Avenged (11 page)

IT WAS A COUPLE
of hours before Nick could join Carly in ICU. By then, Mickey had been moved to an ICU cubicle down the hall. Fernando, Mickey’s academy classmate and close friend, was with Ann outside the room. The doctor said that while the surgery had gone well, Mickey was still critical, and he wanted him monitored in ICU. But the doctor did believe that the worst was over.

When Nick walked into ICU with a drink carrier, Carly felt her heart race. He knew her too well and gave her a smile that said, “I’m fine; don’t worry” before he dropped off two coffees to Fernando and Ann. He came back her way with two coffees and a bag of what Carly hoped was something sweet. She hadn’t eaten dinner, and her stomach was reminding her of that. But she also needed something more than food.

“I need a hug,” she said when he returned. It hadn’t escaped her notice that he’d changed. The bloody jeans were gone, and in their place were clean, black tactical pants.

“Me too.” He held his arms open and Carly fell into them. It wasn’t a real hug since they were separated by Kevlar vests and a myriad of traditional police accoutrements, but it did Carly a world of good.

After a minute, he said, “Why don’t we sit, drink our coffee, and I’ll tell you what happened.”

They walked to the small waiting room across from the nurses’ station and sat. Nick opened the bag and pulled out two pieces of Mexican sweet bread. Carly sighed with contentment. There was a place on the west side that started baking sweet bread early, to put on a fleet of food trucks for their breakfast business. It was now almost 5 a.m., and the bread was still warm.

“Oooh,” Carly moaned, “you read my mind.”

“I know my wife. A sugar high after stress is the prescription.”

She smiled and, with her mouth full, indicated that he needed to tell her the details.

“Things were going good, quiet. Mickey and I ran into Londy doing his thing with a group of Ninjas.” He sipped his coffee. “That guy is bold. He was preaching the gospel to all these kids who just saw their homeboy put in the ground. I was moved. Then, without warning, someone yells, ‘Drive-by!’” He shook his head. “You know how that goes.”

Carly did. In a group on the street, it would create chaos.

“I saw the car out of the corner of my eye and turned to Victor—he was in the group—but he was already running. Then I heard the shots—five or six—and the next thing I knew, Londy fell into me and we both hit the ground.” He sucked in a breath. “The car went past, and when I got up, I saw Mickey. He pushed Londy into me and probably saved both our lives.”

Carly reached out and gripped his hand. “Thank God.”

For a minute they sat, holding hands and letting it sink in.

“But there is some good news in all this,” Nick said.

“What?”

“Not only do we have the kid who shot Mickey in custody; he’s talking. And sitting in jail has loosened Trey’s tongue. He told the jailer he wanted to talk to me after he heard about this latest incident. We were right.”

“Right about what?”

“Someone is trying to start a gang war, and it’s not Oceans First.”

She took another bite of her sweet bread and washed it down with coffee. After she swallowed, she asked, “Did Trey tell you who is trying to start the gang war?”

Nick shook his head. “All he knows is that he was approached by a guy who told him that he had guns for the Ninjas, guns that would help him even the score after the shooting of his three homeys.”

“The guns in the stolen car he was driving?”

“Yep. Trey says this guy set him up with the car and the guns. Told him they were untraceable. Not surprisingly, the
guy who gave the Garnet kid the gun said almost the exact same thing.”

Carly sat back and thought about this. “Same guy?”

“Most likely.”

“Did he offer Trey money for actually hitting someone as well?”

“That’s where it gets hinky. Trey’s benefactor didn’t charge him or offer him anything. Said he just wanted to see scores settled and thought it was cowardly the way the three Ninjas were shot. When I asked Trey why he trusted this guy he’d never met before, he said that at the time he was mad and wanted revenge.”

“So he took the guns and was all set to do business?”

Nick nodded. “He couldn’t tell me why the Playboyz would start a war in the first place. They had no beef. And when he realized he was the one we caught driving the stolen car with all of those guns, and he was the only one being charged, and that more people were getting shot, he couldn’t be helpful enough.” Nick finished the last bit of his sweet bread and wiped his mouth.

Carly sipped her coffee and thought about what Nick had said and the implications. “And it’s the same supplier in both cases?”

