A Wintery Weekend In Montie

By 3:30, the temperature were already at zero with a ten-mile an hour wind.  Traffic was slow but steady and the jail was filling with several of the homeless men and women, while others were housed at a nearby motel over the weekend and their meals comped by the city.

By five, it was almost completely dark and cars traveling were much fewer.  Going out and about on a night like tonight just didn’t appear to be the right thing to do.

This Friday night was one of those times when hot tea and hot soup seemed to be the perfect choice to take the chill out of your bones.

Other homes cranked their heaters up an extra ten degrees or plugged in an electric fireplace, or even used the real thing and dropped a log or two into an existing fire and sat close by to enjoy the natural heat that seemed to relax people and bring contentment.

But Montie itself was tucked away from the outside world that could slice right through you if you weren’t careful.  It was every bit that kind of cold.

Ed and Stevie, Ellie, and her parents, would already be set up in their hotel rooms.  Stevie would spend about two hours in one of the hotel’s meeting rooms to have a team meeting and listen to what Coach Claymoore had to say.

Baker and Leon, after eating grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches and chicken-noodle soup, sat on the couch and watched a movie.  It was an older DVD, but one Leon had never seen: The Teenage Ninja Mutant Turtles.  Leon laughed and laughed throughout, and surprisingly, Baker found it funny all over again, or maybe it was Leon’s laughter who had her laughing so.

Later, after Leon went to bed, she went into her bedroom, opened the bottom dresser drawer, and pulled out a white shoe box holding several important papers.  Opening it, she dropped in the small white box Satchell gave her earlier and it sat next to a pair of bronzed baby shoes and Stevie’s birth certificate.  Then her phone rang.

She dived across the bed and picked up the extension.  Two rings.  “Baker.”

“Hey, mom!”

“Hi, Stevie.  Did you guys get all settled in?”

“Yeah.  Ed’s in the shower and says hi.  We had a big team meeting tonight and dinner here was good.”

“Sounds like a fun time.”

“It would be even better if you were here.”

“I know.  I wish I could be there.  At least I can wish you much luck and good fortune over the next few days.  Leon and I will be cheering all of you on.  So will the city.”

“Mom, if we win tomorrow and Tuesday, we’ll be in the Final Four.  Do you think you might be able to come out here then and watch the game?”

“You bet-cha, Bub.  Leon and I will be there to see you win State as well.  That’s how confidant I am.”

“We think we can, too.  I love you, mom.  See you soon, okay?”

“You know ….”

Hell, he did it again. Get over it, Jan.

Kyoto, Japan – 1:15 p.m.

Lee walked into an expansive waiting area. Behind a modest desk sat a thin, but attractive secretary he suspected to be in her early twenties.

“Nanika otetsudai shimashou ka?” (Can I help you?)

Lee handed her a business card he had received at the airport in Albany from a man named John Steele.

"Yes. I believe I have an appointment to see Mr. Taniko."

Lee and John struck up a conversation as he was waiting for his jet to fuel up. John learned that Lee was a recently discharged veteran and wanted to do a human-interest story. Lee said he would let him know and since he found out John Steele would also be in Japan for a cover story about foreign industrialists, and that he had a good eye for detail, Lee altered his features enough to resemble Steele while flying across the country. Without him realizing it, he was doing what Freddy did.

“Hai, sutīru-san. Chotto matte kudasai.” (Yes, Mr. Steele. Just a moment.)

Lee took a seat to the left of her desk as he watched her pick up her phone.

“Taniko-san, a John Steele from the New York Times is here to see you. Yes sir, I will tell him.” She set the phone down.

“Mr. Steele-san, he will see you in a moment.”

“Thank you. I’m impressed. Your English is exceptionally good.”

“It is because of the number of various businessmen, Taniko-san comes into contact with, my position requires me to be fluent in several languages; as also is Taniko-san.”

Her phone buzzed once. She picked it up, then set it back down again.

“You may go in, Mr. Steele-san.”

Lee stood, then opened a door she4 pointed out, and he stepped through an open archway into a brightly lit room with several glass cases surrounding the walls in Taniko's office, some of which held Japanese artifacts such as Katan swords, Toso Masuku's (painted masks), and many different cuts and styles of glass and pottery designs.

Behind his desk w2as a large painting which appeared to be an original of two feudal nations at ward hundreds of years ago. Two walls were covered with a silken coverlet with Japanese lettering inscribed. Another wall was filled with a six-foot, six-shelfed bookcase with a variety of books on mining, manufacturing, and mine construction. The remaining wall was mostly a large picture window with an excellent view of Kyoto.

Lee already knew there would be no paperwork to exclaim the hundreds of millions of dollars Taniko makes exporting drugs worldwide. That was only part of the reason he was in his office.

“Sutīru-san, yōkoso (welcome).  What is it your New York Times wish from me?  If you seek an interview, I can have Taimashi, my secretary, schedule you an appointment.  To be quite forward, I do not have time to talk with you today.”

"Actually. what I want, I don't think you want her to know about, and you will make time for me."

"I am afraid I do not understand Steele-san."

Lee reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper and slid it across Taniko's desk. Taniko opened the sheet and read a portion of names listed, many whom he .recognized.

Taniko licked his lips nervously, then raised his head slowly, until his eyes were level with Lee's

"Where did you get these names?"

"Where I got them from isn't important."

"What do you want from me?"

"I want what they and others like them want. Some fine music, good drugs, and exceptionally great sex."

"You do not, as it is said, beat around a tree. Do you prefer young boys, or young girl?"

"Girls."

“When and where?”

“Tonight. I want them where you do all your filming and editing. I want what I do, on film.”

"It is expensive." "Trust me. Money isn't a problem."

Lee reached inside his coat and pulled out a thick envelope and threw it on Taniko’s desk. I'm sure you can convert that easily enough. It adds up to a hundred thousand."

Taniko relaxed and for the first time, smiled. Reaching for his pen, he grabbed a sheet of paper and wrote down his address and time. He pushed it across the desk.

"Steele-san, please, I will have dinner prepared for us at seven this evening. I would be most honored to have you as my guest."

"And the rest."

"I will have it all arranged. All you ask for is below my home."

"Then I'll see you at seven."

"Nihon wa anata o kengei suru." (Japan welcomes you.)

"Domo arigatogozaimashita." (Thank you very much.)

"Koeidesu." (It is my pleasure.)

As to Mitsu Taniko, he would have the American’s money looked over to make certain it wasn’t marked.  If all checked out, he would proceed with Steele-san’s request.

Meanwhile, he would have Taimashi call the New York Times to confirm they do have a John Steel who works for them. If any problem arose, Taniko has four men, he pays very well to dispose of his body.

Thursday – January 3rd

The Squad Room – 8:39 a.m.

“I have gone over the report of the shooting where we lost Savage and Sadowski yesterday. I worked it over several times to ensure those men arrested, will not be able to get out of a large lengthy sentence with any lawyer that represents them.

