4 Shot Off The Presses (10 page)

If a press conference with one group of cops is uncomfortable, a press conference with two groups of cops is unbearable. I knew going into it that the briefing would be a pain, but I had no idea just how torturous it really would be.

You had two sheriffs – both trying to one-up one another. Then you had eight deputies – four from each department – trying to make sure they would get their media face time at the podium. And then there was Christine, the really obnoxious media whore, who managed to step on everyone’s toes.

When the press conference was over – without one new tidbit, I might add – I couldn’t get out of the sheriff’s department quick enough. I escaped out the back door, the one by the courtroom at the back of the building, and took the long way back to my car. I didn’t want to see any other media personalities – especially Shelly – and I didn’t want to risk running into Christine either (especially without a car to flatten her with).

When I got out to my car, I was surprised to find Jake leaning against it. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.”

“I would have thought you would be jockeying for air time with the three network stooges.”

“There are plenty of other people in there to do that,” Jake replied.

“Yeah, it’s a regular media extravaganza,” I agreed.

Jake was shuffling in front of my vehicle, his gaze latched to his own shoes. I could tell he wanted to tell me something but he didn’t know how to do it. I figured I would help him. What? He looked miserable.

“You don’t have to worry,” I started. “Christine already told me I wouldn’t be getting special treatment anymore.”

Jake lifted his head. He looked angry. “I have to be careful.”

“I know.”

“I’m not happy about this situation.”

“I know.”

“Stop being so easy to get along with!” Jake practically exploded.

“What do you want me to do? Rant and rave? Act like a baby?”

“That would make me feel better, yes,” Jake admitted. “I don’t like having my hands tied like this.”

“It won’t be for long,” I said honestly. “You’re too good at your job.”

“Christine is going to be a pain.” Jake ran his hands through his already messy hair. He was more worked up than I could remember in recent weeks.

“Don’t worry,” I said cagily. “I plan on running some background on her, too.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Be careful how you do it,” Jake warned. “They’ll be expecting you to do something.”

“Yeah, I’m predictable that way,” I agreed. “It’s better for you, though, that they’re already aware that I’m ridiculously vindictive.”

“If anyone can find something, it would be you.”

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Jake looked uncomfortable with both my statement and wry smile. He started to move away and then turned back around. “Those stickers on your car are ridiculous.”

“And we’re back to normal.”

WHEN
I got back to the office, I found Marvin holding court in the center of the aisle with a handful of my co-workers grouped around him. He was entertaining, even if he drove everyone nuts at one time or another.

“I’m telling you, I’m a hundred percent sure this time,” Marvin said.

“A hundred percent sure about what?” I asked.

“Marvin is in love,” one of the city reporters answered.

“With who? His hand?”

Everyone chuckled appreciatively. Nothing made reporters laugh more than a pointed jab at someone’s manhood – especially if it wasn’t directed at them.

“No,” Marvin said snidely. “With a woman.”

“Stripper?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry, I mean exotic dancer.”

“No, and they’re people, too, you know?” Marvin was scowling at me.

“I do know,” I nodded, dropping my notebook on my desk. “You’ve told me repeatedly.”

“Well, you seem to forget.”

“Sorry. So, you met another exotic dancer?”

“No,” Marvin said. “She is not an exotic dancer. She has a respectable career.”

“Really? Like a nurse? You do like women in uniform. Especially in the service industry.”

“She’s not a nurse.”

“I’m starting to lose interest,” I admitted.

“She’s a bartender at The Roost.”

Cripes. “Well, it sounds like a great career. What’s her name?”

“Ariel.”

“Like the mermaid?”

“Yes.”

“Just checking. Go on. You’re in love with Ariel.” I couldn’t really get worked up about another Marvin love story. He wrote a new one every week. Okay, that was unfair. Sometimes they lasted as long as a month.

“She’s an angel,” Marvin sighed.

“I thought she was a mermaid.”

“If you’re going to be a pain, I’m not going to tell you about her.”

I knew he meant it as a threat, but I was really considering taking him up on the offer. I had some research to do – and it wasn’t all tied to the freeway shooter. Still, Marvin was a good friend. If listening to his most recent romantic exploit made him happy, it was really the least I could do. “I’m sorry. Ariel is an angel. Go on.”

