Between Friends (15 page)

Read Between Friends Online

Authors: D. L. Sparks

Tags: #Fiction, #Suspense, #General, #African American Police, #Urban Life, #Thrillers, #African American

BOOK: Between Friends

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Linc looked up. “He'll be here. Chill out.”

“He better be.” Geech slammed the cases closed.

“Where you at with that assignment I gave you?” Linc asked.

Geech laugh a little. “Already got wheels in motion on that playa. Don't worry.”

Linc just nodded. He didn't ask because he didn't need details. He just wanted to know when it was done.

“You buried that shit right?”

“Oh you so far removed from the whole thing, people gon' be offering you condolences.”

Linc nodded his approval.

“Oh and I know it's you leaving all these dealers laid out around the city, pot'na” Linc said. “You need to slow your roll.”

Geech smiled. “Collateral damage homeboy. I told you, I'm taking this city over. They ain't ready for me.”

“Look here, I understand where you comin' from and what you tryin' to do, but you getting some attention you don't want.”

“That's what I got you for, right?”

“Yeah, a'ight. My insurance don't cover stupidity, ya dig,” he said, pulling his phone from his hip. He scrolled through the messages of the bitches that he didn't want to hear from, asking why he didn't call back or if he was coming over, looking for the one he did want to hear from and didn't see one.

That pissed him off.

He shoved his phone back in it's holder on his hip. Linc turned and walked around the coffee table and moved toward the kitchen of the tiny apartment. He checked his watch. It was getting late and this place would be filling up soon with people looking for a fix or trying to settle up with what they had scored on the street. He needed to be long gone by then. He had managed to get Geech out in the open but he didn't know how much longer he was gonna stay before he dipped out.

“How long you gon' be here, Linc?”

Linc looked over at Niecey, the chick that was renting the spot. She was sitting on one of the run-down chairs at the kitchen table, shooting up some heroin he sold her in exchange for using her spot for this meet. The sight of her disgusted him, but she was a necessary evil. Her hair was tangled on one side and the clothes she was wearing looked like they'd seen at least a couple weeks' worth of activity.

He figured she couldn't weigh more than a hundred pounds wet, but somehow she managed to keep her cute face, which she used to her advantage when working the corners. He dated her off and on in high school, back when she was fine as hell and was pitching him ass on the regular because he was a star quarterback. He broke up with her when he went off to college and met Idalis and he never thought twice about her.

She carried her hurt into adulthood and turned to drugs for comfort. The love she never lost for him worked in his favor. That, plus her addiction, enabled him to work his way back into her life through her veins.

He never had to lay a hand on her.

Part of him felt bad, but he had learned that life ain't fair. If he was gonna hurt, then everyone around him was gonna pay. No one was exempt, as far as he was concerned. And the fact that he'd been running drugs through her spot for a couple years now was proof of that. All it took was keeping her high out of her mind, and a compliment every once in a while, to give him complete control of her and her spot.

“I'm leaving after I handle this business. Why?” he snapped.

She pulled the needle from her skinny arm and closed her eyes. Her eyelids trembled as the poison soothed her inner demons. Slowly she opened her eyes and focused on him. “'Cause you being here is bad for business.”

“Just chill out. I'll be gone soon.”

He headed back to the living-room. Nate was sitting on the couch, rolling a blunt. Geech and his boy were standing by the door, talking. He was just about to pull his phone out, when there was a knock at the door. Linc walked up and Nate prepared to open the door.

Linc placed his hand on his gun. He nodded and Nate opened the door.

Twist entered the room, followed by Darius, who was carrying two big black duffel bags. But it was the one who entered behind Darius that got Linc's attention.

He was the largest of the three and was eating a bag of Lay's.

Their eyes met and they had a hate-filled, wordless exchange as Geech's boy checked him for wires. The sound of the door closing snapped him out of his trance.

Linc stepped from behind the table, body tense with anger; he tried hard to hold it together as Darius set one of the bags next to his briefcase.

Darius spoke directly to Linc. “It's all there.”

“Open it,” Linc ordered, never taking his eyes off the big dude with the potato chips.

He did as he was told. Unzipping the bag, he tilted it toward Geech, revealing multiple stacks of silver bricks of coke and clear bags full of multi-colored X pills.

Geech smiled big. “That's what I'm talking about.” He slid the briefcases to the end of the table one by one. “It's all there. Seven hundred and fifty large.”

When Geech made a motion toward the bags, Linc snatched his Beretta out of his waistband, setting off a chain reaction of guns being pulled out and cocked.

Still, Linc never took his eyes off the big dude; instead, he pointed his gun at Twist.

“I told you, don't fuck up didn't I?”

Twist held up his hands, eyes wide. “Yo, what the fuck I do?!”

Geech pointed his gun at Darius. “What the fuck is going on?”

Linc nodded in the direction of Darius, but spoke to Twist, “You brought this trouble to me?”

He watched as Darius's eyes jumped from him to the guy and back again.

Darius shook his head. “Nah, man, I don't know what he's talking about, Twist, man.”

Linc cocked his gun. “You created this mess and you gon' clean it up, Twist.”

