Chapter 112
Chapter 112
Chapter Title: A Vulture and a Rat
Kathy
The moment we stepped back out of Morgan's office, I knew we had a new problem.
Reporters crowded the lobby. Cameras were pointed toward the hallway, microphones held ready as the constant murmur of voices made the precinct feel more like a press conference than a police station.
“Chief! Chief Morgan!”
“Do you have a suspect in Benny Reed's murder?”
“Is it connected to the Allison Reed investigation?”
“Chief, what can you tell us about the raid?”
Then the reporters groaned when Morgan's office door slammed shut. Several lowered their microphones, realizing they'd missed their chance.
One reporter spotted Reynolds and immediately pointed her microphone at him.
“Detective, do you believe the father and daughter were killed by the same suspect?”
Reynolds raised his hands. “The Chief will be giving all of you a statement in the briefing room,” he said. “As far as we're concerned, it's all part of an ongoing investigation.”
“And the bombing at Lace and Timber?” she pressed. “Was that intended to kill Allison Reed?”
“As I said, everything is part of an ongoing investigation.” He gave them a polite but unmistakably firm smile. “I suggest all of you clear this area and wait for Chief Morgan in the briefing room. Now, if you'll excuse us, we're needed elsewhere.”
He walked past them without another word. I followed.
The disappointment had been etched across Reynolds' face since Morgan admitted he'd known about the scam hubs for a year.
I couldn't blame him.
Reynolds had spent days chasing people who seemed to know more than they were willing to admit. Now he'd discovered that the man running the city's police department had been sitting on information about an entire criminal operation.
And if his daughter hadn't disappeared, I doubted Morgan would have ever confessed that he'd known about the scam hubs for a year.
Reynolds finally stopped at a desk near the center of the room.
A man in his late twenties sat behind it, his eyes fixed on his computer screen. He was African-American, dressed in a blue CPD shirt, and so absorbed in whatever he was reading that he didn't notice us until Reynolds leaned over his desk.
“Nick.”
The man looked up. “What's up?”
“Have you taken a look at all the CPUs, laptops, and other devices from Lace and Timber?”
Nick shook his head. “Not yet. We've got a bunch of techs assigned to the equipment. They're copying the data from the hard drives now.”
“How long?”
“Copying alone takes hours.” Nick turned back toward his monitor. “Analyzing everything will take days.”
Reynolds lowered his voice. “I'll help you narrow the search.”
Nick glanced at him. “Meaning?”
“I need evidence on Divine Williamson.”
Nick's fingers stopped moving. “Divine?”
“According to an informant, she pulls the strings. Allison Reed was working for her.”
Nick's mouth fell open. “What?” He quickly looked around the precinct. “What you're asking me to do is suicide, Blake.”
Reynolds didn't react.
Nick lowered his voice. “Besides...” He glanced toward the reporters in the lobby, then toward the officers working nearby. “Is your informant reliable?”
“Very.”
Nick studied him for a moment. “He isn't part of Benny's crew, right?”
Reynolds shook his head. “No.”
That seemed to ease Nick's concern, but only slightly.
Nick sighed. “I don't like it.”
“I know.”
“But I'll do it.”
Reynolds smiled.
“You owe me two now.”
That wiped the smile off Reynolds's face. “Fine," he scoffed. “I owe you two.” He started to walk away, then stopped. “Has CSU come back from T&A?”
Nick clicked through something on his computer. Camera footage. “Yep. They're unloading everything at the back.”
“Thanks, man.”
Reynolds was already walking away when Nick called after him.
“Where are you guys headed? Morgue?”
“Interrogation room.” Reynolds raised his hand and waved without turning around. “After I find Rat's phone.”
Nick nodded and returned to his screen.
I followed Reynolds toward the rear of the precinct.
The evidence room was crowded with bags and boxes from the raid. Officers and CSU technicians were moving everything into their designated areas, photographing evidence before logging it into the system.
Reynolds walked along the tables, scanning the evidence tags.
“Marcial,” he muttered. He picked up one bag.
“Nope. Wrong one." Another. "This one's Big's” He moved down the table. Then he stopped. “Got it.”
A cellphone sat inside a clear evidence bag.
MARCIAL "THE RAT" LOPEZ — CELL PHONE.
Reynolds picked it up. “Let's go.”
We headed for the interrogation rooms.