“She gave me a double shot and only charged me for a single shot,” Marvin nodded smugly.

“That is love.”

“Then she sat and talked to me for the entire night. Just the two of us. She’s fascinated by the news business.”

Most people usually were. They had no idea how tedious it could be.

“There’s just one thing,” Marvin hedged.

And here it comes. “What would that be? Is she married? Because you said you were going to stay away from married women after that whole weird threesome thing?”

“She’s not married,” Marvin said hurriedly. “And you promised you wouldn’t bring that up again.”

“Sorry. What’s the problem?”

“Well, when I was walking behind her, I kind of put my hand on her back.”

“So? She doesn’t have another arm back there does she?”

“No,” Marvin shook his head vehemently. “Her back is just sort of . . . sweaty.”

I considered the statement. He never ceased to amaze me. “I don’t know what that means.”

“She has a sweaty back.”

“So? Wasn’t she working?”

“Yeah, but once I knew it was sweaty, that was all I could think about.”

“You’re never going to find a woman if you keep fixating on these ridiculous little things.”

“A sweaty back is not a little thing,” Marvin countered.

“I think most people would think it’s a minor thing.” I glanced around at the other reporters for support. I wasn’t surprised, though, when they all avoided my gaze. “Like you guys are some big prizes.”

“Yeah, but we don’t have sweaty backs,” the court reporter said.

“You have ear hair that is long enough to braid.”

“That’s just cosmetic,” he countered.

“And a sweaty back is a high crime?”

“You can’t talk to a woman,” Marvin said.

The other reporters agreed and then quietly dispersed, casting frustrated glances in my direction.

I quickly cranked out my story, sending Fish an email that it was in, and then turned to the county’s website. All the financial documents for political representatives throughout the county – no matter the position – are available online. The problem is, most of these politicians have thousands of donors. Hitting on the right one – one that might put the pressure on Tad – was going to be a chore.  I was up to it, though, because I was totally pissed off – and when I’m pissed off, I tend to get petty.

After a few hours of looking through financial documents, I found what I was looking for. The Giannone family. He had not one but two checks from them. The Giannone family has ties to organized crime. While the two individuals listed on the checks had never been arrested for anything, the name was enough to give me a starting point.

Once I was done, I closed my computer and left for the day. I was at a standstill on the freeway shooting and there was only one place to look right now: Eliot. I needed to know what he knew about Leonard Turner. And now was as good a time as any to press him on the subject.

Or maybe I just hoped that. Either way, I was spoiling for a fight.

I stopped at the coffee shop next to Eliot’s store to calm myself before confronting him. I knew he was going to be evasive, but I was ready to deal with it.

When I entered his store, I found him working behind the counter. The store was empty, and he was busy balancing the books for the day. He looked up when he heard the bell over the door jangle and smiled when he saw me. “You’re early.”

“There was no new information at the press conference,” I admitted.

“So, what did they talk about?”

“We got to meet the new media liaison.”

“For who? The task force?”

“No, the sheriff’s department.”

“Why would they have a media liaison? I thought Farrell liked to do that stuff himself?” Eliot looked confused.

“He does. The county commissioners thought he needed a media liaison so he didn’t get distracted by certain members of the press and give them special treatment.”

Eliot was quiet for a beat. “Meaning that they think you’re getting too much favoritism.”

“Pretty much.”

“What’s he like?”

“She. Her name is Christine. And she’s the devil.”

Eliot chuckled. “Sounds like the two of you are going to get along swell.”

“Don’t say swell. It makes me think of what she would look like if I popped her in the eye.”

“I take it things didn’t go well,” Eliot said sagely.

“Not well at all,” I agreed, peering into one of his cases as I moved around the store restlessly. “She did let it slip that Tad Ludington was the one behind her hiring, though.”

Eliot’s face clouded. “That guy is a douche.”

“Yeah, I’ve already started his payback,” I said.

“How?”

“I pulled his financials from the most recent election.”

“Isn’t that a lot of work?”

