The Last Straw, page 18
I shook my head. “This is crazy. Eddie was so sincere. How could he be lying? Why would he make up such a story?”
Jeremiah shrugged. “He could be lying for a thousand reasons, Harry. Either he was lying to you and Kate yesterday or he’s been lying to his PO all along. We need to find out, either way.”
I looked up from the report and said, “You like Eddie for the poisoning, don’t you?”
He shook his head and said, “Oh, no. I’m not playing that game. I’m just saying Eddie’s got more of a story to tell. That’s all. I’m not jumping to conclusions. I’m just suggesting we go and talk to him.”
I let out a long sigh. I didn’t like this. It didn’t feel right. We should have been going straight for Dan Morelli’s apartment, which happened to be in the same complex he owned. And where the hell was Tony Morelli?
“Have you put out a BOLO for Tony?” I asked.
“Not yet, but I will.”
“Do it now, Jerry.”
“Okay, okay. Don’t get your panties in a wad. I only just found out he’s missing, didn’t I?”
“Do it now, Jerry.” And he did.
My head was a mess, and I didn’t have Kate to help me figure it all out. Jerry? Yes, but like I said, you can’t relive the past and me and Jerry… we didn’t seem to gel quite like we used to.
It was like everything I felt in my gut was pulling me one way, and this new information—the burning Jeep, the poison, catching Eddie in such a senseless lie—was all pushing me in a different direction, a path that led to… I had no freakin’ idea, but I knew we were destined to go down it anyway.
“Fine, Jerry,” I finally said. “We’ll go question the kid. But we’re going to play nice. We have to be careful how we handle things from now on… And I don’t like where this is going, not one frickin’ bit.”
We climbed into his truck. I told him which way to go and he took off, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. The great detective? I think not!
Somehow, I just knew I was heading straight into trouble, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why.
37
We drove to Eddie’s house, hoping to catch him before he went to work. I wanted to sit and think while Jerry drove. Unfortunately, he was in one of his talkative moods. It just shows you how time eliminates everything but the good stuff. I’d forgotten just how verbal he could be.
“They’re pretty upset, Harry,” he said.
“Who’s upset, Jerry?” I asked, immediately wishing I hadn’t.
“The guys. My basketball buddies. We had a big game planned. Then beers after. You should come with us sometime. You still play, don’t you?”
“No. I don’t play anymore. I don’t have time.”
He nodded, then said, “Kate takes it all, huh, your spare time?”
“No, not at all.”
“Then you should come. Meet the guys. They’re a great group.”
“Maybe I will,” I said, more to shut him up than anything else. Truth be told, I doubted it. As I mentioned earlier, Jeremiah Hemingway was the exact opposite of me in so many ways. He was into everything: hiking, fishing, crafts, sports, boats, weightlifting—yes, he was ripped—and God only knew what else. I was happy to be working a case with him again, but outside of work? Well, let’s just say I didn’t think we were a good fit.
“Looks like they’re going to go on and do the game without me,” he said.
What did he want me to say? Was I supposed to apologize for not saying he should go play basketball while I work all this stuff on my own?
To be honest, I was glad I had Jerry with me, but nothing about what we were doing felt right. I had a feeling I was about to get into more trouble with the Chief.
“I was thinking, Harry. You know what the difference is between wood-working and metal-working?”
I sighed. “What’s the difference, Jerry?”
“When you’re working with metal, you just apply enough heat to soften it up, so you can shape it any way you want. You can bend it into all kinds of shapes. You have to go slow and keep the heat on it, or you’ll crack the metal.”
“Okay,” I said. “I have no experience with that kind of stuff, so I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“But see, when you’re working with wood, you can’t just do whatever you want. You have to respect it. If the board bends, or if there’s a knot in a certain spot, you have to work around it. Wood has character, and you can’t just add heat and work that character out of it. You have to adapt yourself to it.”
Whew, I thought. “What’s your point, Jerry?”
“Well, I think sometimes we treat murder cases like metal. We put on the heat and bend them to our will. But when we do that, we lose something in the process. And not all cases will fit our mold, so to speak.”
I smiled. This guy’s born for public speaking, I thought. A real Tony Robbins.
“But I think that sometimes you have to treat a case like wood,” he continued. “It has its own character, see? And you have to respect that. You know, work with it. Sometimes you have to follow where that wood leads you, even if it’s somewhere you didn’t expect.”
“You’re talking about Durag Eddie?” I asked.
“Well, yeah, but not just him. I’m talking about everything. Dan Morelli getting shot. That hotel being involved somehow. Even that Monica Truman case I had last year. I gave up on her because I tried to make her fit my mold. I assumed it was a one-off, one of those cases that aren’t worth the time and energy to solve. I was too busy thinking about keeping the department numbers up, and that meant working cases that could easily be solved. See, the Truman case, there was nothing, no evidence… nothing.”
You found nothing because you didn’t look hard enough, dick head. It was there, but you… ah what the hell. That’s what I was thinking, but I didn’t say it. I didn’t need to dowse his good mood.