“Carl Macklin is working with the families on viewing and burial arrangements and once he finds out the dates and times, we’ll be notified. As to the Projects, I am hereby tripling the number of units that will patrol the area and that will remain in effect until otherwise noted. No unit will go in their alone, and with three units available 24/7, additional backup will still be available. We will not lose another man or woman, due to an oversight. Units will rotate week to week. And, to gain additional support, we will be placing employment availability for an additional thirty-eight officers.

“For those who want to attend tonight, be at Benny’s Pub at seven. You all know the drill. Now, if no one has any questions, then get out there and please—stay safe, and keep our streets safe.”

The room cleared as bodies stood, pushing chairs out of the way, making screeching noises, that, over the years have left striped skid marks. It gave the room, like those who came in and sat down five days a week, character. But on this particular movement, no voices were heard, even in slight mumbles. It was cops thinking about two of their own. It could have been one of those who walked out the door just then. Cops are a unique and different kind of brotherhood.

Baker stopped in the break room to get a cup of coffee and went from there to her office to look into her last and only unsolved missing person’s report. It would do her good to focus on something else other than yesterday.

She knew it would be a lost cause but lost or not, she would still do what had to be done. An end result might happen today, next week, next month, next year or ten years from now, but for the sake of the family, the sake of justice, and for the sheer fact she wanted to bring closure to a mother and father, and friends.

Tina Yeager. She would turn thirteen in two more months. This was really out of her jurisdiction, as Tina’s disappearance happened off the southeastern coast of Florida. She lived in Montie but went on vacation to Florida with her parents. But Tina was a hometown girl and Baker wasn’t about to wait patiently for a call from the police there she knew would probably never call.

She tapped keys to enter onto South Miami’s police website. Using her police identification number, she was able to look under missing persons, and after thirty seconds, found Tina’s picture. Still listed. Nothing new added. Baker covered other areas of the site including rapes and murders; solved and unsolved. Nothing.

The only logical conclusion to Tina’s disappearance is that if did in fact drown, the current would have pulled her body further and further away from the mainland into the Atlantic, meaning; she could have been dinner for a shark or two, or, she could have been swept along the Gulf as far west as Texas or even Mexico. If that happened, alligators and/or crocodiles would have gotten to her first. Nothing would be left of her to find … or identify.

Her phone rang.

“Baker.”

“Yes, this is Captain Ryan Collins, Houston PD.”

“Houston? What can I help you with?”

“We found a portion of an arm down here and have run it through forensic testing.”

Baker sat up in her chair.

“What did you find?”

“It wasn’t easy, but they were able to extract portions of what bone marrow they could, and although the skin, what there was left of it, was extremely rotted out, they were able to get two good samples of skin grafts to conduct the testing.”

Baker thought, no wonder J.W. moved north. Texas police are slow talkers.

“If you would, Captain Collins, I would appreciate it if you would cut to the chase.”

“I was about to. We, like most departments around the country, have a list of hits we respond to when it comes to things like this. The tests have confirmed the arm is that of a ten or eleven-year-old girl.”

“Save me some expectations here Captain, what is the girl’s name?”

“Yeager. Tina Yeager.”

Baker gasped, and her breath hitched for a moment. What are the odds.

“This will certainly be a huge relief for her parents, and for us.”

“Don’t get too excited. We’re still dredging the river in hopes to recover more body parts. You're also the last of sixteen agencies I’ve contacted.”

“I see. You won’t have to worry then. You’ve contacted the right place.”

“Give me your fax number, and I’ll forward the information on her DNA. If it matches the parents there, then we can put this one to sleep.” Baker did.

“I will see to it the parents are notified.” The fax printed out as she spoke. “I’ll make sure they have blood workups and a DNA test done and have it rushed to your labs for confirmation.

“If it matches up or not, fax me back the results. Before I forget, and I’m sorry for this, a bad habit of mine, but I often forget to mention this call is being recorded.”

Baker’s eyes rolled.

“It’s okay. I agree to it. No problem.”

“Thank you. Now if you would clearly state your title, badge number and name, please.”

Another inward sigh from her.

“Lieutenant, badge number 4751, Janis Baker-Manning, with a hyphen.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

After they were finally disconnected, Baker looked over a series of numbers bled black onto white paper. Numbers that may or may not prove to really be Tina Yeager.

Sitting away from her desk, she looked at the file, searched for the Yeager’s phone number and slowly punched in the ten-digit phone number.

“Hello.”

“Mrs. Yeager?”

Baker went on to tell her what she recently found out and explained she would drive out to her home and pick up her and her husband to go over to the crime lab where Carl Macklin, head of the Forensic and Special Investigation Unit would himself conduct the tests. She assured Mrs. Yeager the tests was a simple procedure. Baker would call Carl next and ask that he do so.

For a weeping mother on the phone, with hopes of her daughter returning home, the time began to prepare in truth for the closure that has never come.

For Baker, she prayed she wouldn’t have to make a call like this ever again.

The Rest of The Day in Montie

No one was shot. No one was robbed. No one died.

But the day wasn’t a happy one.

The Lucky’s and the Sadowski’s were in a void of nothingness. That sea of endless pain and grief that began with a fateful beginning, and with a seemingly never-ending ending.

For the Yeager’s, a long-awaited question, “Where is our little girl”, was finally answered.

Tears of grief and relief in the finally knowing, brought a husband and wife even closer and much stronger in their love and need for each other.

Lab results sent back to Texas confirmed what everyone had suspected.

There would be a private funeral arranged this day where little Tina Yeager will at long last be afforded a place to have the peace she deserves. Her parents will always continue to share that invisible hole inside each other, but over time, that hole would shrink but in truth, never wholly close. Two years later they would give birth to another daughter.

No one would know about the funerals for Larry Lucky and Mason Sadowski until the evening news.

At seven o’clock, fifty-three police officers were at Benny’s Pub, both off and on-duty. As with every police officer who loses their life, a tribute was said, shot glasses poured, then emptied, twice. As always, as the unspoken custom dictates, each glass was thrown against what is commonly known as Memory-Wall.

When night put her blanket over the city, streetlights aglow, giving the snow that had already settled into small drifts as if they were a coffin offered up by mother nature, many people would sleep easy. They would be the ones who had no idea what went on this day.

Others would lie awake throughout the night. Some would ask, “Why?” Others, thanking God the search is over.

Another day down, another one coming. Life is the final frontier.

Friday – January 4th

The Squad Room – 8:29 a.m.

“The families of Officer’s Larry Lucky and Mason Sadowski will be holing a private viewing this evening and have requested a small private service. The burial will take place tomorrow at eleven at both Morningside and Christian Belt Park Cemeteries. Those wishing to attend may do so, but it is also requested you arrive in civilian clothing.”

“What? I don’t get that,” said Phil Savage.

Satchel was back in the room. He inhaled, released his breath sharply.

“The families are distraught and shook up by what happened. Though neither side has vocalized it, I almost suspect they wouldn’t want us at the funeral at all.”

“What? Do they think it was our fault they are dead? These were our guys, Captain?”

