Gun Games (29 page)

And when the line connected, Gabe had trouble getting the words from his throat. “Peter . . .” He was panting. “Peter, I’m in trouble.”

I
t took a moment for Decker to recognize the breathless voice. “Gabe?”

“Yeah, sorry. It’s Gabe.”

Decker’s brain went to high alert, but his voice remained even. “Where are you?”

“I’m on the . . .” Gabe was wiped out and winded. “I’m on a bus . . . on . . . God, I don’t even know where I am. Hold on . . . let me read a street sign.” He gave Decker the road and read off an address. “Can you please come get us?”

Us?

“I’m on my way.” Decker had just started to pull into the station house driveway. He put the car in reverse and drove out of the parking lot. “Are you in physical danger right now?”

“Maybe.”

Decker placed the red light on the roof of the car and turned on the siren. “How imminent?”

“I dunno. I think we’re okay right now.” He heard the siren in the background. Never had a G-sharp slide sounded so good. “Where should we meet up?”

“You stay on the bus and I’ll catch up to you. I’m about five minutes away. Stay on the phone, okay?”

“Yeah. I’m still here.”

Decker could hear muted conversation—clipped words and a lot of breathing. Even with the siren and lights, it took him a little longer to reach the bus because of morning traffic. He said, “I’m right behind you.” He turned off the siren. “Get off at the next stop.”

“Okay.”

The big behemoth chugged away for several blocks until it pulled up to a bus bench filled with working people. Decker got out of the unmarked, stood by the passenger door, and waited. Before long two figures emerged, holding hands.

Gabe absolutely towered over her.

When he and the girl got close enough, Decker saw that her eyes were red and swollen, and she looked a
lot
younger than the seventeen-year-old girl that Gabe claimed to have been seeing.

She also looked familiar.

And then Decker placed her: the Persian girl at the deli, not the one who was flirting with Gabe, but the youngest one who looked about ten and supposedly sang opera. And suddenly everything fit together. He opened the back door and the two of them slid inside. She was trembling and burst into tears as soon as she clicked on her seat belt. Gabe was shaking. He looked pale and wan.

“What happened?” Decker asked.

The two kids began talking at the same time. Gabe was breathless: the girl was speaking through sobs and tears.

He said, “I think a group of thugs kidnapped her—”

She wailed out, “They said . . . they were going to . . .
rape
me—”

“I found her phone and her watch on the ground and knew something was wrong—”

“And
kill
me—”

“I caught up to them and they had a gun on her and then some fucker pulled a gun on me.”

“They threatened me with . . .
horrible, wretched
things.” She was crying so hard, she was hard to understand. “And the girls . . . they were worse than the
boys
!”

Gabe panted out, “I got the gun away from that dude . . . and then I wound up with two guns . . . it’s all kinda blurry.”

“Gabe saved my
life
—”

“How’d I get two guns again?” Gabe said to himself.

“Hold on, hold on, hold on,” Decker said. “One at a time. Do you know who these people were?”

“No!” Yasmine cried out. “I’ve never seen any of them in my life!”

“The leader is a dude named Dylan,” Gabe said.

“Dylan?” Decker repeated. His heart did a little leap.

“Yeah, Dylan. I met him once before about four months ago. He’s a real asshole and he loves guns.”

“How do you know him?” Decker asked.

“I don’t know him, just met him once. It’s a long story.”

Yasmine became wide-eyed. “You know, I think I saw the blond girl once before.”

“You did?” Gabe asked.

“Yeah, at Coffee Bean. She was . . .
staring
at me.”

“When was this?” Gabe asked her.

“About two months ago. She was wearing Christian Louboutin boots.”

“Why didn’t you
tell
me?”

“That a girl was staring at me and giving me the stink-eye?”

“Oh, God,” Gabe moaned. “She probably saw us together!”

“I remember thinking, why does she hate me?”

He groaned. “This is all my fault!”

“I thought maybe she didn’t like Persians.”

“Hold on, kids. One at a time.” Decker’s heart was racing. “Does Dylan have a last name?”

