A Man Of Respect

by Remington Kane

  “They’ll be moving everything once the man’s new mansion is completed over in Mexico. This is the time to make our move.”

  “You’re talking about becoming thieves, Roy?” Hendricks said. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “I’m talking about surviving, Stephen. Think about it, you work part-time in a bowling alley. A year ago, you were a hero cop with a bright future. The bastard that owns that house moved his company across the river to make his rich ass a little richer, and he didn’t give a damn about anybody else. He ruined the town, now it’s time he felt some pain.”

  “What if we get caught?” Darren Stepp asked.

  “By who? I’m the chief of police and one of only three cops left on the force. The other two, Riley and Jameson will be home sleeping or getting ready for their shifts.”

  “The dispatcher might call them.”

  Wicks held up his cell phone. “Gladys, Jane, and Rhonda were laid off the same time as you guys. There’s no longer a dispatcher. If anyone rings the station, the call is routed to this phone.”

  “There’s still the alarm to consider. The monitoring company might send out a text to the owner.”

  Wicks smiled. “I checked out the house the other day when the couple was food shopping, you know, like a test run. The window in the garage was unlocked and the door leading into the kitchen isn’t alarmed. We can go in and out through the garage and never set an alarm off.”

  “Motion detectors, cameras?”

  “I disabled the cameras yesterday while wearing a mask. As for motion detectors, there are none, because of a cat the owner had when he lived there. They skipped the detectors because the cat would have set them off at night. I was inside for an hour scoping the place out. There’s even a safe in the office we can get to.”

  Carl Taylor was shaking his head. “Do you know how hard safes are to open? Forget it.”

  Wicks took a slip of paper out of his pocket. It had numbers written on it.

  “I found this under the desk blotter. It’s the numbers for the safe.”

  “Shit, Roy,” Stepp said. “You robbed the safe already?”

  “No, but I did open it, and the damn thing set the alarm off.”

  “What happened then?”

  “I closed the safe door, left the house, then answered the call from the alarm company. The caretakers came home about then, and the old man went right to the keypad to stop the noise. I reported it as a false alarm.”

  Stepp, Hendricks, and Taylor looked at each other, then each man nodded. They were in, the home was robbed, and they’d been working as home invaders ever since.

  The Mulberrys’ babysitter, Gwen Rallo, spun around as she heard a hard kick slam against the rear door in the kitchen. A second kick sent the door flying inward, revealing four masked men. The children were sitting at the table eating. One of the men pointed a gun at the kids while another headed toward Gwen, and the other two ran into the house.

  Tammi let out a scream. That caused the man headed toward Gwen to turn his head away from her. Without thinking, Gwen grabbed the carving knife she had been using and thrust it toward the man’s stomach.

  The thief Gwen stabbed was Carl Taylor. He cried out in pain and shock as he felt the knife make contact. In response, he batted the blade out of Gwen’s hand then shoved her to the floor. Tammi screamed again, before leaving the table to rush to her babysitter’s side. Darren Stepp was the gunman watching the kids. He shouted to Taylor.

  “Are you hurt bad?”

  Taylor laughed as he looked down at his midsection. “I’m good. The knife hit my Sam Browne.”

  Lying on the floor with Tammi hugging her around the neck, Gwen blinked in surprise at what she was hearing. The former police dispatcher knew that “Sam Browne” was a term many cops used when they were referring to their duty belts. The name came from the British General who had first worn one.

  Tammi’s scream and Taylor’s grunt of pain brought Stephen Hendricks back into the kitchen.

  “What’s going on in here?”

  Taylor held up four fingers, which meant that the situation was Code 4 – no assistance needed. Gwen noticed that exchange as well; she was certain that the home invaders were cops.

  “Grab the kids and the old lady and bring them in the living room. We’ve got a problem in there.”

  “Did the dad fight back?” Stepp asked. “The dumb bastards always try to act tough.”

