Absolute Power (Southern Justice #1 (11 page)

Chase and Dad were waiting outside the elevators when I walked in. A new security guard stood beside Ms. Gloria, the greeter and operator. She had been with the firm since the day the doors opened and I wouldn’t have been surprised if she was the one who closed the door when they tore down this building.

Momma sat between Austin and Ms. Marilyn. Granddaddy VanBuren had been married to my nana for over forty years. Upon her death, he hired Ms. Marilyn to keep house and keep him company. Three years ago, Momma sat them both down and told them it was all right to show their feelings for one another. Nana was a kind spirit and wouldn’t have wanted Granddaddy to be lonely. Last year, we started calling Ms. Marilyn, Nana.

“Momma.” I crossed the room to kiss her pale cheek. She might have shown a brave face at his funeral, but once she was alone, the dam had broken.

“I’m glad you’re here, sugar.” She squeezed my hand as she kissed my cheek back.

“Nana.” I kissed her powdered cheek, tossing in a hug because I knew she liked it.

“Your granddaddy was so proud of you for taking those scallywags off the street.”

Nana Marilyn was the epitome of a Southern lady. Her hair was always fixed; her standing appointment at the beauty shop was never missed. Her clothes always included a set of pearls and red lipstick.

“Thank you, Nana.”

Once everyone was seated, Norman Edwards, an attorney from the Estate Department of the law firm, began. Granddaddy made certain there would be no arguing over property. We all knew before he died who would receive which pieces of his property. This meeting was really just to give a final farewell.

Mr. Edwards pulled out a remote and pointed it at one of the monitors in Dad’s office. Everything was listed under each of our names, with Mom getting the bulk of the estate and Nana Marilyn receiving the home they had shared together. He’d also given her an undisclosed sum of money, to keep those beauty shop visits happening.

“
Always take care of the women in your life. Give them a little money for clothes and perfume, you will benefit in the end.”

I would miss his words of wisdom, although anything related to women I’d never need.

“Gentleman, in the last six months, Mr. VanBuren took out an additional life insurance policy. He instructed the proceeds be split between the three of you.” Mr. Edwards, with his oil slicked hair, pin striped suit, and glasses dangling off the tip of his pointed nose, looked at all of us in turn. “Each of you will receive one hundred thousand dollars.”

After everyone left and the sun began to set, the three of us took to the roof of my dad’s office building. Chase pulled out a bottle of Hennessey, just like Granddaddy used to do. We sat silently looking over the horizon, watching the boats go by in the river.

“He always had a plan, didn’t he?” Austin spoke to no one in particular.

“Remember the time he brought that new Cadillac and took us for ice cream?”

Again, silence filled the air, all of us too afraid to blink or move for fear of his death being real.

“Dylan, you decided you wanted to take the car for a ride, but you couldn’t reach the pedals.”

“I remember Daddy trying to wear my ass out after they finally got the car to stop before going into the pond. Granddaddy came over and promised I would have my
whole
life to drive a car, to take time to enjoy just being a kid.”

Chase drained the last of the bottle and tossed it as far as he could after we all said a “see ya later” to Granddaddy.

Standing beside my bike, Chase and Austin checked it out as they always did when I got it out. “What are you going to do with your share of the money?” Austin asked Chase.

“Stick it in the bank, have a little something to buy a ring or a house.” Here we go, Chase already marching down the aisle.

“What about you, Dylan?”

“I’m gonna find a way to buy five more years with him.”

Austin and Chase were both flying out later in the evening and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, life did go on. Short goodbyes were always our style, a simple hug and a crude exchange of words. I watched as Momma’s tail lights disappeared into the darkness.

Not ready to head home or back to the office, I chose instead to take a walk. The Charleston streets would be quiet this time of night, giving me the needed atmosphere to really think. Having three cases in a row get thrown out by overpriced attorneys whose job it was to twist the truth to fit their needs, and leaving victims bled and broken in their wake, was weighing heavy on my mind. Why bust my ass every fucking day just to have these criminals back on the street before the sun went down? How much money was being wasted in holding cells and court costs? Before I realized it, I found myself outside the college library. Stone lions guarded the doors, which held all the vital information necessary for the students. Touching the cold stone that made up the lion’s paw, I tossed around the notion that these pieces of stone had a better chance of protecting Charleston than I did.

