Chance Reddick Box Set 1

by David Archer

  “What are you doing?”

  She spun around to find a doctor standing there, staring wide-eyed at her. “I—it’s—it’s time for his medication,” she said. “I was just…”

  “Get away from him,” the doctor said. “Kathy, I don’t know what you’re doing, but you just filled those syringes with morphine. That’s the last thing he needs in his condition, and that dosage would probably be fatal.”

  She stared at the doctor for a moment. “Dr. Keller, you don’t understand,” she said. “I have to stop him, I have to. He’s planning to hurt my children, I can’t let that happen.”

  Dr. Keller continued watching her, but he motioned for an orderly to come closer. “Kathy, he’s not going to hurt anybody. I don’t know what’s going on, but you cannot give him that injection. Please, just step away and let us help you.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the orderly starting toward her. She looked at Dr. Keller again and shook her head, then turned and grabbed the syringe and pushed the plunger down.

  The orderly grabbed her and pulled her away, and Dr. Keller acted instantly. He ripped the IV line out of Dixon’s arm, then held a thumb over the hole that was suddenly bleeding profusely. The nurse was fighting the orderly, scratching at him and kicking, trying to get free, but then another orderly joined in and took the remaining syringes from her hand. Someone had called for security, and a pair of officers came running into the room. Nurse Flores was escorted down to the security office, and that was when she suddenly started blinking and asking how she had gotten there.

  “You were trying to kill one of our patients,” the security supervisor said. “You were saying something about him trying to hurt your children, and you were trying to inject him with a massive dose of morphine. Why would you do that?”

  She looked at him as if he were crazy. “What? I did no such thing. And I don’t even have any children, what are you talking about?”

  TWENTY-THREE

  Detective Jensen arrived moments after the drama had ended, and Chance got there a couple of minutes later. The two of them sat down with the nurse and the security officers, and it became clear that Kathy Flores was the person Elizabeth Cardwell had been speaking about on the recording. Chance played the recording out, and the nurse stared as she heard her therapist’s voice.

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “I was sitting at the nurse’s station, right where I was supposed to be, and then all of a sudden I’m down here. I really don’t understand any of this.”

  “I’m sure you don’t,” Jensen said, “but at least you’re not looking at a murder charge. Just tell me this: how long have you been seeing Elizabeth Cardwell?”

  “My therapist?” Nurse Flores asked. “About four months, now, I guess. What’s she got to do with this?”

  “A lot, I think,” Jensen said. He turned to Chance. “Pete always has been lucky. I guess his luck held out one more time tonight.”

  “Thank goodness,” Chance said. “This could have been a disaster.” He waggled the phone. “So, what do you think? Is this enough evidence to pick her up?”

  “I would say so,” Jensen said. “I’m going to order her picked up tonight, and I’m quite sure the FBI will be happy to take over in the morning. Now, you want to tell me how you got that recording?” He grinned. “And all of a sudden you have black hair, that’s also funny.”

  “I already told you,” Chance said. “Finnigan volunteered.”

  “Yeah. Right.” Jensen shook his head. “Funny thing, but we really did get a call that somebody killed him, something about a jealous husband that nobody could identify. You have any idea what that’s going to do to the Irish mob around here? They’re going to go nuts looking for whoever took out their boss.”

  “Yeah? Did anybody get a good description?”

  Jensen looked him in the eye. “No, funny thing about that, too. Seems like nobody saw anything. The prostitute who was in the room said the lights were out, so she couldn’t get a good look.”

  Chance nodded. “Probably the way it ought to be, then.”

  The detective shook his head. “I’ll need your phone,” he said. “We have to maintain a chain of custody on that recording.”

  “No problem,” Chance said as he handed it over. “That’s Pete’s phone, anyway. You can take care of it for him until he gets better.” He started to turn away, then turned back to the detective. “Hey, I’ve got Pete’s bag. Can I leave it with you?”