“Don’t know it,” Gabe said. “I could describe him. And one of the girls was named Cameron. The blonde. She’s a real whack job. She said I raped her. I swear, Yasmine, I never even touched her.”

“I never believed her.” She hugged his arm. “I knew it was a lie.”

Decker was trying to keep them on track. “Where did all this happen?”

“At Coffee Bean,” Yasmine said.

“They kidnapped you from Coffee Bean?” Decker asked.

“Right outside,” Yasmine told him, then she turned to Gabe. “I went outside to look for you because you were late, and I thought that was odd.”

“I forgot to put in my contacts for the audit— Shit! I have an audition in an hour!”

“You aren’t going anywhere,” Decker said.

“I left my sheet music at Coffee Bean. My agent’s going to kill me if I don’t show up!”

“Gabe, you’re not going anywhere,” Decker said.

“No, you don’t understand,” Gabe protested. “Jeff will really
kill
me.”

“I’ll take the heat,” Decker told him. The boy clearly wasn’t thinking rationally. “So all this happened outside Coffee Bean?”

“I don’t know where they took her from.” Gabe was panting hard now. “I met up with them at Greendale Park.” Each breath was an effort. “You know, Peter, they might still be there because we threw their shit all over the place and they’re probably looking for everything we tossed. I figured if we threw their junk around, it would keep them occupied while we ran away.”

Decker immediately called Marge.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Emergency situation. I want you and all units available to converge on Greendale Park. Pick up everyone you find there and detain them until I arrive.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone. I’ll sort it out later. Use extreme caution with any teenagers you find. They may have weapons.”

“You could probably arrest them, Lieutenant,” Yasmine said. “They were all carrying
drugs
.”

Decker said to Marge, “If you find any of them in possession of weapons, drugs, or any illegal contraband, arrest them immediately. But again, I reiterate. Use extreme caution. They’re armed.”

“I have their guns,” Gabe said. “But they may have more.”

The B and W Mafia,
Decker thought. “Where are the guns you have?”

“Where?” He felt around. “In my pocket.” He gave Yasmine her cell and her watch. “Good thing you left them on the ground for me to find. You’re so smart.”

“I had to do
something,
” Yasmine said.

“You’re just brilliant.”

Decker was still trying to keep them focused. “How many guns do you have, Gabe?”

“Two. You know, I remember one dude trying to pull a gun on me. He had long hair and zits. I shot at him. He could still have a piece.”

Decker relayed the information to Marge.

“I’m seconds away,” she said, then got off the phone.

Gabe said, “Do you want me to give them to you . . . the guns?”

“Yes, I want them, but I don’t want you giving them to me in a moving car. I’ll take them from you when we get to the police station.” A pause. “Do you even know if they’re loaded?”

“They’re loaded,” Gabe said. “Dylan shot at me.”

Again, Decker punched in Marge’s cell number. It took a minute and when her phone finally connected, he said, “Do
not
let any of the kids wash their hands until you’ve tested them all for gunshot residue. Especially a boy named Dylan.”

“
Dylan?
” Marge gasped.

“Yeah, Dylan,” Decker said.

“Got it,” Marge said. “I’m just pulling up.” She disconnected the phone.

Decker’s brain cells were firing so fast, it was hard to keep a train of thought. They rode a minute in silence. “Gabe, did you discharge any of the weapons?”

“Yeah. The Luger 9 mm semi for sure at least twice, but I don’t remember if I shot the .22.”

Decker’s heart sank. “Did you hurt anyone?”

“No . . . at least, I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not positive of anything.”

More minutes ticked on. Marge called back. “We found six teenagers in the process of picking up their belongings. It’s a real mess. Call you later.”

“Anyone hurt?” Decker asked, but Marge had already hung up. He said, “They picked up six kids.”

“That’s all of them,” Gabe said.

“And you’re sure you didn’t hurt anyone?”

“I didn’t
kill
anyone,” Gabe told him. To Yasmine he said, “They were all standing up when we split, right?

Yasmine concurred. “Yeah, they were all standing up. He didn’t hurt anyone.”