I was about to head back to my bike when I heard it, a muffled scream. At first I thought it was the wind, you could feel the temperature change with an impending storm brewing. I listened once again and closed my eyes, concentrating. I heard not only another muffled scream, but a male voice telling someone to “shut the fuck up!”

The buildings were situated in such a manner that they provided only one area where a person could either hide or try to escape. Rounding the corner of the building, I saw him. Fighting with someone on the ground, stood a man. I watched as he reared his fist back three quick times, hitting whomever he had pinned down. The closer I got, the clearer they both became.

“Hey!” I shouted, pulling my gun from its holster.

The man ignored me, and the sound of clothes ripping, and skin hitting skin echoed in the darkness.

“Motherfucker,” I said, reaching the couple and grabbing the collar of the black shirt he had on. “Hey!”

The man pulled back and tried to shove me. The only light came from inside the library, but I could tell he was a fat fuck, most likely a crack head or a pimp.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” I pulled his arm behind his back, but he slipped back and tried to punch me. “You’re under arrest!” This time, my fist connected with his jaw…a few times. “You have the right to remain silent.”

He fell backward after the third or fourth hit, but he had already pissed me off.

“Fuck you.” He hissed, his arms weaving in the air.

I dragged him back up and began beating the shit out of him. “I suggest you do it.”

Movement from the corner reminded me we had a victim who might need medical attention. With a final kick to his ribs, I turned to the person he was beating to see a girl scampering, while trying to close her torn blouse.

“Ma’am, I’m a cop, it’s all right.” I held out my hands in surrender, glancing at the unconscious form of the douche bag who had attacked her. His pants were open and his tiny dick was hanging out of the zipper, but I wasn’t certain if he had raped her as only her shirt was torn and she had a skirt on.

“What is your name, sweetheart? I’m Detective Morgan.”

I pulled out my cell and holstered my gun, shining a light on my face so she could see me and my badge.

“L-Lainie.” She sobbed, her tears running through the smudges of dirt on her face.

“Okay, Lainie, I’m going to call for an ambulance and some other officers to come and help.” I touched the screen on my phone to call dispatch. “Don’t worry, everything will be okay. He won’t hurt you anymore.” I kicked the boot of the bastard for emphasis.

Because I was technically a witness, I had to let Murphy and Kennedy do the interviews. As soon as they arrived on the scene, I had Kennedy sit with Lainie as we waited for the ambulance to arrive. She denied he had raped her, but his punches had done some damage, as her breathing was raspy.

“The ID we pulled from him is stolen. We’ll have to obtain fingerprints and run them through the system,” Murphy told me, holding an ID belonging to some poor kid who looked to be eighteen at the most. The guy lying in the dirt was closer to my age.

The ambulance pulled up, and the EMTs began assessing Lainie, and then placing her in the back. The douche bag was still breathing, but out cold. He was lucky she had moved, as I had no intention of stopping my punches. Paramedics came over, strapped him to another gurney and also loaded him in the back of the ambulance.

“Murphy, you’d better follow me to the fucking hospital.” I climbed into the back of the ambulance, while the EMT tried to tell me I couldn’t ride back there. “Really, motherfucker? You’re taking a victim and an attacker in the same goddamn wagon and you think it’s okay?”

He stepped to the side and I took a seat beside a trembling Lainie, who couldn’t look at the man on the gurney.

“Listen, if he wakes up before we get there, I will gladly knock him the hell back out.” I tried to reassure her.

A slight nod of her head was the only response. “I didn’t even see him,” she whispered, as a drop of blood began to run from the cut on her lower lip.

“He counted on that, but don’t think for a minute this was your fault.” I looked at her, silently asking for permission to touch her lip with a piece of gauze.

“In the morning, this douche bag will be sitting in a jail cell and you will be just as pretty and pleasant as you were when you woke up this morning.”