“Descriptions are similar. We arranged for a sketch artist from the sheriff’s department to come in tomorrow—or today, I guess—and talk to Trey. But from what both gangbangers have said so far, you may know the guy.”

“What?” She frowned. “It’s a local guy?”

“Not sure how local, but the guy Trey described is nearly what you said Victor described. He has a scarred face, lots of prison tattoos, and a scratchy voice.”

Carly’s coffee stopped halfway to her mouth and her eyes widened. “You’re kidding? Dean Barton?”

He nodded. “Tell me about your confrontation outside ICU earlier.”

She filled him in. “I would have held on to him because of the bomb in the coffee shop.”

“He was questioned and cleared for the time being regarding that, when Masters vouched for him. But everything is pointing to him being the gun fairy. What a coincidence that he’d be trying to get in to see Crusher. I haven’t seen the guy, but Trey’s description sounds an awful lot like yours.”

“Add this to what Victor said. Maybe the boy was spot-on about the guys Crusher was selling for being the shooters. But . . .”

“Why?” Nick asked the $64,000 question.

“Yeah, these guys are here causing trouble, but why?” She pulled a small notebook and pen out of her pocket and began to write. “Look what we have so far. Three kids shot made to look like a gang shooting and start a war. Gang leader given guns to keep war going.” She wrote down those details, making them points one and two.

“Next, a bomb planted at Half Baked—appears unrelated, but explosives were stolen when the guns were stolen.” This was number three.

“Shooting tonight,” Nick injected, “but not certain how
that fits because Londy was the money target, and he’s not a gang member anymore.”

“He was a Ninja and Ninjas were the first victims.” Carly chewed on the end of her pen. “Except for the bomb.” She looked at Nick, eyes wide. “Maybe the bomb was meant for Londy. He works at the coffee shop. Maybe this war is against the Ninjas, some kind of revenge for something that happened in the past.”

“But how would Dean Barton fit in that scenario? He’s from Arizona.”

“But we know he has a partner, maybe two if Victor is right.” Carly described the bearded man, though she couldn’t give many details.

Nick leaned back, thoughtful. “We have one name, a visitor for Barton, who logged in several times over the years—Michael Carter. ATF is trying to track him down. It’s possible he’s the partner. Maybe our answers will come when we find him. Maybe he was victimized by the Ninjas. In any event, once we get a sketch of the guy Trey says gave him the guns, if it looks like Barton, it will be easier to get a judge to sign a warrant for him. When I go back downtown, I’m going to dig deeper into this Michael Carter.”

“And we have to find Barton to find his partner. I knew he was trouble with a capital
T
, but . . .” Sighing, she thought of Erika and Ned.

AT THE END OF CARLY’S SHIFT,
though she was tired, she volunteered for another shift. Nick was planning to watch the sketch artist work, and she wanted to stay and be a part of things. The station was buzzing with ATF agents. Trey’s decision to talk had injected new life into the federal investigators, and they were clamoring to talk to him.

And there was good news from the hospital. Mickey was alert and talking, and while he was still in ICU, his condition was upgraded to serious.

Since Nick was still working, Carly didn’t want to go home, but there was no slot for her on any of the teams working overtime.

“Sorry, Trouble,” a tired Captain Jacobs told her as he
finished up a press release on the shooting and then denied her request to keep working. “We’re straining the overtime budget as it is. And we’ll need even more when we evict Oceans First. You know that if I had something for you to do, I’d give you a job.”

“Yeah, I know. Call me if anything comes up.”

He nodded and punched Print for a hard copy of his release.

Carly left him to his work. With a yawn she stepped out of the police station and headed for her car, careful to avoid the cadre of press setting up in front of the station. Once across the street, she paused before entering the parking structure and looked for Ginny Masters on the off chance Dean Barton was with her. She realized it was a long shot since she had no idea the nature of their relationship, but she had a minute.

And there was the bleached-blonde head across the street, touching up her makeup in a mirror. No sign of Barton.

Carly continued to her car and then headed for Half Baked and Almost Grounded. Time to talk to Ned about his brother.

•••

Even though she remembered Ned saying he’d kicked Dean out for good, as she entered the shop, she did a quick survey, looking for him just in case. Relaxing when she saw only the usual patrons, she turned to the counter. She did a double take when she saw who was behind the counter. Londy. She knew he’d been talking with homicide for hours.

