To Serve And Protect (A Tanner Novel Book 39) Read online

  He was in his hometown and acting as a cop. Killing the now unarmed man in cold blood in front of witnesses might not be the best move.

  The driver stopped the car and pulled off his mask. He was in his thirties and looked Hispanic. His eyes were wet with tears and revealed the pain he was feeling.

  “I need a doctor. I’m bleeding to death.”

  Cody reached past him, turned off the motor, and took the keys from the ignition.

  “Get out of the car and lie flat on the grass.”

  “Call an ambulance, asshole!”

  Cody opened the car door and dragged the man out by his wounded arm. The guy screamed loud enough to be heard throughout the festival grounds. When the scream ended, he lay on his back while panting.

  Chief Mendez had run over. He smiled when he saw that Cody had things well in hand. The smile faded as he took in the severity of the man’s wounds.

  “That’s a lot of blood.”

  Cody pointed toward the gun the driver had dropped. “He was aiming his weapon at me, so I shot him.”

  “And did a damn good job of it too,” Mendez said. “I’m surprised he’s alive though.”

  “He wouldn’t be if there were less witnesses around.”

  “I hear you.”

  “How many people were hurt?” Cody asked.

  “It looks like we were lucky. We’ve got two dead over there by the barn, but they’re both wearing masks.” Mendez sighed. “That van got away with the money.”

  “This was more than a robbery,” Cody said, as he took out his phone to call Sara. “There were two groups shooting at each other.”

  The man on the ground spoke in a whiny voice. “I need a doctor.”

  Cody sighed. Dead people were much less trouble than the living.

  After saving the girl’s life by knocking her out of the path of the van, Henry had continued to shield her with his body until the shooting stopped. After standing, he reached down to help her up.

  “Are you all right?”

  The girl stared up at him with her mouth hanging open. She was pretty and had a scattering of freckles across her nose. Seeing her up close, Henry guessed that she was maybe only twelve but was tall for her age.

  “You saved me,” the girl said. A moment later, she winced in pain and gazed down at her left wrist.

  “Are you hurt?” Henry asked.

  “Yeah, my wrist.”

  “What’s your name? I’ll help you find your parents.”

  “I’m Chrissy, and you’re Henry Knight, aren’t you? I’ve seen you riding your classic car around town. It’s a cool ride.”

  “Chrissy!” shouted a male voice. It belonged to a dark-haired man who was jogging across the field toward them. Henry recognized him. It was the mayor’s brother, Kent Kyle. Kent had his older brother’s good looks but was shorter.

  Kent rushed up and embraced his daughter in a hug. He had brushed against her injured wrist, causing her to cry out.

  “What’s wrong, honey?”

  “I hurt my wrist when Henry tackled me.”

  Kent squinted at Henry. “He tackled you?”

  “He saved me, Daddy. I was nearly run over by a van.”

  Kent was still staring at Henry. “You’re that kid that lives on the Parker Ranch, aren’t you?” Kent said the name Parker like it was a curse.

  “I’m Henry Knight. My grandmother and I live on the ranch, yeah.”

  “Look at my daughter’s wrist. It’s swelling.”

  “I think she sprained it.”

  “She didn’t do it, you did it when you tackled her.”

  Henry blinked in surprise. “A sore wrist is better than being hit by a van.”

  “I’m sure she would have gotten out of the way on her own,” Kent said. He placed an arm around his daughter’s shoulders and guided her away.

  Chrissy looked back at Henry with an apologetic expression as she mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

  Henry saved her life and her father blamed him for hurting her wrist. Henry frowned as he remembered a saying he once heard. No good deed goes unpunished.

  As Kent and Chrissy moved away, Henry’s friends ran over to check on him. One of them held up his phone, revealing that he had filmed Henry’s heroics. Seeing it on video made Henry realize how close a call it had been.

  Chief Mendez summoned an ambulance for the man Cody had shot. He’d also put out an alert for the van. It was found abandoned not too far from the festival grounds. The men in the black masks had gotten away with the money.