“You’re sure?”

“Almost positive.”

“Maybe I’ll call for an ambulance to the spot just in case,” Decker said calmly.

Gabe slumped in the seat. “Maybe you should call one for me. I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”

“For real?” Decker asked.

“No, no . . . I’m okay. One of the assholes punched me in the ribs. He mighta broken something.” He opened up his jacket and put his hand over the spot. His shirt was warm, wet, and sticky. He pulled out his hand, and it was coated with blood. Gabe was confused. “I musta cut myself.”

“Oh my God!” Yasmine gasped and drew her hands to her face. “Gabe, you’ve been shot!”

Again, Decker put the siren on his roof. He made an abrupt U-turn and headed for the hospital.

Chapter Thirty-one

T
he first call to Rina wasn’t an easy one to make, but it was a cakewalk compared to the next.

“This better be important,” Donatti barked over the phone. “You interrupted me at a very inopportune time.”

“It’s Gabe,” Decker said flatly. “He’s okay, but he’s been shot. You need to come down to L.A. immediately.”

The silence on the other end was agonizing. “How bad?”

“When they wheeled him into ER, he could answer their questions. He never lost consciousness. He’s in x-ray now—”

“Anything vital?”

“I don’t know.”

Donatti asked, “Through and through or is the bullet still in there?”

“I don’t know that, either.”

Another protracted, agonizing silence. “What happened?”

“I don’t know the details, but I’ll tell you what he told me,” Decker said. “He called me up about a half hour ago, saying he was in trouble. Apparently, his girlfriend was kidnapped by a group of teenage thugs . . . Did you know he had a girlfriend?”

“Yeah, someone named Yasmine.”

Even with all the distance, Chris still knew more about Gabe than Decker did. “From what I could glean, he caught up with these thugs and managed to save her, but he got shot in the process—”

“Who shot him?” The voice that broke in was calm.

Decker said, “I don’t know, and that’s the truth. We’ve detained some kids, but I don’t know if they’re even the ones that Gabe’s talking about. Yasmine is with me. We’ll leave for the station house when Rina shows up at the hospital. I don’t want to leave Gabe alone until Rina . . . Wait, the doctor is coming out. I’ll put him on the phone.” Decker handed the phone to an MD dressed in blue scrubs. “I’m talking to Gabriel Whitman’s father. His name is Christopher Donatti.”

“Thank you.” Into the phone, he said, “Mr. Donatti, this is Doctor Morland. First of all, your son is going to be fine. He’s talking and completely responsive. He does have a gunshot wound, but the bullet missed anything vital. I do recommend that we take him into surgery immediately. The x-ray shows a bullet lodged in his ribs. The bone is broken, and the sooner we can get the bullet out, the easier it’ll be for him to heal up.”

Silence.

“Hello?” Dr. Morland said.

“Yeah, I’m still here,” Donatti said. “He’s okay?”

“Yes, he’ll be fine. Nothing vital was affected.”

“The bullet’s in his ribs?”

“His ninth rib to be exact.”

“It was a twenty-two?”

“Beg your pardon?”

“The bullet,” Donatti said. “Something bigger would have shattered the bone and gone through his body.”

“Probably.” Morland paused. “Do I have your permission to operate?”

“Yes, you can operate.”

“Could you send me down a fax stating that you give the hospital permission to do what’s necessary for your son’s best well-being?”

“Yes, I can do that.”

“Would you like to talk to him before he goes in?”

“Why? You think he won’t make it?”

Dr. Morland was taken aback. “There’s no reason why he wouldn’t make it, Mr. Donatti.”

“Then I’ll talk to him when he’s out of surgery. Put Lieutenant Decker back on.”

The surgeon made a face and gave Decker his phone. “He doesn’t want to talk to his son. He wants to talk to you.”

Decker nodded. “What do you need, Chris?”

“Doctor says he’s all right. It doesn’t sound like I’m needed right away. I’ll try to come down tonight. If that doesn’t work, I’ll see him tomorrow.”