“I hear you, Phil. I get it. But, they were also someone else’s father, husband, brother … son. I’m not going to ask any of you not to go, just be respectful, which I’m sure you are all capable of doing so.” Satchell stepped back, allowing Baker to resume the meeting.

“I will be on call this weekend if anything at all comes up. I don’t want to be left out of the loop on anything and everything that goes down.

“Streets aren’t too bad out there, but we could still have some driver situations. Again, round up any homeless out there and bring them in. Weatherman’s saying the temps could drop to ten below. Factor in the wind, you get the picture.

“Oh, and Phil? Don’t let what Captain Page said, affect you too much. The loss and grief the two families are feeling is normal. Given time, their feelings toward us will change.

They need time just as we’ll need time to get over the fact, we won’t see them walk through a set of doors or drive around town, keeping our city safe.

“Speaking of which; if no one has any questions, then get out there and stay safe and keep our streets safe.”

As everyone filtered out, Baker walked into Satchell’s office.

“Sorry you had to cut your vacation short Satch, but welcome back.”

“I know. Goes with the badge though. It pisses me off why we, the greatest country on the planet has to resort to violence to get what we want most.”

“That’s a question we could debate the rest of our life.”

“Very true. Anyway, have a seat. I was going to call you in here.”

Sitting across from Satchell she asked, “How is Samantha doing?”

“She,” said a semi-smiling Captain, “is doing very well.”

“You look like married life is agreeing with you as well.”

“I won’t get into it but let’s just say a half of a life that went into hiding, isn’t hiding any longer.”

Satchell reached down, opened a drawer, sat up and pushed a white box across his desk to her. She reached out with her right hand and fondled the cover. It looked like the type of box you would find jewelry in. She opened it.

Inside, lay a small round button made of bronze. It was about the size of a tiny pinky fingernail.

“Okay, I give up. What is it?”

“It’s a homing signal. The day you meet Freddy, you put this on your person. We can activate the tracking process just a few minutes before you two are face-to-face.

“That little device will alert us to the exact position you’re in at all times, just like a GPS would. When you get to where your destination spot will be, be it the front or back of the cottage, left or right side, we can at least have units in place at the very least, cover any and all exits, either by land or water. In the event you,”

“It’s okay, Satch. I got it. We both know this is a fifty-fifty deal. Freddy believes the same thing I imagine. Either I come out of this alive, or he does.”

“That’s what bothers me about this whole damn thing. You’ll be offered a flak-jacket to wear under your clothing. It will come with full sleeves and a pair of flak-pants. Depending on the weapon he uses and the power behind it; with this type of protection, other than a head shot, it should keep you alive.”

“Close range won’t help me any if that ends up being the case, Satch. Remember, we’ll each have a .38 Smith and Wesson, and a Bowie knife.”

“Yeah, Russian Roulette. Like I said before, I didn’t like this then, and I like it even less, now. At least with this device, we can at least contain Freddy.”

“What if for some reason he doesn’t show and changes his mind? I doubt that will happen, but what if?”

“That would make me extremely happy. If he doesn’t show, you can let us know by saying so. It also has a microphone the size of a pin needle inside. If he does show, say something to indicate his presence. It’s a one-way transmitter.”

“Cool. What did you do, go online and buy this thing?”

“It was something Carl and Huey put together in one of their lab units.”

“Huh? Thought they dealt in evidence, not advanced technology. How much do they know, Satch?”

“Just enough. Don’t worry. No one knows what is going to happen, really happen but for you and me.”

“And Ed. I finally told him. I still don’t know how to explain all this to Stevie. Right now, with the state games going on, I didn’t think this was the best time to tell him, and have him on edge during the playoffs, that he might be minus a mother.”

Satchell nodded.

“Understood. Let’s say for now the bases are covered. Come the day of deliverance, I will have everyone notified and the entire area surrounded, and that includes the lake and the airport. I promise you; he won’t slip by us this time.”

“We still have plenty of time for this, Satch, but I have a place to put this where I won’t forget when the time comes. Trust me; I’m counting down the days. All seventy-one of them, counting today.”

Tammy’s Ice-Cream Delights

922 State Street – 3:29 p.m.

Just three doors up from Melodies If You Please, Tammy Seville started closing up for the day. Ice-cream in winter? Yes, and it worked out well for Tammy, better than she even expected. What made her store intriguing to her customers, her different variations of ice-cream which were found to be far different than what you would find in the grocery stores or even Baskin-Robbins for that matter.

She made all of her own ice-cream she sold in either cups or cones, pints, quarts, half-gallon, and gallon containers in 99 unusual flavors. It took her a few weeks to get the first batch ready and another two weeks to train her help. But she had the room. Two large walk-in freezers and six freezer-mixers to work with. Now that she was ahead of the game, if necessary, in one day she could actually churn out three-hundred gallons of ice-cream in all 99 flavors without batting an eye. Of course, having three employees make it easier.

Besides her ice-cream, Tammy also made and sold ice-cream cookies and cakes, ice-cream floats, sundaes, and her specialty: ice-cream cakes for birthday parties that she would sculpture to look exactly like the person having the birthday.

Being an artist, she saw her opportunity to take a dessert she enjoyed (5’1, 225), and bring it to a new and fun level. Montie, her hometown, Tammy felt it was the best place for her to set up shop.

She had sold a few of her paintings at a gallery in Spain last year that gave her some recognition and then managed to land another art gallery showing in Boston that earned her even more money.

She took that money she earned, along with her life savings and is living a dream she’s chased for fifteen years. Ice-cream Designer. Go figure.

With everything cleaned up, it was time for her to drive her van over to the Arena. She had five hundred gallons of ice-cream in the back, and it would all be given away free, in part of the celebration of the Pythoners going after the state championship again.

All in all, Tammy felt like she was on top of the world.

It felt good to be back home.

Getting inside her van to drive off, she quickly looked up at a pale blue sky that would soon be crept upon by darkness and whispered, “I made it, mom, and dad. I love you both.”

Montie Arena – 4:00 p.m.

The noise level inside the Arena would put most NFL stadiums to shame. Each time Coach Claymoore announced a team member’s name, the decimal level only increased.

Each time a player came to the podium to say a few words, the high-school band would play, “We Are Family” or “We Will Rock You”. Channel 08 Sports were on hand for interviews after each player spoke, and even NBC, ABC and ESPN were there, of which the latter was a surprise. It had become an adventure none of the players would ever forget.

Then came Coach Claymoore’s final introduction.

“This next young man, my goodness, what can I say? He has been through more adversity than any young man should ever have to face and endure, but by God … he did.

“I don’t think anyone in this Arena right now would have given him half a chance to be where he is today. But honestly, the way he thinks, the way he acts, I believe he would just shrug his shoulders and say, you’re wrong, just watch me.

“Okay, enough praise for this young man. Come up here, Stevie. Stevie Baker, ladies, and gentlemen!”

It took better than twenty minutes before quiet finally took control and Stevie spoke.

