Raelyn, p.8
Raelyn, page 8
part #1 of Oath of Honor Series
He couldn’t sway this man’s opinion of him, so he changed the subject. “When will you know how the fire started at Raelyn’s house?”
Grayson’s brown gaze turned serious. “Fire Investigator Mitch Callahan is heading there now. It may be too hot to learn much, but he’ll start poking around for answers.”
“I pray he can find something useful.”
“Oh hey, Grayson.” Raelyn strode toward them, a laptop computer in hand. “What are you doing here so early?”
“Checking in on you and the case.” Grayson gestured to the computer. “What’s that for?”
“Isaiah is going to search mug shots for the man who assaulted him.” She set the computer on the desk, opened the lid, and logged on. “Here you go.” She turned the device toward him. “I need to chat with Rhy. Let someone know if you find him.”
“I will.” He turned his attention to the laptop. There was no reason to be jealous of Grayson. Raelyn said they were teammates, nothing more. Yet he couldn’t help noticing that Grayson fit into her life far better than he ever could.
It didn’t matter. He used the track pad to begin scrolling through the mug shots. He took his time, examining each face closely before moving on to the next. He didn’t want to make a mistake.
Not with something this important.
Besides, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he identified the wrong man.
He’d scrolled through a dozen images when Raelyn returned. To his surprise, she set a disposable phone on the desk beside him. “I asked Grayson to pick this up for you. How is it going? I’d offer you coffee, but the stuff they brew here is like sludge.”
“That’s okay. I’ve had enough.” He pocketed the phone and turned back to the screen. “It’s going well, but I haven’t found him yet.”
“Rhy had given us permission to use the undercover Jeep.” She shrugged. “That should help us fly under the radar.”
“That’s good.” He glanced back at her. “And your insurance company?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Calling them next. Let me know if you find him.”
“I will.” He watched as she moved to another empty desk to make the call, then went back to work. He’d gone through another five mug shots and was beginning to fear his guy wasn’t in the system at all, when he found him.
He sat back in the chair, his gaze focused on the man’s unsmiling face. He knew with absolute certainty this was the man who’d attacked him.
Hugo Morrison. Not Donte Wicks, but there was still the faint resemblance to Donte’s features. Maybe a half brother or cousin. He glanced over to where Raelyn was still on the phone. She had her forehead propped in one hand as she spoke, making him think the news wasn’t good.
Well, knowing the identity of the man who’d done this would make her feel a little better. He turned back to the computer, not surprised to see that Hugo had done time for carjacking and armed robbery.
What had caused Hugo to escalate to attempted murder? Had the Chief put him up to it? Was this related to the drug deal that had gone down outside his church or from his actions ten years ago?
They wouldn’t get answers until they had Hugo in custody. Hopefully sooner rather than later.
Raelyn stood and came over to join him. Her expression was strained, but she simply gestured to the computer. “You found something?”
“Yes. This is the guy. Hugo Morrison.” He turned the screen so she could see it better. “I’m positive he’s the one behind this.”
Her expression brightened. “Good job, Isaiah. We’ll issue a BOLO for him ASAP. And we’ll send a unit to his last-known address too.”
“Happy to help.” He wondered if their time together would end once they had Hugo in custody.
“Sit tight.” She grabbed the computer and headed toward one of the nearby offices. “Rhy? We have him!”
Ridiculous to be disappointed at the news the danger was likely over. It was better this way—he needed to get back to his church duties, and Raelyn needed to focus on her own situation. He hoped her insurance would put her up somewhere while the ranch house was being repaired.
And how long would that take? Weeks? Months? A year? He grimaced, suspecting the worst-case scenario.
“Pastor Washington?” A tall blond man strode toward him. His name tag identified his last name as Finnegan. He remembered meeting Rhy Finnegan the day of the shooting. “I understand you’ve identified our perp.”
“Yes.” He rose to his feet. “Please, call me Isaiah. I hope the officers on the street will find him very soon.”
“We will.” Rhy smiled grimly. “We appreciate your help on this.”
“Of course.” He glanced over to where Raelyn was once again talking on the phone. “I have a question, though. Have you heard if my church is still okay?”
“Yes, my brother-in-law Reed Carmichael sat outside the place last night,” Rhy said. “I know it’s not technically in his district, but he volunteered. I admire what you’re trying to do there.”
“Trying is the key word,” he said lightly. “It’s often an uphill battle.”
“I can imagine.” Rhy’s expression was somber. “I understand you were also the one who anonymously called the police about the drug deal going down outside the church.”
