Polly Iyer - Diana Racine 03 - Backlash (23 page)

L
ucier
lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. After a shot, he could conquer the world, but only in his head. His most productive time, when he had the most strength and clarity, was after the high and before the pain hit, a timeframe that diminished as the hours passed. That’s when he searched for a way out, always unsuccessfully. The windows had iron bars, and the door had no knob on the inside.

Shots seemed stronger, times closer, until they stopped. Then the pain was worse. Now the churning, twisting agony had started. He listened at the door, heard nothing. Were they leaving him here to die? He wouldn’t call this time, wouldn’t beg. If others have gone cold turkey and survived, he damn sure could.

Sweat sprouted from his pores, and a chill quaked through his body until his teeth chattered.

I will do this.

He clutched at his stomach and staggered to the bed. Drawing his knees up, he curled into a fetal ball, sweating and freezing at the same time, his nose dripping like a faucet. He pulled the blanket up over his head and descended into the depths of despair.

He awakened a few times and stumbled to the bathroom to puke, then he crawled back into bed to drift in an out of consciousness.

When the door opened, he couldn’t even react. He was going to get another shot, and he didn’t care. He was doomed either way; he might as well enjoy the ride to hell.

The three men nearing the bed weren’t wearing hoods. No, there weren’t three men. He was seeing triple. He squinted and focused until the three shapes morphed into one. Though familiar, Lucier couldn’t place him. The man bent down and lifted Lucier’s weakened body to a sitting position.

“I’ve come to get you out of here, Lieutenant.”

Though confused, Lucier managed to say, “I know you.”

“Yes, sir. We need to hurry before one of them gets back.”

D
iana
hadn’t slept, barely eaten. She sat in her room most of the day, staring at Lucier’s shirt, picking it up, Receiving nothing from its touch. She knew deep down he was hurting. Felt his pain in every cell of her body. In a bizarre contradiction, she hoped he was, because that meant he wasn’t dead. She could handle anything as long as he was alive.

Hang in there, Ernie. Whatever you’re going through, I’ll be with you.

She held his shirt close to her heart. She didn’t see anything specific, no image of the man she loved. Yet she remembered a moment when she was a girl and a ferocious hurricane swept through the city where she and her parents were staying. The storm passed, sparkling rays of sun broke through the dark clouds, and a feeling of tranquility replaced the panic that only moments before had left her trembling.

Something had happened. Lucier was safe. She didn’t know what or how or where. She just knew.

Her cell vibrated, and she answered.

“Ms. Racine. I have Lieutenant Lucier. You need to leave your house out the back door. You cannot tell your guard. Take a right to the end of your street. Go left and walk two blocks. Wait there.”

Diana laughed. “This is a joke, right?”

“No. This is no joke. “

Something in the man’s voice rang true, though she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why. Then she realized no one else knew Lucier had been abducted from the house. “Who are you?”

“Don’t ask any questions. Just do what I say.”

“You’ve got to be crazy if you think I’m going to walk into a trap so you can drug me too.”

The silence on the line lasted a long, uncomfortable minute. “How ―”

“I know what you did to him, and you won’t do the same to me.”

“Wait. Don’t hang up.”

Another long moment. “Diana.”

Lucier’s voice shot sparks through her, and she jumped to her feet. “Ernie. Oh, God, Ernie.”

“Do … what he says, my love. I’m ―” Again, the line went silent.

“Ernie.”

“He’s sick, Ms. Racine. He needs you. I need you. Be at the corner of that street in twenty minutes. He’ll be with me.”

The connection went dead.

Diana circled the bedroom. The throbbing in her chest hurt like the dickens. What should she do? That was definitely Lucier’s voice. She’d know him in her sleep. Would she be walking into a trap? She wasn’t up for being held hostage a third time.
Good lord, how could these things keep happening to me?

Cash would have her head if she sneaked out, and she wouldn’t even speculate what Beecher would say. But the instructions were clear, and Lucier’s life depended on her following orders.

She peeked into the living room. Officer Burel was sliding his finger on his smartphone. What did the people do before they had instant access to everything going on in the world? “Getting a bottle of water, Officer Burel. Want one?”

“No, ma’am. I’m good.”