I had no clue what type of girl she was, but I knew the sorry fuck lying on that gurney was nothing but a low life. This case wouldn’t be one of the ones I found on my desk the morning. With a decorated Detective as a witness, the perp would have to dig pretty deep to find an attorney to represent him.

Arriving at University ER, the doors flew open and several nurses and a single doctor, whom I recognized as Gillman from the case file on my desk, awaited instructions from the paramedics. Standing behind Gillman was none other than the girl from the bar, Claire.

Her face was different this time. Hair pulled back, scrubs hiding her shapely body, and her face serious. Gone was the glow from her drinking and in its place the mask of a professional. Confident, yet anxious.

Waiting for the gurney to be moved from the back of the wagon, I felt the stirring inside of my chest again. Just like the other night, a burning sensation, growing into bubbles. I chalked it up to too much Hennessey and not enough food. I jumped down from the back of the rig and turned around to assist Lainie down. I didn’t care for the attitude of the Paramedic; therefore I had no real use for him. I turned back around to find Dr. Gillman leaning over the bastard and shining a light into his bloody eye.

“Detective, would you follow me please,” Claire instructed as she walked into the hospital. Her hips once again moved in a natural sway, so unlike Shayla and her groupies.

As the EMT followed Claire with the gurney, I was being mindful of how I touched Lainie; trying to preserve all the evidence, yet let her know she was safe here.

Claire opened a wooden door, smiling softly in Lainie’s direction.

“My name is Claire Stuart, one of the nurses here, and more importantly for you, I’m also a crisis intervention nurse.”

She went on to explain she would be taking Lainie’s clothes for evidence and several pictures. She told Lainie all her rights under the law, then handed her a hospital gown, pulling a curtain around herself and Lainie.

Seconds later, she pulled the curtain back, an evidence bag containing Lainie’s clothes in a gloved hand.

“Lainie, I need to give these to the Detective outside,” she explained, raising the bag in the air. “But I need you to stay here—no food, no water and, please, no bathroom.”

She had barely cracked the door before she looked at me. “Detective, I’ll need to have a look at those knuckles.”

I raised my hand to my field of vision and saw what she was talking about. Three of my knuckles were covered with blood and looked to have a couple of gashes.

“Nah, I’m all right,” I argued. I didn’t need her to baby me. I’d had worse working on a flat tire.

“It’s not a request, Detective.” She pointed to the bed parallel to the one Lainie sat upon. I nodded again, as she opened the door, and crossed the room to hop up on the bed.

“T-th-thank you.” A whisper of a voice came from the tiny, frail blonde.

“There is no reason to thank me. I’m just glad I passed by when I did.”

Claire knocked quickly on the door before opening and peering around the edge cautiously. “Detective, may I see you in the hall a minute?” I nodded my head and excused myself to join Claire.

Once I stepped through the door, Murphy was standing in the corridor.

“Captain, we got a positive ID on the fucker.”

She flipped her phone in my direction, a recent mug shot looking back at me. Frances Cashmere Greyson, twenty-seven, most recent arrest, two days ago for possession.

“So he bonded out and then lost his fucking mind.”

“Maybe the DA can get a no-bond order this time,” Murphy added as she pocketed the phone and made her way over to Kennedy.

“Don’t hold your breath,” was my flippant response as I turned back toward the trauma room door, which was now closed. I assumed Claire was performing an exam and decided to wait.

I leaned my back to the wall, crossed my boots at the ankle, and tucked my thumbs into my leather belt. Why I was waiting, I had no clue. I could wash my hands and smear some ointment over the cuts. It hadn’t been that long since I had a tetanus shot either.

Fifteen minutes later, the door opened and out walked a fatigued looking Claire. Her look of surprise at seeing me drew a smile that could wrinkle my bad assed exterior.

“Hey, I’m glad you’re still here, I need to look at those cuts.” She motioned to my knuckles with the bag of trash she held in her gloved hands. “Give me just a second to get rid of this.”

I settled my head against the wall and closed my eyes for the briefest of moments, when I heard a commotion coming from the room where Frances had been placed.

I pulled myself up and walked in that direction, passing Murphy as I entered the door. A uniformed officer was struggling to get Frances to settle back into the bed so the nurse could administer care.