Trevar's Team 1 Page 19

  “Summer, you’re the SWAT team expert. Where do we go from here?”

  “I think we should work the rescue by playing into their hands. Rachel may not have extracted a full, detailed confession yet.”

  “So I go in?”

  “Yes. You’ll appear half an hour after they call. Alone. They’ll watch to make certain you’re alone. Might even search the car.”

  “Where will you be?”

  “While you’re going aboard, I’ll be on the opposite side of their craft. In the water. I’ll climb a piling, sneak aboard, and be ready for our moment. Shouldn’t be too difficult.”

  “There’s a storm brewing, so be careful.” I ruffled my hair. The inside of my mouth was cotton dry with nervousness. “We’ll need to work a flawless maneuver. They’ll have a weapon to her head. Then to mine. They’ve seen us slide out of harm’s way before. They’ll capture and disarm us carefully. Their plan is to get us one captive at a time. No more playing with us. They’re going to be facing a murder charge, and probable conviction. They’ll want blood.”

  “No margin for error. Not even a blink off mark,” Summer warned. She slipped her Heckler & Koch 9mm into a plastic sealed envelope to protect it from water. She tucked it into the waist of her shorts. Then she turned the ignition key. We backed away from the curb. “For now, we’ll get the car out of sight. They’ll be watching your approach. Being in the drug trade, I’ll bet they have a high-powered pair of binoculars. They’ll want to see you drive up alone.”

  “Once I’m on board, and I’m certain you’re safely in place, I’ll create a diversion. Let’s go with our standard ‘Aunt Agatha’ routine.”

  Summer nodded affirmatively. “Yeah. Hit hard when we move. They’ll probably be in the main cabin.”

  I described the basic layout of the craft, then said, “You’ll enter coming down three steps.”

  “I’ll be listening to find out who you’re taking out. One of us needs to get to Rachel. A clear line to whatever weapon they’re holding on her. Hammer rattles, so go for abusive slams. Try not to let her get hold of you. Cruz will be armed. She’s not tough. Her full force fist couldn’t knock the skin off a rice pudding. But Deb claims she’s proficient with guns.”

  My phone rang. As expected, it was Cruz. I was invited into the heart of danger to take my place beside my ransomed partner.

  “Ready?” I asked Summer.

  Summer’s face was taut with anxiety. “Trev, I want you to remember that Cruz and Hammer aren’t known for their compassion. One of us might get hurt.”

  “We won’t.” I gave her a hasty hug. We then got out of the car. I took the driver’s side. “We’ll be okay.”

  Summer leaned down and through the window said, “Beryl, I just want you to know something. I’ve never thanked you before for being there for me. Always. When I was on the streets, you were my only real friend. The only one who ever did something for me without wanting anything in return. Anyway, thank you. I appreciate you.”

  My fingers ran across hers. I squeezed them a moment. “I love you, Summer. You and Rach are the sisters I never had. Be careful. Let’s put another win in our column.”

  Summer trekked away. We were headed in separate directions. The final glimpse was of her scaling a fence. She was going to have a long, hard swim before reaching the hull of Cruz’s boat. With a wan smile of confidence, I whispered to only myself, “Teamwork.”

  It had been an excruciating thirty minutes. Torrents from a gray curtain of sky had begun lashing. Looking out, I saw a bleak, seemingly infinite ocean. The powerful sea was alive with smashing, leaping combers. Concerns were met with words to talk myself away from fear. Summer was a strong swimmer, but she might confront the iffy riptides. She might encounter undertows that would drag her under.

  When it was time, I conducted the checklist. I pumped the accelerator and sped to the parking area, within view of The Turquoise Debra. With a display of great panic, I raced across the dock. My leap aboard was convincing. Cruz awaited my arrival. She motioned for me to move down to the main cabin. Rachel was on the floor in the corner. She was bound and gagged. Her eyes hectically searched.

  “Easy, Rach,” I murmured.

  “Easy, yourself, dumb shit,” Cruz taunted. Her drawn gun pointed at me. An evil scowl was taunting under subdued lighting. “Welcome to our boat. Finally, you got yourself an invitation. Just in time for fun.” Her ferocious, demonic eyes glared. “Let’s see you drop your gun, very carefully.”

