"Is it in his handwriting?"
"Yeah, the block print is his. He's always written like that. Even in high school."
"And he paid you?"
"Yeah. He paid me twenty-five thousand dollars for each flat."
"And how did you explain the money to Erik?"
"Paul told me to tell him my foster parents had died, and they'd left a couple of us the proceeds from life insurance and the sale of their house, but it was going to be paid over a period of years. I memorized the words from the instructions he gave me."
"And Erik believed you?"
"Yeah, because the day I told him was the first day Paul... used me. I was a mess. Tears, crying. I love Erik, you know?"
Amber didn't touch the last statement, continuing her questioning instead. "Do you know what Paul did with the trays?"
She shook her head. "I don't. He never said, and believe me, I didn't want to know."
"One more question. How did you think this was going to end?"
Clare shook her head. "I don't know. I got so I could endure Paul, and then... it wasn't so bad. Erik's gone a lot. When he's here, he's really tired." She shrugged. "I figured Paul would get tired of me. By then we'd be okay financially, and Erik could cut back on his hours."
"All right Clare, Officer Patel is going to take you downtown."
Clare's head whipped up. "You said if I told you, I wouldn't have to go downtown!"
"No, Clare. You heard what you wanted to hear. We have our conversation recorded, and I can assure you I made no such statements."
She stood, and Clare lunged at her. The chair she was sitting on slid across the marble floor. "You can't do this! He'll kill me!"
"Paul Desoto? He's not going anywhere."
"You don't know who you're dealing with!"
"You mean Paul's bosses? Aarón Rubio?"
Clare's eyes flared. She snapped her mouth shut and glared at Amber.
"Or is Oscar Peña the one coming after you?"
"I want a lawyer." Clare spit the words at Amber.
"So be it." She nodded at Detective Patel, and the officer assisted the furious woman from the chair and headed for the garage.
"Avni, keep her in the garage until transport shows. We're going to need all hands to search the Edelman residence," Brody ordered.
"You got it, Sarge." Patel and Thompson closed the door behind them.
Terrell's voice rose. "Watson, have them bring in Desoto."
Watson nodded before he lifted his hand, catching everyone's attention. "Sir we have two blacked out SUVs outside the housing area."
Terrell's eyes narrowed. "What are they doing?"
Watson asked the question. "Nothing. They're parked about a block away."
"Keep an eye on them." Terrell's command sliced through the silence. Amber slid her gaze to Brody. She'd been in this position before. She nodded at his look of concern and he gave her the faintest of smiles. Damn, she loved that man.
Chapter 21
Brody rolled his shoulders. While the SUVs outside the housing development were concerning, he had a job to do. He was certain Desoto wouldn't be as uncomplicated as Clare had been. Clare was between a rock and a hard place, but millions of people handled financial troubles without turning to crime. She'd known what she was doing was illegal. She'd admitted as much, and thank God they had it on tape, both the confession and the waiver of her rights. Her statement tied Desoto to the transportation of the drugs. He was going away. The question was whether or not the man would take others down to mitigate his time.
Detective Rosen opened the door and a cuffed Desoto ambled into the light. His self-assured swagger and the 'fuck you' sneer he wore was completely inappropriate considering the circumstances. He glanced at Terrell. His captain’s eyes narrowed. Yeah, his boss saw it, too.
"What am I being arrested for, Officer?"
Brody glanced at Harlow and Delgado. "Have you advised him of his rights?"
"Yeah." Delgado placed a not too gentle hand on the guy's shoulder and shoved him into the chair. "He didn't want a lawyer. Harlow witnessed."
"Mr. Paul Desoto, I'm Detective Sergeant Brody King. You were placed under arrest for interstate drug trafficking."
"Really?" The man drew out the word like it was elastic, and he was waiting for a snap.
"Where were you taking the trays?"
"To the dump. Like I do every time Clare asks me to take out the trash."
"At about million dollars per tray, I doubt you throw them away."
"I'm sorry, Detective, but I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. I was taking out the trash for my… paramour."