“I get what you’re saying, Jerry, and I understand, but let’s get our heads in the game, okay? We’re here. We need to see if Eddie’s home.”
We parked across the street, about half a block away from the rundown roadhouse I’d dropped Eddie off at the other night, the night he’d gotten beat up by the Golden Horn thugs. We exited the truck and started walking toward his front door.
As if on cue, Durag Eddie stepped out onto his front porch and looked around, peering first one way then another.
My iPhone rang. It was Kate.
“Good morning, Kate,” I said, putting the call on speaker. “Jerry’s with me. You made it to the dentist yet?”
“Just arrived,” she said. “You boys get all the fun, while I get my teeth drilled.” She didn’t sound happy.
“Yeah?” I said, “But you get the fun drugs and to feel loopy all day.”
“Whoopee,” she said dryly.
“I have a lot to catch you up on when you’re out of there, so call me, will you?”
“Of course… If I feel like it.”
“When you feel like it…” I trailed off as Eddie crept down his steps, still looking around nervously. What the hell is he doing?
It was at that point the van arrived. It sped down the street and screeched to a stop right where Eddie was standing.
Eddie froze. I could see he was terrified. One of the goons jumped out of the passenger seat and held him at gunpoint. Two more guys jumped out of the van’s side door and grabbed him. One rapped him on the side of the head with something hard, and the kid went limp. They dragged him to the van and threw him in through the side door.
Me? I was totally taken by surprise. We were maybe fifty yards away. I stopped, stood for maybe a couple of seconds and then I began to run, but I was too late. The van was already moving again. And I knew where they were taking him.
“What the heck is going on?” Kate said.
I looked down at my phone. In the excitement, I’d completely forgotten about her.
“I’ll have to call you back, Kate. Something just happened. I’ll explain later.” And I cut the call.
“Come on,” I shouted at Jerry. “We’re going after them.”
We ran the short distance back to Jerry’s pickup.
He hit the starter and slammed the vehicle into drive and hit the gas. The big truck took off like a wounded deer, its tires squealing as they fought for traction.
“Don’t follow too close,” I said. “We don’t want them to know we’re onto them. We know exactly where they’re going. The question is, what do we do when we get there?”
Jerry knew what I was asking. We, that is I, had been ordered to stay away from the hotel. Now, here we were a block and a half behind a van with Eddie Brooks inside, and they were taking him to the hotel.
“This is what I was talking about,” Jerry said. “This is wood we’re working with, not metal. We can’t bend it, right? So we have to follow where it leads.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, if they drag Eddie into that hotel, we go in after him. To hell with Vice.”
He was right, and I knew it and, mentally, I was preparing for a fight. I pulled my Glock, ejected the mag, operated the slide and ejected the cartridge. I worked the slide three more times, reloaded the cartridge into the mag, slammed it back into the weapon and worked the slide: I was locked and loaded. I was ready.
I knew that the kid was probably going to die if we didn’t do something. He might die no matter what, and we could die trying to save him. But that’s what we do, cops like Jerry and me. I knew it, and from the look on Jerry’s face he knew it, too. We were going into that hotel, and we were going to get Eddie out of there…
Or we’d die trying.
38
Looking back on the events of that day, I can’t help but smile. I’ve infiltrated fortresses, mansions, and even government facilities in my day. But back then? When I was still on the force, I didn’t have quite the same experience I have now or the same team to back me up.
We watched the black van pull into the parking lot of—you guessed it—the Golden Horn Hotel. The vehicle made a sharp right turn and went around the back of the main building, out of sight. Meanwhile, parked across the street, Jerry and I readied ourselves for what we figured was about to happen.
“Okay,” he said. “We call for backup and wait for the cavalry. Vice will have to pull the cord on their operation. We’ll turn this place upside down, get enough evidence to put a lot of powerful people away, and, hopefully, save your young friend.”
I looked at him, tilted my head sideways and gave him a look that said, really. He and I both knew that wasn’t going to happen. But I was thankful for him at least offering us a way out.
“Call for backup, yes,” I said.
Jerry’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? I wasn’t expecting you to say that.”
“Call for backup? Yes!” I said. “Wait for them to arrive, no.”
Jerry’s shoulders slumped. “And that’s the part I was hoping you wouldn’t say,” he said.
“Come on, Jerry! If we stand around and wait for the green light, Eddie will be dead by the time they get here.”
“He could be dead by now, anyway.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. Why would they hit him in the head and drag him off if all they wanted to do was kill him? They’d have gunned him down and sped away, like they did with Dan Morelli. No, they want to talk to Eddie before they kill him. Find out if he knows anything, talked to anyone. That gives us some time. But not much.”
Jeremiah looked at me, a nervous smile on his lips. “So that’s still a ‘no’ on calling it in and waiting out here?”
“Still a ‘no’ indeed. We call this in, and we don’t even know if Vice will allow us to go in after Eddie. They could shut this whole thing down, or stall. No, I don’t want Johnston and the rest of the brass thinking about their careers when they have to make that call.”
Jeremiah nodded. “But if we call it in and tell them we’re going in after the kid—”
“They’ll have to follow us in,” I finished for him.
