Power (22 page)

“I’m leaving now, Sergeant.”

Jess assured Dorothy Chandler she would do what she could to determine if there was any merit to her suspicions. Lori stayed behind to finish up.

Jess had so hoped that DeShawn Simmons would be found alive.

Disgust and anger welled in her chest. The bastard responsible for this wasn’t going to get away with murdering an innocent kid.

Not on her watch.

• • •

Lee Street, Pelham, 1:42 p.m.

The house was one of a few residential properties in a mostly light industrial area. A holdover from the days when this had been a neighborhood rather than an eclectic mix of low-rent businesses operating on shoestring budgets. Six of BPD’s finest were on the scene. Crime Scene techs were en route as were two MEs from the coroner’s office. Folks from the Donut Joe’s down the street had gathered in the parking lot to watch the show. Employees from a nearby warehouse did the same. When a gang hit went down, silencers were rarely used. Discretion was not the goal. Sending messages in the loudest and clearest manner was the primary objective.

Two news vans had passed Jess as she’d exited Pelham Parkway and turned onto Highway 52. Thankfully, Lee Street had been blocked off from 52 to Old Tuscaloosa Road. For the next few hours only official vehicles would be allowed to pass. The longer this tragic event could be kept off the airwaves the better.

Jess stepped gingerly through the front room of the house that was posted as being for lease and supposedly vacant. From the strewn clothing and mattress on the floor, that was undeniably inaccurate. Empty food containers and other household garbage lay amid the human carnage.

The tattoos on four of the victims identified them as members of MS-13. Whatever tattoos a member chose, the number 13 or MS-13 was proudly displayed as a part of the design. Automatic weapons had left line after line of holes in the walls. Windows were shattered, as was the front door.

It was a bloody mess.

Jess zigzagged her way through the path of bullet-riddled and decapitated bodies to the one that really mattered to her. She crouched down next to the young black man on the floor.

“Oh God.”

Jerome Frazier
. He’d been shot twice in the chest but spared the beheading. His young face was unmarred, making identification a simple matter.

Jess turned away long enough to compose herself. Putting him under surveillance had been the right move. Had that decision cost him his life? Or was being DeShawn Simmons’s friend the deciding factor? She hoped he hadn’t attempted to find DeShawn on his own. Whatever the case, the young man was dead and Jess was no closer than before to knowing the whereabouts of DeShawn or the identity of Nina.

Fury roared inside her. There had to be a better way to stop this kind of evil. All the damned gang task forces created in city after city seemed to be getting nowhere.

Well, this was Birmingham, her hometown, and she was back. One way or another she was going to make a difference here.

Jess blinked back the emotions stinging her eyes and looked across the room where Harper waited. They were done here. There were two things she could do for Jerome Frazier now. Notify his next of kin and find the bastard responsible for murdering him.

Jess didn’t spend a lot of time praying. Seemed a waste of time. No matter. She sent a quick prayer heavenward for Jerome and his family. He hadn’t deserved to die this way. Pushing to her feet, she said to the closest officer, “When the MEs get here, you see that this young man is taken care of first.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

This was the kind of message killers like Lopez liked to leave behind. Jerome’s murder was a nuisance kill. He was dead because he annoyed the wrong person or got in the way. The others were decapitated because they were traitors. That the traitors had been killed along with Jerome meant something. Jess just needed to solve the hidden message.

The most probable scenario was that Jerome had thought he’d discovered a contact who could lead him to his friend. And Jess hadn’t had anyone in place to give him backup. That was on her.

When she reached Harper, he said, “Officer Cook is on a guilt trip. I explained that he was following orders, but he’s not taking it very well.”

“I’ll talk to him, but first I need to make a call to a source who might be able to help us.”

“Someone local?” Chet looked surprised.

Jess shook her head. “Someone I know in the bureau. He works with the Anti-Gang Initiatives and Partnerships on the West Coast. If Lopez’s father is a who’s who out there, my contact will know about him and his son.”

