Behind the Badge (18 page)

Jill studied Paulson for what felt like minutes. A pipe in the ceiling creaked, age and pressure creating a ghastly sound that, over the years, had made more than one suspect jump. It almost gave the interrogation room a haunted quality, especially when the fluorescent lights above flickered at random. Jill wished she could use that to her advantage, but something told her Paulson’s precinct was in as bad a shape as the Seventh. For all she knew, he had faux-haunted interrogation rooms, too.

But Paulson never noticed. In fact, it appeared that the only thing affecting him at the moment was boredom. He stared at a random spot on the table, chewing on his bottom lip and shaking his head with a disbelieving smirk. Bringing him down was going to be so much fun.

“You think you're untouchable.” Jill nodded once before pushing herself out of her chair and crossing to the other side of the table. “But see, here's the thing: no one's untouchable. Find enough evidence, build a strong enough case, you can bring
anyone
down.”

Paulson scoffed. “This your way of threatening me?”

“Not a threat. More like a warning.” Jill shrugged and crossed over to the door, turning the knob. “For all you know, I could be the least of your concerns.”

CHAPTER 44

Officers Carter, Stevenson, McPhee, and Harper had all been thrown into the back of a SWAT van -- because it was the only vehicle handy that could fit all four of them as they were transferred from the Seventh Precinct's holding cell to the general prison population. A judge had unexpectedly denied bail, which meant the four of them would remain behind bars until their trial started. The DA's office, operating as best as it could even in the aftermath of Ramona Parish's assassination, was working to have said trial expedited, but they weren't optimistic.

All four prisoners had their hands bound together at the wrists by thick metal shackles, rusted chains connecting the shackles to the floor. Carter smirked when the door to the back of the van slammed shut, shaking his head. Stevenson wore an expressionless gaze, while both Harper and McPhee stared straight ahead with murderous scowls etched onto their foreheads.

The engine roared to life, a low, throaty sound that was immediately drowned out by the skidding of tires. The SWAT van veered into traffic, but the violence of the maneuver didn't match the vehicle's behavior once it was on the road. It was a short ride from the precinct to Baltimore Central Booking and Intake, which could be seen -- along with the Baltimore City Detention Center -- off the Jones Falls Expressway. Yet the van never got fast enough to be running along that stretch of highway.

Carter and Stevenson locked eyes, and off her confused glare, he simply nodded. McPhee and Harper never broke their intent stares, content to take the ride wherever it was going and little else. A window was set above Carter and Stevenson's heads, but it was small and the metal railing in front of it obstructed the vision of anyone trying to peek outside. Yet a salt-tinged breeze filtered through the rusted metal, hinting that perhaps the van was approaching the Inner Harbor as opposed to the detention center.

After taking an almost ninety-degree right off Pratt and onto Presidents Street, the van picked up speed. It ran a red light in the process, swerving out of the way of a navy blue SUV that almost didn't slam on the brakes in time. Once the SWAT van righted itself, the vehicle took another right onto the Eastern Avenue Bridge. A roundabout called Pier 5 was just ahead, with the Columbus Center to the right. From the windshield, the USCGC Taney could be seen. Now a museum, the Taney was notable as the last ship floating after the attack on Pearl Harbor -- even though, through nothing more than pure chance, the Taney had been docked at nearby Honolulu Harbor.

Shops and hotels flanked the Pier 5 loop on the left. As the van skidded along the pavement, beginning the series of left-handed turns to take the loop, it veered suddenly to the right halfway through the loop, launching over the partition separating the street and the brick-laid pier overlooking the water. The commotion caused several tourists to scatter, huddling together underneath one of the awnings as the van sped past. Chunks of brick and concrete were along for the ride, becoming dislodged and skidding along the pavement. The four prisoners jostled against each other in the back, the tires roaming over the bricks obviously not laid down for motor vehicles.

The National Aquarium near the end of Pier 4 rose high to the right, with the van careening toward the water. A grove of trees to the left signaled the end of the pier, which cut off at a point to the left beyond a circular atrium. The van continued to pick up speed, and just as it reached the trees, the driver's side door of the vehicle swung open and a masked figure leapt out. The person in question dropped into a roll before propping themselves up on their left knee, just in time to see the SWAT van sail off the edge of the pier and splash hood-first into the Chesapeake Bay.

The tide was going out at the moment, which carried the vehicle further out into the water as it slowly began to sink. Most of the rear compartment was submerged by the time the masked figure stood upright again. Tourists and other onlookers stood with their mouths hung open, several of them fishing out their phones to snap pictures or take videos. This was definitely going to go viral, and before long, Baltimore authorities would want to know what happened to the four prisoners and one of their SWAT vans. But with any luck, the masked figure would be long gone by then.