Rat was already inside. He sat at the metal table, his hands cuffed in front of him. He looked surprisingly comfortable for a man who had just been arrested during a SWAT raid.
And that was partly because of the woman seated beside him.
She quickly stood, wearing a smug smile as she brushed imaginary lint from her business suit.
Janet Rivera.
“Don't say a word,” Janet instructed. “Let me handle this.”
“Aw, isn't this sweet?” Reynolds said. “The vulture has come to pick off the last scraps of meat from a dying carcass.”
“I resent that insinuation, Detective,” she said. “And I want it put on record that my client has been cooperative after the distress you've put him through.”
“Distress?” Reynolds scoffed. “Counselor, he shot at us.”
“Do you have body-camera footage to prove he did?”
“I don't.”
Janet's smile widened.
“But SWAT does.”
Her smile vanished. “Nevertheless, the arrest was made after an unauthorized breach.”
“I have a warrant that says otherwise,” Reynolds shot back, pulling the document from inside his coat.
Janet extended her hand. “Let me take a look at that. If it's signed by Judge Braddock, you'll have a lot of explaining to do.”
“But it wasn't signed by my grandfather,” Reynolds said. “Judge Ruben signed it.”
Janet scoffed as she scanned through the warrant. “A fingerprint on a bottle cap? That's your probable cause?”
“It connects Benny to our third victim, Earl Lincoln.” Reynolds took the warrant back from her.
“But my client isn't connected to Earl Lincoln's murder in any way,” she argued.
“Nope. But he was at the scene of a raid where he was found with a semi-automatic weapon.”
“That could have been planted.”
“You forget the body-camera footage.”
Janet narrowed her eyes. “So you're saying you're taking Marcial into custody?”
“Not just yet.” Reynolds leaned against the table. “We need a favor.”
“What kind of favor?” Her eyes dropped to the phone sealed inside the evidence bag.
“Just a phone call to one of his friends.”
“And if my client does this small favor for you, you drop the charges and let him go home?”
“No.”
Janet's expression hardened. “Then what exactly are you offering?”
“Rat here could have seriously hurt someone tonight. He's being charged with aggravated assault with a deadly weapon.”
Janet shook her head. “Then no favor.”
Reynolds shrugged. “Good luck, Rat. You'll be staying in jail for a long time.” He turned toward the door. “Twenty-five years, give or take.”
“What?” Rat's eyes widened. He turned toward Janet. “Help me!”
Janet raised a finger. “Quiet.”
She looked back at Reynolds. “How about we lower the charge to simple assault? Maybe sixty days in a minimum-security facility?”
Reynolds turned, considering it. Then he shoved the phone across the table. “Make the call first.”
“To who?” Rat asked.
“The Bagman.”
Rat hesitated. "What do I say?"
“Have him meet you somewhere. Tell him Benny's dead, the police are everywhere, and you need help. Be creative, Rat. You look like a guy who can get creative.”
Rat grinned. “That I can do.”
“And put it on speakerphone,” Reynolds added. “I want to hear exactly what he says.”
“Got it.” Rat picked up the phone, working the screen through the evidence bag.
A moment later, we heard it ring. Once. Twice. Three times.
Then a gruff voice answered. “Gray.”
“Gray,” Rat said. “Papa Benny's dead, and the police are everywhere. I need some cash. Enough for me to disappear. You catch my drift?”
There was a brief pause.
“I was waiting for your call,” Gray said. “We heard what happened. We're heading back. Meet me at the Pocomoke Docks after midnight. I'll give you your cut there.” He paused. “And Rat, make sure you aren't being followed.”
“Got it,” Rat said. “I'll see you there.”
Rat ended the call.
Reynolds immediately leaned forward and took the phone from him.
“What's in Pocomoke?”
“Benny's yacht,” Rat answered quickly. “Boat named Al.”
“Simple assault, Counselor," Reynolds said, heading to the door. “He does time. But not too much time.”
Janet gave him a look that promised this wasn't over.
We stepped outside the interrogation room. Chief Morgan was in the briefing room, surrounded by reporters.
I looked at Reynolds. “Let's go to Archer's diner.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“Gray dropped something off there.”
“Can't we just ask Gray what it is later?”
“I want to know if Archer will lie about the drop-off.”
Reynolds studied me for a second. Then he nodded. “Well, it gives me a reason to step into that hell hole."