“Allen won’t be happy that you went around him.”

“Good,” Jess allowed, “because right now I am very unhappy.”

She stamped outside, away from Officer Cook, who waited near his vehicle and looked ready to puke.

On second thought, she turned around. Might as well put him out of his misery first. Five more minutes before making the call wouldn’t hurt.

“Officer Cook.”

He looked up as Jess approached. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You are in no way responsible for what happened here.” She pointed to the house. “This is on me. I gave the order for surveillance on this kid and I gave the order for it to end.
This
is not your responsibility; it’s mine. Are we clear?”

He nodded but didn’t meet her gaze.

“The best thing we can do right now is to focus on finding DeShawn Simmons alive, and if we’re lucky we’ll nail the people responsible for this travesty in the process. But we can’t do that if we get stuck on the things we can’t control. Now let’s get on with doing what we have to do.”

He managed a jerky nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I guess you’d better put in a call to Captain Allen.”

Jess had a call of her own to make. She selected the name from her contact list and did the thing she’d sworn she would never again do.

Her ex-husband answered on the second ring.

Her heart stumbled and she moistened her lips. “Wesley, I need your help.”

Birmingham Police Department, 4:28 p.m.

Dan stared at the file open on his desk. He’d read and then reread the coroner’s report on Darcy Chandler’s death. He’d even called Leeds and gone over the facts one by one. Page by page he had reviewed the witness interviews and the crime scene reports.

There was no indication whatsoever of a struggle. No marks on the victim’s arms or hands, the most likely places when a struggle occurs. No scratching or bruising on her face. Nothing under her fingernails. Every single injury was related to the impact from her fall.

Except that small bruise on her lower left leg. Likewise, there had been no visible marks on the husband’s face, hands, or arms at his initial interview only hours after Chandler’s death.

If Mayakovsky had killed his wife, there was no evidence to support his claim. And the question of motive still remained unanswered. No financial motive, no evidence of squabbling over her affair, although his had clearly caused a rift between the couple. Why not just go through with the divorce?

Where was the motive for murder?

Motive is everything
. Jess had hammered that into Dan’s head so many times the past few weeks that he had to look long and hard at that now.

Any act of violence against another human is compelled by motive
. That was Jess’s motto, pure and simple.

If his motive wasn’t related to money or jealousy, then Jess was right.

“He has to be covering for someone.” Dan shuffled the reports back into a neat stack and closed the file Black had given him to review.

What if Darcy Chandler had decided to commit suicide and he was protecting her reputation… her memory?

But why would Chandler take her own life? Admittedly, the idea of the husband giving up everything to protect her honor was over the top.

Had Chandler opted to kill herself in hopes he would be accused as some sort of payback?

Where the hell was the motive in either scenario?

Dan stared at the phone on his desk and considered calling his mother and demanding to know her motives for going to Jess behind his back. If she had information about Chandler’s death she was keeping from him, he wanted to know that, too.

Had she really called Jess’s sister fat?

Maybe Jess was right. Maybe two-plus decades had changed nothing when it came to the way things were between the two of them. Whether or not she cared for Jess, his mother would never have set her up to look like the department leak. Obviously she felt strongly that Darcy’s death was no accident. But why hadn’t she said this to him?

That conversation with his mother was best carried out in person. Just the two of them without his father to run interference for the wife he had always allowed free rein.

His parents had recently celebrated their fiftieth anniversary. How had they managed to maintain their relationship for half a century? Dan sure as hell hadn’t figured out the secret.

He pushed back his chair and walked over to the window that overlooked the Linn Park fountain. The last several days he’d felt restless. Off-kilter somehow. The extreme highs and lows of the past two-plus weeks had crashed into a more normal routine and he couldn’t seem to find his footing. He and Jess weren’t ensnared in a life-and-death investigation as a team. She was investigating her case and he was here, doing the job he’d worked so hard to attain.