“I’m going to sit on my sun porch with a book for a bit. The room is secluded. No one can see in. I need to see the outside. Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge.”

“Thanks. I’ve got a book too. Enjoy.”

Sorry, guy. Hope you don’t get in too much trouble
.

She took the water, grabbed her shoulder bag and jacket in the bedroom, and, making sure Burel wasn’t paying attention, sneaked out the back door. Hurrying to the spot the voice on the phone told her to go, she questioned her sanity.

It was Ernie’s voice. It was Ernie’s voice. He needs me
.

Out of breath, she reached the corner a few blocks from her house. No one waited, and she didn’t know exactly what to look for. She should have asked what kind of car he was driving. Should have asked who the hell he was.

Before long, a dark SUV with tinted windows slowed to the curb. The back window slid down. She saw Lucier, wrapped in a blanket, propped into the far corner of the back seat. The passenger window slid down. She recognized the driver but couldn’t put a name to the face.

“Get in. Hurry.”

Without another thought, she did, and went straight to Lucier. He dripped with sweat and shivered so hard he was shaking all over. She wanted to cry, to scream, but wrapped her arms around him instead and whispered in his ear, “I’m here, Ernie. Everything will be okay.”

Lucier opened his eyes, and when he saw her, he let out a mournful wail and buried himself in the blanket. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

She held him close, and even through the blanket felt his sweat-drenched clothes. He smelled like he’d been sleeping with goats, and it was the sweetest aroma she’d ever breathed in, because he was alive.

She pulled the blanket down from his face and forced him to look at her. He broke her heart. Eyes sunken in dark circles with pupils so big and black the topaz color showed as a thin rim. Skin pasty and sweaty. “I love you. Nothing will ever change that. You’d be here for me, wouldn’t you?”

Lucier went into a fit of shakes, and she held him, not sure if her warmth made him feel better or worse.

After a few silent moments, the driver spoke. “Thanks for coming, Ms. Racine. I wasn’t sure you would.”

Then she recognized the racist cop from Kitty’s Kabaret. “You’re Rickett. I don’t understand.”

“Dave Rickett is my cover name, which is the only name you’ll use referring to me.” He turned halfway around. “Special Agent Larry Kohl, FBI. Pleased to meet you. Wish this were under better circumstances.”

D
iana
wanted to ask a million questions, but they could wait. Lucier was a strung-out mess from whatever they’d pumped into him.

She still wasn’t sure what was happening. Rickett or Kohl or whatever the hell his name was drove to a nondescript house on the outskirts of New Orleans. She divided the time tending to Lucier and watching the route Rickett took. The area wasn’t familiar.

Rickett stopped the SUV and helped Lucier out and into the house. He took him to a bedroom and helped him onto the bed. The door had a glass panel. Another man came from another part of the house and went in. Lucier glanced at her through deadened eyes, his face wracked with pain. Rickett ushered her away and closed the door.

Diana planted her feet. “I need to stay.”

“Not now.”

“What will happen to him?”

“The guy in there with him, Walt Starr ― not his real name, by the way ― will help the lieutenant through the next week or so. Walt counsels addicted law enforcement officers.”

“Does he work for the FBI?”

“And others. Walt’s an old friend. As a young agent, he went so deep undercover with a major drug ring that he got hooked on heroin. He knows what Lucier’s going through.”

“What’s he going to do?”

“Detox him with over-the-counter meds to relieve the symptoms. No drugs. Those are for users with a longer history, and kicking them can be almost as bad. Even after Lucier’s conquered the physical cravings, the psychological need can be just as powerful. He’ll need you.”

“He needs me now.” Diana drifted back to the window and watched. She was chewing her lip raw at the sight of him in pain. Rickett eased in beside her. “Why can’t I go in?”

“Not today and not tomorrow. Maybe the day after. Depends. Withdrawal is the pits, and he’ll get worse before getting better. Walt will be with him 24/7. He’ll let me know when you can see him.”

“I can handle it. I’m tougher than I look.”

“No doubt, but trust me on this one.”

She turned to Rickett, not sure she wanted to know the answer to her question. “How much worse will he get?”