The masked man fished a flip phone out of their pocket, bringing the device to their ear.

“
It's done.
”

CHAPTER 45

David Gregor hung up the phone with a smile, pouring himself another glass of bourbon as he sat at the bar on the far end of his fortieth-story penthouse suite. His plan had worked to perfection, just as he had predicted. While the four police officers wouldn't face traditional justice, the simple truth was they never would have even if they had survived long enough to face trial. Such was the reality of this town, and practically every other town in this country. If those who killed indiscriminately because of race, hiding behind their state-granted authority, could escape the law, then other means of justice had to intervene.

For once, it had done just that.

The public outcry could honestly go either way. Sure, the four officers in question were morally repugnant individuals who hid their prejudice behind authority, but the general public didn't take kindly to killing cops. When the protests broke out last year, people were more upset over the cops having to wear riot gear than the fact that many of the violent outbreaks started because a cop had acted against a protestor.

Then again, with everything the police had done over the years in this city -- and with the memory of the protests following Pedro Mendoza's murder still so fresh in everyone's minds -- what other choice was there? Carter and his crew were clearly never going to spend the rest of their lives behind bars. Chances were, they would have even been allowed to keep their jobs. The only way to make them pay was to take them out.

It was a line the police department would never cross. Even Bounty, whose very existence flew in the face of the law and societal conventions, would never cross that line. She was ruthless, but she wasn't heartless. It was up to someone like David Gregor to clean up the messes the rest of Baltimore would just as soon ignore. The irony didn't escape him, given his past and some of the things he had done over the years. But the last thing Gregor wanted was to watch his native Baltimore burn.

Downing the drink in one swallow, Gregor hissed when he reached for the bottle again. He could drink to celebrate just as easily as for any other reason, and if ever there was a cause for celebration, it was the fact that Devin Buckner's killers had met their fate. Maybe not the fate they were supposed to endure, but imperfect justice was always better than no justice at all.

Perhaps there could even be ancillary benefits to this. If other cops who had designs on using their badges to fulfill their own prejudiced vendettas saw what had happened to Carter and his cabal, then maybe they would think twice. Not because of any professional repercussions, but if they knew there was a chance someone would exact vengeance on them...

Which was ironic, in a way, because now it meant the city had two vigilantes on its hands: the proverbial angel of darkness in Bounty, and this other mysterious figure who wasn't afraid to pile up the bodies if it meant the karmic scales were brought into balance. With any luck, Gregor would have to turn to the second vigilante only sparingly, to the point where no one even noticed them. Then again, this new vigilante had made quite the scene in broad daylight… Gregor fully expected an investigation into the SWAT van that nosedived into the Chesapeake Bay. He also expected that investigation to go nowhere.

He also understood that this vigilante answered to him -- for now, anyway. And so far, Gregor’s plan was going off without a hitch. He had Detective Andersen on his side, begrudgingly so, and the cops responsible for the death of a teenager had been dealt with. All things considered, the debut of the new vigilante had been a success.

The vigilante had also succeeded in sowing chaos among the case. Springing the four officers free, lulling them into thinking there was a mysterious benefactor in their corner… only to watch as they were again brought down and hauled back into the bowels of the Baltimore Police Department. Gregor had hoped against hope that the system would work, but when it became clear to him that wouldn’t be the case, he understood he had to resort to something a little more drastic.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” a female voice called in from the other room before Lori Taylor emerged, placing her dark hair up into a bun and straightening her emerald green skirt.

“I always do,” Gregor said with a smile, his hand resting on Lori’s hip as she reached up straighten the knot in his tie.

“Do you?” Lori cocked her head to the side; there was mirth in her smirk and a lightness in her gaze, but the question still weighed down on the room. “Seems to me you’re chasing after windmills.”

“Nolan Carter has been taken care of,” Gregor explained, lifting his chin to give Lori more room to work on his tie. The aroma of her perfume tickled his nose, and Gregor suppressed the smile at the memory of them tangled with each other under the covers that morning. She was skilled in so many delightful ways, but Gregor couldn’t afford to think on them at the moment -- not with a busy schedule ahead.

“In such a needlessly convoluted way,” she countered. “And in the process of doing so, you put yourself on the BPD’s radar. They have evidence linking you to money laundering.”

“And they haven’t come for me yet.” Gregor flashed the self-assured grin that only those closest to him ever got to see, the hand that had been on Lori’s hip now caressing the side of her neck. “They know better than to come at me.”

“Most of them.” Lori gave Gregor a pointed stare.