  Hendricks sighed beneath the mask. “It was the mom this time.”

  Jean Mulberry lay at the foot of the steps on her back. Tears rolled down her cheeks as her husband knelt beside her. Jean had short blonde hair and was tall for a woman. Her husband Tim had a runner’s physique and dark hair thinning on top.

  Roy Wicks pointed down at Jean. “The bitch came at me with a hairbrush. I backhanded her and she tripped and fell down the stairs.”

  Words slipped out amid Jean’s sobs. “My neck hurts… and I can’t move my legs.”

  Tammi and Adam headed toward their parents, then froze, as Wicks pointed his gun at them.

  “Stay back! Guys, keep those kids back.” Wicks grabbed Tim Mulberry by his shirt collar and yanked him to his feet. “We know you have money and jewelry in the house. Take me to it.”

  Mulberry gestured at his wife. “She needs an ambulance.”

  “You’re right, and the quicker you make me happy the faster she’ll see a doc.”

  “We should just leave,” Stepp said.

  “We’re not leaving here empty-handed,” Wicks said.

  Mulberry wrinkled his nose. Wicks was close enough that Tim Mulberry could detect the scent of whisky on his breath, despite the mask he was wearing. Mulberry broke free of Wicks’ grip and headed down a hallway.

  “There’s money in my office, and the jewelry is upstairs.”

  “Hold on,” Wicks said. He had just noticed the diamond necklace Jean was wearing. “Take that necklace off your wife and give it to me.”

  “No! She has a neck injury, if I move her it might make it worse.”

  “I want that necklace. Either you take it off her or I will.”

  The glare of hatred Mulberry directed at Wicks was palpable. Knowing that he would be far gentler at the task, Mulberry knelt down and, with great care, removed the necklace from his wife’s throat. She continued to weep but her husband’s cautious movements produced no further pain or injury.

  “That matching bracelet too,” Wicks said, as he gestured with the gun at Jean’s wrist.

  Mulberry did as he was told, then handed the items over to Wicks.

  “The police will catch you.”

  “Shut up and take me to the money,” Wicks said.

  The crew departed the house with five-thousand in cash, along with jewelry and electronics worth another twenty-six thousand. They left behind a traumatized family and a young mother who would never walk again.

  11

  Bad Cop, Bad Cop

  Tanner and Caleb learned about the home invasion robbery of the Mulberry family the next morning, via the radio. They were driving Sara to the airport in Caleb’s black pickup truck, where she would board a flight back to New York City. She had an errand to attend to.

  After learning about the robbery, Caleb’s grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles were white.

  “Is that the group you two are going after?” Sara asked.

  “Yes,” Caleb said, “and now they’ve seriously hurt someone, as I feared they might do.”

  “I’m glad Tanner will be with you, Caleb, but maybe you shouldn’t get involved.”

  “I have to, Sara. I may not be a cop the way John was, but that doesn’t mean I can’t fight criminals.”

  “But why thieves? Why not target arsonists or forgers?”

  Caleb furrowed his brow. “I don’t know, it’s just that they get under my skin and I can’t help but want to give them a taste of what they’re dishing out. This group that robbed the Mulberry family, they have to b
e stopped.”

  Caleb said goodbye to Sara as she left the truck, while Tanner stayed with her inside the terminal for as long as he could. When he rejoined Caleb after Sara’s flight was boarding, Tanner found his brother reading a newspaper report about the robbery.

  Caleb held up the paper. There was a picture of the scene outside the Mulberrys’ home, where a police car and an ambulance were in the forefront of the photo.

  “There’s a witness who says she believes the home invaders are cops.”

  “Cops? Why does she say that?”

  Caleb recounted Gwen Rallo’s story about hearing one of the robbers mention the term Sam Browne when referring to his belt, and another holding up four fingers.

  “That narrows down our search, but we’ll need help if we’re going to find these guys,” Tanner said.

  “What sort of help?”

  “The FBI.”