“Yo, what you mean?”

He could see the heat and anger coming from big dude's body. It wasn't the agent he wanted, but it was a start. “You're gonna put a bullet in Agent Porter and make this right.”

Phil's had his .9 mm SIG trained on Linc. “If I don't walk out that door real soon, it's gonna get kicked in and you are gonna have agents attached to every inch of your ass.”

Darius broke for the back door, but Geech fired, catching him in the leg. That didn't stop him from hobbling his way down the hall and disappearing out the back patio doors.

“Kill that fucking cop!” Linc yelled.

Linc pumped two rounds into Twist's chest as he moved quickly in order to avoid the hail of bullets. Taking a hit in the vest, Linc spun around and managed to squeeze off two rounds in Phil's direction. Nate took a bullet in the back, but not before pumping two rounds into Geech, hitting him in the chest and neck. Phil caught both of Geech's boys before he went down and they collapsed at the door.

In an instant Linc snatched one of the duffel bags and threw it over his shoulder. He stuffed as much of the contents back inside the other duffel bag as he could before tossing that over his other shoulder, and grabbing two of the three briefcases.

His adrenaline was pumping and all his senses were on high.

He eyed the pool of blood spreading around Phil's lifeless body.

He heard the sirens and the sound of footsteps running down the hall.

“Agent down!”

The last thing he heard as he sprinted through the back patio doors toward his car parked two streets over.

Chapter Nineteen

Trip

Inside the emergency room I pushed through the dense crowd of agents and officers huddled in the already crowded waiting room. Some faces were familiar to me; others I had never seen before. All of them might as well have been on the same force at this point. An “officer down” was a call no one in law enforcement wanted to hear come across his radio. When you did hear it, no matter who you reported to, you responded.

As I brushed past them, I read their eyes.

Some held pity.

Others question marks.

“Trip!”

I stopped and looked in the direction that the voice had just come from. I saw Lenny waving me in his direction. I headed toward him; my senses were on high. He ended a conversation he was having with a nurse and got in my face.

“Where the hell have you been?” he barked.

“Lennyâ”

“You know what? I don't care where you were, but I bet Phil is gonna wanna know if he makes it out of surgery.”

His yelling got the attention of everyone in the room, but I didn't care, because that tiny bit of information caused some of the tension to leave my body in knowing that Phil wasn't dead.

“If?”

Lenny placed his hands on his hips and dropped his head. His voice softened a little. “Yeah,
if.”

“Where'd he get hit?”

“Right side. Collapsed his lung.”

I stood there, hands resting on my waist. My mind going a mile a minute. My thoughts went to Idalis, whom I'd left asleep in my room. I looked toward the ceiling and blew out some air.

My eyes went to the clock hanging over the nurses' station: 2:30.

How the hell did shit get so fucked up, so fast? Less than an hour ago, I was in the middle of the best sleep I'd had in months, only to be awakened by the phone on my hotel nightstand ringing. I jumped up to stop the ringing before it woke Idalis.

“Phil's been shot. He's in surgery.”

Those were the last words I remembered hearing. Next thing I knew, I was standing in the ER at Grady Memorial, and my partner was fighting for his life.

According to Lenny, when he got the call about the bust, he tried to call me but didn't get an answer. He didn't want to miss the opportunity, so he went ahead with the sting with the agents we'd picked, without me.

That was confirmed by the voice mail he'd left on my phone.

“Partner, call me. No sweet dreams for either of us. I just got a lock on Darius. We gotta move now. It's going down tonight.”

I leaned against the wall. “Lenny, I'm sorry.”

“Save it for Phil.” He turned and disappeared into the crowd of agents.

I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes. There was no way this was happening.

Moments later I felt a presence standing in front of me, but I didn't open my eyes.

“Yo, man, sorry about your pot'na.”

I lowered my head and his face came into focus, setting me off.

The next thing I knew, people were screaming and yelling, and I was going at it with Lincoln in the middle of the hospital waiting room. Nurses and patients waiting in the small area were shrieking and scattering like roaches.

Lenny and two other agents pulled me off him. Lenny was yelling, trying to snap me out of my rage. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

I looked down at Lincoln, who actually had a smirk on his face as he touched the trickle of blood running down the corner of his mouth. I tried to break free and get at him again. By then, however, a sea of dark blue APD was between us. Lincoln stood to his feet and shrugged off the officers who had come to his aid.

Agents now stood on one side of the hall. APD on the other.

“It's cool. It's cool,” he said, keeping his eyes on me. “He's upset. His boy just got shot.” He looked me square in the eyes. “I'd be upset too, if I wasn't there for my pot'na.”

“Man, y'all better get his bitch ass the fuck outta here before I shoot him!” I yelled.

“Trip, you need to calm down,” Lenny ordered.

I snatched away from them and stormed out the ER doors.

Behind the wheel of the Tahoe, I splashed out onto the streets of Atlanta, no real destination in my mind. The rain had stopped, but my head felt like it was full of thunder and lightning.

I called Trinity. She didn't answer.

I thought about going back to the hotel, but I decided against it.

My mind went to Phil lying on that operating table.