“Yes.” He still felt guilty over that. “I gave Raelyn—er, Officer Lewis the street names of the kids who came through the church. I don’t know their legal names.”
“I understand. We’ve put those names and the nickname ‘Chief’ through the system but haven’t gotten any hits.” Rhy frowned. “You’re sure there isn’t anything else you can tell us?”
“Ten years ago, I worked for Donte Wicks, who supposedly took orders from the Chief. I checked just a few weeks ago, and Donte was still in jail. The kid who shot me so he could steal the drugs, was Petey Dobbs. I gave his name to the officers after I recovered from surgery, and they told me they found him dead of a drug overdose.” Justice at its best, he’d thought at the time. “I don’t remember giving them Donte Wick’s name, but I was in and out during much of those early days. There were likely other drug runners, but Hugo wasn’t involved back then as far as I know.”
“Maybe we can arrange to visit Donte Wicks in jail,” Rhy said thoughtfully. “I doubt he’ll cooperate with us, but it’s worth a try.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” he warned. “Doing jail time is a badge of honor to some of these guys. If Donte hasn’t given up the Chief by now, I doubt he’ll suddenly change his mind.”
“Maybe not, but it’s a stone that needs to be overturned just in case.” Rhy clapped him on the back. “Thanks again. Take care of yourself. My family and I will keep you and your parish in our prayers.”
“Thanks, you too.” He was a little surprised by the easy acceptance from the captain of the tactical team.
“Isaiah?” Raelyn rushed over, and he wondered when she’d changed into her uniform. His no-nonsense cop was back. He preferred her softer side. “We have a lead on Pinky.”
His gut clenched. Of all the kids who had attended his church services and the meal afterward, he’d sincerely hoped Pinky would find his way out of the life of crime. He cared about that boy, maybe because he saw himself in the kid’s features. Especially in the young boy’s tortured eyes. If God had chosen to save Isaiah, surely He could do the same for Pinky.
“Did you hear me?” She looked exasperated. “Let’s go. I want you to come with me.”
That made him frown. “Why? I’m not a cop.”
“Pinky held you at gunpoint, remember?” She searched his gaze for a long moment. “We need that gun. Even if Pinky didn’t fire it, we need to know if that weapon was used to kill a cop and seriously injure two others.”
He didn’t want to go but didn’t see another option. Maybe he could convince Pinky to tell the truth about what happened outside the church.
Would Raelyn or other cops even bother to listen?
“Okay.” He forced himself to nod in agreement. “I’ll come with you.”
“Good. We’ll take the Jeep.” She led the way through the precinct to the door leading to the rear parking lot. He followed, wrestling with his feelings. He wanted to protect Pinky.
Yet maybe Pinky needed to do his part. The way he had.
He didn’t say anything as Raelyn drove them to the north side of Milwaukee. The familiar dilapidated homes bothered him more for some reason, maybe because he’d spent the last twenty-four hours away from the obvious signs of poverty and despair.
The American Lodge motel was nothing fancy, but he knew most if not all the residents here would switch places in a heartbeat.
“Where are we going?” he asked, breaking the prolonged silence.
Raelyn rattled off the address. “Do you know it?”
“No.” He wondered where they’d learned that information, then decided it didn’t matter.
Raelyn pulled up in front of the house, eyeing the structure warily. It was in rough shape, like most of the homes around here. Then she pushed out of the Jeep.
He did the same, walking beside her as they mounted the rickety steps to the front door.
She knocked, and of course, no one answered. She pounded again, harder. After a long moment, an older Black woman swung the door open. “What?” Her voice was not friendly.
“I need to speak with Pinky,” Raelyn said.
The woman crossed her arms over her chest. “Pinky don’t live here.”
“Please,” he urged, speaking up. “We simply want to talk to him, that’s all.”
The woman snorted, then stepped back. “You want to check for yourself, Preacher? Go ahead.”
Raelyn frowned, then entered the home. He stayed close but already knew they wouldn’t find Pinky. This woman wouldn’t have let them in if the kid had been there.
The search didn’t take long. Raelyn pasted a smile on her face. “Thanks for your cooperation.”
The woman scowled without saying a word. She did slam the door shut behind them, though, making her displeasure known.
“That was a bust,” Raelyn said.
“Maybe Pinky was there but took off.” He shrugged. “These kids stay on the move to avoid getting caught.”
“Yeah, I guess.” She looked determined now. “We’ll have another officer stake the place out to see if Pinky returns tonight.”
