A Father's Wrath (5 page)

Bradley sat down and exhaled. He hated having
to defend Lu. At least he was able to stop a bloodbath today. Talk
about bad publicity.

CHAPTER 14

The realization of the situation, and the icy
cold air outside, took away the last of Richie’s beer buzz as he
stood on the sidewalk and glanced at the parking ticket on his car.
“Figures.”

Perez took the ticket and said, “We’ll take
care of that.”

McCoy said, “I’m gonna get that federal warrant
for a DNA sample and then we’re gonna get that pedophile
bastard.”

Richie didn’t feel very hopeful. He knew that
Ko Sin Lu could just stay in his country and he would never have to
answer for what he did to Taylor. He thought about the painful
memories that his son would have to live with for the rest of his
life. A tear ran down his face.

Perez placed her hand on his shoulder. “It’s
not over yet.”

CHAPTER 15

Joe and Michelle had spent most of the
afternoon in bed having sex and sleeping. They ordered Chinese food
for dinner, then Michelle stuck her head out the window for a
cigarette. Joe felt bad about making her do that, but she smoked
too much, and he didn’t want it stinking up his clean
house.

She took a couple puffs from a joint after her
cigarette, then headed toward the bathroom. “I gotta get ready to
go, baby. Work tonight.”

Joe said, “The first time I have Monday night
off and you have to work.”

“I know, baby, but they got that big basketball
game tonight.”

Joe wasn’t sure which game she was referring
to, he hadn’t kept up on professional sports since puberty. “That’s
alright. I’ll just hit the gym for a little cardio.” He slipped on
a pair of sweatpants and a tank top.

She peeked back into the bedroom and asked,
“Wasn’t I enough of a workout?”

Joe chuckled.

Michelle went into the shower.

Joe headed downstairs and then into the
backyard where he petted his dogs and filled their water
bowl.

Inside, he washed his hands in the kitchen
sink, then took a bottle of pills from the cabinet and swallowed
one. He placed the bottle on the counter and went back upstairs and
into the bedroom.

When Michelle came out of the shower naked and
dripping wet, Joe moved toward her and squeezed her nipple while
kissing her.

She pushed him away. “I thought you were going
to the gym.”

Joe watched her put on her bra and then pull
her panties up.

She squeezed his hard dick through his
sweatpants and said, “Save that for later. And you better not be
walking around the gym like that.”

Joe kissed her, then went into the bathroom and
closed the door. He opened the window, turned on the fan, and lit a
candle for the smell, but he couldn’t hide it, and he couldn’t hold
it.

After taking care of his business in the
bathroom, Joe found Michelle downstairs in the kitchen making
coffee. She pointed at the bottle on the countertop and asked,
“What are those pills?”

“For the gym.” Joe took the milk out of the
refrigerator and put it on the table.

“They don’t look like they came from GNC.
Oxandrolone?”

Joe forgot his small towel and weightlifting
gloves, so ran upstairs to get them, then ran back downstairs and
into the kitchen to get his coffee.

Michelle read something on her phone. Joe
figured it was a text message. He poured two cups of coffee, then
added a little milk to his. “I’ll let you make yours.”

Michelle said, “These are steroids,
baby.”

Joe chuckled. “You looked it up?”

“Yeah. That bottle doesn’t look legit. And look
here, these are steroids. Everybody knows steroids make your dick
shrink.”

Joe laughed. “That is so stupid. Steroids
shrink the balls, not the dick.” Joe squeezed his own dick and
asked, “Does this feel small to you?”

“But, what about roid rage? What if we get in
an argument and you kill me?”

Joe laughed again. “Come on, baby. It’s just a
very light steroid.”

“Oh. Like light beer?”

Joe tried not to laugh too hard. “Why you
breakin’ my chops, anyway? What about all that weed you
smoke?”

“But, I’m a bartender . . . not a
cop.”

Joe put the bottle back in the cabinet and
said, “Come on, give me a break.”

CHAPTER 16

On Tuesday afternoon, Bradley sat in the back
of his limo while a company bodyguard sat up front next to the
driver.

It took over thirty minutes to get out of the
city, but the highways in New Jersey were moving well. They arrived
in Newark an hour early and continued to an area of two and three
story houses and apartment buildings, about two miles away from the
downtown area.

Bradley had a copy of Richie Carson’s work
schedule and he knew the diner where Richie ate. “Park in that lot
across the street. We may have to wait a while.”

“Yes, sir.” The
driver made a U-turn, then entered a dirt lot with a sign that
read:
$5 per hour, park it
yourself.

The messy old attendant got off his rusty metal
folding chair and approached with a cigarette hanging out of his
mouth. The driver rolled down his window. The attendant said, “I’m
gonna have to charge you for two spots for that thing.”

Bradley rolled down his back window and waved a
hundred dollar bill at the attendant.

The attendant quickly came over.

“I need to wait in my car for a couple hours,
right here next to the entrance.”

“Anything you need, sir.”

Bradley gave the attendant the hundred dollar
bill, then rolled up his window before the man had a chance to say
anything else.

“I’m going to make some calls. If you see Mr.
Carson, let me know.”

“Yes, sir.” Replied the driver.

Bradley raised the divider, then took out his
phone and stared at the screen. Sunday night, after David told
Bradley what had happened with Lu and that little Polish immigrant
boy in Switzerland, Bradley decided the best way to fix the problem
would probably be the same way they fixed most problems—with
money.

