Krewe Daddy (24 page)

Luis untied Drew's robe. "This is my kind of present."

On a cloudy, mid-January morning, Drew and Luis rode in the back of a New Orleans police squad to the Orleans Parish Criminal District Courthouse. Since the series of events involving Drew had taken place in several Parishes, the District Attorney had gotten a change of venue. The grand jury hearings for Henrique Sandalio, and the head of the Retribution gang, began today.

Drew had burst out laughing when he learned the gang leader's real name.

No wonder he had a puissant nickname like 'Scorpion,' when his mother had named him
Tommy.

Drew fidgeted in his seat, watching the city blocks pass by, none of which he'd seen since last fall.

Luis broke the silence. "You okay?"

He tried putting on a brave face, but reality was another story. Drew felt caught between wanting to even the score with a baseball bat of his own, and throwing up. He had no idea how he'd react when he retold his story. He turned on his electronic tablet.

Luis took his hand and gently squeezed. "It's charged, it works."

Drew swallowed the lump of clay that seemed to have taken up residence in his throat.

"You'll be fine, Drew. I'll be there every second."

"I keep telling myself that. What if they decide that my testimony isn't reliable?"

The District Attorney had visited Drew and Luis on several occasions to prepare Drew for his testimony. He'd rehearsed his recollection of the events, and hoped the stress of today's questions wouldn't trigger a seizure. The last thing Drew wanted was to turn into a vibrating piece of human flesh while on the witness stand. The very idea made him nauseous.

"We've been through this numerous times with Sheila Parsons. You'll have your tablet on the stand, and be able to reference names if you get stuck. Today is your day, Drew. You're another step closer to reclaiming your life. Positive thoughts. Positive thoughts. Remember who you are. You're a law enforcement agent. You're strong and capable." Luis cupped Drew's chin. "And you're loved."

The car rolled to a stop. A large crowd of reporters had gathered near the stairs.

Satellite dishes perched atop the news vans. Cameras on tripods and on strong shoulders were poised to document his arrival.

The D.A. had told him to expect this attention.
Keep your head down and your
mouth closed.

Drew's stomach flip-flopped big time. "I need to use the bathroom." Panic rose along with the tone of his voice. "Luis."

Luis wrapped him in his arms. "Breathe. I'm here. You can do this. We're going through this together."

An officer opened the door, leaned into the car, and spoke to them. "Two other officers will escort you. Don't stop. Keep moving as quickly as you can. The others will keep the media back, and then follow you into the courthouse. A room has been prepared for you to wait in until you're called." He scanned the area. "If you're ready, so are we, Agent Rothem."

It felt strange to hear the courtesy title after so long. This also was the first time he'd worn his uniform since his last day in the office. The combination bolstered Drew's courage. He gave Luis' hand one final squeeze before leaving the car.

As instructed, Drew kept his head down, shielding his face further with his electronic tablet. Luis' hand rested on his back, pushing him forward, and giving him moral support through the myriad of microphones shoved in his face, cameras pointed at him, and questions hollered out, on the off chance he'd answer.

Inside the courthouse, a security guard brought them to a conference room where his partner, Skeeps; his boss, Lieutenant Fisk; and a few other agents were waiting.

Seeing them made Drew more relaxed. "Wow, what a great surprise." He extended his hand. "Thanks for coming. It's great to see you, Lieutenant."

"It's even better to see you. We're looking forward to having you back in the office soon. We had to come today. You better give Sandalio and Mr. Gangbanger a full load of hell."

"I'll do my best. I'm looking forward to coming back to work, too."

While they hugged, Drew clapped Skeeps on the back. "Are you surviving without me?"

Skeeps spoke softly. "Whistler Wilson is making me crazy. You have to get your ass back in the truck."

Drew hugged him a little tighter. "Nobody wants that more than me."

He moved down the rank and file, greeting everyone who'd come. At the end of the line stood a man who looked old and world-weary. Drew didn't recognize him. The guy seemed ready to jump out of his skin when Drew walked over.

"I'm sorry, but do we know each other?"