"Well, your paramour has stated you told her when to have her husband retrieve the flats."
"Really? Got any proof there, Detective… King, was it?"
Brody mimicked the guy's eat shit and die smile. "Yes, yes we do."
The man's bravado waned. "Put up or shut up." The uncertainty Desoto felt was lodged deep and it showed in his eyes.
Brody leaned forward. "Clare kept all the envelopes you gave her with the dates of the pickups. How long do you think it will take Aarón Rubio to put a bullet in your head? You are now a loose end."
"Sir, we have movement on the SUVs." Watson's warning snapped Desoto's head in that direction.
"Stop them." Terrell growled the instructions
"There's nothing to those notes," Desoto said, but it was more to himself than anyone in the room. His frantic eyes skittered around the kitchen.
Brody glanced at Terrell. His boss was staring at Watson waiting for an update. Brody pushed on with the interview. "What about the instructions on how she was supposed to explain the money to her husband?"
Desoto's eyes found their way to him slowly. "You have no idea what's coming for you, Detective."
"I'm not interested in your threats."
"You didn't think I came here alone did you? That much product without an escort? You're a fool, and unlike you, I'll be alive at the end of this." Brody moved away from the table at the same time a staccato burst of gunfire sounded from the front yard.
Instinct pushed him toward Desoto, but the man was fast. He jumped up and slammed his shoulder into Delgado who lost his balance and fell into Detective Harlow. As Brody gathered himself, Terrell was barking orders. He sprinted after Desoto who'd jumped through the breakfast nook's window. Desoto was struggling to stand as he hurdled through the windowsill and landed on top of the man.
"Two officers down!" Watson shouted.
"Take those bastards out!" Terrell shouted.
Brody and every cop in the house moved at once. A loud squeal of tires came from the street. The sounds of glass breaking were interspersed with rapid gunfire. It seemed to be contained toward the front of the house. Shouts from his fellow officers filled the air. Desoto spun to his back and kicked at him, catching him at the base of his chin and snapping his head back. Blinding pain dropped him to his knees, but not for long. He blinked to clear his vision and pulled his gun which he pointed directly at Desoto. He heaved to his feet and pushed Desoto onto his stomach. "Stay down. Move and someone is going to shoot you." He'd volunteer to imbed a bullet if no one else took on the job. He turned his neck gingerly. The bastard had a hell of a kick.
He kept an eye on Desoto and edged to the corner of the house. He snuck a peek and slammed back against the house. Two men were working their way along the side of the house to the backyard. He glanced into the kitchen window of the house. No one. They'd all gone to the front to assist the officers involved in what sounded like one hell of a gunfight. He glanced at Desoto who stared at him; the suspect's eyes were narrowed and vicious. "They're coming for you too, motherfucker." Brody warned the asshole, "Keep your mouth shut or I'll shut it."
Brody crouched and risked another glance around the house. The guns told him they weren't cops because the good guys didn't carry Uzis or Mac 10s or whatever the hell those guys were carrying. Going up against two submachine guns with
his .45 was going to be tricky and, yeah, a suicide mission, but he had to protect the motherfucking drug dealer on the ground next to him. He crouched down and braced, ready to launch from a three-point stance into the first man who cleared the side of the house.
A crash of glass and whoosh of flame at the Edelman house diverted his attention for a split second. Damn it. Molotov Cocktails. Two more crashes followed in rapid succession along with several sporadic bursts of gunfire.
He spun at a soft sound behind him and locked his gun on the target. Relief poured through him. Terrell had jumped from the window and was moving his way. He held up his hand, pointed to his eye and then held up two fingers. Terrell nodded. Brody pointed to himself and held up one finger. Terrell moved up behind him, his weapon raised and ready. Brody holstered his weapon. They were outgunned, but the element of surprise was their chance to walk away from this without becoming pin cushions. His boss nodded and placed his hand on Brody's shoulder. Brody bunched his muscles in preparation. When his boss tapped his shoulder, he launched forward.