“Thanks, Coach, for the kind words. Outside of my mother and stepfather, your words, your expressions mean a lot to me. Without you, we wouldn’t have gotten as far as we have.”

The whistles, handclapping and yelling cranked up another notch for a few minutes. Stevie raised his hands. The crowd quieted down.

“Just like Dale and Ron, Carl, and Pete, and all the rest of the guys said, we are a team. We play to keep it together. We play because we enjoy the game. We play because now, out of all the years the Pythoners have been in existence, we finally have the opportunity to put a trophy in our school trophy case that’s never been there before, and that’s the New York State Championship title!”

The crowd roared. Baker was smiling so much. She never felt the tears of joy running down her face. She clutched Ed’s hand in one and Leon’s in the other.

“This year, as most of you have known, we have dedicated this season to Jimmy Kerrigan; and for Jimmy, for Montie High, and for all of you out there who took the time to fight the frigid weather to get here, I promise you, we will bring the championship home to Montie!

“Thank you.”

The crowd went wild over Stevie’s last words. Baker, Ed, Leon, Ellie, and parents of the other players were beaming over their sons. Coach Claymoore grinned. Promise? Well, Coach would give it all he had. He knew the team would as well.

It was a good day all around. He saw the ice-cream lady. Walking through the crowd of people after the ceremonies ended, he finally made his way to where she was. Handing out ice-cream.

“How about a scoop of that Velvet Chocolate, young lady.”

Tammy looked up and smiled.

“Certainly, Coach.”

Taking the cone from her and taking a lick, he looked at her and said, “Yummy. You named this right. Your parents would be really proud of you.” Then he turned and walked over to the press.

What a day, he thought.

Baker-Manning Home

111 Homestead Lane - 5:12 p.m.

As everyone was entering the house, Stevie grabbed the mail from the mailbox.

“Ed, this looks official and important, and it’s addressed to you.’

Taking the envelop, he looked at the return address then quickly opened it and pulled out a single page.

“Good news or bad, Ed,” asked Baker.

After scanning through the five paragraphs, Ed’s eyes lit up and a smile creased his face.

“Oh, it’s good news, Jan. This is from Buffalo informing me that if I want to take the bar exam, I have to notify them in ten days to be placed for the testing. The test itself is the twentieth of this month. It also says I will get an email ten days after the testing on my results and if I pass, my name will be added to the New York Law Journal.”

“This what you have been waiting for, working for, Ed. Eighteen days from now, you’ll be a full-fledged attorney.”

“Provided I pass.”

“With all the studying you have done, you better pass. If you don’t, then no dinner for you and you go straight to your room,” laughed Stevie.”

Leon had a puzzled expression.

“I don’t get it. How hard can it be to pick up a bar, look at it and say, yeah, it's a bar."

The Projects – North End – 5:19 p.m.

Both Lucky and Sadowski had seen the transaction going down amongst six people; two blacks, one white, and three Chicano’s.

They called dispatch knowing full well they would need backup.

Drugs in Montie isn’t on the same scale as a New York City, Chicago, Detroit, or DC; but drugs are drugs and be it small or big time, dealing in drugs is still a felony.

Three cars pulled in and had all the exits leading to the street covered. Lucky and Sadowski stepped out of their car just as two other officers, Franklin and Mahoney had. Weapons drawn, telling those who were busted to lie face down on the concrete.

But there was one person they never saw, a Chicano in the backseat with a Mac-10, who unloaded on Lucky and Sadowski and tried to get Franklin and Mahoney, at the same time.

There were four other officers who found cover at varying distances and opened fire on the shooter.

The two black men, three Chicano’s and the white male, all tried to make a run for it, two of which grabbed weapons they had first surrendered: a Colt Magnum .357, and an older Walther P-38. They were running and shooting at the same time. It was a madhouse!

More units were called in. Franklin took a bullet in his upper right thigh and Mahoney was hit in the left shoulder. The other four officers meanwhile, unloaded on the runners and apprehended the remaining men who gave up, but not before killing the shooter in the car. The two who tried to run were wounded but not badly enough where they would be in a hospital for long.

They would be charged with possession of an illegal substance, cocaine, hashish, and opium. There would also be additional charges of attempted murder against Franklin and Mahoney. They would also be charged with the murders of officers Lucky, and Sadowski.

It had been quite some time since a police officer had been killed in the line of duty in Montie. Still, the residents, families, the entire makeup of Montie would, as with days past, stand strong, stand united, never wavering when tragedy strikes. Montie always managed to rebound and stand a little taller and a little stronger.

On this night, two families will grieve. Two families will feel the personal loss and pain of losing a husband, a father, a son.

Though it happened in the line of duty, let it also be remembered that another person died that day. Someone’s daughter. She was sixteen.

They say everything that happens, does so for a reason. On this particular day, no one could find a good enough reason.

The Baker-Manning Home

111 Homestead Lane – 5:42 p.m.

“Baker.”

“It’s Carl, JB.”

“Hey, Carl. What’s up?”

“I’m at a scene right now in the Projects. There was a major shootout. We lost two good men.”

“Who? And what went down?”

“From what I have seen, it was to start as a simple arrest. Then all hell broke loose when a shooter no one saw, in the backseat of a car, opened up Lucky and Sadowski. She was a sixteen-year-old girl, Marianna Gutierrez.

“I’ll contact the families after I do the prelims. Tomorrow, I’ll make arrangements with the mortuaries to handle closed caskets.”

“Closed?”

“Yeah. The shooter, Marianna, about wiped their faces clean off their shoulders.”

“My God!” Baker felt as if she had just been kicked in the stomach.

“Who’s the lead officer there?”

“Devon.”

“If he’s close by, put him on the line.”

Carl didn’t cover his phone and Baker heard him yelling for Devon to come to him. “It’s Baker. She wants to talk to you.”

“Lieutenant?”

“Listen, Devon. Get all you can on this. Any eyewitness reports, photographs, positions of all the bodies, as close to a timeline as you can, and put it on my desk when you come in.

I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. No missing words. No loopholes. Got that?”

“Got it.” He knew by the seriousness in her voice that he had better make certain any information, and evidence was rock solid.

Baker hung up and looked over at Ed and Stevie and told them what happened.

“Mom, I know you have to go. I’m good with it.”

“Sorry, Bub. I was hoping to see you guys off at the airport.”

“Jan, do what has to be done. What with Ellie and her parents along for the ride and the game, we’ll be busy anyway. Besides, I know what you’re feeling. We’ve been there too many times in the past.”

“Don’t worry about us, mom. Like I said, I’ll call you after the game.”

“You better.”

No, nothing ever seems to come easy in Montie, but for over two-hundred years, Montie gets a little stronger and a little prouder as times passes.

Wednesday – January 2nd

Baker’s Office – 9:06 a.m.

After letting everyone know she would be handling Satchell’s duties while he was away, she decided today was as good as any other day to clean out her desk of useless items and pull some files to begin the next quarterly reports. She was finishing up with only her second drawer when there was a knock on the door. She looked up to see Lee Austin.

