone.
The image of Valentino, and make no mistake this time, this man was their killer, raised a different emotion for Manny. Hate was never something he’d entertained, at least not in the true sense. Right now, at this minute, he hated Benjamin Grimes. There was no other way to describe it.
“Give me that phone. I want to see what this prick looks like.”
Josh pulled the phone from Manny’s hands and stared at the lighted screen, as Manny turned right and sped toward the house that belonged to Grimes.
“So this is him?” asked Josh. “He doesn’t look like much.”
Belle reached into the front seat and ripped Josh’s phone from his hand.
Manny waited for her reaction.
It didn’t take long.
“Damn it. That’s him. Those eyes are the same. That’s the guy who killed Cammy,” said Belle, her emotion welling.
“Belle, are you sure?” said Manny.
“Yes. No mistaking that cocky gaze. I never thought I’d see him again.”
There was a sense of relief in Belle’s tone. Maybe she’d slayed at least one of her dragons by just knowing that this killer had been identified as the one who killed her friend all of those years ago.
He knew it would work for him.
After reaching the crossroads that was closest to Valentino’s home, Manny turned down the street and had to slam on the brakes. There were at least ten cruisers and unmarked cars parked along both sides of the road, lights pulsing so brightly that the street looked like a noon-time party.
That total didn’t count Miami-Dade’s version of a SWAT vehicle that had already pulled up into the small front yard, its bright spotlight shining on the front door.
“So much for subtle,” said Josh.
“I’m sure they did it right before they announced their presence. They, we, don’t need any more dead cops,” said Manny.
He parked the vehicle and they exited quickly. Manny led the way as they hurried toward the front of the house on the safe side of the street, careful to stay low behind the row of squad cars until they reached the man in charge.
Captain Howser, a tall man with a thick black mustache and gold-rimmed glasses tucked under his cap, held a bullhorn in his left hand as he crouched behind one of the green unmarked vehicles.
“Glad you Feds finally made it. But I think we have this one under control.”
“We just want to watch him go down,” said Manny.
“That’s about to happen, so hang tight.”
“Is he in there?” asked Josh.
“Our spotters say yes. The infrared heat scan verifies one person inside near the back of the house. We have four snipers set up. One in the back. One in the front, and one on each side. He won’t be going anywhere but to jail or into the damned ground.”
That was fine from where Manny stood. He thought Sophie would feel the same.
Howser then stood, still leaning over, then circled to the front of the vehicle, protected by an open car door. He switched on the bullhorn with a familiar screech Manny hadn’t heard in years.
“Benjamin Grimes. This is the police. Come out with your hands raised. You won’t be harmed if you surrender now. You have three minutes.”
“That’s not much time,” said Belle. “They must not give a rat’s ass if he comes out in one piece or not.”
“Do you?” asked Manny, hearing the edge in his own voice.
She looked at him with a vein of curiosity.
“I didn’t think so, but maybe. I’d like to ask him a few questions, then they can do whatever the hell they want to him.”
“Either way, he’s not going to come out of that house. My money says they’ll have to go in and get him,” said Josh.
Josh had no more then finished his sentence when his prediction proved to be wrong.
The front door swung open, slamming into the porch wall of the ranch, and stayed ajar.
A strained hush came over the sixty or so cops as each of them waited for Valentino to make another move. Manny was no exception, but he found himself standing taller so that he could see the front door even better.
With his right hand, he touched the Glock resting in his shoulder holster.
Each second seemed a century as the doorway remained open without Grimes exiting the house.
The first explosion broke the night’s silence, putting Manny back on his haunches while he ducked for protection behind the squad car beside Josh and Belle. She was covering her ears, practically crawling inside Josh’s shirt. Although he didn’t want to be in Josh’s shirt, anyplace that could insulate him more would have been fine.
Gunshots were one thing. He could handle that. Explosions reminiscent of wartime attacks were another. Noisy, far-reaching destruction wasn’t on his list of enjoyable things.
After his ears stopped ringing, he looked over the car hood again at the house Valentino had destroyed.
The explosion had come from the back of the house. Flames were already jumping toward the roof in the middle of the home.
Just as cops up and down the row of cars began to show themselves, a second explosion, not as loud or as violent as the first, obliterated the windows in the front of the house and sent chards of debris flying over the SWAT vehicle.
This time, Manny stayed vertical, still watching the front door for any sign of Benjamin Grimes.
With each passing moment, the fire grew higher and more intense as the heat and the stench of burning wood and plastic began to filter through the already hot Miami air.
There was no question where the fate of this house was headed, and Captain Howser reacted accordingly, barking orders through his radio.
“Get these cars out of here and get that SWAT truck away from that yard and down the street. Pull all of our people back. We need to make room for the fire department’s trucks. Then push these rubbernecks back to the next row of houses. We don’t need this kind of aggravation turning into something worse. Move your asses, people.”
The scramble of bodies and vehicles was almost immediate. Manny was no fire-scene expert, but this house didn’t have long to go before it became a memory.