  Jensen looked at him curiously for a moment, then nodded. Chance walked out to the car and grabbed the bag from where he had stowed it behind the seat. He reached into the bottom of his own bag, pulled out ten thousand dollars in cash and slipped it into the bag, then carried it back inside and handed it over.

  “Make sure Pete gets this, okay? I put some money in it for him.”

  The detective held the bag and nodded. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll take it up to his room right now.”

  A few minutes later, Chance walked out of the hospital and got into the Corvette. He drove back to where he had hidden his gun and retrieved it, then stripped it down in the car and tossed the barrel out the window as he drove. He went back to the motel and quickly put a new barrel in before he threw himself on the bed and went to sleep.

  It was the ringing of his own phone that woke him the next morning, and he answered it to find Detective Jensen on the other end of the line.

  “Mmpf. What time is it?”

  “Almost 10:30,” Jensen said. “I have a couple of FBI agents that would like to speak to you, Mr. Simmons. Can you stop by my office?”

  “Yeah. Give me half an hour, I’ll be there.” He hung up the phone and took a quick shower, then slipped his guns under the bed and went by the office to pay for another night. He got into the Corvette and then took out his phone to call the lawyer, Kramer.

  “I was hoping to hear from you, Mr. Simmons,” Kramer said when he came on the line. “Charges against Ms. Martinez are being dismissed. It seems that video was enough to convince the DA that she truly had been brainwashed, and it’s my understanding that the other women involved are also being set free.”

  “Really?” Chance asked. “That’s good news.”

  “It is,” Kramer said. “Listen, I only billed about fifteen hours on this case. Where do I send your refund?”

  Chance thought about it for a moment, then grinned. “Give it to Pete Dixon,” he said. “Tell him it’s a bonus, and he earned it.”

  “Yeah, I hear he’s doing better. I don’t know how you got him away from the bottle, but I hope he’ll stay off of it. Think there’s any chance?”

  “Yeah, I think so. He seems to have come to the realization that it’s time to get back to living, and I happen to know that he has some support that will be helping him. This money, I think it might help, as well.”

  He said goodbye and ended the call, then drove quickly into town, arriving at the sheriff’s office fifteen minutes late.

  He knew the way to Jensen’s office and found the detective there. There was another man and woman in the room, as well, and Jensen made the introductions.

  “Bill Simmons,” he said, “this is Special Agent Charles Barnhart and Special Agent Sherilyn Roberts with the FBI. They wanted to speak to you about the recording you obtained, and about your work with Pete Dixon on this case.”

  Chance shook hands with both of them and smiled. “Sure,” he said. “I’m glad to help.”

  “Mr. Simmons,” Barnhart said, “the main thing I want to know is how you got Daniel Finnigan to let you record that conversation. Would you care to explain that?”

  “Oh, that was easy,” Chance said. “I tricked him.”

  Barnhart’s eyes went wide. “You tricked him? How?”

  “I told him I was a messenger for one of his lieutenants, and that Mr. Dixon was apparently going to recover and had found proof that Finnigan was the one running Dr. Cardwell’s brainwashing program. He started going off, so I just held o
ut the phone and he called her right up. I guess he didn’t notice I had set it to record.”

  Barnhart stared at him, while Special Agent Roberts was obviously trying to hide a smile. “You’re telling me that he made that call in front of you, somebody he’d never seen before, and didn’t pay attention to the fact that the phone was recording?”

  “Yeah, that’s pretty much how it went.”

  “And what about the fact that he turned up dead just a short time after that recording was made? He took a 9 mm bullet right between the eyes. What do you know about that?”

  “Me? I don’t know anything about that. The way I heard it, somebody came running in the room screaming about him messing with his wife and blew him away. Why? Did you hear something different?”

  “Yeah, that’s what the hooker said,” Barnhart replied. “You really expect me to believe all this? You really expect me to believe you had nothing to do with Finnigan’s murder?”

  “Well, yeah, because I didn’t. I mean, if I did, you’d have a witness or something, right? You’d have some kind of evidence, right? But you don’t, because I didn’t.”