“Yes, Mr. Austin? Come in. What can I do for you?”

“Actually, Lieutenant, it’s what I can do for you. The name Carleton Vangard may mean nothing to you, but I think Manny Delgado might.”

“Delgado rings a bell.”

“It should. You arrested him about eight years ago.”

“I remember now. He tried robbing one of the branch banks in town.”

“I’m here to give you a heads up. He’s in town.”

“How do you know this?”

“I was having lunch at Lucy’s, and I overheard their conversation. Lieutenant, he plans to kill you.”

“You’re certain of this?”

“Like I said, I heard them talking. When they left Lucy’s, I saw them get in a green van and drive off.”

“How is it you know their names?”

“Like I said, I heard them talking. Vangard let Manny’s name just fall out of his mouth. The other thing, when I left Lucy’s and was driving back to my place, I saw them parked a block from the police station. I’m sure they were waiting on you to come out, so they could tail you.”

“Interesting. You wouldn’t happen to know where they are staying, would you?”

“No, but my guess is they’re staying at one of the motels on 60. Vangard said something about leaving something important in the room.”

“All right. I’ll have a few of my officers look into this, Mr. Austin. Thank you for the assistance and the information.

“How is your business working out for you? I spoke to your aunt the other day. She worries about you, but she said you already have a few clients.”

“Things are getting better all the time, Lieutenant. Couldn’t be better.”

Johnson County Airport – 11:16 a.m.

Once more, with the assistance of his pilot, Cragg, he took to the skies.

Lee had confirmed with Cragg that the package he wanted delivered, made its destination. Lee relaxed, knowing his idea would remove Delgado and Vangard off the streets for an awfully long time.

For now, his travel’s would require a few additional stops more than usual. After all, not even a Lear Jet can fly halfway around the world on a single tank of fuel. For this trip, he would have his own stewardess, Janice, on board to prepare his meals and for conversation, other than about his line of work. Half he would explain if she asked, the other half, he would not. It wasn’t her concern.

Chicago’s O’Hara Airport would be first, followed by Sea-Tac outside of Seattle,

Washington. From there it would be on to Juneau, Alaska, and from there to Sapporo, Japan, which houses a modest airport. Lee planned on getting at least six hours of sleep as well. He would need to be well-rested and on top of his game for what lay ahead.

Lee would spend three days in Tokyo.

According to the dossier, Mitsu Taniku, an industrialist in mining, construction, and manufacturing, also dealt in about five percent of the drug traffic that went through half his export business to the United States, Australia, and South America. It accounted for nearly one-hundred million dollars annually of the worldwide drug trade. At five percent of the drugs moved around the world; you do the math.

For that alone, Lee would love nothing more than to put a bullet in the man’s head.

But Mitsu also had his hands in the underground market as well. Illegal porn sites, prostitution utilized by young women bought and sold to the highest bidder.

Lee had been thinking if he could free some of those girls being used, he could save lives and return them back to families waiting on news, any news of their whereabouts, be they dead or alive. Ask any parent and they will tell you when it comes to their children, the not knowing kills their heart and soul more than anything else.

In truth, me may be able to save two or three at best. Usually, the girls are so far gone, being saved isn’t an option any longer. They could care less one way or the other. Sad, but true.

The other truth, Lee wasn’t an army. What he would do in the next three days would either work, or he could end up dead.

That was an option he didn’t find satisfying.

Motel Six – 1:56 p.m.

Several police cars converged in front of Room 231.

Both Carleton Vangard and Manny Delgado were arrested and handcuffed and taken to jail, while both were crying foul the entire time.

In the motel room and in the van, four handguns were found. Also in the van, six kilos of cocaine were found. Delgado and Vangard were screaming bloody hell over that one.

“That shit ain’t ours!” cried Vangard.

“Yeah, one of you fucking assholes planted that shit! This is a fucking set up! You hear me!”

“Yeah, we hear you Delgado. Lower your head and get in the car.” Larry said as he look over at his partner, Sadowski.

Manny raised his head back and struggled against Lucky to be heard.

“This is all your damned fault, Vangard! You and your big fucking mouth! Somebody heard you flappin’ your gums!” That quickly, Manny turned toward Baker. “And YOU! You one lucky bitch! I got a bullet with your name on it!”

Sixteen witnesses heard that. That statement alone would prompt the judge to tack on another ten years on top of the first ten to Manny’s sentence. Carleton ended up getting ten years for being an accomplice to commit murder.

All in all, it was a solid arrest.

Baker looked at Sadowski before she left and said, “Wasn’t that nice of Delgado? He actually engraved my name on a bullet. How sweet of him. Get their asses downtown.”

As Baker got back in her car, she quietly said, “Thanks, Austin.”

The Call - 2:56 p.m.

“Baker.”

“Lieutenant Baker?”

“Yes.”

“This is Johnson County Port Authorities.”

“Yes, what can I help you with?”

“We thought you might like to know a Lear jet took off from here at 11:15 this morning. It was logged in but never reported to our office until a just now, but we figured you would want to know.”

“Okay. Who is it registered to?”

“Paperwork read, Lee Austin.”

Baker sat upright in her chair.

“Did you say, Lee Austin?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Baker hung up.

He had just been in her office for a short time before he left, and now he’s on a jet. How did he get his hands on a Lear Jet? Business can’t be that good.

She called his cell phone.

He answered from 12,000 feet in the sky.

“Yes, Lieutenant, what can I help you with?”

“First, thanks again for the information. It paid off.”

“You’re welcome, but I hear another reason in your voice for the call.”

“Yes. Would you mind telling me where you are at the moment?”

“Not at all. Just passing Cleveland as we speak.”

“In a plane?”

“I’m certainly not jogging. It’s called a Maverick 360-C Lear Jet. Eight-seater, pretty much state-of-the-art.”

“How did you manage to get your hands on one of those?”

“I didn’t. It belongs to a client of mine.”

“According to the airport, it’s registered in your name as the owner.”

“I know, but the client set it up that way as he wants to remain anonymous.”

“I see. Sorry to take up your time.”

“Then, I’m not in any trouble?”

“No, but should you be?”

“I just hope I have no problems with this case I’ve taken.”

There was something he said right before he hung up that bothered her, but she wouldn’t interfere with his work unless he broke the law. And for the moment, she had nothing.

Before her day was over with, Lee would be the last thing on her mind, but that didn’t mean she forgot about him.

Looking at the clock, she saw it was time to get to the Arena. The parade from Montie High was under way and she didn’t want to miss any of the festivities that would happen or miss seeing Stevie waving to the crowd with his teammates.

3345 Devonshire Way – 8:12 p.m.

Coach Claymore sat in his leather recliner and smiled the smile of a man who has been waiting for moments like the ones that have happened the last two seasons for a lifetime, and he gets a second chance at the state title.

Tomorrow, there would be a parade from the school to the Arena to celebrate the Pythoners victory. There would be more practice in the days ahead as the team prepared for one game at a time in the Gardens again.