Jerry shook his head and heaved a long sigh. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s do it.” And he put the pickup into drive, pulled into the parking lot and then cruised on around the back, trying not to look like two guys about to kick down the door, guns blazing.
I have to admit, there was a second, watching Jerry wipe his sweaty palms on his pants, that I almost called the whole thing off.
After all, jumping into danger was kind of my thing. I still had the black eye to prove it. But Jeremiah was a yes-man. He’d never do something like this on his own. And he’d be getting on Finkle and Johnston’s bad sides real fast for doing what we were about to do.
Why was he willing to do this with me? Just because we were old friends? Or maybe guilt was driving him, shame for not working harder on the Monica Truman case last year.
Either way, Jerry was a good cop. He knew his way around a gun. And, even though I would have preferred having Kate with me, I was glad he was there. I knew he’d have my back.
The black van was parked near a back door, on the other side of a makeshift tent belonging to the construction company.
Fortunately, the construction work was at a halt, which told me something was up. It was the middle of the morning on a Thursday, after all. But if something big was happening inside, they’d have canceled the work and sent everybody home. And that, I thought, means they’d been planning to pick Eddie up this morning.
Doubts clouded my mind. What did Eddie have to do with any of this, anyway?
Jerry parked the big Ford, and we each breathed a little easier for a minute, readying ourselves.
“Call it in, Jerry,” I said, opening the car door.
I stood outside while Jerry used his phone. I looked around. Not a soul in sight.
There were no guards posted outside the rear door. It was as if they weren’t expecting any trouble… and why would they? It was just a simple grab-and-snatch. Either that, or it was a trap and the inside of the hotel was crawling with heavily armed goons.
I drove that thought from my mind. Jerry was making the call. The cards were dealt. Now I had to play the hand I’d been given.
Jerry climbed down out of the truck, nodding to me.
We stepped up to the door.
I knocked.
The door opened and a thug built like a damn bulldog poked his head out. Me? I’d ducked behind the open door. The thug, not seeing anybody, stepped out into the sunlight.
I grabbed his collar and yanked, pulling the guy off balance. He didn’t make a sound as he stumbled. I handed him an uppercut to the left side of his jaw. His teeth snapped shut, his eyeballs rolled up under his lids, and he went down face first. He was out cold. Jerry and I dragged him to one side. We drew our weapons, looked at each other, nodded, and then ducked inside.
Whatever was going to happen was going to happen fast. We were in.
39
We stood for a moment in semi-darkness, waiting for our eyes to adjust to the low light. When they did, the first thing I noticed was sawdust. It was everywhere, a thin layer on the ground and on stacks of two-by-fours and tables.
We were in a narrow corridor, but the walls on either side of us were unfinished, just studs waiting for sheetrock. Tarps hung loosely here and there: temporary walls.
I could hear the murmur of voices somewhere ahead.
We half-crouched, weapons ready. I didn’t really know what would happen if we ran into someone, especially if they were armed. Was I ready to just shoot someone? Would I identify myself as a police officer? The thought ran through my head: if I didn’t identify myself, I’d be doing what Eddie had accused me of doing two days ago, except now I’d be doing it in an effort to save his sorry ass.
Fortunately, that didn’t happen.
We advanced slowly along the corridor. The voices up ahead grew louder and more distinct.
“You sure you weren’t followed?”
“I think so,” a second voice said. “We checked the whole way.”
Yeah, I thought. Sure you did.
And then I realized that the first voice sounded familiar.
We continued to advance slowly, silently. I figured if we could get the drop on whoever was up ahead, we might actually have a chance of surviving the crazy operation.
“Fine,” the familiar voice said. “So, Mr. Brooks. You got anything you want to say to us?”
“I ain’t got nothing to say to you. Just let me go, man.”
We stepped closer.
“That’s not what I heard, Eddie.” The familiar voice spit the name in disgust. “I heard you got a big mouth and that you been talking to the police.”
“Talkin’ about what? I don’t know nothing. How many times do I have to say it? Come on, you know me. You know why I gave Dan a hard time. It ain’t got nothing to do with whatever it is you got going on here. Julie and I just want to start a fresh life together. So why don’t you just leave us alone?”
I frowned. Something Eddie said jabbed my memory, You know me? And then it hit me. I knew exactly who that familiar voice belonged to.
By then, we were nearing the end of the corridor. There was no door, just stud walls hung with tarps. The corridor opened up into a larger room, also unfinished. Two goons stood near the entrance to the room, a man and a woman; their backs were toward us.
Eddie was in the middle of the room, strapped to a chair. Was this how Cassie Morgan had been held before she was killed? I wondered.
Standing in front of Eddie, partly facing us but not noticing us, was Tony Morelli.
Dan Morelli’s idiot nephew, only he wasn’t an idiot anymore.
Of course! That was the voice I recognized.
Things started to connect for me. Tony owned the Golden Horn. Dan probably had no idea. Tony pulled off being an incompetent idiot so well he had us all fooled, and all the time he was building a palace dedicated to human trafficking.
Tony slapped Eddie across the face so hard that the chair almost tipped over sideways from the force.