The agent looked her straight in the eyes. “The bastards juiced him up pretty good. My guess is they held back some and let him feel the hurt. Withdrawal won’t be pretty, Ms. Racine. The one thing in his favor is he wasn’t on drugs too long, so I imagine the recovery will be a little faster than it would be for a heavily addicted user. Still, I doubt he’d want you to see him go to hell and back.”

Her head swam with questions. “Then why did you say you needed me, and what the hell is this all about? How did you know where Ernie was, and if you knew, why did you wait so long to rescue him?”

“Wait, wait,” Rickett said. “One question at a time.” He led her into the kitchen and poured them both a cup of coffee. “I didn’t know where the lieutenant was until today. I’ve been following one of our suspects, but he either managed to lose me or I was called to a job to protect my cover. Today, my subject let down his guard. He went directly to the house where they were holding the lieutenant, and I managed to get inside after the suspect left. Lucier said they hadn’t given him a shot for a while, which is why he’s in so much pain. That confirmed what was happening and why he’s in the first stages of withdrawal.”

“What was happening?”

“Control. It’s always about control. Part psychological, part physical. By holding back a shot, Lucier would do anything to make the pain go away, which means another shot. Control. You see?”

Diana massaged her aching forehead. “Who knows about you?”

“Just Superintendent Zamora and my control.”

“How did you get onto them?”

“Serendipity, actually. About six months ago, one of our analysts read a newspaper story that a judge who’d delivered an unpopular verdict in a bullying case the year before had been murdered in what looked like a mugging. The bullying had resulted in a college freshman’s death. He remembered the bully also died in a freak accident shortly after the verdict. Our analyst dug deeper and discovered a few more anomalies that looked like reprisals for bad verdicts. I was transferred in undercover a few months ago. Since then, more cases drew our analyst’s interest. The judge in Soulé’s case for one. Deaths like Soulé’s made a very clear point. I mean, how much clearer could the killer be than to sodomize the body and stick the gangbanger’s member in his mouth?”

Diana shivered, cupped her hands over her face. “Glad they did that part after they sent the picture to Chenault.”

“That wasn’t all they did, as you know. Someone got carried away.”

“How did you get turned onto Chenault?”

“During that time an undercover DEA agent was investigating the trafficking of drugs within the New Orleans PD. There were a slew of arrests, if you remember?”

“A few months ago, right?”

“Yeah. Anyway, our agent heard something Michel said off the cuff to Chenault at a bar, which the agent found suspicious, and we started to put two and two together.

“The drug investigation continued, but now we expanded into what looked like serial murder, revenge style. We brought the superintendent in on what we suspected, and he arranged for me to transfer into Michel’s district. Michel was friends with Chenault. I tried to get close to Chenault, but he wasn’t the friendliest of guys.

“We’ve kept my presence tight because we didn’t know who we could trust. Then Lucier zeroed in on Soulé, which never would have happened if you weren’t involved. When Lucier’s investigation made the newspapers, we knew he was investigating the same crimes. That was a couple of weeks or so ago.”

“Great. Our government at work. When you knew Lucier was involved in the case, why didn’t you make yourself known?”

“I was about to, but I had to be careful not to break my cover. I was on the verge of arresting Denny Chenault when he met with some other cops I had no knowledge were involved.” Rickett sipped his coffee, focused on Diana. “This goes back longer than the lieutenant and his team first thought.”

“So you left others at risk, including Ernie, his men, and me, as targets,
for the bigger picture
? And don’t forget a seven-year-old kid who almost died so you could protect your cover.”

“We didn’t know about the kid. You have to believe me about that.”

Diana remembered how Lucier kept Marty Feldman’s death secret to protect the boy, so she gave Rickett that one. “How many times would they try to kill Ernie before you brought him into the fold?”

“We should have notified him immediately. That was our mistake.”

“You’re damn right.” Diana pushed her coffee aside, got up, and circled the room. “Jesus. You did everything to get him killed. It’s a wonder you didn’t leave him wherever you found him so they could finish him off.”

“I know how you feel, but ―”

“But nothing. You have no idea how I feel. You knew he was clean. That’s the one thing everyone knows about him. I’ve heard it a dozen times. Lieutenant Lucier, the cleanest cop in New Orleans. Yet you hung him out to dry.”