Coach felt that tingling sensation run up across his left arm and could feel a slight constriction to his heart. Without thinking twice, he reached next to his hot tea to grab a plastic vial holding his nitro tablets. Pouring one onto his palm, he reached for his tea at the same time. Putting the tablet in his mouth, followed by two healthy gulps of water, it was only ninety-seconds before Coach felt the symptoms dissolving away. Twenty minutes later, he fell into a dreamless sleep.

1224 Clearfield Street – 9:07 p.m.

It took Lee longer than planned for, but he was finally able to find out who Manny Delgado and Carleton Vangard were. Both did time in Albany. Manny, however, was arrested and convicted in Montie. Attempted armed bank robbery of one of the branch banks. The arresting officer was a Sergeant Baker. Vangard’s arrest happened in Albany, three charges of possession with intent to distribute.

Both were released two months ago, and as he read, both were currently in violation of their parole. Lee surmised that Delgado talked Vangard into coming along for the ride, to help kill Baker.

Lee couldn’t allow that to happen, but he didn’t have anything on them to have Baker arrest them other than for being in violation. If she could find any handguns in their possession, that would give each of them the mandatory minimum of five years. Felony convictions prohibit the use of any type of weapon.

In five years, Delgado would be back. Compound any weapons on a parole violation, that could hold him for up to seven years, max.

Lee had an idea. He sent an email to Cragg. Gave him detailed instructions and an address. He knew it would work.

Tuesday – January 1st

The Squad Room – 8:39 a.m.

“Hell of a day yesterday and am I ever glad it’s behind us.”

“The shooting in the projects uncovered a lot of stuff, and from what I have heard this morning. It may very well lead to something deeper. But that will be up to the state investigators and a court to decide.

“No fatalities and that’s always a plus in my book.

“And coming from a fan and a mother, I was never prouder of the team my son plays for than I was last night. Okay, I’m a cop again.”

A few trickles of laughter went around the room.

“Good job of rounding up the homeless yesterday. When they were let go at six this morning, they were all told they could come back to the jail every night until this frigid weather let’s up. It’s the least we can do to help them survive this winter.

“That’s it. No questions? Then get out there and stay safe and keep our streets safe.”

As she was about to head toward her office, she saw Satchell, who, was giving her the come-hither thing with his right hand. She changed directions and entered his office.

“What’s up, Satch? You look like someone who ate the canary and happy doing that.”

“I don’t know about canaries, but happy, very much so.”

Baker sat in a chair opposite him.

“I’ll make this quick. This morning, we are testing the air-raid sirens at ten, noon, and two. You wanted me to remind you of that.”

“That’s right, thanks. I wanted to get up with the City Council about installing two other sirens west of downtown, and two more east of downtown.”

“There’s something else.”

Baker saw the seriousness in his eyes. Then he broke into a wide grin.

“You did eat a canary!”

“Nope, but last night, Sam and I were married.”

Baker broke into a smile, saying, “Well good for you, Satch. It’s been a long time coming for you. You’re one of the good guys that deserves happiness.” Then she had a puzzled look on her face. “But shouldn’t you be on your honeymoon, or something?”

“That’s the other thing I want to talk to you about. I’m taking a few days off and heading for parts unknown with Sam, starting now.”

“I got it. Say no more. I’ll cover for you.”

Satchell’s eyes briefly became serious again.

“We good then, Baker.”

She knew what he meant.

“Always have, always will be.” She smiled.

Lucy’s Restaurant – 11:40 a.m.

A green van was parked in the lot behind the restaurant, and inside, two men were talking, making plans for something big.

“So, how do you wanna work this?”

“We watch her the next couple’a days. Get her routine down. When it looks safe, we nail her and get the fuck out. Simple as that.”

“Ya know, we put her down, once the cops figure out it was us who did her, we’re toast, ya know that, right?”

“Keep your voice down for chrissakes. You might as well announce it to the whole frigging world.”

“Sorry, Manny. Just excited, ya know? I ain’t never put a cap in a cop before. It’s scary, but it’s a rush, too.”

A waitress came over to their booth and put a bill on the table for their breakfast.

“Let’s get out of here, Carleton. We need to find out where she is most of the time besides the cop shop. C’mon, we need to start checking things out.”

Both men stood, went to the register where Manny paid the bill, then out the back door they went.

Unknown to either man, someone did overhear what Carleton said. Getting up from his table, he went to the backdoor leading to the rear parking lot and was able to spot both men getting into a green van. Reading the license plate, he quickly wrote down the letters and numbers.

He decided when he returned home, Lee would find out who these two men were. Lee also wondered who they were after. There are nine female police officers.

Meanwhile, he went back to his table just as his waitress brought him his lunch; corned beef and swiss cheese on light rye and a glass of orange juice. His belly craved food after the jet landed.

You would almost want to believe Lee would be flashing back to his two hits. But he didn’t, and he wouldn’t. Like a buddy of his said when he was in Saudi, “Outta sight, outta mind.”

Three dead people gone forgotten. Time to move on.

1126 Main Street – 1:07 p.m.

“Manny? Hey, man,” Carleton slapped Manny’s shoulder.

“Wha? What is it?”

“Is that her?” He pointed to a woman about 5’8”, with short sandy-brown hair.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Manny brought a pair of binoculars to his eyes and zeroed in on her.

“Yeah, that’s her alright. From here on out, we follow every move she makes. Just try to make it look like we ain’t following her. You got that?”

“Cake, Manny. She won’t have a clue.”

As the day went on, after Baker stopped on thirteen separate occasions, her final stop being home, Manny and Carleton were satisfied with the way things went. Back at their motel room, Manny started cleaning his Remington .38.

“We do her day after tomorrow. I just wanna be sure with one more day in the mix, just to see if she goes home the same time as she did today. We waste her on her doorstep.”

Carleton started laughing.

“What the hell’s so funny?”

“I got to thinking about an old TV show. The guy always comes home and says the same thing every day after work. ‘Hey Luceee, I’m home’. Instead, it’ll be her words saying, ‘Honey, I’m home’.

“Yeah. I guess that is kinda funny.”

The Baker-Manning Home

111 Homestead Lane 7:44 p.m.

With the day being a quiet one, Baker was satisfied with how things went. The City Council would vote next week on the additions of new air-raid sirens. That was a start. With no problems anywhere the police would be needed in Montie just made the day that much better.

Baker started her night after dinner telling Ed and Stevie to good news about Satchell being married in a small ceremony. Leon listened, but he didn’t know Satchell or Samantha at all, so it really didn’t faze him. He was more interested in learning how to play 500 Rummy with Stevie and Ellie.

Baker excused herself from the kids and grabbed ed’s hand and led him toward their bedroom where she guided him onto the bed and she laid next to him, comforted with the warmth of his body.

“You know much I love you, right?

“Uh-oh, why do I get the feeling something’s wrong?”

“Aah, maybe because you would be right.”

“Want to talk about it, Jan?”

“If I do, I’m afraid you would try to talk me out of it, and I know Stevie would do his best to.”

“It’s that bad?”