“Londy, you okay?”

He nodded and she saw his bloodshot eyes. “I couldn’t miss work. They depend on me. How is Officer Mickey?” His genuine concern didn’t surprise her. Londy was a caring soul.

When she thought about what this kid had been before he became a Christian, tears pressed her eyes. She blinked them back. “He’ll be okay. He lost a lot of blood, but his surgery went well. What happened out there last night?”

“Not sure. I was talking to some guys after the funeral. I saw Sergeant Anderson and Officer Mickey, said hi. Things were cool. Then a few minutes later someone screams, ‘Drive-by.’ People started running and ducking . . .”

Carly nodded. This was pretty much what Nick had told her.

Londy continued. “Officer Mickey saved my life. Pushed me out of the way. If he hadn’t . . .” His voice broke, and he took a moment to compose himself. “I’m praying for him. So are Mary Ellen and Pastor Rawlings.”

Carly cleared her throat. “Me too.”

“Can I get you something?” Londy asked.

“How about a large French roast.”

“Sure thing.” He turned to pour the coffee.

“Is Ned in today?”

Londy handed her the coffee. “Yeah. He and Erika are in the back. You want to go back there?”

“If I’m not interrupting, I’d like to talk to them.”

Londy reached under the counter and hit a buzzer so he
could lift the counter and let Carly in. “I think they want to talk to you.”

Carly sipped her coffee and walked through, Londy closing the counter behind her. She stepped through the double doors. The office door was open and she could hear Erika and Ned. Erika was seated at the desk, facing the office door.

She looked up when Carly appeared in the doorway and rolled her eyes with a smile. “Wow, were your ears burning? We were just talking about calling you.”

Carly smiled and stepped inside. Ned sat leaning on a desk in the back of the office. The space was large, with two desks, several file cabinets, and four chairs. He raised a hand in greeting.

“Let me guess the other part of your conversation,” Carly said as she sat in a chair Ned pointed to.

“He’s my cross to bear,” Ned said, running his hand down his chin. “I wanted to apologize for that morning I let Dean call you stupid. I should have decked him right there. But I was so shocked to hear he was out of prison and more shocked when I found out he was in town asking to see me.”

“We probably owe you an explanation,” Erika added. She looked at Ned with such love and protectiveness that Carly almost sighed.

“You don’t owe me anything. But I am worried because Dean has enough anger toward you to plant a bomb in here. But if we can’t prove it . . .”

“The ATF guys are working with the device. Dean may have an alibi now, but something in the device will trip him
up, I’m certain,” Ned said. “He always messed up when we were kids.”

“Did he show up here to avenge some wrong he perceives you did to him?” Carly asked, holding off on telling them about the possibility that Dean had smuggled guns into town to start a gang war.

Ned folded his arms across his chest. “Probably. I didn’t realize he hated me enough to commit murder. But I better start from the beginning.” He blew out a breath. “And the beginning was a long time ago. Dean is actually my half brother. His mother, my dad’s first wife, was killed in a car accident when Dean was about eight. A couple of years later my dad married my mother and I was born a year after that. To hear my dad tell it, Dean never recovered from losing his mother and has been acting out ever since.”

“He’s been abrasive and difficult for as long as I’ve known him,” Erika added.

“Anyway,” Ned continued, “he’s been in and out of jail for years. Growing up, it seemed like every day my folks were fighting about Dean. My mom hated him and apparently the feeling was mutual. She wanted him out of the house and wanted my dad to stop bailing him out every time he got in trouble.”

He paused to take a deep breath. “My parents are wealthy—my dad is involved with several successful business ventures—and he always helped Dean out of whatever scrape he was in. This caused constant friction with my folks. When I was seventeen and counting the hours until I could enlist in the service
and get out of the house, Dean crossed the line. He’d been arrested for selling crack, and my dad bailed him out. Mom was furious, didn’t want Dean in the house, but my dad couldn’t turn him away. I’d just gotten home from school. Mom had been to the market and was putting groceries away. Dean had been sleeping all day and got up demanding breakfast. Mom lost it and basically told him he was good for nothing and to leave. Dean cursed her and slapped her in the mouth.”