  She knew I wasn’t about to resist. I had no desire for a belly full of hollow point. I relinquished my weapon. I kicked it off to the side from which it would be most easily retrieved. “You’re calling the shots.”

  Cruz took a confident step toward me. “Don’t you forget that. No more fancy crap. We’re gonna have you call your partner. Invite her to the show. I want you all here.”

  “Show. Aren’t you the little show bizzers,” I babbled. “But then this show is small potatoes. After all, you murdered the legendary Sylvia Grant. Your deed made the front page of every paper in the world!”

  Cruz indicated she wanted my hands higher. With great accommodation, I elevated them. “You’re talkin’ too much.”

  At all costs, I wanted to divert them from tying me up. “You don’t want to hear what I think of you and the beast.” My motion was in Hammer’s direction. She was standing near a very blitzed out Debra.

  “We don’t give a fuck what you think about us.”

  I returned her smirk. “It took all three of you to kill Sylvia Grant. She was so small in stature, and in no condition to fight you off. Much older, out of shape, and drunk. You killed her. What a rotten show that must have been.”

  “She shouldn’t have said them things about Deb,” Hammer muttered.

  Bingo! “So you killed her. What about it, Deb. Did you stand there and watch them beat your mother to death?” I questioned.

  “I don’t remember. I…I…” she stammered. Her head was obviously clouded from a recent hit. “It was a dream.”

  “You’d better tune in your memory, kid. Rachel’s an ex-cop. The force loves her. Every cop in Florida will be coming for you. Guns drawn. Dead or alive,” I blasted. I was laying it on with a trowel. “Your buddies are going to murder Rachel and me. And then Summer.”

  Debra’s foggy eyes blinked. She rattled gibberish. “No, they just want to talk with her. They’ll overturn her bike. Make her come with us. They won’t hurt Summer.”

  “That’s what they told you. Their credibility is tainted, Deb. You can’t trust them. Think about it. They’ve got to kill Summer. She knows the truth.”

  “They don’t have to kill her,” Debra nearly begged. “No, Anita. No.”

  “Shut your mouth,” Cruz spit. To me she dictated, “And you button it.”

  “Or you’ll do what?” I played for time, hoping Summer had safely slipped aboard. “You’re going to continue this barbarous sacrifice no matter what.”

  “I said shut up,” Cruz screamed.

  “I said no deal,” I continued. “You’re going to kill us, so I might as well tell you what losers you are.”

  “Losers,” Cruz said as she snickered. “We got the guns, you bitch. We got the guns.”

  “Deb sees you through her drugs. But underneath, she knows you’ll kill Summer. You and that rotten human over there.”

  “I’m gonna love wastin’ you.” Cruz’s eyes were lit up with a heinous gleam. “Love it. We’ll take you out and dump your asses in the drink.”

  “You sure know how to be hospitable.” I tipped back on my heels with a cocky swagger. “You’re going to whittle away your gun handle putting all those notches on it. A great big notch for the famous Sylvia Grant.”

  “That’s right,” she admitted. “I take out people who get in my way.”

  “Or you have Hammer do it for you. Hammer,” I addressed her, “you haven’t done a thing with your appearance since last we met. That crimped bale of hair is just as awful
as ever. And your face looks like oatmeal in a white bowl. Bland. Guess if you didn’t have wrestling and Cruz’s coattails, you’d be just a gutless old whoremonger.”

  “Fuckin’ shud up!” she boomed.

  “I should have become a wrestler,” I bragged. “I’d take you in a ring. One on one. You’re big, but you’re stupid.” I laughed as I ridiculed her. “In fact, you outweigh me by two whales. But I could take you because I’m quicker. And smarter.”

  Cruz’s eyes narrow. “She’s trying to be cute again. Watch her.”

  “Nothing gets by you, Cruz. Look, you’ve got my partner tied up and a flipping gun aimed at me. I’m going nowhere. And it will take Summer half an hour to get here. Let’s see how husky the Hammer really is.”

  Cruz was debating the wisdom of letting Hammer beat on me. “You’ll try to escape.”

  “You’ve got the drop on me. And you know I won’t leave my partner behind. What can it hurt? Other than Hammer’s ego.”