  Cody returned to the picnic table. He had rolled up the sleeves of the gray chamois shirt he had on because he’d stained the right sleeve with blood. It had happened when he’d reached in the window to grab the keys from the masked man’s car. He didn’t want his children to see the blood.

  Lucas ran up to him. “Did you get a bad guy, Daddy?”

  “I got one of them, buddy. Uncle Steve and Clay got two more.”

  Sara had looked him over to see if he was all right, then asked if anyone was hurt.

  “Just the thieves. It looks like two groups tried to rob the festival at the same time. One of them got away with the money.”

  Crash caught Cody’s eye by waving him over. He was seated beside his beautiful daughter, Caroline. The two of them were staring at Crash’s phone.

  Cody walked over to them and smiled at Jarod. The autistic child looked away, but Cody thought he saw him smile.

  “What’s up, Crash?”

  Crash leaned closer and spoke in a low voice. “I sent a drone up while the shooting was going on. When the van left, I had the drone follow it.”

  “You know where they are?”

  “No, the drone I had with me has a limited range, but I did record them changing vehicles. I also filmed them with their masks off, but it’s hard to make out details.”

  “Let me see the video.”

  Crash started the video from the beginning and handed Cody his phone. It began playing and showed the drone gaining altitude before heading in the direction of the barn. Cody saw himself approaching the car after having shot the driver. As the video continued, he saw the drone follow the black van that had sped away.

  The van made a series of turns down dirt roads. The drone followed, which was not easy to do because the van was often out of sight beneath trees that were brilliant with their multicolored leaves of autumn. The van turned off a road and drove down to the edge of a wide stream.

  There was a silver SUV parked there waiting. When the driver got out of the SUV to greet the men in the van, it was obvious that she was a young woman, and possibly a teen given her small size. Her long blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail and held together by a clasp of some kind. Whatever it was, it glistened in the late day sun.

  Three men got out of the van. They were white and looked fit, but as Crash said, they were too far away to be able to make out their faces, although one man had a full beard. The woman went to the van and looked inside. Afterward, she turned and appeared to be speaking to the man with the beard. Whatever he said upset her, and she began to cry. The bearded man patted her shoulder to comfort her, but soon guided her back to the SUV and climbed into the rear seats with her.

  One of the other men climbed behind the wheel and the vehicle was followed by the drone until it weaved its way to a road that led to a highway. The video ended a few seconds later.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get a closer look,” Crash said, “but I was afraid if I did, they would hear the drone’s engine and shoot it down.”

  Tanner held up the phone. “Did Steve see this?”

  “No. I showed it to you first.”

  “Why?”

  Caroline answered. “We thought you might want to take care of these crooks yourself.”

  “It would be a pleasure, but I’m done playing cop. You need to give Steve a copy of this; he’ll track them down. And good work, Crash. It was smart to send up a drone to get a better view.”

  Cras
h beamed at the compliment. He was a huge fan of Cody’s. Getting praise from Tanner Seven was the highlight of the nerdy man’s week.

  Crash agreed to give the chief a copy of the drone footage. Later on, everyone left the festival and went home. The gunshot victims of the shooting war were in the morgue, two more were being held in the Stark jail, while the man Cody wounded was in the hospital. He was under sedation after surgery and handcuffed to his bed. He was being treated in the neighboring town of Culver because Stark didn’t have a hospital.

  The thieves had gotten away with a few thousand dollars. It seemed a trifling sum to attract not one, but two heist crews. Mendez said as much to Cody when they talked on the phone that evening. He expected to get answers from the wounded man in the hospital come morning. That was the chief’s plan. Things did not turn out that way.

  2

  Tell No Tales

  The following morning, Kent Kyle, as usual, used his radio show to boost his brother and criticize the chief. Mayor Jimmy Kyle was the sole reason for the Fall Festival’s success, while Chief Mendez’s bumbling allowed thieves to terrorize people and escape with the money the festival raised.