Ned closed his eyes. “I didn’t really know Dean. We grew up in the same house, but he was older and never gave me the time of day. When I saw him hit my mother, I snapped. I was bigger, played football, worked out with weights. Even though he was older, he wasn’t all bulked up like he is now, and it wasn’t much of a fight; he had no chance.

“Anyway, to make a long story short, the cops came. They knew Dean was the troublemaker, and in spite of the fact that I’d given him quite a beating, they took him back to jail. When Dad came home and saw my mother’s face . . . well, that was it for him, too. He refused to take any calls from Dean, got a restraining order, even cut him out of the will. Basically he disowned him. We were living in Rancho Palos Verdes at the time. That was when my dad relocated to Arizona. And that move probably saved my parents’ marriage, but Dean just got into more trouble.”

Carly’s interest was piqued at this information. “You mean you grew up here on the coast?” Rancho Palos Verdes was an expensive coastal community, a suburb of Los Angeles not far north of Las Playas.

“Yeah, we lived there until I enlisted in the Marines. My parents moved to Arizona shortly thereafter.”

“Ned and I met in Rancho,” Erika said. “My dad was stationed here for a couple years while I was in high school. My family moved to Germany just before graduation. Ned and I crossed paths years later when he was stationed in Germany.” Erika got up and went to lean next to her husband, holding his hand in both of hers. “It was love at second sight.” Then her smile faded. “I’ve always remembered Dean as mean. When I saw him after Ned’s injury, it was at Walter Reed, during Ned’s physical therapy. He showed up out of the blue and found me. And do you know what he said?”

Carly shook her head, touched to the core by this story and the two people in front of her.

“He grinned and said, ‘The little brat finally got what he deserved.’ Then he laughed.”

“A short time after that he went to prison,” Ned said. “You know the rest. Erika’s family moved to San Diego, and we eventually ended up here to open the shop. I never thought I’d see Dean again.”

“What did he want here? Was he after money?”

“That was the odd thing. He had lots of money. He kept flashing rolls of hundreds.”

“Hmm.” Carly digested this for a moment. “Where would an ex-con get that kind of money?”

“Claimed he had a partner and they bought a business,” Erika said. “I hoped he’d changed. He is still family. And after spending six years in prison . . .” She hiked a shoulder.
“When he showed up here, even after his run-in with you, for Ned’s sake I hoped he was different.” She and Ned shared a look.

“But he wasn’t,” Ned continued. “He pulled money out of his pocket and some crack fell out. Same old Dean. I asked him to leave and he tried to start a fight. It was Londy who kept us from getting into it. Then he left, screaming that we’d be sorry because he was going to hold all the cards soon. He must have come back that night after we closed and set the device.”

“What did he mean by holding all the cards?”

Ned arched an eyebrow. “He claimed that the woman he’d hooked up with—you saw her, that blonde—he said she was going to break a big story and eventually write a book and have a television show that would make millions. And he was along for the ride.”

Carly thought of Ginny Masters and her brow furrowed. “How long has he been here? He told the guys who talked to him the other night he’d just gotten into town. How did he have time to hook up with anyone?”

“He told us he’d been here a couple of days,” Erika said. “I think he knew her from before.”

“Before he went to jail?”

“Maybe. They seemed too close to have just met.” Erika held Carly’s gaze and smiled. “I know what you’re thinking. Dean looks quite beat-up and dangerous. But he’s never had a hard time attracting women. With Ginny . . . well, he must have known her in Arizona. She was obviously quite devoted to him.”

“And if Dean knows anything, it’s how to exploit any situation to his favor,” Ned added.

“Did he say any more about his partner? Or what kind of business they bought?”

Ned and Erika exchanged glances. “No, he didn’t, and I asked him point-blank about what kind of business would generate that much cash,” Erika said.

“He just smiled like the cat who ate the canary and said we’d understand it all in a few days.”

“What about Michael Carter? Do either of you know someone by that name?”

They both shook their heads.

Carly looked up at the ceiling before meeting Ned’s gaze. She told him about Trey and the description of the man who gave him the guns.

The room was quiet for a minute.

Finally Ned said, “Well, I hate to say it, but I would not put anything past my brother.”