He missed the fieldwork. When he and Roy Griggs had gone into that farmhouse and found Andrea… Dan couldn’t find the proper words to adequately articulate that feeling. A week later having Jess come to his rescue—and save his life—in that warehouse had changed something deep inside him.

Nothing felt the same anymore.

The job he loved felt constraining, pointless.

What he wanted for the rest of his life was suddenly undefined. He felt uncertain and damned unsettled.

A soft rap at his door drew his attention there. His secretary was gone for the day but Tara, the receptionist, should be at her desk. Maybe it was Black. He was having the same doubts about Mayakovsky’s confession as Dan, but Black would take them to his grave before sharing those feelings with Jess.

Somehow Dan had to help those two become friends, allies at the very least.

He crossed the room and opened the door. To his surprise Annette waited there.

“Your secretary wasn’t at her desk.”

“Is Andrea okay?” That seemed to be his stock question whenever Annette called or showed up. Her surprise announcement that Brandon was leaving her had done just that, surprised him. He and Annette had been friends for years before they became involved as a couple. He wanted to be there for her. But being a supportive friend was all he could offer.

She nodded. “She’s fine. Assisting with tomorrow’s memorial service for Darcy has been a big help to her. Andrea’s been focused on being supportive of the family rather than what she’s been through.”

“That’s great. Jess mentioned seeing her and said she looked and sounded well.” Made him feel less like a jerk to interject Jess into the conversation. That was something he didn’t exactly understand. It just was.

“Are you busy?”

“Not with anything that can’t wait. Come in. Have a seat.”

He really was having difficulty focusing this evening. In part because Annette’s frequent calls and appearances were contributing to that off-balance feeling. Though they had been divorced for more than a year, there were still feelings he couldn’t deny. He wanted Annette and Andrea safe and happy. He wanted both of them to feel comfortable turning to him.

He wanted to be friends.

But that was all he wanted.

The signals Annette was giving off made him believe she wanted more. Possibly he was overreacting. Whenever he got right with that conclusion she would make a move that changed his mind. The last time he’d narrowly avoided a kiss right on the mouth. Further proof was that dress she was wearing. Shorter and tighter than usual. The stilettos higher than the norm for her. He recognized her on-the-hunt attire. He’d admired it before.

When she’d settled into a chair in front of his desk, he returned to his—on the opposite side. She seemed too distracted to notice.

Annette didn’t like the idea of being alone. He’d figured that out about her soon after they were married. She’d still been in love with Brandon, her first husband, and she’d only turned to Dan because she needed someone she could trust to hold on to during that tumultuous time. Six months later she had realized that undeniable fact, and she and Dan parted amiably. Brandon was Andrea’s father and that detail had a great deal of bearing on Annette’s decisions and actions.

Annette was a beautiful, intelligent woman. Her insecurities about standing on her own two feet without a husband were so very unnecessary. But Dan couldn’t make her see that. She defined herself completely by the partner in her life. He hoped one day she would recognize how very wrong that was.

If she and Brandon were over again, Dan couldn’t fill her dance card the way he had last time. At some point he would have to make that clear. For now, he had to tread carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was give her the wrong idea. Hopefully all she needed this afternoon was a compassionate ear and a strong shoulder.

“He’s coming home next week,” she said at last, “and he wants to start divorce proceedings immediately.” She dropped her purse into the other chair and turned her hands up. “I don’t understand why he can’t give us a fighting chance. It’s hardly been seven months. That’s not long enough to rebuild what we once had. We need more time.”

There were things Dan could say like the fact that Brandon was an ass of the highest order. The arrogant prick liked the idea of having a wife and a daughter but he didn’t want to be burdened with either or both all the time. Dan would bet his next raise that Brandon was cheating. But he wasn’t about to say that to Annette. If it was true, she would find out soon enough.

“If you feel you need more time,” he suggested, “tell him. Don’t just give in to his demands without laying out a few of your own.”