His eyes shifted back to the door, his frustration moving up step by step.
“Come on out you bastard. Come on,” whispered Manny as he began to feel a portion of the heat coming from the house.
Don’t be a damned coward. Come out and take your medicine.
The last thing Manny expected from someone like Valentino was a suicide attempt. It didn’t fit his ideology. He had too much to show the world, in Manny’s estimation, but it was beginning to look like he’d missed the mark on that part of Valentino’s profile.
“He’ll come out,” said Belle, standing up beside Manny. “He won’t kill himself.”
“His profile says he’ll come out,” said Manny, doubting it more and more with each passing second.
“If he doesn’t, it’ll save the government a ton of money,” said Josh.
Manny nodded. “It would, but then we don’t get to watch him rot in his cell.”
“That’s true,” said Josh.
Off to Manny’s right, Captain Howser’s radio began to fill with static, then the message came through the confusion loud and clear.
“Sir, this is SWAT Commander Briggs. We hear a man yelling for help from inside the house. What are your orders?”
“Help? Yelling for help?” asked Howser.
“Yes sir. Repeat: what should we do?”
Howser ran his hand over his face, his eyes darting to one side and then the other.
By now, the flames were reaching higher than ever. The back part of the house was quickly becoming a dangerous precursor to what was going to happen to the rest of it.
The captain looked at Josh.
“I know what protocol says, but what does the FBI think?”
Josh never hesitated.
“You can’t endanger your men and
women. Who knows, he may have one hell of a grand finale explosion waiting for whoever runs through that front door. And God knows, he’s not worth taking the chance,” said Josh.
“That’s my thought. We’ve lost enough good people today.”
Manny was ready to agree with them, but he suddenly couldn’t. There was something off here. But what?
Yelling for help. Yelling for help.
That was it.
Howser was ready to respond when Manny grabbed his arm.
“Wait. Patch me into the commander.”
“Why?”
“No time to waste. I want to hear the voice of the man asking for help.”
“Why in hell do you want to do that?”
“Just do it.”
“I would,” said Josh. “He must have a good reason.”
After a few more seconds, Howser shrugged.
“Okay.”
Fifteen seconds later, a SWAT member moved a few feet closer to the front of the house carrying a large transparent cone used to amplify sound. He then raised his hand to signal he was ready.
“Here it comes, Agent,” said the commander.
At first, Manny heard nothing, then he heard everything. Above all of the racket was a voice crying out in unmistakable pain and terror.
“Help me. I need help. I can’t get free. Help me.”
The voice was deep, even in panic mode. There was also a trace of Latino dialect in the way he finished his words. He waited.
The man trapped inside repeated himself again, more angst than ever in his words.
Manny had heard Valentino’s voice in the warehouse. He’d been smooth, quiet, and confident. Not anything like he was hearing, even in those circumstances. This man wasn’t Valentino. Far from it.
He spun around to Howser.
“That’s not Valentino inside that house. I’ve heard him speak. If your men can get that man out, they need to do it now.”
“Are you sure, Agent?” asked Howser.
“I am. Whoever’s in there, he’s not our unsub.”
He took the radio from Manny. “If you can get him, commander, do it. Follow strict protocol, but we need to get him out.”
“Will do, Captain. We’ll―”
The sickening creak of wood weakening then letting loose from wood, followed by several simultaneous crashes, caused sparks and flames to fly high in the air.
In the next instant, even as the fire truck sirens screamed from a distance, the house caved in on itself, adding one last shower of fiery hail to the sky.
Brutal heat forced Manny, Belle, and Josh back a dozen steps into a small yard belonging to a bungalow across the street.
He glared at the burning house owned by Benjamin Grimes, feeling the tears form in his eyes as his rage climbed to new heights. Valentino had killed once again and they had been unable to stop him, once again. This freak had fooled them by going against his profile and out-thinking law enforcement.
Josh stood close, hands on hips, staring at the ground, his head shaking back and forth in disbelief.
Belle’s hand slipped into Manny’s and squeezed with a special intensity. He wasn’t the only one entertaining the raw, disheartening frustration of helplessness. She’d put Valentino in the grave if she could find him.
Find him.
“Belle. Go find the captain or his liaison, someone, and see if you can get that picture of Grimes out to every cop in the area,” said Manny as he pulled out of her grasp.
“What? Why? Oh, shit. Do you think he’s still here? Oh hell, of course he is.”
“Yes. He wouldn’t miss this for the world. He probably thinks this is an even bigger way to show his talent and love. He wants witnesses to what he’s done.”
“Really? Do you think that’s true?” asked Josh.
“I think it could be. We need to look for him before he has time to walk away.”
“Okay. What do you want me to do?’ asked Josh.
“Just start looking for him. He might even be in some kind of disguise. Maybe even dressed as a cop. I don’t know, but we’re wasting time. Look for someone acting strangely. A little different than the rest of the people around here.”
“I’m not sure what that means,” said Josh.