  Barnhart stared at him for a long moment, then turned back to Jensen. “Fine,” he said. “We’ll leave it like it is. Let’s get back on Cardwell.”

  “Yeah, just one moment,” Jensen said. He turned to Chance. “Bill, we talked to the DA a little while ago. He’s agreed to drop all charges against Martinez, and the other women are also being released. It seems that, under hypnosis, Ms. Bingham was able to remember the actual session where Dr. Cardwell implanted the suggestions. They’re pretty sure the others will remember them as well, with some counseling and guidance.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Chance said. “And how’s Pete?”

  “They still say he’s going to make it,” Jensen said. “He’s a tough old bird, I’ll give him that.” He held out a hand, and Chance shook it. “Next time you’re in town, stop by and see me.”

  “I’ll do that,” Chance said.

  “Mr. Simmons,” said a soft voice, and Chance turned to see Special Agent Roberts looking at him. “What got you involved in this case, anyway?”

  “Yolanda Martinez,” he said. “I knew her from the restaurant where she worked, and she always seemed nice. When they said she was arrested, I just thought I ought to see what I could do to help.”

  The woman looked him in the eye for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Take care of yourself.”

  Chance went back to the hotel and retrieved his guns and his bags, then drove out to Johnny’s used car lot. Johnny broke into a smile when he saw the Corvette returned with no damage, and then the two of them sat down to settle up.

  “So,” Chance said, “how much do I owe you for the damage to the Charger?”

  “Hey, you know what? It really isn’t all that bad. I figure a little bodywork, some paint, new windshield, some new upholstery—it’ll be like a new car. I was thinking maybe a couple of grand?”

  Chance grinned. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a wad of hundred dollar bills, then counted off fifty of them. “There’s five grand,” he said. “Will that cover it?”

  Johnny smiled as he scooped the money up and shoved it into his own pocket. “That’ll be great,” he said, “just great! So, I hear Pete is going to be okay?”

  “That’s what they tell me,” Chance said. “I’ll be checking in on him now and then, I kinda like the old guy. You never know, I might even come back here to buy a car one of these days.”

  “Hey, no problem, you’ll always be welcome. Any friend of Pete’s is a friend of mine.”

  Chance gathered his guns, including the Browning, and transferred them back into his pickup truck. He pulled out from the lot and started to head toward the highway that would take him home to Clarksville, and that was when his phone rang.

  “Bill Simmons,” he said.

  “You did it,” said a voice. “You really did it.”

  Chance grinned. “Hey, Pete,” he said. “How are you doing? Should you really be on the phone right now?”

  “I heard you were splitting town,” Dixon said. “You weren’t really going to leave without coming by, were you?”

  “Of course not,” Chance lied. “I’m on the way to the hospital right now.”

  He turned the truck around and pointed it toward the hospital, and got there in a pretty short time. He locked the truck, with all the guns hidden behind the seat, and then signed in to visit his friend. Pete had been removed from ICU that morning, and was now in a room of his own. Chance followed the directions he was given and walked into the room a few minutes later.

  Dixon was sitting up in the bed, and there was a pretty blonde girl sitting beside it in a wheelchair. Chance broke into a big grin. “Josephine?”

  The girl smiled. “That’s me, Bill,” she said. “Come here, you big lug, you have a hug coming. The doctors say it was your quick thinking that kept Pete alive long enough to get to the hospital, and he would have died without you.”

  Chance went to her and leaned down for the hug, returning it quickly. Then he looked up at Dixon, who was smiling at him.

  “So,” he said. “I guess I did good enough?”

  “You did,” Chance said. “The FBI has the case against Dr. Cardwell, but it may turn out to be a hard one to prosecute. She seems to have an awful lot of powerful people under her control, so I don’t know what’s going to happen with that.”

