Redemption (A Joe Burgess Mystery, Book 3) (36 page)

"Sadly, I do," Burgess said, and gave the address.

Chapter 28

He had no time for this goddamned frolic. If he wasn't going to be home catching some z's, he wanted to go see Nick Goodall, then track down Joey and get some answers. The night had grown wilder. Wind and rain from the tail end of a late hurricane knocked down branches and hurled trash cans and debris into the street. Driving was like a big game of bumper cars, only it wasn't fun, and the going was maddeningly slow.

The knife-sharp pain in his gut was a persistent and painful reminder he shouldn't have let this happen. If he was the captain steering this investigative ship of fools, he was way off course. It was unacceptable at any level of SOP to postpone going after a major bad guy and a witness in a homicide to rescue a rogue officer. He didn't know many good police who wouldn't have done what he was doing. Cote wouldn't. But Cote was not a good police.

He and Kyle got to the house at exactly the same time, pulling in to the curb behind Perry's car. Kyle, grim-faced and dripping, got into the passenger seat. "Can this police officer be saved?" he said. His tone was light but his mouth was a tight line, the skin around it white.

"I'm still hoping. You wanna do a little Peeping Tom number, see if you can figure out what's going on in there?"

In the dim glow of a street light, Kyle's smile was grim. "You mean, if it's other than mad, hot sex?"

"Even if it's only mad, hot sex, he had a direct order to stay away from this place. At the least, we're gonna haul his ass out of there and whack him with a two-by-four. I'd be grateful if it were only mad hot sex. My gut says otherwise."

"Just don't aim for his head," Kyle said. "Nothing there to register the blow." With a sigh, he got out of the truck and slogged away through the rain, his coat and hat glistening until he disappeared around the corner of the house. A minute later, he was on the radio. "It's bad, Joe. Got a Mexican standoff in the freakin' living room, two mad guys with guns, one of 'em Stan and the other big as freakin' Godzilla. They're both naked as jaybirds and there's a naked dame holding a phone, jumping up and down on the couch, hollering for them to stop."

Local cops hadn't held the husband very long, had they? What had they been thinking, that a long-distance truck driver wasn't a flight risk? He was that and every other kind of risk. He and his provocative little honey. Probably better if they'd locked up Stan. His little one-eyed guy must have a death wish to come back here and get in the middle of this. But Burgess knew. Both cop pride and young stud pride could make a man stupid and careless.

Bad as the situation was, Burgess hoped she hadn't called the cops. More bodies wouldn't make this easier, and would almost certainly mean Perry went to jail. And that all their jobs were fucked. This went south, Cote would laugh all the way to his termination hearing.

He got out his gun, checked the clip, and shoved it back in. You didn't go to a gunfight without a gun. "This could blow apart at any minute. That big guy in there, that's the husband, and he makes Stanley look sane. There's a slider around back, Stan says. You go that way, see if it's open. If you can't get in easily, break a window. I'll take the front." He hesitated. "I'm going to try to get Stan to put that gun down and get him out of there without getting any of us shot."

Kyle slipped away into the darkness, his wet coat a quick gleam of light as he disappeared around the side of the house.

Quietly, he let himself out of the truck and headed for the front of the house. The knob turned easily in his hand. He drew his gun and moved silently into the house, forcing himself to keep breathing as he wondered, was this going to be the time he'd finally have to shoot someone? You can't plan for this kind of situation, it's all read and respond. The mind tries to do it anyway. Then, as he moved into the dark hall, he felt the world slip away. His focus narrowed and tunnel vision took over.

From the lighted room ahead came a jumble of voices. "...away from my fuckin' wife. I already..."

"Your fuckin' wife called
me
and asked me over. Said she wanted to make amends."

"Didn't I tell you to stay the fuck away? Whatsa matter, you deaf or something? I'm gonna blow your effin' dick off, you slimy little..."

"The bitch said you were on the road, she..."

"You watch who you're calling a bitch, asshole. The woman's my..."

Burgess moved toward the light, listening. The voices told him the big man was closer and to his left, Stan to his right. He should have looked in the window, gotten a sense of the layout of the room. The wrangling continued. The two men warring for superiority, temper and testosterone straining their voices. Sounding like they were on the verge of explosion. He and Terry didn't have much time.

He slid along the wall until he could see part-way into the room. He saw the woman on the couch. She was waving her arms and urging them on... not urging them to stop, as Kyle had thought. Tickled pink at the idea of a shoot-out in her living room. A sick idea of a turn-on. To his left, he sensed more than saw the big man, standing close to the doorway. All he could see clearly were two huge hands and an unsteady Glock.

Across the room, a door was slowly moving, the dark opening growing almost imperceptibly larger as Kyle swung it in toward himself. As soon as Kyle was visible, Burgess moved, throwing himself into the room. He stuck his gun right in the face of the spitting gorilla. "Police," he yelled. "Both of you. Drop the guns and put up your hands or I'll blow your fucking heads off."

"No way! This fucker is gonna die." The huge man took aim right over his shoulder at Perry, his finger dangerously unsteady on the trigger.

"Put the gun down, goddammit!" Burgess yelled. "Put it down. Down. Right now!" The gun began to drop, but not fast enough. "Put it down." He repeated the order, getting in the man's face, commanding the man's attention. "This is not worth dying over." The big man's gun wavered slowly toward the floor.