  “Why would the FBI help us?”

  “They wouldn’t willingly, that’s why we’ll have to follow them.”

  Caleb laughed. “I like that idea. They’re bound to have better luck tracking this crew down then we would. The only thing is, how do we know which FBI agent to follow?”

  “They broadcast a report about the robbery on the TV inside the airport terminal. The camera showed the cops and FBI agents coming out of the house. One of them was a well-dressed blonde woman. I took her for an FBI agent, although she could be a detective.”

  “A blonde? Was she small, you know, petite, and good-looking?”

  “That’s the one. Why, do you know her?”

  “I know of her, and she’s a Fed all right; her name is Amanda Eriksen. I’ve been trying to start a relationship with her.”

  “Are you talking about dating her?”

  “I wouldn’t mind that if she wasn’t already married, but no, what I wanted was a friend with law enforcement connections. As a show of good faith, I’ve sent her proof that helped her put away two bank robbers.”

  “How did you make contact?”

  “I sent a message through the FBI’s tip line and directed it to her by name. I used a burner phone, then removed the battery.”

  “Did she respond to you?”

  “I checked a couple of days later and found a very nice message from her thanking me for my assistance. She also suggested we meet in person.”

  “You obviously didn’t fall for that, or you’d be in jail.”

  “I wrote her back, telling her that we could help each other out. In her next message, she said that I was as bad as the crooks I stole from.”

  “She knows you’re Stark?”

  “Yeah, that was how I signed the messages. With these robberies, I’m sure she’s made me a lower priority.”

  “Now that Agent Eriksen knows she’s looking for cops, she’ll be able to whittle down the list of suspects. Given the FBI’s resources, she might come up with viable candidates in no time.”

  “I don’t know, there are a lot of cops out there, plus ex-cops.”

  “True, but they weren’t all together at the same specific times and places as these four men were. Once the computers start eliminating suspects, the criminal profilers will carve the list a little finer, then if you add in the Texas accents, the list grows shorter.”

  Caleb smiled at his brother. “Maybe you should have been a cop.”

  “Why didn’t you become one?”

  “I know myself well enough to realize that I wasn’t a good fit for the job. These days, cops have to show a lot of restraint, especially in dealing with situations like domestic violence. If I rolled up on a scene and found that a guy had abused a child, I’d want to shoot him right then and there.”

  “Then forget being a cop, you’d make a good assassin instead.”

  “I’m not fit for that either, although I’m sure I’ll be tempted to kill the guys we’re after. They left that Mulberry woman paralyzed. I think it’s just a matter of time until they kill someone.”

  “We’ll follow Agent Eriksen and see where she leads us. Return to the farm first so I can get my rental. She’ll be easier to keep track of if we take two vehicles.”

  “And we’ll be harder to spot too.”

  “Yeah, which is important when you’re trailing an FBI agent. I’ll also need to make a stop for some equipment.”

  “I hope Agent Eriksen doesn’t get to them first.”

  “You would hand them over to her anyway, right?”

  “Yes, but I’d like to get the credit. I still have hopes of bringing her over to my side someday.”

  “Cops have civilian informants, why not the other way around, hmm?”

  “I think we’d make a good team.”

  “She’s not hard on the eyes either.”

  “So I’ve noticed,” Caleb said.

  12

  Ratted Out By The Ex

  FBI Agent Amanda Eriksen couldn’t believe her luck. A tip had come in on the home invasion team she was searching for, and there was a good chance it was legit. An email had been sent through the FBI’s contact form on their website, with the author of the message referring to Eriksen.

  At first, Amanda thought it might have been sent by the vigilante who called himself Stark. Amanda wanted Stark. The vigilante was responsible for a number of assaults and robberies. While it was true that his victims were other thieves and lowlifes, a crime was a crime.

  Amanda didn’t like vigilantes, and Stark had made it worse by singling her out as his contact within the Bureau. The man wanted a friend on the inside and likely envisioned working together with Amanda. If so, he had picked the wrong Fed.