Cold,
Decker thought. “Whatever works for you, Chris.”

“And Rina will wait with him? I don’t want him left alone.”

“She’ll wait with him until you get here. Even overnight.” Decker gave him all the essentials—the name and address of the hospital, his cell, Rina’s cell.

“I need the hospital fax number to give permission for them to operate.”

“I’ll get it for you.” Decker paused. “I’m sorry, Chris.”

“For what? You didn’t shoot him.”

“Gabe was in my care. I feel responsible.”

“His mother and I dumped him on you. Besides, you can’t keep watch twenty-four/seven.” A pause. “It’s the age. Stupid boys playing grown-up with guns.” Another pause. “Was I that fucking stupid when you met me?”

“You were clever, but you were also stupid.”

“Yeah, I’d like to think I was different, but I probably was a dumb fuck. Only difference was if I would have shot someone, he would have been dead.”

W
hen Decker brought Yasmine into the station house, she was clinging to his arm. She had been crying nonstop, threatening to kill herself if Gabe didn’t make it. The squad room was packed, barely controlled chaos filled with teenagers, detectives, police officers, and mounting piles of paperwork. Normally, things were quite civilized. Today it actually looked like a TV set. Detective Wynona Pratt—a newcomer to Homicide—was sitting in the middle of the squad room, talking to a young girl with long dark hair. As soon as Yasmine laid eyes on the teen, she started to shake uncontrollably. The brunette was trembling just as hard, crying out to Yasmine, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

To Wynona, Decker said, “Get her into an interview room immediately.”

The big-boned detective made a face. “They’re all occupied, Lieutenant.”

“Then use my office.”

“Gotcha.”

Yasmine was squeezing Decker’s arm, sobbing. He looked around for help. Wanda Bontemps came to the rescue. “What do you need, Lieutenant?”

“Any other rooms available?”

“No. We can use the ladies’ lounge.”

“Okay, take her there. But before you ask her anything, I need to call up her parents—”

“Noooo,”
Yasmine wailed out.

Decker was firm. “Yasmine, your parents have to be notified. I should have done it when I was at the hospital. I just didn’t have time.”

“My mother will
kill
me.”

“I guarantee you when she finds out the circumstances, she’ll be overjoyed to see you breathing.” To Wanda, Decker said, “This is Detective Bontemps. She’ll take good care of you until your mother gets here.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Yasmine gagged.

“I’ll take you to the bathroom.” To Decker, she said, “I’ll call her mom.”

“Even better,” Decker told her. After Bontemps hustled her away, he spotted Lee Wang and called him over. “Do you have a minute?”

“I’m with one of the boys.”

“Which one?”

“Jerome John Little, better know as JJ.”

“Where is JJ now?”

“Room four. Willy’s with him.” Willy was William Brubeck, a vet of over thirty years. “He’s seventeen. Do you want me to notify his parents?”

“If he’s talking, let him talk. If he asks for his parents, we have no choice. Tell Willy to go for it. I got another job for you.” He waved over Marge as he talked to Lee. He handed him an evidence bag. “Run these guns through the system. There are two of them—a Luger 9 mm semiautomatic and a Smith and Wesson .22LR. Find out if they’re registered, who owns them, and if any of them are stolen.”

“Not a problem.”

Marge blew out air. “You said arrest anyone we could and we did just that. One of them, Kyle Kerkin who has long hair, was in possession of a firearm—a .32 Glock. Dylan had crystal meth in his back pocket. When we arrested him on possession, he fell apart. That’s when we asked if we could swipe his hands for gunshot residue. He was so unnerved, he said yes. He tested positive.”

“Fantastic! How old is Dylan?”

“Eighteen.”

The smile on Decker’s face was ear to ear. “Even better!”

“The bad news is now that he’s had a little time to think, he wants a lawyer.”

“Doesn’t mean the evidence will get thrown out, especially if he’s an adult.”

“Absolutely. Besides, he’s not going to talk his way out of a possession charge.”

“Right now, Dylan’s got worse things to deal with . . . like attempted murder.”

