Sullivan's Law (30 page)

“Why?”

“Easy,” he said, pleased with himself. “If she was going home like she told me, why was she renting a bunch of videos and X-Box games? Crank the ignition, but don't go anywhere until we get a fix on what kind of car she's driving.”

“Did she say why she was here?” Eddie Downly asked, crouched low in the seat.

“An uncle died,” he told him. “An uncle who didn't have any children.”

“Think it's true?”

“I know it's not true,” his partner said, firing up a cigarette. “Why would her uncle's widow want a bunch of X-Box games?” He inhaled deeply, then flicked his ashes out the window. “We take out Metroix, we get paid. We're not doing this on spec, I hope. There's kids involved.”

“There she goes,” Fast Eddie said, flipping off the headlights on the Nissan, then waiting until Carolyn backed the red Chevy out of the parking lot and turned down Lake Street heading toward Paul Leighton's house. Eddie made certain to keep at least one vehicle between him and the Impala, in case Carolyn looked at her rearview mirror and realized she was being followed. There weren't many cars on the road, so keeping track of her until she pulled into the garage at Leighton's wasn't a problem.

Parking at the end of the street under a large tree, Eddie turned to his partner. “Get me a beer, Percy,” he said. “We're not going in until everyone's asleep. Then we'll case the house first, try to see if there's a burglar alarm or a Doberman in the backyard. I hate dogs almost as much as I hate cops.”

“Do we have to take her out too?” Percy asked, reaching into the backseat and pulling two Budweisers out of a paper sack. “The contract was only on Metroix. I kinda like Carolyn. She's a sexy chick. Do you know she has a fifteen-year-old son?”

“You're the biggest asshole who ever walked the face of the earth,” Eddie told him, thinking all the pretty boys like Percy were idiots. “Of course, I know about her son. I used him as a decoy at the hospital to get to Metroix. How long is your attention span? Thirty seconds. I can't believe you managed to pass yourself off as a law student. You must be better at acting than you are at thinking.”

“Fuck,” Percy Mills said, crushing the beer can in his hand. “It just slipped my mind for a minute, okay? Give me some credit. I spotted her, didn't I? You were prepared to go back to robbing supermarkets and breaking into houses.”

They both fell silent. Percy pulled out two more beers, taking one for himself and handing the other to Eddie. “I wish we could have scored some coke or meth,” he said. “I've never killed anyone when I'm sober.”

“You've never killed anyone period,” Eddie said, laughing at him. “You really got off pretending you were David Reynolds, didn't you? Even when you hired someone to do your homework for you, you were about to bomb out.”

Percy didn't answer, perspiring and jittery as he prepared himself for the crime they were about to commit.

“Did you really think you were going to become a lawyer?” Eddie pulled out his 9mm Kurtz, handing his partner a .357 Magnum. The Kurtz had been legally purchased by one of Downly's friends, and thus far had never been used in the commission of a crime. Personally Eddie favored the .357, as it was the same make of gun he'd used the first time he'd ever killed someone. Although 9mm's were more popular these days, Eddie had picked up the .357 during a residential burglary. Since the owner of the .357 had reported its theft to the PD, Eddie wanted to make certain Percy would take the heat if something went wrong.

“We'll kill anyone in that house who sees our face, got it?” Eddie said, a maniacal look in his eyes. “Kids, old ladies, I don't give a shit. We've got a quarter of a mil coming when we finish this job.”

“I don't know if I can kill a kid,” Percy said, guzzling down his beer. “I've only served time in juvenile hall. Even if they nail us for the robberies, I'll get out eventually.”

Eddie turned sideways in the seat. “When we go inside that house,” he said, “I want to make damn sure you shoot anyone I tell you to shoot, understand? If you have any doubts, just think about what the inmates are going to do to a pretty boy like you inside the joint. You've never been in the big house. They'll rip your insides out. Your intestines will be hanging out of your asshole.”

