Patience County War (Madeleine Toche Series)

BOOK: Patience County War (Madeleine Toche Series)
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Copyright © 2011 Soren Paul Petrek
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 1467931314
ISBN 13: 9781467931311
eBook ISBN: 978-1-61914-520-7

For my sons,
Max and Riley

CONTENTS

 

TITLE PAGE

COPYRIGHT PAGE

DEDICATION

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

T
wo detectives watched from an unmarked patrol car as a man entered a dilapidated warehouse. The driver’s muscular body strained the fabric of his rumpled suit, while his older partner reclined comfortably in the passenger seat, expecting a long stakeout. Young men loitered on the corner selling drugs. The street was rundown, dirty and dangerous. It wouldn’t be long before everyone knew where the two cops were.

“Is this the right place?” Roger Mills asked his partner, glancing through the grimy windshield.

“It has to be, that was David Prince,” Sam Trunce said, gesturing with his coffee cup over the steering wheel in the direction of the closing door.

“I didn’t get a good look.”

“I sat through four days of trial. I know what the puke looks like. The only honest testimony he gave was his name. Besides, you know it was a done deal when the judge threw out the dope we found. No, that’s him.”

“Now, you can’t blame the judge. You did run Prince off the road and beat him with the evidence in plain sight of a bunch of witnesses. Now don’t get me wrong, I loved it, but generally good police work doesn’t involve clubbing a suspect with a suitcase full of heroin and yelling, ‘book em Dano’ when the uniforms show up. That didn’t play well in court,” Mills said, wagging a finger at his partner and smiling wryly.

“Okay, granted, I did get carried away, but he did have several pounds of a ‘powdery substance’ in the trunk.”

“Technically he did, but when you first saw him, you only had a hunch that he had dope in the trunk, and that’s what you told the judge. You can’t be so blunt; you need to massage the truth a little during probable cause hearings. You know, give the judge an ‘accurate’ description of the totality of the circumstances.”

“I hate that damn word, technically. Technically, this asshole traffics massive quantities of narcotics and would sell to nursery school kids if he could.”

“Well buddy, one thing I know, is that you can’t beat a guy with a case full of dope in the middle of the city and expect to call it a good bust,” Mills said kicking aside a hamburger wrapper grimacing at the general disarray inside the vehicle. “How did you get so big and strong eating all this crap?”

“What? This is stakeout food. Besides you can get away with it if you go to the gym,” Sam said gently poking his older partner’s modest paunch.

“Yah right, and your car smells like a gym.”

“Maybe, but it’s time to take a look,” Sam said reaching for the door handle. “This time, I guarantee I’m going to see some probable cause when I peek in the doorway.”

“Sam, as your friend, approaching a significant retirement milestone, you need to see something concrete in there. Giant piles of dope in plain sight would be best.”

“I learned my lesson the last time, Roger, Scout’s honor,” Sam said, holding up his fingers in the Boy Scout salute, punctuated with a grin.

“I guarantee that you ain’t no Boy Scout,” Mills said with a chuckle.

“I was a scout in the army.”

“Remember, you can’t pull your ‘Special Forces’ crap on everybody you don’t like, Sammy.”

“I’ll be careful. If it looks like it’s iffy, I’ll let you know before I go in and you can call for backup. If nothing’s going on, I’ll slide back out and we’ll pick him up another day.”

“Okay, I’ll play along. I’ll be the doorman on the other side. No cowboy shit. I’m too close to retirement to stand in front of the chief’s desk with my hat in my hand, trying to explain why I went along with some bonehead
move. You go check it out and I’ll call it in and give em heads up in case we need it.”

“See you in the middle, partner.” Sam said sliding off into the shadow of the nearest wall concealing his intent from the few people passing by in the street.

Sam ghosted along the side of the building and into a tight passageway, moving carefully, determined to do this one by the book. He came up to a door that was slightly ajar and looked inside. There were three men in the room, the man he’d followed in and a shorter one, taking turns beating a third guy tied to a chair. Sam recognized the smaller man as Martin Thompson, a thug who had beaten a murder rap years ago, one of Prince’s nastier enforcers. Sam positioned his body so that he could keep an eye on Thompson. Prince stepped back out of view as Thompson moved in to take his turn.

“Do him,” Prince muttered like he was ordering a cup of coffee.

Smiling, Thompson snarled, “Look David, this mofo got blood on my sleeve.” He drew a pistol from his belt and began to turn the gun on the man slumped in the chair. As Thompson pulled back the hammer, Sam ripped his 45 out of his shoulder holster, slamming open the door as he crashed through it. Without hesitation he fired catching Thompson in the chest as he swung his gun in Sam’s direction. The big .45 caliber slugs hit Thompson like sledge hammers swatting him back with their concussive force. Prince jammed his hand into his coat pocket reaching for his weapon.

“Please do,” Sam said as he leveled his gun at Prince’s torso. “We can finish this right now, and save the tax payers a lot of money.”

Prince slowly raised his hands away from his sides holding them at shoulder level as he glared at Sam with a mixture of hate and indecision, furious that he’d been caught.

“Move your hands and I shoot you in the knee first. You won’t like that, I promise,” Sam said edging closer towards Prince as he kicked Thompson’s gun out of the immediate area with his shoe. “Now, Mister Prince, what’s a nice man like you doing trying to kill a guy in my city?” Sam said, keeping his focus on Prince as Thompson’s body jerked and laid still. “He’s done,” Sam said tipping his head in Thompson’s direction as he reached with his left hand drawing a second gun from a waist holster strapped to his right side. He trained both on the man in front of him.

“I owe you cop, I get the chance, you are one dead motherfucker!” Prince said through a sneer. Almost imperceptibly, his posture changed as his eyes darted over in the direction of a side door.

At the last second, Sam realized something was wrong. Had he been alone, Prince might have tried to run when Sam burst into the room or get to his weapon more quickly. He was not alone. Through a door to Sam’s left, three men ran into the room with their guns pointed at him. They hesitated, seeing Prince’s hands in the air.

“Well, cop man, what are you going to do now?” Prince said beginning to lower his hands, glancing over Sam’s left shoulder.

“Lower your hands and I’ll shoot you now, and not in the knee,” Sam said boring his eyes into Prince’s. “I may be surrounded, Hoss but that just means we’ve got a decision to make,” Sam said, adjusting his aim. “I recommend that the boys behind me take it easy. I didn’t just stroll in here alone.”

“Nice try. I’ve got guys on the corner and if a bunch of po-lice were outside we’d know.”

“I got in here,” Sam said.

“Yah and look at your dead ass now, asshole,” Prince hissed through a twisted smile.

“It doesn’t have to go down that way. I will get you and a couple of those boys,” Sam said gesturing with his head. That’s right boys, I’m Special Forces. I will kill some of you. I guarantee that. I may get popped, but I will get you.”

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