  When callers pointed out that the police had captured three men and that an investigation was underway, Kent said that none of that mattered. What was important was that the town was out the money the thieves stole.

  “Steve Mendez turned my brother’s success into his own failure. He’ll do the same with the town if you let him.”

  With the election mere weeks away, most voters had already made up their minds but there remained a percentage of the voting public that was still undecided. It was a large enough group to swing things either way. If the proceeds from the robbery weren’t recovered before the election, it could be seen as a black mark against the chief and convince the undecided to vote for Jimmy Kyle. Recent polls had the mayor and the chief in a statistical dead heat despite the fact that Jimmy Kyle was outspending Steve Mendez in campaign ads by a ratio of seven-to-one.

  The man Cody shot was named David Gonzalez. He was carrying ID that identified him by a different name, but his fingerprints gave him away. Gonzalez was a thirty-six-year-old career criminal. He was wanted in connection with a three-million-dollar jewelry heist that had taken place in St. Louis two years earlier and was suspected of being involved in other high-ticket robberies.

  Steve Mendez learned about Gonzalez when he went into the station the next morning. He had just settled behind his desk with a cup of coffee to read the overnight police reports when Clay Milton appeared in the doorway. Clay had news to give him.

  When Mendez read Gonzalez’s arrest record, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Why the hell would a guy like this be involved in such a small-time robbery?”

  “There’s more,” Clay said as he handed the chief additional paperwork. “We also got back the records on the two that died at the fair. Their records are similar to Gonzalez’s.”

  Mendez read the sheets on the dead men. One man, who had worn a black ski mask, had a record of thievery connected with art thefts. The other one had served time for stealing rare postage stamps that had been valued at over a million dollars. It made no sense for thieves of their caliber to risk themselves by robbing a target like the festival. A gun battle was also not standard for such men.

  The two men they’d arrested at the festival refused to give their names and their fingerprints weren’t on file. The only words either man had spoken were requests for a lawyer. Until Mendez knew more about them, it seemed a waste of time to talk to them.

  Mendez shook his head in frustration. “There’s something going on here we’re not seeing.” He gulped down some of his coffee, rose from his desk, and grabbed his black Stetson off the hook by the door. “Let’s you and me head to the hospital and have a talk with Gonzalez.”

  The town of Culver was less rural than Stark and was home to several Big Box stores. Their population was greater and so was their crime rate, although crime was far from getting out of hand.

  The Culver Police Chief was a woman named Brenda Harding. She ran marathons in her spare time and looked as if she’d be reelected easily. Mendez and Clay ran into her inside the hospital’s lobby. Chief Harding was coming out of the security office. She greeted Mendez with a grin.

  “Hello, Mayor Mendez.”

  “I’m not mayor yet, Brenda, but thanks for calling me that. I like the way it sounds.”

  “I guess you’re here to see your prisoner?”

  “Yeah, and he’s turned out to be a surprise.”

  “How so?” Chief Harding asked. Mendez filled her in on Gonzalez’s record. When he was done, Harding looked as puzzled as Mendez felt.

  “That is weird, Steve. But it helps explain the high-priced lawyer who’s here to see him.”

  “You mean he’s lawyered up already?”

  “The guy is from Henderson, Henderson, and Lynch. They’re a big firm out of Dallas.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard of them, and they are not cheap.”

  Harding walked with Mendez and Clay to the elevator. While they waited for the machine to reach the lobby, Harding asked a question.

  “Have you had any luck tracking down the SUV that was in that drone video?”

  “I sent it off to the state lab to see if they could enhance it enough to recognize faces or read the license plate. They should get back to me later today or tomorrow.”

  “Maybe that will lead you somewhere.”

  “I hope so. Now that he’s got a lawyer, I doubt we’ll get anything out of Gonzalez.”