  Hammer grunted. Her bearish frame stomped toward me. She growled, “I’m gonna destroy you. Bend you in half.” Her fists looked like sledgehammers. “I’ll twist your head off.”

  I backed away, closer to where I’d thrown my gun. “Going into your early primate imitation, Hammer? I’ll bet you get nervous when you see a trash compactor.”

  “Let me have her,” Hammer insisted.

  I took another step, nearing my gun. Pebbling Hammer’s armor was a requisite. I chaffed, “Had any really good dates lately?” She lunged at me. I whirled away from her. Aware that the next time she hurled herself, my fate was sealed. Time was running out. Her eyes were wild, and she wasn’t going to miss me again. “Hammer, by killing me, you’re going to break an old woman’s heart. I was supposed to be visited by my favorite aunt. Aunt Agatha will be arriving in fifteen days. Now, I’ll be left out of her will.”

  Cruz cackled. “Who gives a fuck about some old lady’s will? You can’t spend bucks on the bottom of the ocean. And that’s where you’ll be.”

  “Too right,” I agreed. I mentally counted. When I reached fifteen, I shouted, “Poor Aunt Aggie.” As planned, I plunged to the floor. I rolled as I scooped up my gun and fired to my left at Cruz. I heard her scream as the bullet grazed her hand. She had fired a round, missed, and blew a window out. Shards of glass sprayed. When struck, her gun bounced across the floor.

  There was a thud as Summer catapulted from the bottom stair toward Hammer. Her force was jettisoned as planned. She rammed Hammer with ballistic power. Hammer was thrust to the opposite wall. Her skull hitting sounded like a watermelon smashing on concrete.

  Summer had taken her prisoner.

  Cruz moaned, “You hit my hand.”

  “It was an errant bullet,” I explained. “I assure you, I aimed for your head. When I’m packing a Beretta, I’m usually more accurate. Lucky you.”

  “I’m gonna bleed to death,” she groaned.

  “You do that, sport,” I said under my breath.

  “Move,” Summer commanded as she waved her gun. She rounded up the three of them, and cuffed them while I aimed my gun directly at them. When she got to Debra, Summer impeached, “You let them kill your mother. You were going to let them kill the people I love. You’re pathetic.” She glanced back at me as she snapped the final cuff to a pipe railing. “Trev, it’s stifling in here. I’m going to the car. I’ll call for the badges.”

  “Tell Powers not to forget a search warrant,” I reminded her. The last thing I wanted was illegally gained evidence screwing up the case. They would have the testimony of the three of us regarding the confession. But I wanted every last detailed to be a piece of admissible evidence.

  I was suddenly aware of the battering rains overhead. The storm coincided with my anger. Both were intense with an expected splenetic fierceness. The killers of Sylvia Grant were in the net. That seemed sufficient for my outrage.

  Immediately, I went to Rachel’s side. Placing my gun down, I reached around to loosen her gag. Then I untied her hands and legs. When she sat up, I clasped her to me. Her arms wouldn’t hug back. I turn, gathering her purse. As I did, I heard Hammer bellow. Her meaty lips trembled. “She’s gonna kill us.”

  My head swung back to Rachel. She held the gun I’d placed beside her. It was aimed squarely at Hammer. “Rach,” I called. Her eyes were immutably glazed. “Rach, we aren’t vigilantes. Cruz and Hammer aren’t armed. They’re cuffed. They’re in our custody.”

  With a mechanical voice, Rachel asked, “But wouldn’t the world be better without them?”

  “We aren’t executioners.”

  “I can rid the earth of them in two seconds. Empty the chamber. We’ll be protecting the public. If not, there’s a chance these scumbags will be free one day.”

  Hammer’s whining grunt was now a blustering wheeze. Rachel’s arm extended as she took aim. “Naw,” Hammer pleaded. “Please don’t kill me. Please.”

  “Rach, this isn’t what we’re about,” I tried to intercede. “We don’t shoot people in cold blood. That’s what separates us from them. The law. If we let go of the law, we’re lost. We become the most lost of them all. Because we know the difference. You’ve been an enforcer. I’ve defended the law. I still must. If we take them down without the benefit of the law, we take down all the hopes of justice.” I gasped for breath. My impassioned petition wasn’t swaying her.