A
t ten-fifteen, Carolyn became annoyed by the constant pinging sound generated by the X-Box game John was playing upstairs, and went into the kitchen to make a cup of hot tea. She felt chilled, and wondered if she was about to come down with the flu. Rebecca was watching the movie
Clueless
in the living room as she tossed Peanut M&Ms into her mouth.

The beeper on the microwave went off at the same time Carolyn's cell phone rang. “We finally caught a break,” Hank said. “Liam Armstrong cracked.”

Carolyn dropped down in a chair at the kitchen table. “So Armstrong pushed Tim Harrison in front of the car?”

“He claims it was Nolan Houston,” Hank told her, his voice hoarse from an afternoon of interrogation. “Just like your man said, they jumped him in the alley. They'd seen Metroix around town before and knew he had a mental problem. When his backpack broke and his books fell out, Houston started kicking them, making a game of it. The two other boys joined in, and things got nasty. Harrison wasn't a lightweight in the incident, at least not until he realized what they'd done.” The detective paused and cleared his throat. “I'm sorry,” he said. “It's been a long day. Armstrong confessed when we showed up at his house with a search warrant at ten o'clock this morning. We had to wait hours for his attorney.”

“Do you want to call me back later?”

“No,” Hank said, sighing. “Once I get something to eat, I'm going to crash for the night. According to Armstrong, Harrison held Metroix down while Houston urinated in his face. All three of them beat him. When the guy started bleeding, Harrison went ballistic, afraid they were going to get busted. The chief was tough on him. The kid was a top-notch player. The old man thought he had a chance to play pro ball.”

Carolyn removed her cup from the microwave, then opened the mahogany box of assorted tea bags sitting on the counter. She thumbed through it until she found one that didn't have caffeine, dropped it in her cup, and sat back down at the table. “Is this when they started slugging each other?”

“Armstrong claims Houston tried to butt him with his head. He stepped aside, Harrison took the hit and was propelled into the path of the oncoming car.”

“Where was Daniel when Harrison got killed?” Carolyn asked, wanting to make certain the stories all meshed. Nolan Houston would counter by blaming it on Armstrong. The only way the case would hold up in court was for as many individuals as possible to agree as to what happened.

“Armstrong doesn't remember. He thinks he was hiding over by the trash can,” Hank told her. “Houston had fumbled the ball during practice that day. The coach had reamed him out in front of the other players. The way it sounds, Houston went out that night looking for trouble.”

“Thank God,” Carolyn exclaimed, thinking the end of their nightmare might finally be in sight. “What caused Liam Armstrong to confess? How did his tests turn out? Did the cancer come back?”

“False alarm,” Hank told her. “Armstrong seems like a decent guy, other than the fact that he let Metroix rot in prison for twenty-three years to save his own neck. When we showed up at the house, he knew it was time to throw in the towel. He has a wife and three kids. He wanted to save his family the embarrassment of a trial.”

Carolyn took a sip of her tea. “What about Chief Harrison?”

“As far as Armstrong knows,” the detective went on, “Harrison is dead. He claims he hasn't talked to the man since Metroix's conviction. Houston, however, called him as soon as word got back to him that you were asking questions. Then when he found out Metroix had been paroled, he panicked.”

Carolyn couldn't wait to tell Daniel. “Then Houston must have hired Fast Eddie to kill Metroix.”

“Armstrong doesn't know,” Hank stated. “He knows Houston is loaded, that those golf stores rake in a fortune. Armstrong earns a comfortable living selling commercial real estate, but he isn't rolling in money like his former football buddy.”

“Did they arrest him?”

“His attorney is trying to cut a deal with the DA. No jail time would be a disgrace, if you ask me, even if the guy was only a witness who failed to come forward, which isn't the case. But this is an old crime. We have his statement. Without some type of solid evidence, which I'm not certain we can produce, the DA could refuse to prosecute. They're certain Houston is going to claim Armstrong was responsible.”

“Did you call Arline Shoeffel?”

“Not yet,” Hank said. “As soon as the DA makes a decision, we can arrest Houston. Even then, there's no telling what charges they may file. And at this point, we're only dealing with the original crime. I've already argued with Thomas. They won't even consider an attempted murder for hire charge with what we have now.”