“It is,” I agreed. “However, the next election is going to cut the board in half because of that whole county executive thing. That means that a lot of these districts are going to be overlapping.”

“And he won’t have a walkover in the election this year,” Eliot supplied.

“Exactly.”

“Did you find anything?”

“A couple of checks from the Giannone family.”

“Really?” Eliot looked surprised. “What are you going to do with that?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” I admitted. “It’s just a beginning.”

“Well, I pity the fool that would take you on,” Eliot smiled sweetly. “If you need any help, I’m up for doing some legwork to bring him down, too.”

“Really? I didn’t see you as the type of guy that would want to help Jake?” It was a pointed question.

“Jake and I have issues,” Eliot agreed. “He’s good at his job, though. And Ludington is a total ass.”

“He is definitely an ass.”

Eliot watched me move around his store curiously. He went back to balancing the register, but I could feel his eyes periodically move back up to me as the silence enveloped us both. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore – which was just the reaction I was going for. “What do you want?”

“What makes you think I want anything?” I asked innocently.

“Because you’re not very stealthy,” Eliot replied.

I blew out a sigh and turned to him. “I want to know about Leonard Turner.”

Eliot’s previously amused eyes immediately clouded over. “I don’t know what you’re taking about.”

“Eliot, I know that you’re hiding something from me,” I said. “I don’t want to know any of your covert ops information that I shouldn’t know. I just want to know why you don’t like Turner.”

Eliot groaned. “I knew you weren’t going to just let this go.”

“I think I’ve been very good about letting you have your space on this,” I countered.

“Space? You’re in here grilling me about him right now?”

“This isn’t grilling,” I argued. “When I’m grilling you, you’ll know it.”

“Fine,” Eliot said.

“Really?”

“You seem surprised.”

“I thought I was going to have to be a lot more persuasive than this,” I admitted. “I thought it might involve sexual favors with outfits.”

“Let’s just say I don’t want this hanging over us and leave it at that,” Eliot looked resigned. “I might take you up on the outfits, though.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

“Lock the door,” Eliot instructed me.

“Is this one of those you can tell me but then you have to kill me conversations?” I asked nervously. “Because I’m not sure if I want to know that badly.”

“Lock the door.”

I did as I was told and then followed Eliot to the back of the store. I sat down at the small table in the back room and watched as he rooted around the refrigerator. When he came to the table, he slid a Diet Coke across the table towards me and then popped the top on his own can. “Where do you want me to start?”

“When did you meet Turner?”

“About a year after I was promoted to Special Forces.”

“Was he your commander?”

“No,” Eliot scoffed. “He was just a newbie.”

“You didn’t like him?”

“You could tell there was something wrong with the guy the minute you met him.”

“Wrong how?”

“He was just off. He lied whenever he spoke – like saying that he played cards with the president the week before he came to Special Forces. He also liked to try and play people against each other, tell one guy that another guy was ogling pictures of his wife, really juvenile stuff.”

“How did he get promoted?”

“The rumor was that he was promoted because his dad was a general.”

“Do you believe that rumor?”

“Yeah,” Eliot said dejectedly. “I didn’t want to at first, but there was no way that guy could pass the psych profile without a little help.”

“He was crazy?”

“Crazy is a subjective word,” Eliot countered. “He was uneven. He was all over the place. He was blood thirsty, too. He wanted to go out on missions that he thought would have a high body count – and he didn’t care if kids were involved in that body count.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No,” Eliot said grimly. “He was a jackass.”

“How long did you serve together?”

“Only six months.”

“And Jake was there, too?”

“Yeah,” Eliot said. “In fact, Turner is the reason Jake and I don’t get along.”

I didn’t like where this was going. I had to know, though. “What happened?”

“I can’t give you the specifics,” Eliot warned. “I can tell you we had a mission to extract a high level Hamas operative from a small village. It was just supposed to be a snatch and grab.”

I waited quietly, letting Eliot tell the story in his own time.

“When we got to the village, it was really quiet,” Eliot continued. “We went to the house where we were told he would be and we entered. I went in the front with Turner and Jake went around the back with another guy from our team.”

Eliot’s face looked pained.