“We honestly didn’t know who to trust. The collusion could have gone as high as Zamora. We’ve eliminated him now and told him all about the full investigation. He wasn’t happy, but he wants to find which cops are involved as much as we do. He doesn’t need rogue cops screwing up his police force. Lucier turned out to be collateral damage. That was strictly unintentional.”

“Collateral, huh?” She sat down again, leaning across the table. “Pardon my French,
Agent Kohl
, but Bull Shit. You guys had a clean cop doing your dirty work, and you figured, hey, why not? He’s expendable.”

“It wasn’t like that. I had nothing on my suspects I could prove in a court of law. These guys were cops. They knew how to cover their tracks.”

“And now you do. You can start with the attempted murder of a New Orleans police lieutenant.” She tried to hold back, but tears streaked her cheeks. She hated crying women, but she wasn’t crying. These were tears of anger. She was madder than hell.

“When you got involved because of Moran, we pinpointed more players, though by then, they’d started to kill their own, doing our job for us.”

“While trying to kill the good guys, don’t forget. Remember the kid?” She slammed her hand down, sloshing the coffee from her cup into a puddle on the table. “You suck, Rickett, and so do your bosses.”

Rickett looked appropriately ashamed. “I have to agree with you.”

“How did they get the drugs they used on Ernie?”

“Stolen from the property room, most likely. Drug paraphernalia was in the kitchen. They weren’t taking any chances and mixed the heroin there, then shot it into Lucier in the bedroom. Someone else high on the food chain has to be involved, but we haven’t figured out who.”

“Why don’t you arrest the ones you’re sure of? Ernie was sure of Hodge but he didn’t have proof.”

“Hodge is definitely involved. He’s the one I followed this morning. We knew about him earlier when we got Moran’s hard drive out of property, thanks to the superintendent. It had been degaussed, which didn’t happen from Chenault’s hammer.”

“Then arrest him. Make him talk.” Frustration colored her tone, and she lowered her voice. “If you had, they wouldn’t have kidnapped a kid and killed his father. And they wouldn’t have taken Ernie and shot him full of drugs. You and your people aren’t doing your job, Agent Kohl, or Rickett, or whoever you really are. You’re letting the tail wag the dog.”

“We need someone to turn on the big guy. Hodge or Michel, who’s the other one involved. If one or the other pinpoints the boss, we can offer him a plea bargain. Life instead of the death penalty.”

“What about the house you found him in? Surely you can track the owner.”

“We’re working on that, but they’re smart enough to have covered the rental.” Rickett got up and poured himself more coffee. He held the pot up to Diana, but she declined. “First, I need you to do some ground work.”

“Me? What can I do?”

“Fill in Lucier’s team. I’d rather not have direct contact with them right now, though they can know who I am. There are five deputy superintendents, seventeen commanders, and twenty-nine captains. Those we think are implicated are in three districts, but that doesn’t mean the commanders and/or captains of those districts are involved, nor does it mean that another division head isn’t.

“And you have no guesses?”

“We’re looking hard at the five deputy supers, Commanders Lightner, Goizueta, and Tennant, Lucier’s commander. Also some of the captains of those districts. Whoever’s in charge took great care to recruit cops who, for either personal reasons or pure revenge, would turn vigilante to even an unjust verdict. We know why Chenault was on board, his father, but after him, we’ve come up empty.”

“What about Captain Craven? Shouldn’t he know Ernie’s okay?”

“Not yet, for obvious reasons.”

“He wouldn’t do anything to hurt Ernie. They respect each other.”

“We’re not eliminating anyone.”

Though mad at the way the feds handled the case, Diana told Rickett about the titanium ring and the hand-tooled boots. “Either of those ring a bell?”

“You saw those in a vision?”

“Yes, and I can do without the sarcasm. It’s what I do.”

“I wasn’t going to say a word. Your reputation precedes you.”

“I saw the ring. Alan Feldman saw the boots when they kidnapped him, and I saw them through his eyes.”

Rickett squinted. “I doubt I would have noticed a ring. My ex claimed I was the most unobservant person she ever knew unless I suspected a crime. But surely I’d have noticed the boots.”

“Okay, so I clue in Lucier’s team about you and Ernie’s rescue. Then what?”

“Then I need you to make a deal with the devil.”