“Worse.”

“It’s Freddy, again, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and this time the stakes are high.”

“Enough cat and mouse, Jan. Talk to me.”

“This time I can’t. I can’t take the risk. I will tell you I will have the opportunity to take him down once and for all.”

Ed sat up with a deep intense look on his face.

“What did you go and do?”

“Oh, all right. I’ll tell you, but first, you have to promise me you won’t tell Stevie or Leon.”

“Jan, I,”

“No, Ed. Promise me first, then I’ll tell you.”

“I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“Not one bit.”

“Dammit! Okay, okay—I promise.”

And she told him about the letter and phone call. Ed never interrupted her until she finished. He got off the bed and walked around the room for a few seconds before returning and sitting on Baker’s side of the bed.

“You should have been born a man; you know that? You’re just as stubborn as we are.

“It’s about saving Stevie’s life. Leon’s life. Saving your life.”

“In return, you lose, I’m out a wife, Stevie’s out a mother, and Leon will have lost two mother’s.”

“At least they’ll have you, Ed. You’re the closest to a Father Stevie and Leon have. They look up to you, admire and respect you. If … I don’t come out on top of this, at least I know they are in good hands with you.”

“And you’re certain this spawn from hell won’t go back on his word and try to kill Stevie, Leon, or me?” There were no fear in his words, only concern.

“When I heard his voice, it was calm throughout most of the call. I almost sensed a warmth for lack of a better explanation, but I also sensed honor behind his words.”

“Killers have no honor, Jan.”

“True, but Freddy isn’t the norm, either. Look at all those he’s killed. Abusers, user’s, potential dictators, drug-peddlers, manufacturer’s, people who abduct and sell people to the highest bidder. I mean, how many bad guys out there are like him?

“None. Zero. Granted, murder is murder no matter how you look at it, but underneath all those scars; scars that have changed his very existence, is a man dedicated to reducing the amount of filth that walks this world.”

“I’m not liking this at all, Jan.”

Baker wrapped her arms around him, and he pulled her tightly to him.

“When this happens, Jan, do me a huge favor.”

“What?”

“Come home to us, alive.”

Montie Arena – 7:35 p.m.

“Incredible, people. I wish you could have been here to see this!

“With only two minutes left in the game, Gerald, Anson, Ron Snyder, Dale Whittier and Carl Macklin Junior have scored thirty-two combined points since the start of the second half. Stevie Baker has scored eleven points since starting the fourth quarter.

“Breckenridge is down twenty-one points. No! Make that twenty-four! Baker just hit another three!

“Folks, the Montie Pythoners are on their way back for their second chance at the state title. With forty seconds left in the game, it’s all but over!

“Alright, Breckenridge has the ball, inbounding to Miller, who passes over to Redmond, and he passed it downcourt to Thomas. Thomas dribbles, spins around Whittier, stops and shoots and bangs it in for three! Thirty-one seconds remaining.

“Whittier inbounds to Macklin, Macklin to Baker, Baker back to Whittier. Whittier brings the ball up court as both Miller and Redmond double-team him but he somehow managed to arc the ball over both defenders and get the ball to Snyder. Nine seconds left on the shot clock. Snyder goes corner post and fakes a shot and passes to Anson, just outside the paint, brings himself up to the free-throw line and shoots, and scores!

“Eight seconds left in the game. The best Breckenridge can hope for is a three-pointer and a foul and somehow manage to get the ball back before time expires.

There they go! Miller passes a long ball to Redmond, who turns, fires for three, and it doesn’t go in! Pythoners ball! One second left! The Montie Pythoners are back in the hunt again! 88-64 is the final score!

“I’ll be back with interviews from the players and Coach Claymoore right after these words. Oh my, what a game!”

The Pythoners were stopped last year in the final-four round. This year, the Pythoners were determined to win it all.

But tonight, the team, the city, and a dozen set of parents were filled with pride.

On the way home while driving, Baker and Leon were talking and more excited perhaps than all the fans who were at the game. Ed and Stevie were joining in the conversation, laughing, and smiling the whole time.

Baker knew tonight wasn't the best time to tell either of them about the future plans she made with Freddy. She also knew she couldn’t wait forever.

Calvary Church of Christ – 11:59 p.m.

“By the power vested in me through Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior, and by the governing laws of the State of New York, I pronounce you both husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

Satchell turned right as Samantha turned left and he took a half step forward, placing both hands around her waist and kissed her gently. Then they parted, turned away from Pastor Mackenzie and took a few shorts steps before Don shook his hand, then kissed his new sister-in-law. Pat hugged Satchell tightly.

“Third time’s the charm, Satch. I just know it is.”

He pulled back slightly and smiled saying, “I believe you, Pat.”

“Mr. Page?”

Satchell looked to his left and smiled even more.

“Yes, Mrs. Page?”

“Today, we start a new day, a new year, and...”

“And a new life together, Mrs. Page.”

The four of them went out for a late-night breakfast, from which Don and Pat left them to their own in the parking lot. With Satchell behind the wheel, Samantha, holding his one free hand, he drove them back to Samantha’s house.

Once they were at the front door and he opened it, he picked her up in his arms and carried her across a new threshold. It now became official. Whatever amount of time it would be, their honeymoon had just begun.

As he did though, Satchell had one final thought before they reached their bedroom.

“Sam, you’re my last stop in life.”

Monday – December 31st

Captain Page’s Office – 9:25 a.m.

After spending over half an hour explaining to Satchell what she agreed to with Freddy, and after her repeated “No’s”, for assistance, he finally relented.

“There are still a couple of things we can do. We can have the airport, the roads, and the Lake blocked off, so he can’t make his escape. Just in case. We can also put cameras all around the cottage.”

That was where Baker’s final no, came into play.

“Satch, somehow, he’ll know and then he won’t show. He’s uncanny about this kind of stuff. I sometimes think his brain has been hard-wired into our system.

“Look, I’ll have my radio, and if you hear from me that morning, then you’ll know I got him. If you don’t, you can bet your ass he’ll have a bullet in him. Who knows, maybe even one of his own knives. But it’s settled, Satch. You can’t talk me out of this.”

“Maybe I can’t, but I sure as hell can pull your badge and gun.”

“Oh, please, that won’t stop me. And if you interfere in this, then he'll kill Stevie, Ed, and Leon, and I somehow manage to survive; I will hate you the rest of my life.”

Satchell looked into her eyes, and he read her intent. He knew then, no matter what he said, it wouldn’t work.

“Jesus, all right. Have it your way, but I refuse to go to your funeral.”

“If I’m dead, it won’t matter to me if you go or not.”

“Look, Janis,” Baker’s eyes took on a Betty Boop look. “Yeah, I said Janis. You are just not a cop to me. You are a good friend, and friends are allowed to be concerned, to worry, and in this case, scared for you.”

“Thanks, Satch. I appreciate that. Be scared for me, and I’ll try to be brave for the both of us.”

“What does Ed think about this? Or Stevie? Or have you even told them yet?”

“Not yet, but I will.”