"Sorta. My name is Rufus Battonaire. I'm the feller who found you. I'm mighty glad to see you walking and talking. I had my doubts."

Drew had heard about the Vietnam vet, but never thought he'd meet him today.

Drew extended his hand.

Rufus looked uncertain, and then shoved his mitt into Drew's in an awkward handshake.

"Thank you for saving my life."

"Twern't nothing. I swear though, I ain't never heard such screaming since my days in 'Nam. I'm just glad me and Jess could help."

Drew frowned. "Jess?"

"My black Lab. He goes everywhere with me." He shot a sour look at the security guard. "Except today."

"I wondered why I kept remembering a dog, but couldn't connect it with anything concrete."

"He stayed by your side until the medics took ya. You were in terrible shape."

Rufus tapped the back of his own head. "You okay back there? What they did to you, no man, let alone a peace officer, should have suffered through."

"Time will tell, but at least I have a second chance because of you. If you ever need anything, please let me know."

"I'm kinda fond of my own company. Those months in 'Nam, well, they didn't do much for making me fun to be around. But thank you anyway." Rufus' eyes watered.

"You get back on your feet. That's thanks enough."

He pointed toward the closed doors. "Good luck in there. Make 'em pay for what they did to ya."

The reminder of his purpose today made Drew's nerves taut. He turned to see Luis observing him with a serious expression.

"Sir, before you leave, I'd like you to meet someone." He beckoned to Luis. "This is Luis Herrera. He's the other man who saved my life." Drew threaded his fingers with Luis'. "If we see each other again, he will be with me."

Rufus shook Luis' hand. "I'm not one to be poking at people for their choices. Jess is the only one that can stand me."

Luis chuckled. "Thanks for everything you did for Drew. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Drew returned his attention to Rufus. "Would you mind if I took a picture of us together? Everyone needs a hero."

Rufus blushed. "I suppose that would be all right, but then I need to get back to Jess."

Drew handed Luis his tablet. "Luis, would you mind, please?"

The battle-scarred soldier stood straight and tall next to the man he'd saved.

Sensing Rufus' discomfort over all the attention, Drew stood quietly next to him for the photo. After, he turned to Rufus and shook his hand again. "Thank you for serving our country, and for doing the right thing by helping me. Others might not have been as brave."

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Sheila Parsons. "Good morning, Drew, Luis. I see you've met Mr. Battonaire."

The imaginary blender in Drew's stomach turned on
high
. "Good morning. Are they ready for me?"

"They're taking a twenty-minute recess. If you'd like to come with me, we'll get you settled."

Drew felt like he was headed into surgery. Everyone lined up to wish him well, and then he was walking down the corridor with Luis and the D.A. When they turned the corner, they encountered Scorpion, aka Tommy Loushone, being lead into another courtroom by two uniformed officers.

The gang leader hadn't lost his defiant expression.

Drew bristled as they passed.
You're going down, asshole. You fucked with the wrong
guy.
He knew if Rufus hadn't found him, everyone involved would likely have gotten off scot-free. Hiding bodies wasn't hard in Louisiana's swamplands. Finding them was.

They entered the dark-paneled courtroom steeped in seriousness and wisdom.

Looking around, Drew couldn't imagine how many sweaty palms had gripped these chairs over the years.

Sheila directed Drew to his spot and pointed to another. "Luis will sit behind you. After you're sworn in, take your seat."

She turned her attention to Luis. "Don't say a word. You're here to support Drew because of his medical condition and nothing more. If you have an outburst or any kind, you'll be escorted out. Do you understand?"

His expression solemn, Luis nodded.

Drew opened his tablet and turned it on, a behavior that seemed like a compulsion today. He flipped to the special page he and Luis had created of all the people involved in today's courtroom drama. He handed the tablet to Sheila Parsons.

Luis placed his hand on Drew's shoulder. "You're going to be fine. If you're feeling like you're going to crumble, look at me like we talked about."

Drew rubbed his face. "I need this to be over. I just want to sit here for a moment and collect what's left of my scattered thoughts."

Luis squeezed his shoulder.