  Amanda made a deal with herself while she was still in training at Quantico. She vowed to never compromise the law or to be swayed by her feelings. She was a federal agent and her task was to uphold the law and to stop those who broke the rules. It made life very simple and had given her the reputation of being no-nonsense.

  Stark might believe he was doing good, but to Amanda he was just another thief to be brought down. One day he would slip up or become overconfident; that’s when Amanda would place the cuffs on him.

  Eriksen met Sherry Wicks in a Sacramento coffee shop. Wicks was the ex-wife of Roy Wicks, whom Sherry claimed was involved in the robberies. Sherry Wicks was forty-four, a redhead, and wearing a dress that probably looked good twenty pounds ago. Eriksen also detected the scent of alcohol on the woman’s breath.

  It pleased Eriksen when Sherry ordered coffee. After the waitress brought Sherry a piece of key lime pie to go with the beverage, Eriksen asked the woman a few questions about herself. She learned that the divorce was finalized eight months earlier, and that Sherry got the house in the settlement. When she claimed that she would have been better asking for alimony, Eriksen inquired as to why that was so.

  “Nobody wants to buy a house in that town, not with the plant moved across the river. The damn property taxes are killing me too; they’ve almost doubled since the plant closed.”

  “Did your ex-husband fear that he would lose his job?”

  “No, as the chief of police he was safe, but a lot of the cops were laid-off or quit, and then see, a few months later, Roy also quit out of the blue, and later he got a new car and moved here.”

  “Why did he move here?”

  “He wanted to get back together, but I told him no, because he was still drinking.”

  “Is he close to anyone, such as friends?”

  “That’s why I called the FBI. Roy hangs out with three other ex-cops. When I heard that there was a bunch of bad Texas cops breaking into homes and robbing people, I thought of Roy. Um, there’s a reward, right? If you catch him, I get a reward?”

  “Yes, but I’ll need more information,” Eriksen said. As she spoke, she scanned the people in the coffee shop. Everyone seemed to be minding their own business.

  Unknown to Eriksen, Stark was watching her through the lens of a camera.

  “Agent Eriksen is meeting with that redhead who entered the coffee sho
p a few moments ago,” Caleb told Tanner by phone. “Maybe it has something to do with the home invasion team.”

  “You might be right,” Tanner said. He was parked down the street from the shop, searching with binoculars to see if anyone was watching Caleb observing Eriksen. It would bring serious trouble their way if they were caught spying on a federal agent.

  “Agent Eriksen is leaning forward, like she’s really interested in what the redhead has to say. I wish we could have placed a bug on Eriksen.”

  “It was risky enough putting a tracker on her SUV. Here’s how we’ll work it, you follow the redhead, while I keep an eye on Agent Eriksen.”

  “That sounds good. If I get a chance, I’ll talk to the woman and find out what she knows.”

  Inside the coffee shop, Sherry Wicks was telling Eriksen about how devastating the loss of the manufacturing plant was to her town.

  “If you didn’t work at the plant you had a business and made your living off the people who did work there. The whole town relied on that plant in one way or another, once it was gone, things in Peaksville fell apart quickly.”

  “It affected the police department as well?”

  “When we got married, Roy was one of thirty-six cops on the force. Nineteen years later, when we divorced, he was one of only three and the town’s population had gone down by over ninety percent. I have an uncle here in Sacramento who owns several supermarkets. He gave me a job, and he would have given Roy one too, but back then, Roy didn’t want to leave the town. I told him, what town? Living there after the plant went away was like living in a morgue. I’ll probably have to be foreclosed on just to get rid of our house. No one wants to buy it.”

  “Your husband quit the force months ago, but do you know if he has a new residence or has found employment here?”

  Sherry shrugged. “I don’t know where he lives, but I can imagine him robbing houses. I mean, he’s getting his money from somewhere, along with those friends of his.”