Thought about the fact that I wasn't there for him.

Thought about the bruise on Idalis's side.

I wasn't there for her either.

That made me hit the gas. The next thing I knew, I was on I-20, heading west.

I dialed Trinity again.

This time she answered. Her voice heavy with sleep and confusion.

Twenty minutes later I pulled up into Westview Cemetery. When I pulled up the drive, my headlights illuminated Trinity's Acura TL. She was in jeans and an oversized, long-sleeved Spelman T-shirt. She was standing outside her car, with tears streaming down her face.

I slammed the truck into park and jumped out into the damp night air.

I walked up to her. “Where?”

Tears ran down her face. “Trip, I'm so sorry.”

“Where, Trin?” My voice boomed through the night air, causing my baby sister to jump. She turned around and started walking.

“Over here,” she said. “This is crazy! It's dark and muddy, Trip.”

I pulled my department-issued flashlight off my hip, giving us light. Anger propelled me forward. I followed her through the wet grass until she came to a stop.

She turned and looked at me. Eyes pleading.

“Which one?” I snapped.

She pointed to the headstone situated to my left.

I shone the light on it.

Orlando Eugene Spencer II 1945-2007

Beloved Husband and Father.

My sister's voice sounded like she was a mile away. “Trip, let's go! This is crazy!”

Rage caused my legs to move.

I paced the small patch of grass in front of the grave site.

So much hate. So much anger.

Phil took a bullet, was fighting for his life and his ass got off easy.

“Son of a biiiiitch!”

My voice echoed through the cemetery as I snatched my .9mm from its holster, cocked it, spun around, and started firing rounds into his grave.

My gun roared angrily into the night air.

As each round pierced the ground, it carried with it a different level of rage and hatred. With each flash of my barrel, I saw my mother's bruised and battered face, heard the sobs of my baby sister crying because of a beating I took in her place or my mother's. But with each casing that the 9 mm expelled, I also felt a release.

“Trip, please stop.
Please,”
my sister sobbed, clinging to my arm.

I stopped shooting and looked at her; the terror in her eyes snapped me back to reality. She was looking at me the way I'd seen my mother look at my father many timesâeyes wide with fear and panic.

I lowered my gun to my side and took a step back. My breathing was ragged as my chest rose and fell against the confines of my vest. My face was wet from tears, which I didn't realize had fallen.

“Please, Trip,” she begged.

I holstered my gun and she wrapped her arms around my body and sobbed into my chest. Her crying shook my frame. I held her tightly, trying to soothe her. I could feel her heart beating.

“I'm sorry, Trin. I'm so sorry.”

My phone gave two short vibrations to my hip.

A text message.

I pulled my phone from my hip and read it: Phil is out of surgery.

“I gotta go, Trinity.”

She reached up and wiped her face with her sleeve. “Are you gonna be okay?”

I nodded. “Phil just came out of surgery.”

“Trip, I'm sorry about Phil.”

I hugged her tighter. “Not your fault, baby girl.”

“You know it's not your fault either, right?”

I let that question hang between us. I kissed her on her forehead.

“I'll call you later.”

I walked her back to her car and made sure she pulled off okay before I jumped into my truck and sped off into the night toward the hospital.

When I made it back to the hospital, the halls were just as crowded as when I'd left. Everyone was standing around, waiting for news of Phil.

I found Lenny. “Where is he?”

He nodded toward the window to my partner's room. “Doctor says all we can do now is wait.”

I stood and looked at my partner laid out in the bed. Tubes were snaking their way around his large body, giving him support.

Support I wasn't there to give.

“I have a call in to his mother and his brother,” I heard Lenny say.

My heart ached at the thought of his mother and younger brother having to see him like this. And explaining that I wasn't there when it happened.

I stood there and watched his huge chest rise and fall. There were two nurses tending to him, and a doctor stood over him, scribbling notes in a chart. The scene was too surreal, too much for me to handle.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

How did this happen?

Lenny grabbed my arm and steered me down the dimly lit hallway, away from the agents and the officers who were still hovering around.

“If there is anything going on with you and Briscoe you need to tell me now Spencer?”

I let out a sigh. “Lennyâ”

“No bullshit, Spencer. What's the deal?”

“It's nothing.”

“Well, it sure as hell didn't look like nothing to me. Not the way you laid into him.”

“Look, I'm fine. I'm just on edge.”

He stepped up to me and lowered his voice. “I need you at one hundred percent, Spencer. I can't afford to have you flipping out and losing focus. What happened tonight is a direct result of what can happen when you're not on your game.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” His tone was stern but caring. “Because I don't think you do. Your partner is fighting for his life right now. Does that sound like
focus
to you?”

“No, sir, it doesn't.”

Lenny looked down the hall, then back to me again. “Don't make me pull you off this case, because, God help me, I will.”

“Yes, sir, I understand.”

“Whatever crap you and Briscoe are dealing with, I suggest you table it, Trip, before I do it for you.”

He turned and headed back toward the crowd.

It was almost six in the morning.

It wouldn't be long before the sun would be coming up.

Shedding light on things that were best meant to be kept in the dark.