The bastard didn't stand a chance. Brody was six-feet-five-inches and two hundred sixty pounds of flat out pissed police officer. His shoulder connected with the man's hip. A spray of bullets sounded as they collided. The man’s reflexive pull on the trigger sent bullets into the house with a distinct whapping echo following the bullet's percussion. As soon as they hit the ground, Brody rolled and was on his feet. The man twisted; his arm rose in a perfect arch. Brody grabbed the gunman's wrist and twisted it one way while he twisted the burning barrel of the weapon the other. He felt the break and heard the man's scream. Turning, he drew his weapon to bear on two men running to the rear of the house.
"Halt! HCPD!"
The men dove in different directions, firing as they went down. Brody returned fire. He hit the first man and rolled to his right, drawing the fire away from Terrell. Brody glanced at the epic martial arts fight his captain was embroiled in before he located the second man. The bastard was on his stomach and low-crawled along the flowerbeds, headed toward the backyard. Brody was behind the man, and his position gave him a slight advantage. He rose to his feet and checked his six. The fight between Terrell and the unknown martial arts master in front of the gunman was occupying his attention. Brody sprinted forward in a crouch. He dropped on the man and placed the barrel of his gun at the base of the man's skull. "Move and you're dead."
He cuffed the man and hustled forward, sweeping the area. Terrell delivered a flurry of hits and dropped the bastard he was fighting using a roundhouse kick. His boss went down at the same time as the assailant. He hustled to help. Terrell groaned and hauled himself to his feet. "I've got these. Go!" Terrell pointed to the Edelmans’ house. A fire blazed on the bottom floor. "Get the damn evidence! The notes! We need them to implicate Desoto and Peña!"
Brody sprinted across the lawn. In his peripheral vision he saw Amber running toward the kitchen, too. Another flaming bottle broke through the front windows of the Edelman house. Three detectives took the person throwing the Molotov cocktails down. They hit the porch at the same time. "Where would she keep the notes?"
"The greenhouse!" Amber pointed to the small structure which was almost entirely engulfed in flames.
"The workbench!" Brody sprinted forward. He kicked down the door and staggered back from the heat. "Get the hose!" He ran along the building and glanced in. The workbench was still intact. He flew back to the doorway.
"Douse me!" Brody called as Amber strained, pulling the garden hose toward him.
"What? Are you insane?"
"Do it! It is our only chance!" He grabbed the hose and saturated himself. He handed her the hose and looked straight into her eyes. "I love you!" He turned and sprinted through the flames.
His lungs screamed as he held his breath. The heat of the flames evaporated the moisture in his clothing immediately. He untucked his shirt and drew it up, covering his mouth and nose. He made it to the workbench and grabbed a drawer handle, singing his skin against the metal pull. He opened drawer after drawer, the heat and smoke making it hard to see and impossible to breathe. The bottom drawer had a metal lockbox. He grabbed it and used the handle on the top to swing it against the Plexiglas of the greenhouse.
Coughing, gasping for breath, he dropped to his knees, still banging the damn box against the wall of the greenhouse. His vision gone, he fell to his hands, the box still clutched in one. He tucked the damn thing against his stomach and rolled to his side.
He couldn't breathe. In sudden clarity, he understood he was going to die, but he was going to fight that motherfucker until his last rattling breath. He'd just found his family; Death could go screw himself.
Amber screamed for help; her radio forgotten. She saw him dash through the flames and moved on the outside of the greenhouse following him until he burst through the flames and crashed against the workbench. The smoke was so damn thick she could barely see him as he searched through the drawers.
The smoke obscured him. She screamed and pounded on the thick plexiglass. A sudden slam of a metal box against the plexiglass snapped her attention two panes down. Again. There he was, she could see his hands. She pulled her weapon and moved one pane further down. Praying he hadn't moved she pointed at the center of the bottom pane and emptied her clip through the thick membrane. She launched back and slammed her foot against the window. It gave slightly.
"Move!" Captain Terrell bellowed, as he ran toward the greenhouse. She spun away as the man left his feet and drop kicked the pane. It snapped in half, pinning the captain between the two halves. His great arms spread the warping plastic. "Get him!" She scrambled past him on her hands and knees and turned right, using the side of the greenhouse as a guide.