“And she’s being taken care of.”

“How so?” Lori arched a brow. “By convincing her you’re on her side on this? What was the point of that, exactly?”

Gregor gave a nonchalant shrug, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on Lori’s forehead before turning to gaze out the full-length window that gave him a perfect view of Baltimore’s skyline. “Dealing with Andersen is like playing a game of chess. I’m always a few steps ahead of her.”

“How so?”

“By convincing her I’m on her side on the Buckner case, I’m keeping her off my back. Even with the money laundering, she’s not gonna come after me because she’s too busy watching her own back. Police brutality cases are more professional survival than anything else.”

Lori pursed her lips and narrowed her gaze. To keep Gregor right where she wanted him, she wrapped her arms lightly around his neck and let her head tilt to the side. She was studying him, like she always did, because he was so endlessly fascinating to her. David Gregor was a man of contradictions, and she found them simultaneously intriguing and frustrating.

“There’s something else when it comes to her,” she said.

“There is.” Gregor flashed a knowing smile, his arms wrapping around Lori’s waist before he brought her body flush against his. It was a sensation he would never get over, the way her contours meshed so perfectly into his, and Gregor suddenly found himself not caring whether he made his flight to Paris.

“You gonna tell me what’s so special about that girl?” Lori cocked her head to the side, her eyelids fluttering. “Or am I gonna have to go after her?”

“It’s personal when it comes to her.”

“I gathered that much.” Lori played with Gregor’s collar, chewing on her lower lip as the mirth dipped from her eyes. “What’d she do to you?”

“Other way around, baby girl.” Gregor flashed a toothy grin, one that always left Lori with a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach. “I daresay she wants to see me burn.”

“So your response to that is to string her along, make you think there’s been a truce?”

“Right up until I snatch the rug out from under her.” Snatching his smartphone from the surface of the bar, Gregor dialed a lengthy number before placing the device to his left ear. He downed one last drink before the call connected, clearing his throat.

“
Baltimore Department of Corrections
.”

“Yes, hello,” Gregor greeted in a proper tone. “My name is Calvin Bernard, and I’m an attorney representing a prisoner by the name of Joel Freeman.”

“
One moment, please
.”

Gregor was placed on hold, mercifully without the music filtering through the device, taking the time to pour himself and down yet another drink. He was in a celebratory mood, and this bourbon was the best stuff he could find anywhere.

“
Sir?
”

“Yes.”

“
Our records indicate that Inmate Freeman is scheduled to be transferred to a federal facility next week.
”

“Well, then I’m afraid your records are out-of-date,” Gregor explained with a hint of exasperation. “I just left a hearing in which the rest of his sentence was commuted. My client is now a free man.”

“
Are you sure?
”

“I’m staring at the judge’s order right now.” Gregor smiled to himself, because the only thing he was staring at was a glass full of ice cubes. “Perhaps your records haven’t yet updated to reflect this change?”

“
Give me just a moment, Mr. Bernard.
”

The sound of fingers dancing on a keyboard filled the receiver, until the friendly, yet standoffish, female voice returned. “
Sir, the order just popped up on Inmate Freeman’s file. I apologize for the delay.
”

“That’s quite alright, miss.”

“
Will you be here to pick up Mr. Freeman upon his release?
”

“No.” The smile on Gregor’s face grew and he gave Lori a sideways glance. “But I have arranged transport. My colleague, Ms. Taylor, will be there to pick him up.”

Hanging up and pocketing his phone before the woman could respond, Gregor grabbed his blood-red suit coat and slung it over his shoulder. His flight to Paris was set to take off in a couple hours; he had an important meeting with a renewable energy corporation based in France to discuss a potential merger that would bring in another fifteen billion dollars annually. If this deal went through, both France and the U.S. would benefit. More than anything, though, Gregor was just glad to have the Devin Buckner mess wrapped up before leaving.

“Andersen’s relentless,” he explained. “Unless you give her a good reason not to, she’ll poke around in your affairs until you wind up behind bars. She’s not just a cop, Lori… she’s the embodiment of the whole ideal of truth and justice, and frankly, I’m tired of having her on my ass.”

Lori folded her arms over her chest. “Meaning?”

“Meaning… you go pick up Mr. Freeman while I’m taking care of business in Paris. When I get back, I’ll explain everything.”

Lori shook her head. “Whatever you’ve got planned, she’ll have the entire police force in her corner.”

“No, she won’t.” Another knowing smile crept onto Gregor’s face after he leaned in for one last, lingering kiss. “I’ll make sure of that.”

As he slipped out of his penthouse, Gregor pulled out his phone once again. There was one more call to make before heading off to France.