Marge nodded. Her mood was guarded. “We’ve got tons of charges to work with, Pete. Two of the boys were in possession of crystal meth and crack cocaine, one boy had a pipe and a bag of what’s probably E, the girls had pot and pills, and the blonde also had crystal meth. The brunette—Darla Holbein—is seventeen. Two of the boys—JJ Little and Nate Asaroff—are also seventeen. Cameron Cole and Kyle Kerkin, along with Dylan Lashay, are over eighteen.”

“And Kerkin was the one with the Glock?”

“Yes. He had a Glock and he is over eighteen.”

“Where’s the gun?”

“Drew Messing is running it through the system. He should be done by now.”

“Any other guns besides the Glock?”

“Nope.”

“Gabe’s not positive who shot him.”

“Dylan was the only one with residue on his hands.”

“You’re sure.”

“Yep. We swabbed them all.”

“Have you talked to any of the kids to get their side of the story?”

“Of course. They say they were just walking along when Gabe and the girl held them up and tried to rob them.”

“Gabe shot himself?”

“I don’t even know if they realize that Gabe has been shot. We certainly haven’t told them anything. They’re all sticking to their robbery story.”

“Nothing was found on either Gabe or the girl—her name is Yasmine Nourmand.”

“They claim that Gabe and the girl were spooked by a Good Samaritan. They ran away, tossing their possessions in the bushes as they fled. They even claim the drugs belonged to Gabe and the girl and they were only holding them for evidence to show the police. Gotta hand it to them. They had their alibis down even before we picked them up.”

“Did any of them call the police and report a robbery?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Did any of the group call 911?”

“Don’t know. All the units I met at the park were responding to my call.”

“Gabe called me right away. Doesn’t mean anything . . . just that he reached out for help . . . could be someone will say that I gave him direction . . . which I didn’t. Still . . .” Decker thought a moment. “You’re the lead. I can’t get too involved in this one.”

“No problem. I thought as much.”

“Gabe claims he dropped his sheet music at Coffee Bean before he took off to find the gang. Send someone down there to photograph it and bag it as evidence. It’ll lend credence to his story.”

“No problem.”

Decker said, “Who do you think is the weakest link in the B and W Mafia?”

“They turned out to be a lot more evil than I gave them credit for,” Marge said.

“You and me both.”

“The weakest link?” Marge paused. “I’d say the seventeen-year-old brunette—Darla Holbein. She broke down immediately.”

“Yeah, when I brought Yasmine in, she kept on trying to apologize to her.” Decker took out his pad and jotted down some notes. “Which means that if the gang was being robbed by them, why would Darla immediately start apologizing to Yasmine?”

Marge said, “I’ll mention it to the D.A.”

Decker said, “Who’s the next weakest link?”

“A tie between JJ Little who hasn’t stopped crying and Kyle Kerkin, who wet himself when we found the gun.”

“Kyle Kerkin is over eighteen, right?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect. Darla is with Wynona.”

“She asked for her parents. They’ve already been notified and they’re on their way,” Marge said. “What should we do with Dylan, who’s asking for a lawyer?”

“Give him his lawyer. He’ll be the last one we’ll talk to—after we get all the others to flip on him.”

Y
asmine raced into a bathroom stall. She didn’t even have time to close the door. It took a few minutes before she came out, wiping her mouth on toilet paper. She was trembling uncontrollably.

“I can’t stop shaking.”

“That’s all the adrenaline.” Wanda helped her onto a couch in the ladies’ lounge. “Let me get you some orange juice.”

“I still feel sick.” She suddenly panicked. “I wanna go back to the hospital.”

“Are you hurt?”

“I wanna see Gabe.” She started to cry. “I need to see him. If something happens to him, I’ll kill myself!”

Wanda counted to three. “Sweetheart, first let’s call your parents—”

“Oh, please don’t call my
mom
.” She hugged herself in an attempt to stop her trembling. “She’ll
kill
me! My father will disown me. You don’t under . . .
stand
!”

“So let’s start with your mother. She has to know what’s going on.”