  “They deserve to die. The courts might spring them. That’s why we’re in a jungle.”

  “Rach, if you think we’re in a jungle now, you pull that trigger, and we go to the jungle’s cesspool. I’m going to step in between them. You’ll need to shoot me, too. I can’t allow you to extinguish what law we do have in this civilization.”

  “The world would be more civil without them.”

  “Maybe so. But if you kill them, it makes the world far worse. It makes us them. I don’t want to be them. And I don’t want you to be them.”

  “I don’t want evil in my world anymore.”

  “Then don’t become the evil you hate.”

  After several moments, her gun lowered slightly. She began to pinch the trigger. She fired. Screams shattered the airway. There was the clatter of a bullet. She had shot a stash of cocaine that rested on the counter. A cloud of white dust disbursed through the corner. Rachel clutched the gun. The sparks from it became discharged smoked. As she lowered her gun, I removed it from her trembling hands. Her head fell against my shoulder. Dampness drained from her eyes, and her muffled sobs echoed.

  “You’re safe now.” I held her tightly. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

  “Don’t let me go.”

  “No.” I finally understood her reticence to carry a gun. She feared this moment. She was frightened of losing control. I wiped tears from her face. “It’s over, Rach. You’ve made it. You could have executed them. You didn’t. Now you know you can resist the urge to pull the trigger. We’re here with you. And we love you, Rach.”

  Summer’s footsteps were behind us as she rushed. “I heard a shot,” she said breathlessly.

  “We just got well,” I prognosticated. “It’s going to be okay now. We’ve won.”

  A faint, “Right” tumbled from Rachel’s quivering lips.

  My heart unclenched. I repeated, “We’ve won.”

  15

  MY PERSONAL MAELSTROM was an interior quest. I realized that Lieutenant Powers and his band of cops were breaking all possible speed records to arrive quickly so they could apprehend the suspects. He’d have them jailed before the ink dried on arrest warrants. For me, the wait was excruciating.

  I ruminated about the ghosts of virtue and vice. Solving a mystery was comparable to defrocking a phantom. Behind was left the phantasmal silt of questions. What if someone had helped the perpetrators early on? What if hatred had been redirected? Maybe they wouldn’t have drugged up, dealt, killed, or been anything but an exemplary citizen.

  When there has been a life and death event, solitude was self-imposed. In war, and with
any danger that has subsided, there were left behind moments to explore. There was an inquest of raw, vulnerable emotions. Seclusion took me to the bosom of truth. I was mentally sequestered. Bullets had been aimed at my head and my heart.

  Summer rummaged around until she found a first aid kit. I wrapped a bandage around Cruz’s hand wound. A carnelian thread of blood immediately soaked through the gauze. The rheumy-eyed Cruz squealed in pain. I did my best to ignore her effort to get my pity.

  Although the murder of Sylvia Grant had been solved, there was still the question of Jeremy Howell’s demise. When Summer questioned the threesome, they staunchly denied killing Jeremy. My eyes riveted theirs. I took them off the suspect list. Not for the denial itself, but for the vehemence of their denial. They refuted the allegation all too quickly. It was all too synchronic.

  Summer had the same reading. “I believe them,” she said, squinting back in my direction.

  Rachel leaned against the counter. “They’re telling the truth. Helene mentioned living in New York for a year. I made some inquiries earlier. The NYPD sent an email with her sheet. And accompanying the rap sheet were several photos. In one, Helene was wearing a dark wig. She looked like the description of the woman who killed Jeremy. That also triggered enough suspicion to make me want to check New York’s financial institutions. I received data on money transfers.”

  “Helene does her banking out of state?” I questioned. “It hadn’t occurred to me that she’d have hidden assets in another state.” We had checked Florida and couldn’t find discrepancies.

  “I was in the process of checking funds going from Helene’s New York accounts to Jeremy’s. There were substantial amounts of money drawn on the account that went to Jeremy’s account. I surmise there must have been strong and greedy blackmail involved. She must have figured that as long as someone was going to go down for a killing, two falls are better than one. She was skittish when talking about Jeremy. Frightened that Jeremy might expose her hoax. She was tired of him holding her up. The profit-minded Helene decided to ice Jeremy.”