“You’ll know if you see it.” Manny pointed to his left. “You go in that direction, I’ll go this way. Text me if you see him. I’ll do the same. Come on, you two, get it in motion. We might have a chance to nail this bastard.”
With that, Manny took off at a fast walk and began to scan the crowd, the glow from the house, along with the street lights and the police cruisers, providing him the opportunity to get a decent look at the people gathered in the area.
Quickly, he began to rule people out as Valentino. Too short. Too round. Too tall.
Each step he took led to another group of people to scrutinize, but without success.
At one point, his excitement had spiraled as he spun a young cop around because he looked like the right build for his target. But the officer had dark hair, darker eyes, and a beard. He wasn’t Valentino.
When he finally reached the last taped-off area and the small group watching the house burn, he eventually had to rule out everyone in that location as a Valentino. He felt his heart sink. They had been his final hope.
He hadn’t heard from Josh and certainly Belle must have delivered her message by now.
Nothing.
One more hopeful look at his phone showed no messages, only the time. Eleven o’clock on the nose.
Suddenly, he felt tired. He’d been running since early morning and had seen and felt more in a day than most people do in a lifetime. Throw in the underlying feeling of defeat, and he was ready to give it up for the day. Maybe longer. Much longer. Even when they won in this job, it felt like losing.
They had taken down Tovant, who could have gone on to worse things, but only after he’d killed cops. Hardly a consolation.
Glancing at his phone one more time, it occurred to him that Valentino had not killed in a manner that kept with his track record of even and incremental time frames.
Why? Had they messed him up by coming to the house too early, thanks to the tip from his supervisor?
That was probably it, but in the end, did that matter? The man in the house was dead.
Looking back in the direction Josh had gone, he noticed the young cop with the dark hair and beard that he’d grabbed before. He was standing alone staring at the fire, which was not unusual in itself, until he took what looked like a small pad and began to make notes. Yet, he wasn’t. He appeared to be drawing.
It clicked.
Valentino had used his disguise well. He’d even changed his voice when he answered Manny’s question.
This time, Manny’s body stayed calm as he forced his mind and emotions to do the same. Otherwise, he’d give himself away, and Valentino would have a chance to run.
Once he reached Valentino, he stood beside him.
The officer put his pad in his pocket without hurrying, cool as cucumber.
“What a night, eh?”
“Yes sir,” he answered.
There it was. That quiet, calm demeanor had escaped just long enough for Manny to hear it.
“Too bad that no-talent asshole got away.”
Valentino gave him a quick look, hatred spilling from his eyes.
“No talent? No talent?”
Before Valentino could move another muscle, Manny rocked him with a right hand to the jaw, sending him sprawling to the cement. Then he was on top of him. He hit him a second time, then a third, then a fourth, feeling Valentino’s nose break under his fist. He raised his hand again, then hesitated, captured by what was suddenly happening to him.
Dean’s face rose from the red that filled his eyes. Then Marie’s. Then the young cop who’d died on his watch. Then the six victims who had died horribly, all of them wearing Valentino’s brand on their foreheads.
They were pleading for justice, for retribution,
for another chance at life, questioning what had happened to them. No one wanted to give them those things more than Manny. No one. An eye for an eye. What could be better justice than that?
“Dad. Stop.”
Two more faces emerged in front of the others.
Ian and Jen, their beautiful spirits rising up in the midst of the red. His children were reaching for him, their expressions holding him with such love, with such intense expectation.
How could he teach them that caring for people was what life was about, but act the opposite? His gut filled with a conflict he’d never experienced. Valentino deserved no such grace, yet Manny wasn’t the man’s judge.
Then Jen’s and Ian’s faces were gone, replaced by the scumbag who had threatened Chloe and Ian before this new nightmare had begun.
He’d shown the man mercy, even though he hadn’t wanted to, and had exercised control compelled by a greater force than revenge could ever command.
It is always about the people, Williams. Remember?
Slowly, he dropped his hand to his side. He stood, pulled a dazed and bloodied Valentino from the ground, turned him around, and cuffed him.
Josh’s hand rested on his shoulder.
“You got him, Manny. Now take a break,” he said softly.
Then four cops surrounded Benjamin Grimes, a.k.a. Valentino, and took him in the other direction.
“Hell of a job,” said Belle.
Special Agent Manny Williams walked away from his friends without answering. He wanted no accolades or anymore conversation right now.
He had something else to do and hoped he wasn’t too late.
CHAPTER-42
He opened the door, pulled up a second hospital chair, and sat down beside her.
Sophie still had Dean’s left hand in both of hers, rubbing it softly.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” said Manny. “How is he doing?”
“The same. The doctors have been in a few times. They tell me the same story. He’s still hanging in there, and the longer the better.”
“So that’s good.”
She sighed. “Yeah, I suppose. It doesn’t feel better. Better will be when he opens his eyes.”
“I agree with you.”
She shifted her gaze in his direction, her eyes red, but determined as always.