It was Stevie she would have a tough time telling.

Motel 6 – 10:36 a.m.

Two men checked into Room 231. Between them, they had two small gym bags they each emptied onto their beds. Collectively, they had two clean shirts, two ball caps, and two guns. A Colt semi-automatic and a Remington .38.

Of the two, one man’s objective was to kill a cop. Not just any cop either. He was going to kill the cop who had arrested him years ago and her testimony helped to put him in prison. The other man was along for the ride and back up.

The cop: Baker.

The Projects – North End

1213 Masters and 10th – 2:26 p.m.

The call came in. Gunfire. Possibly more than one shooter. As with all calls, 911 taped the conversation.

“Donnal has a gun and he’s outside shootin’ at two guys in a gray Buick, I think. He’s pissed! They cut him off until he pays them what he owes them. Donnal can be a real bastard when he’s not doin’ his thing. Send the cops before he gets hisself kilt!”

Within three minutes of the initial call, seven units were on the scene and had the Buick surrounded, but Donnal wouldn’t drop his gun when told to do so.

“You tell these grease-monkey fuckers in the car to give me my shit! I get my shit, or I start killin’ them mutha’s!”

Two of the policemen, Larry Lucky, and Mason Sadowski, tried to get behind Donnal to wrestle him to the ground but that didn’t work.

Donnal turned sideways for a split second, saw them, and had his gun pointed right at Lucky’s face.

“Dumb fuckin’ cop!”

He squeezed the trigger.

Click.

Sadowski came from Donnal’s left and tackled him to the ground as the gun fell from Donnal’s grasp.

Regaining his composure, Lucky stepped in and helped Mason cuff Donnal.

There were multiple arrests that afternoon. Four other black men and three Chicano’s were also handcuffed and booked on possession, distribution and sales, and possession of illegal weapons. In the truck of the Buick were three AK-47’s, and no less, a bazooka. Who in their right mind carries a bazooka in the trunk of their car and what were they going to do with it? When they came to trial, the D.A. used that weapon specifically to prosecute them for the charge of terrorism.

A warrant was issued to search Donnal’s apartment and car, and also Venetta Benson’s apartment. She was arrested for being in possession of four grams of crack-cocaine and half an ounce of hashish. All in all, it was a solid arrest, and no one died.

When the day was over, Lucky drove straight home, stripped down, put his clothes in the washer and took a long hot shower. Lucky knew God was watching out for him. But he still pissed his pants.

Prelude

The countdown begins as Baker steels herself for the face-to-face meeting with Freddy that will culminate with one left standing.

Lee takes on the seedy underground world or child trafficking, the porn industry and drug dealers. In one instance, he travels to Japan to take care of business. But is he becoming more and more like a second Freddy?

The Montie Pythoner’s gear up for championship gold.

A new relationship begins to take hold.

A death of a well-loved man has an effect on many people.

The time is getting close as Baker prepares to make Leon’s adoption official and there is this; she gets pregnant.

All this and much more.

__________

Excerpt

Clauson and Terrance pulled into an empty driveway, garage door opened and no vehicle inside.

“Front door’s wide open, Henry.”

“I see that. Maybe they made up; took off together and just forgot to lock up,”

“Or one took off leaving the other one behind.”

“Let’s hope we find him or her still alive. Let’s check it out, Terrance.”

As they stepped out of the squad car and headed for the open front door, Henry called for back-up. Walking up three concrete steps, Henry, with his right hand resting on the butt of his .38 Smith & Wesson, knocked on the door and announced himself.

“Hello in the house. This is the Montie Police. We had a call about a disturbance.”

About that time, a middle-age, skinny woman came running across the street from her home.

Breathlessly she cried, “I just saw Joe Becker leave not more than five minutes ago! I heard a gun go off, too!”

Terrance thanked her, then waved her away as a second car pulled up. Larry Larson and Phil Savage got out of their car and started walking toward the house.

“One of you guys get this woman’s statement.” Looking at his partner, he said, “You ready for this, Henry?”

“No.”

“Me either. Let’s go.”

What they found, was messy.

__________

Everything is pure to those whose hearts are pure. But

nothing is pure to those who are corrupt and unbelieving

because their minds and consciences are corrupted. - Titus 1:15

All Good Things Must Come to An End - Geoffrey Chaucer

I once had a good heart. I once was happy. No longer. All my

good things ended years ago. Now, I make others pay for their

doings. People whose hearts and mind are as corrupt as

anything you could imagine. Death for them ends their reign

on innocent people’s lives, and for that, if I go to hell, I welcome

the fire, for I have ended their terror on the innocent – Freddy

__________

Salt Lake City, Utah – Evening Time

Floyd Dekins resides at 4629 S. 17th Street in Salt Lake City. He is well-known and well-respected in his neighborhood. He works as an insurance adjustor and lives alone.

Floyd is short (5’3”), fifty-seven, bald, with a rather bulbous nose and he is overweight (275). He jiggles when we walks, but if you can get past all that, you would see he has arthritis in his hands. Not a good thing for an insurance adjustor to have.

Floyd is well-known because he is a Deacon in his church which is in the eleventh stake of the Latter-Day-Saints (LDS, not to be confused with LSD).

Because of his faith and his title, members of the church respected him as he constantly worked to make the church as wonderous and as compelling as possible. But all that respect would be washed away before Floyd’s last night on earth would end. Channel 03 News and The Salt Lake Tribune would have a field day at Floyd Dekins expense, but it would matter not to him.

Floyd Dekins was a closet porn-lover, and to supplement his income, Floyd was also a part-time film editor of sorts; duplicating certain underage video’s that would be mailed to him several dozen times a year. In the basement of his home was all the editing equipment he would need to duplicate these movies and transfer them onto DVD’s by the thousands.

Through an underground adult website, he would offer the videos for sale. Each sale he would pocket seventy percent. The rest went to the suppliers.

In real life, Floyd had never touched a child sexually and wouldn’t dream of doing so. Floyd hasn’t even had sex with an adult woman during his lifetime. But he had his fantasies and for Floyd, that was good enough for him.

With Floyd blubbering in tears, sitting at his desk writing out his confession, he did ask Lee if his death would be painless.

Lee never responded.

Once Floyd signed his name to his confession he said a prayer, asking for God’s forgiveness when he saw Lee raise his Styler 9mm, silencer attached to mute a portion of the noise; Floyd screamed like a little girl.

Lee pulled the trigger, silencing Floyd forever as a small puff of gray cordite escaped the muzzle as the bullet penetrated Floyd’s brain and he fell off the chair to the floor, dead.

For the next few minutes, Lee cleaned up after himself, dislodging the bullet from Floyd’s brain and picking up the spent cartridge casing from the floor. Then he pinned an Ace of Spades to Floyd’s shirt.

As he walked out the front door into a blowing winter wind, he left a note on the front door for authorities. Like all the others, this one was typed in irregular fonts and after examining the typeface, it was found the note was typed on Floyd’s laptop.

He is in the dining room on the floor—Spade.