Instead of making phone calls, he closed his
eyes for a moment.

The intercom buzzer startled Bradley awake—he
wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He tried to sound like he
wasn’t sleeping when he pressed the intercom button and asked, “Is
he here?”

“Yes, sir.” Replied the driver.

Bradley rolled down the divider. “Keep the car
here. Tom, let’s go across the street.” He opened the door, stepped
out of the limo, and approached the attendant. “I’ll be right
back.”

The attendant nodded, staring at something
behind Bradley.

Bradley turned around, but the only thing
behind him was Tom, the bodyguard whom David had sent. A 6’5” 350
lb. gorilla with a bulletproof vest under his overcoat. Bradley
figured the old man was probably looking at the bulges in Tom’s
coat, which were obviously guns.

Tom followed Bradley across the street and into
the old diner on the corner. A cute young black girl approached and
asked, “Two?”

Bradley said, “No. We are meeting someone.” He
looked around and saw Richie at a booth alone, sipping on a large
soda and doing something on his phone. Bradley pointed, “There he
is.”

“Oh. Okay. Right this way.” With two menus in
her hand, she led Bradley and Tom to Richie’s table.

The floor was black and white checkered tile
and all the chairs and booths were red with metal trim. The oldies
station played in the background.

Bradley and Tom did their best to squeeze into
the bench on the opposite side of Richie.

Richie didn’t say anything.

The girl gave Bradley and Tom menus. “Your
waitress will be right over.”

“Thank you.”

The girl left.

Richie asked, “What the fuck are you doing
here?”

“I’m here because I’m a father, too, and I want
to help you.”

“You gonna give up Ko Sin Lu?”

Bradley shook his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t do
that. But, I can help your family financially. My company is
prepared to put ten million dollars into an account that your son
can access when he is eighteen years old.”

Richie glared at Bradley as the waitress
approached and asked, “What can I get you gentlemen?”

Bradley said, “Just two coffees. Thank you,
honey.”

She took their menus, then shuffled toward the
kitchen.

Richie said, “Take your coffees to go.” He
stood.

Tom stood.

Tom and Richie were the same height, but Tom
was more muscular, and he was a professional, not to mention the
two big pistols he carried at all times.

Bradley said, “No need to get hasty, Mr.
Carson. You haven’t heard my entire offer. I have another five
million dollars in cash waiting in the trunk of my limo, for
counseling and doctor bills, or whatever.”

“Counseling?” Richie grabbed his glass of diet
soda from the table and smashed it against Bradley’s
face.

Bradley grabbed his face. It burned. He could
feel chunks of glass in his skin.

Tom pulled a gun and pointed it at Richie’s
head.

Everyone in the diner gasped. An old woman
began to pray.

“Put it away.” Bradley stood while still
covering his face. The pain seemed to get worse with every second
that passed, but he knew he deserved it.

Tom helped Bradley out of the diner while
Richie stayed behind.

CHAPTER 17

After Bradley and his goon left the diner,
Richie called Detective McCoy. The phone rang a few times, then
went to voicemail. He called again, voicemail again. The second
time he left a message, not detailed, just that he needed to
talk.

Richie went back to work, but because he could
lose his job for using his phone on duty, he set it to vibrate and
put it in his bag. He couldn’t talk now anyway while taking
passengers up and down Market Street in his bus.

After finally finishing his shift, Richie
checked his phone, but there were no calls or messages. He called
McCoy again, but got his voicemail again, so he jumped in his car
without even changing out of his uniform and headed to the
city.

Traffic between New Jersey and New York was bad
going both ways, and during the entire ride, he ignored his wife
who called and texted at least ten times.

Finally, in Manhattan, on the Upper East Side,
Richie parked in a garage that cost him twenty-five dollars for
three hours, then he made his way down the block in the cold
wind.

Inside the precinct, most of the cops seemed to
remember Richie by the way they looked at him, but he didn’t
care—it wasn’t their son who was raped in the ass.

The desk cop said, “He’s been in court all day.
I don’t know what time he’ll be back.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Suit yourself.” The desk cop pointed at a row
of old green chairs against the wall.

Richie looked at his watch. It was after ten
thirty. He sat down and called his wife.

“I’ve been calling you for the past two hours.
Where are you?”

“I’m in the city, at the precinct.”

“They called you?”

“No. I came on my own.” Richie noticed McCoy
and Perez coming in through the front door.

On the phone, Gail said, “Damn it, Richie. You
agreed to wait.”

“I gotta go, Gail. I’ll call you back.” He
ended the call before she could argue, then he approached the
detectives.

Perez looked annoyed. McCoy just looked
exhausted.

“I’ve been trying to call you all
day.”

McCoy said, “We were in court all day, and then
we had two night sessions.” He moved to the side, away from the
stream of cops going in and out of the building. “Come upstairs
where we have a little privacy.”

On the second floor, only two other detectives
were working, both on their computers.

McCoy offered Richie a cup of
coffee.

Richie shook his head. “That lawyer, Bedford,
came to see me on my lunch break today. Motherfucker tried to give
me fifteen million dollars to sign a waiver. Can you believe that
shit?”

Perez asked, “Fifteen million?”

McCoy poured himself a cup of coffee, then
asked, “And what did you say?”

“I smashed a glass of diet coke against his
face.”

McCoy said, “You assaulted him.”

“What happened with the federal
warrant?”

McCoy said, “The judge refused it.”

Perez looked at McCoy with a surprised look.
“You didn’t tell me about that.”