  Clay spoke up. “I think he might be willing to make a deal. He’s been inside twice. If he gets convicted on a weapon’s charge, he’ll be facing hard time. It’s up to the DA of course, but we might be able to talk Gonzalez into naming names, so he’ll serve less time.”

  “That’s a good point,” Harding said. “You’re going to make a fine chief, Clay.”

  “I hope so, and I’ll have it easier than Steve did once Jimmy Kyle is no longer the mayor.”

  “That man cut my budget every year,” Mendez said. “It’s one reason I had to use auxiliary cops at the festival. There was no money for overtime.”

  The elevator arrived and they took it up to the third floor. There wasn’t a cop posted outside Gonzalez’s door, but a hospital security guard was at the nurses’ station.

  Chief Harding spoke to him by name and asked if Gonzalez’s lawyer was still around.

  “A guy in a suit stepped on the elevator when I got off. That was about five minutes ago.”

  “Did he have a beard and wear glasses?” Harding asked.

  “Yes, Chief.”

  “That’s the liar for hire,” Harding said. She led the way down the corridor and slowed when they reached room 314. The door to the room was open. Inside, Gonzalez was propped up in bed by pillows. His eyes were open but staring straight ahead.

  “Mr. Gonzales. I’m Chief Mendez, remember me?”

  There was no response. Gonzales would never respond to anything ever again. All three cops realized that at the same time and placed their hands on their weapons. Clay checked out the bathroom and found it empty. The small closet was already sitting open and there was nothing in it.

  Harding checked for a pulse, found none, and made a face of disgust.

  “Well, shit.”

  David Gonzalez was dead. His secrets had died with him.

  3

  Passing The Baton

  One good thing about having a murder inside the hospital is that the medical examiner was already on the premises. His name was Dr. DeLira. The doctor pulled down the blanket that was pulled up to cover the dead man’s chest. The left side of Gonzalez’s hospital gown was bloody, but not soaked with the red fluid. Dr. DeLira lifted the gown and saw a small wound under Gonzalez’s arm.

  “I’m guessing he was stabbed by a narrow blade, maybe a stiletto. Given how scant the blood loss is, I’d say that the tip of the blade pierced his heart. I’ll
know for sure when I get him on my table.”

  Chief Harding rubbed a hand over her face. “I can’t believe I was fooled by that phony lawyer.”

  Mendez patted her on the arm. “He couldn’t have been too obvious a fake, Brenda, or you wouldn’t have been fooled.”

  “I had my dispatcher call the law firm he claimed to be from. They verified that a lawyer by the name of Harrison Ruiz worked for them. I even had her ask them for a description of Ruiz too. The man I met with fit that description.”

  “Speaking of which, why don’t you get with a sketch artist so I can know what Ruiz looks like.”

  “I’ll do it today. I hate that your prisoner was killed in our hospital.”

  “Not just killed, but he was tortured as well,” Dr. DeLira said, as he spoke over his shoulder. He had continued his examination of Gonzalez. “There are small wounds at the base of the decedent’s spine. I think he was threatened to be rendered a cripple if he didn’t talk. I’ve encountered this type of thing before when I worked in a clinic in Matamoros, Mexico. It was common with victims of drug violence.”

  “I saw that too when I was with the DEA,” Mendez said. “I bet the torture would have been more intense if not for the fact they were in a hospital with people nearby.”

  “Threatening to take away someone’s ability to walk is incentive enough to tell what you know,” Chief Harding said. Thinking about it made the marathon runner shiver a little.

  “I’d love to know what Gonzalez said to his killer,” Mendez said, although he had an idea what it might be.

  Mendez thanked the doctor and asked him to call if he found anything unusual during the autopsy. With no one to question, Mendez and Clay returned to Stark.

  Mendez’s day didn’t improve any when he got back to the station. The two men he had in custody had met with their lawyer and revealed their names. They were Alden and Joshua Carrawell, brothers who were thirty-year-old, non-identical twins and lived in McAllen, Texas.