Carolyn stood and started pacing. “That's bullshit,” she said. “It's all right there. Just because the evidence is circumstantial doesn't mean it won't pass muster with a jury. I've seen people convicted on far less. No matter how high they set the bail, Houston has the funds to post it. This man has made our lives a living hell. I'll call Arline myself.”

“Calm down,” the detective said. “You're overstepping your boundaries. The solution is obvious. We have to pick up either Downly or his partner. Since we know there's two of them, we'll play one against the other. Someone needs to go on record as to whether or not Houston put out a contract on Metroix. We may be dealing with two separate crimes here. Think about it.”

“I can't believe it,” Carolyn told him. “Are you trying to say that Harrison or someone else hired these men to kill Daniel, that they went after me only because I got in the way? Houston's motive has been firmly established. I was almost killed in an explosion. My son was kidnapped. A police officer was shot. Nolan Houston should be brought in immediately and held without bail.”

“I know you're attending law school,” Hank said. “I also know you're wasting your time calling Judge Shoeffel. The more serious the crime, the more evidence is required to obtain a conviction. You take Houston to trial and lose, the game is over. Wait it out and he'll fumble the ball again just like he did on the football field. Don't you understand what I'm trying to tell you? This man's prominence is another factor.”

“I see,” Carolyn said, fuming. “Because Nolan Houston's got money, we have to tap-dance around him. In the meantime, I have to hold my breath that these men he hired don't finish the job. Why don't you listen to me for a change, Hank?”

“If the DA jumps the gun on this, Houston will walk,” he said, raising his voice. “Want to know who's representing Armstrong? Clarence Walters, only the most prominent criminal attorney in Los Angeles.”

“We may never catch Downly and his partner,” she said. “You've told me that a dozen times. Houston has no reason to cancel the contract. Both Daniel and I are material witnesses as to the attempted murder for hire. The only reason he'd have to call off his dogs is if we turn this over to the media and put him in the spotlight.”

“I'm exhausted,” Hank said. “I'll call you in the morning.”

“Fine,” Carolyn said, clicking the off button on the phone.

 

The two men were crouched on the left side of the garage. “What if the garage is alarmed?”

“Nobody alarms their garage,” Fast Eddie told him, his eyes scanning the street. “Are you sure there wasn't a dog in the backyard?”

“Yeah,” Percy said. “Looks like there's only a few lights on. One upstairs and another one in what looks like the downstairs bathroom. I'm almost certain they're asleep.”

“Almost
doesn't cut it,” Eddie told him. “Stay where you are. If you hear or see any movement inside the house, come and get me.”

He circled to the front and tried to open the garage door. Damn, he thought. The house was so old, he hadn't expected them to have an automatic garage door opener. Real security freaks even had bolts, making it almost impossible to get in. That's one of the reasons he'd selected the last house he'd used. Damn house was a piece of junk, but whoever had lived there had wanted to make certain no one got inside.

He tapped along the wood, then decided to use his fingers. The door was divided into four-by-four-foot panels. Finding a ragged edge, he pulled his screwdriver out of his back pocket. The house must be worth some bucks, he thought, probably because of the land. The structure itself wasn't in good shape. The owner must have forgotten to have it inspected for termites. Either that, or he'd fallen for a con. Eddie had worked for an exterminating company the year before. Some of them had their men walk around with a spray can filled with water. They even charged more by telling the customers that the chemicals they used were odor free. It was a dynamite job for a burglar. He'd hit every house he'd serviced. He was digging into the rotting wood when Percy stepped up beside him.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Percy said. “Why is it taking so long?”

“I should shoot you,” Eddie whispered. “I'm trying to get in, idiot. If they have an alarm, we have to disable it. What did you think I was doing? You're supposed to be covering me. Get back where you belong.”