  “Yeah,” Dixon said. “Jensen tells me it might be hard to prove what she did, even though they’re already releasing her victims. Crazy world we live in, right?” He locked eyes with Chance. “Maybe the Angel of Justice will pay her a visit.”

  Chance grinned at him. “You just never know,” he said. “I’d say it’s a definite possibility. Right now, I’m more worried about how you’re feeling. Ready to get up and give life another try?”

  Dixon grinned at him again. “I get the feeling I’m not gonna have much choice. Some little girl got it in her head that she’s gonna help me dry out the rest of the way, and I guess it’s time I take her up on it. And by the way, thanks for the little present in my suitcase. That was a lot more than I expected.”

  “You earned it,” Chance said. “As far as you taking Josie up on her help, that sounds like a plan. From what I’ve seen of her, she seems like she might be just the gal to keep you off that bottle.”

  “I will,” Josephine said. “The doctor said he’s going to need someone to help him with simple things for a while, so he’s coming home with me when he gets out.” She winked. “And once I get him, I’m not letting go.”

  “But I’m too damn old for you,” Dixon said to the girl. “People will think you’re my daughter.”

  She shrugged. “So? Since when have you ever really cared what anybody else thought? Get it through your head, Pete, you and I need each other. We might as well admit it, right, and make it official?”

  Dixon looked at her, but there was a softness in his eyes. “I guess so,” he said. He turned back to Chance. “As long as we can get this guy to be my best man. What do you say, Bill? Or, whatever your real name is?”

  Chance looked around to make sure no one else was in earshot, then turned back to Dixon. “My name is Chance Reddick,” he said. “I’m sure I don’t have to explain why I use different names from time to time.”

  “Nope,” Dixon said. “And nobody will ever get it out of one of us. But what you say, be my best man?”

  Chance smiled. “Just tell me when and where,” he said. “I’ll be there.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Chance was still there twenty minutes later when Detective Bobby Jensen walked into the room with two other men. He was introduced to Detective Stanley Harper and another policeman named Harold Schmidt.

  “You guys,” Dixon said. “You didn’t have to come all the way down here to see me.” The delight in his voice made it clear that he was happy to see all three of them.

  “Just want to m
ake sure your ass is still with us,” Harper said. “Think you might manage to stay sober for a while?”

  Dixon shrugged while Josephine clung to his hand. “Somehow, I don’t think I’m going to get a lot of choice. You guys remember Josie? Well, she’s decided to marry me and make an honest man out of me, can you believe that?”

  Schmidt burst out laughing. “Josie, are you serious? He’s too old for you.”

  Josephine turned and glared at him. “Let me tell you a little secret. Numbers don’t count and figures don’t lie, but an awful lot of liars count on figures.”

  All three detectives stared at her for a moment, and then they chuckled. “You’re in trouble, Pete,” Jensen said. “This girl is a whole lot smarter than you are, she just might keep you in line.”

  “Maybe so,” Dixon said with a grin. “So, what’s happening with Cardwell? Are they taking her down?”

  Jensen suddenly frowned. “The FBI agents are questioning her now, but this thing is going to be a problem. Turns out she’s got people all the way up to the governor’s office in her pocket, and they can’t even prove she was even present when the Bingham girl claims she was programmed. According to the mayor, she was with him and his wife on Lake Mead that day. We’ve got a ton of circumstantial evidence, but nothing that’s going to hold up in court. If something doesn’t break, she’s going to walk off scot-free.”

  The room fell silent for a moment, but then Dixon cleared his throat. “Don’t bet on it,” he said. “You just gotta have faith, Bobby. See, one of the things I’ve learned is that we all got angels watching over us, but that’s not all the angels do. Did you know there’s an angel of justice? People like Cardwell, they might escape the law, but they’ll never escape justice. Sooner or later, she’ll meet that angel, people like her always do.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Harper asked. “You really believe that crap? Awful lot of bad people running around never met up with no angel of justice.”

  “Sooner or later, they will,” Dixon said. “I have a feeling Cardwell might be pretty high on his priority list.”