"Good. Now keep it down. Terry..." Kyle's gun focused on the gorilla as Burgess crossed the room to Stan Perry, deliberately keeping himself in the big man's line of fire. As Perry stared in surprise, he said, "I said
both of you.
Drop your fucking gun, Stan. Drop it. Now!"

Perry's face was scarlet, his shaved head gleaming with sweat, his lips back in a snarl. Lost in his own tunnel vision, he was looking right through Burgess at the Gorilla. Not taking in Burgess's commands. He didn't drop his gun. "Drop it, Detective," Burgess repeated, blocking his view, forcing him to listen. "Drop it now. That's an order."

Comprehension swam slowly into his eyes, "Jesus, Joe," Perry said, "he's the freaking bad guy, not me." His jaw was stubborn, his arm rigid.

"An order, Detective," Burgess repeated, keeping his voice steady and calm, as if getting between two crazy-mad naked guys with guns happened every day. "A direct order from your sergeant. Like to get everyone out of here alive, Stan, if that's okay with you." He checked that Kyle still had the big guy covered. "Drop... the... gun."

"Like hell. I am not—" Burgess shoved his gun in his belt, delivered a full-bore right to his detective's jaw, then a left and right to the stomach, his fists carrying decades of experience with recalcitrant subjects, and the need to act first and argue later. Carrying all his anger and frustration with this investigation and with subordinates who think they're beyond the rules.

Stan, gaping with foolish astonishment, collapsed like a popped balloon, a dribble of blood starting at the corner of his mouth. Quickly, Burgess snatched Stan's gun, grabbed him by the arm, and walked him to the door. "You get out. Go sit in my car. And don't do another goddamned thing until I get there. Understand?"

Perry stood stupidly, rubbing his jaw and staring at Burgess with a betrayed look on his face. "I'm fucking naked," he said.

Stan's modesty was the least of his worries. "I said
go sit in the car
. You got that?"

Comprehension began to dawn. One hand rubbing his swelling jaw, Perry mumbled, "Yes, boss," and stumbled out.

Burgess turned back to the naked couple. "He's leaving, Mr. Barton," he said. The angry husband now looked like he wanted to kill Burgess for depriving him of the chance to shoot Stan. He also wore the look of a man just realizing that he's wearing nothing but a gun in a room where the other guys have guns
and
clothes.

The crazy wife, meanwhile, wore the crestfallen pout of a kid whose ice cream has fallen off the cone. She was, as Perry had said, hot, if you liked the pneumatic blow-up doll look and big hair. Kyle took the phone from her and replaced it on the cradle. "Appreciate it if you could point me toward Mr. Perry's clothes, ma'am," he said.

She gave Kyle an appraising look and licked her lips, like he was a snack brought out for her enjoyment. "What'll ya give me?"

Kyle pretended to consider. "Night in jail if you don't."

"Ah, hell," she said. "This way." She led Kyle through the door, closing it behind them.

Burgess tried to remember what Timmy Collins had said about the Gorilla. Something about priors, he was sure of that. He crossed to where the man stood puzzling out his next move, and took the gun from his hand. "You really shouldn't be waving this around, you know. Not with charges hanging over you and your prior record. It's probably not legal. And you really don't want to lose your job. Heaven only knows the trouble your wife could get into if you were locked up."

The Gorilla pondered that as he scratched his chest. "She do need to see me regular," he agreed. He jerked his chin toward the door through which Perry had gone. "You promise me that one won't be coming back?"

"He won't be coming back," Burgess said.

"You give him whatfor, dincha? And wasn't he some surprised. So... what... you're his boss?"

Burgess nodded. His heart rate still coming down, the room coming back into focus as the tunnel thing faded. Everything suddenly so bright the light felt loud. He didn't quite trust it had gone this easily. Was still waiting for the second level of all hell to break out. For death-wish chickie to bring the cops down on all of them. Stanley the stupid to rush back in and start things up again. Barton to lunge for his gun.

He half expected the little hottie to come out of the back claiming Kyle had put the moves on her. Instead, he heard the front door open and Kyle entered the room that way.

"Had to give Stanley his clothes," he said. "We done here?"

Burgess looked at the Gorilla. "We done?" The man nodded. "Okay," Burgess said. "That your truck out there?" Another nod. "Is it locked?"

The man shook his head. "Ain't got around to that yet. Just got out from the jail and I hadda come see Lorraine first." For the first time, Burgess noticed the pile of clothes on the floor. "I was gonna surprise her. 'Cept she had that guy here. Your guy." His little eyes narrowed in his big red face. "You sure he ain't comin' back? 'Cuz if he is, I'm gonna kill him. I'd hafta."

"He's not coming back," Burgess said. "Now, I'm leaving this gun in your truck. And I don't want to see you come charging out here after it, so you see that clock over there?" He pointed to the clock on the wall. "You give it ten minutes. Then you can come get it."

"Yeah. All right. Okay. Ten minutes and I can get my gun back." The Gorilla smiled like he liked the deal.

He and Kyle backed out the door. Not taking any chances. Outside, he ejected the clip from Barton's Glock, emptied it, and shoved it back in the gun. He wiped off his prints and left it on the floor of the truck. He hated like heck to give the guy back his gun. Stanley might be safe from getting shot, but sooner or later, this pair of idiots was going to bring some poor fool to grief.

Chapter 29