“Turner went in first. I didn’t even see what happened. I just heard him start firing. I raced in behind him, but it was already too late. There were two people in the room, and they were both dead.”

“So you lost your Hamas contact,” I said.

Eliot shook his head. “He wasn’t there. I don’t know if he was ever there. The only two people in the room were an elderly woman and a young girl, her granddaughter.”

I covered my mouth in both horror and surprise. “Were they armed?”

Eliot shook his head. “No.”

“Why did he shoot them?”

“You’ll have to ask him.”

“What happened then?”

“Jake raced in from the back and I had to stop Turner from shooting him,” Eliot said. “He was like a rabid dog. It was like he couldn’t differentiate between the enemy and anyone else.”

“What happened?”

“Jake was pissed, I mean really pissed,” Eliot said. “I didn’t blame him. I was pissed, too.”

“He attacked him.” I didn’t know how I knew, I just knew.

“You could say that,” Eliot said. “I just know that it took everything I had to wrestle Jake off of him. When it was over, Turner had a broken arm, a black eye and a bloody nose.”

“Sounds like he had it coming.”

“He did.”

“So he was removed from Special Forces?”

“Not exactly,” Eliot shook his head.

“How could they keep him on?”

“They weren’t going to do anything, at first,” Eliot said. “Jake made a formal complaint, though. I told him he was stupid to do it, which was a mistake on my part.”

“Why did you tell him that?” I was honestly curious.

“I was worried,” Eliot admitted. “Turner’s father had a lot of juice. I knew he did. I thought Jake was painting a target on his own back.”

“So you didn’t file a complaint.”

“No,” Eliot conceded. “In retrospect, I wish I did. I’ll never forget Turner looking at me, when it was all said and done, and telling me that what happened in the field stayed in the field. I wanted to punch him myself.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t. One of the great mistakes of a life that has had a lot of mistakes.”

“And Jake thinks you betrayed him?”

“He would be right,” Eliot said miserably.

I was at a loss. Eliot looked so sad. I got to my feet and walked over to him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “It was a long time ago. You shouldn’t beat yourself up over it.”

“Those people were innocent.”

“And Turner was the one that was guilty.”

“Yeah,” Eliot agreed reluctantly, running his hand up and down my arm. “He was guilty.”

“What happened then?”

“Well, instead of getting brought up on war charges and being drummed out of the military Turner was transferred to a cushy office job overseas – complete with a raise.”

“That’s unbelievable.”

“It is what it is,” Eliot sighed.

“That’s why Jake went to confront Turner,” I said thoughtfully. “He thought that Turner was bloodthirsty enough to shoot someone from a freeway bridge.”

“He would be right,” Eliot agreed.

“Do you think he did it?”

Eliot looked genuinely torn. “I don’t know enough about the shooting to say either way.”

“This sucks.”

“It definitely sucks,” Eliot agreed.

I tightened my arms around his neck. “Thank you for telling me.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I have no idea,” I admitted. “It’s not like I have a source in the military that can give me information without anyone knowing.”

“And the information on Turner is going to be buried. Deep.”

“I need to give it some thought,” I said finally. “If I wasn’t already suspicious of Turner, though, I would be now.”

“Stay away from him,” Eliot warned. “He’ll have no problem going after you. And, given your ties to both Jake and me, he probably would enjoy it. I have a feeling you weren’t exactly respectful when he called you into his office.”

“Why would you say that?” I asked with faux outrage.

“I’ve met you.”

“Oh, that.”

I pressed a comforting kiss to Eliot’s temple and then pressed my forehead against his for a second. “We’ll figure this out.”

“What?”

“Getting Turner,” I said easily.

“Getting him? You’re going to go after him?”

“I’ll just add him to my list.”

“That list is getting long,” Eliot said.

“You have no idea.”

Our close moment was interrupted when my cell phone beeped with an incoming text message. I sighed as I pulled away and fished my cell phone from my purse. I frowned when I read the text display.

“What is it?”

“There’s been another shooting.”

“Where?”

“The 12 Mile and I-94 overpass. Right by my house.”

Eliot looked grim. “Let’s go.”