He couldn't afford to make any noise, so it took Eddie almost an hour to dig out a hole big enough for him to crawl through. Patience and persistence, he thought, using another tool to pick the lock on a gray metal utility box. Once he had it open, he used a penlight to examine what was inside. The box contained the controls to the alarm as well as the phone lines. Most security systems were set up to automatically seize the phone line and dial the alarm company when activated. Using his pliers, he cut through the wires. He tried to find the breaker box to turn off the electricity. He decided it must be inside the house somewhere, more than likely in a closet or utility room on the ground floor. He was ready to fetch Percy and enter the residence when he heard someone groaning inside. A few minutes later, he heard what he thought was the toilet flush. He turned the knob on the door leading into the house. Finding it locked, he placed his head flush against the door. The footsteps were getting louder. That meant someone was walking toward him. He quickly slithered back through the opening in the garage door.

 

Carolyn was disappointed. What she'd thought had been the news they'd been waiting to hear was only a beginning. Nolan Houston was a powerful man, as Hank had pointed out. She remembered Liam Anderson as a teenage boy. After he had tried to force her to have sex with him, he'd ended up whimpering like a baby. From what she'd seen the other day, she was worried he couldn't stand up to Houston. And if Armstrong had a prominent attorney, reason told her Houston would hire the best criminal defense team in the country. She decided to wait and see what happened over the next few days.

It was almost eleven and both the children were already in their rooms with their doors closed. Carolyn stripped off her clothes and ran a hot bath. While she was soaking, she heard a noise outside her window. Hoping the wind had blown over a trash can, she got out of the tub and threw on her robe. Walking over to the window, she peered out between a crack in the blinds.

Not seeing anything amiss in the yard, Carolyn turned around when a gunshot blasted through the window.

Shards of glass flew through the air. She prostrated herself on the floor when another shot rang out. Adrenaline coursed through her body.

Carolyn frantically crawled over to the nightstand to retrieve her gun before she remembered that she'd left her purse in the kitchen. She heard noises downstairs on the first floor—the sound of glass breaking.

They were inside the house!

Rushing to the closet, she yanked down the ladder leading to the attic, scampered up, found the strap on the duffel bag and hurled it onto the floor. Once she'd climbed back down, she reached inside the bag, pulling out two additional 9 millimeters similar to the one she'd given Metroix. Both guns were called a C-9 Comp; however, one was outfitted with a pressure-pad-activated red laser that would allow shots to be placed on target without having the sights. The other had what was referred to as a white light flashlight instead of a red laser, which enabled the shooter to positively identify the object or person they were shooting.

Shoving the gun with the white light feature in the left pocket of her robe, she placed the one with the red laser in her right. Disengaging the safeties on both firearms, she heard Rebecca screaming from the other room. She picked up the AK-47 assault rifle, resting it on her shoulder as she ran toward the children's bedrooms.

The light in the bathroom went off. She checked the switch in the hallway. The killers had turned off the electricity. She met John in the hallway. “Stay with Rebecca,” she whispered, placing the 9mm in his hand. “The gun is ready to fire. It has a flashlight device on it so you can see who you're shooting. Get in the closet. Crack the door so you can see. Don't come out until I tell you it's safe. Whatever you do, don't point the gun at your sister.”

John flung the door to his sister's room open, set the gun down on the dresser for fear it would go off, then swept Rebecca up in his arms and deposited her in the closet. Returning for the gun, he reentered the closet, making his sister curl up in the corner. He then positioned himself on the floor, his hands shaking as he aimed the gun through a small opening in the closet door.

“Call the cops,” John said, panting.

“No time,” his mother told him. “Don't move until I give you the okay. I have to go downstairs. If you have to fire the gun, make sure you know who it is you're shooting.”

Carolyn's body was soaked in perspiration. She'd now placed a loaded gun in the hands of a schizophrenic as well as a teenager. She was terrified that everyone would start shooting at once. Flattening herself against the wall, she moved slowly toward the stairway. Several more shots rang out on the first floor. Rebecca began crying again, then suddenly stopped. John must have shut her up. She was terrified that Daniel and Isobel had been killed. She had to remain calm. If she panicked, they would massacre her children.