A large photo of Henrique Sandalio was brought in a few minutes later. The picture Drew had of Sandalio on his tablet was scanned from the newspaper. Though that image wasn't as clear as Drew's recollections, seeing Sandalio in vivid color made Drew's heart race. To calm his jagged nerves, he closed his eyes and practiced the breathing techniques his therapist taught him.

The grand jury arrived next.

Drew was still on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.
How in the Christly hell
am I ever going to go back to work feeling this way?

"Agent Rothem?"

The sound of the District Attorney's voice got his attention.

"Please come to the witness stand."

He rose and walked to the witness stand to be sworn in, while the district attorney took care of Luis' oath of silence.

Drew made a point of staring at Henrique Sandalio's mug shot.
Time to face the
music, you evil bastard.

Sheila Parsons went through the usual drill of asking him to state his name and occupation for the record.

Drew's hands were sweating while he answered. He glanced at Luis, to draw some strength from his presence.

In their silent signal of solidarity, Luis joined his hands and tapped them against his chest.

"Agent Rothem, would you please tell us what happened on the afternoon of Sunday, September twenty-fifth?"

Drew described the events leading to his flat tire. "When I got out of the car, I guess I was so preoccupied with putting on the spare that I didn't hear the car pull up behind me or . . . . I can't remember the name of the man who snuck up on me."

"Do you need to refer to your tablet, Agent?"

"Yes, please." He looked down at his photos with nametags. "I didn't see Scorpion come up to me, either."

"You mean Tommy Loushone."

Drew looked down again to confirm the name. "Yes, that's his real name."

"Continue, please."

"He called me Agent Rothem. He knew who I was. They had to be following me, to get there so fast. Anyway, I started to get up, and he kicked me in the side of the knee. I rolled over, but by that time, two other guys were out of the car and on me. It must have taken them half a second to truss me up, and toss me in the trunk."

"Truss you?"

"Loushone stuffed his do-rag in my mouth while the other two put Flex-Cuffs, like police officers use, on my ankles and hands. They literally threw me in the trunk."

Drew recounted the fear and pain he endured while riding that way.

She pointed to Sandalio's photo. "Was that man one of the three who put you inside?"

"No. I didn't see him until they took me out." Drew recounted how they callously tossed him onto the ground, and the dread he experienced when he saw there were four men there. "Sandalio showed himself last. I had to roll over to see him. He told me to beg for my life; this was payback for sending his son to jail again."

"So, was it was clear to you that these people all knew you are an officer of the law, and that their intentions were premeditated?"

"Yes, on both counts. I don't think most people go for a Sunday drive and decide on the spur of the moment to kidnap a man, beat him half to death, and leave him as carrion."

"Is that what they did?"

"Sandalio gave Loushone the baseball bat and told him not to kill me. It was Loushone's idea to hit me in the head. He said he wanted me to have a Retribution gang tattoo."

"Let the record show that the gang's symbol is a broken skull. What did you do next?"

"I tried to reason with them by suggesting they'd be getting lighter sentences if they stopped right now and just left me there." Drew's hands trembled so hard he thought he might be having a seizure. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his emotions in check. "I knew I was going to be toast one way or the other."

Drew remembered seeing Sandalio smirk while his thugs took turns beating the daylights out of him.

At that moment, Drew decided his testimony was going to bury Sandalio and his sadistic friends.

"You're sure Henrique Sandalio was there? You have memory problems since your beating. Could you be mistaken?"

"I couldn't remember his face clearly for a few months. There were lots of things in my life that were foggy. Some still are. However, the day I remembered his face, and every day since, I've pictured him clearly. I am certain he was the person who ordered the gang members to beat me."

"Who hit you first?"

"Loushone hit me in the back of the head. I was still cuffed, hand and foot. I tried rolling to take the blow on my shoulder or back, but I wasn't fast enough."

"Then what?"

"I remember the sensation of my skull shifting, and I probably blacked out for a while. When I opened my eyes, my vision was blurred. People were talking, but their voices were coming and going. They sounded far away. Sandalio was crouching in front of me. He said he hoped I wasn't dead. He said he wanted the boys to break one bone for every year his son would be in prison."