She found him and grabbed his shirt collar, dragging his massive weight an inch at a time. Her lungs filled with smoke as another set of hands grabbed Brody. She pushed as the unknown helper pulled. As he slithered past, she turned. Her foot kicked something metal. The box! Coughing and trying desperately to breathe, she patted around, found it and grabbed hold of the burning hot metal. Oh God, which way was out? The heat and the smoke seemed to be on all sides of her.
A hand slammed on her shoulder, grabbing her shirt, and she was tugged backward. She struggled to keep a grip on the box. Cradling it to her chest, she pushed with her legs, helping whoever was pulling her. A cool wall of air hit her. She curled around the box and blinked through a curtain of tears. "Brody!"
He was flat on his back, and two firefighters were on their knees, working on him. Someone tried to cover her face. She struck at whatever it was and tried to roll onto her hands and knees.
"Swanson, stop!" Terrell was in front of her. "Let them give you oxygen. King is alive. Let them work!"
She would have fought harder if she hadn't had to cough so hard, she puked. The oxygen mask covered her face as soon as she stopped retching.
"What in the hell possessed you two to go into a fucking building that was burning?" Terrell's question reminded her of the box.
She pointed at it. "Evidence." The single word caused her to cough again.
Terrell grabbed the box and muscled it open. He removed several pieces of paper. Shaking his head, he dropped the papers back into the box. She reached toward him. "Not… good?"
His eyes rose from the box; anguish showed in his dark eyes and almost took what little breath she had away. "The evidence is there, but nothing is worth my people dying." Pain ripped through his voice. He closed the box and looked across the lawn. Amber followed his gaze. The bounce of red and blue lights illuminated the lawn in an eerie dance of colors.
Oh… my… God. It looked like a war zone. There were paramedics, street cops and even neighbors caring for people on the ground. "What..." she took four shallow breaths, "... happened?"
"Peña declared war." Terrell pushed off the ground, clutching the evidence. One of the team trotted across the lawn and called to him. The captain gave Brody one last look before he straightened h
is shoulders and walked toward the chaos.
Brody jolted suddenly and rolled onto his side, coughing. She turned and reached her hand to him. His eyes were frantic until he saw her. He stretched his hand toward her. Yards of grass separated them, but it didn't matter. They were alive and together.
Chapter 22
Gage sat quietly between his grandmother and Aunt Dawn. The hard, plastic chair squeaked when he moved, so he tried hard not to move too much. He was worried, although both his grandmother and Aunt Dawn had told him both his parents were okay, but they needed to get checked out. His grandfather had called Aunt Dawn and told her his mom and dad had been taken to the hospital because they inhaled a ton of smoke at a fire. So, they got in the car and came to the hospital.
He watched a person walk down the hall. A doctor, probably. He had a white coat. All the doctors on television wore white coats unless they worked in the emergency room. Then they all wore scrubs. Only this place wasn't like the hospitals on the television. It wasn't as crowded, and the people weren't running around. There was hardly anyone in the halls. His mom always said television was filled with overly dramatic events. This place was almost vacant. He'd visited his Aunt Dawn in the hospital once when she had her appendix taken out. It wasn't like the shows on television either, so maybe being a doctor wasn't all it was cracked up to be. That hospital, where they went to see Aunt Dawn, was even smaller, and they went right to Aunt Dawn's room. Not like here.
He looked at his grandma. He could tell she wasn't happy right now. Which was strange, because she was always smiling and laughing. Maybe she was kinda worried, too. "Did Uncle Blay fight this fire?"
His grandmother jerked a little bit. "Oh, no. This fire was in another firehouse's area. He'll be here as soon as he's free." She patted his leg.
"Why can't we see them now? Didn't Grandpa say they'd be okay?"
She looked down at him and blinked before she answered. "That is a very good question, Gage. Grandpa did say that, didn't he? Why don't I go find out what the delay is?"
Brody (Hope City Book 3) Page 22