“I’d like to head to the church for a few minutes. I keep a spare set of clothes there.”
“Fine.” She slid in behind the wheel, giving the woman’s house one last look before driving away.
Thankfully, New Hope Church looked exactly the way he’d left it. No additional graffiti and no sign of a forced entry. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, scanning the room. Then he narrowed his gaze when he saw something dark sitting in the middle of the white tablecloth on the altar.
He rushed forward, hardly able to believe his eyes. Raelyn came up next to him. “Is that the Glock?”
“I don’t know.” Despite saying the words, he was sure it was.
And he was convinced Pinky had left it there.
Chapter Seven
Thankfully, Raelyn’s uniform utility belt contained a few evidence bags. First, she took several pictures with her cell phone, showing the weapon sitting on the white tablecloth. She carefully used one as a glove to place the weapon inside, then sealed it shut. One Glock looked just like another, but she could tell by the resigned expression in Isaiah’s blue eyes that he suspected this was the weapon Pinky had held pressed against his side that day.
She did too. Especially since the gun was left in the church as a silent message to Isaiah. Almost like an apology for holding him at gunpoint.
“We’ll head back to the precinct so I can get this processed.” The lab had the bullets that were removed from the dead officer and the two who were critically injured. One of the wounded officers, a guy named Brett Carson, was doing better, awake but still on pain meds. The other was still listed in critical condition. According to her brief conversation with Rhy, they were hoping to be able to interview Carson about what had happened soon.
She would bet her next paycheck that this Glock had fired the rounds that had hit at least one of those officers, if not all three. She found herself hoping that Carson would be able to identify the kid who shot him, and that Pinky wasn’t responsible.
Maybe she was getting soft or was swayed by Isaiah’s view on things, but she found it hard to imagine Pinky as a cold-blooded killer.
“I need to check the back.” Isaiah turned and hurried down to his office. She followed more slowly, resting one hand on the butt of her gun in case Pinky or someone else was back there and still armed.
She relaxed when she realized the office and small kitchen area were empty. Then she frowned. “The front door of the church was locked. How did Pinky get in?”
“You don’t know who left that gun there,” he said mildly. “But how someone got inside is exactly what I’m trying to determine.”
She followed him through the small area to the back door, which had obviously been broken, either by a well-placed kick or a baseball bat. Maybe even a solid brick, as the door didn’t look overly sturdy.
Isaiah sighed. “I’ll need to fix this.”
“Now?” She frowned. “I can’t sit here with key evidence. I need to turn it over as soon as possible.”
“Go ahead and take it in. I’ll stay here. I need to change my clothes, and it will also take me some time to get this repaired.”
She rolled her eyes. “Have you forgotten the three attempts to kill you? And the fire at my place?”
“No. I have not forgotten.” He turned to look at her with an intense gaze. “But I’m responsible for this building and for keeping the church a safe place for worship.”
“You’re risking your life to repair a door.” She glared at him. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
Anger sparked in his eyes. “My responsibility is not ridiculous. I am here to spread the word of God. That means having a church. Besides, you can’t force me to leave.” He turned and headed back the way they’d come.
Grinding her teeth together in frustration, she followed.
He opened a door leading to a dark, damp basement. Flicking on the light, he headed down the stairs. She hesitated, then followed, wondering if Pinky or one of the others had been down there too.
The cobwebs didn’t appear disturbed. Isaiah waved them away as he found a hammer, nails, and more wood. Without saying anything, he brushed past her to return to the main level.
To her surprise, he made quick work of the repairs. He was able to fix the door enough that it was able to be locked. After he’d finished, he stood and brushed off his hands. “That will work.”
All in all, the repair hadn’t taken long, making her feel small for arguing over it. She managed a smile. “May we please go now?”
He nodded, then held up a hand. “After I grab some clothes.”
She waited, tapping her foot on the floor as he disappeared into his office. He closed the door behind him. When he emerged, he wore another pair of black slacks and a black shirt. “Do you own anything besides black?”
A smile quirked the corner of his mouth. “I do, but this is how people expect their church pastor to look.”
She supposed he was right. Turning, she led the way back through the church. She opened the door an inch, sweeping her gaze over the area outside before stepping out.
Isaiah was close behind her, taking a moment to relock the door. She used her body as a shield the best she could, considering Isaiah was at least four inches taller than she was, to head down the stairs and to the Jeep.
She caught a glimpse of movement from the window of a house directly across the street. The residents had all been questioned, but she was fairly certain they hadn’t told the police everything they knew.
The neighborhood where she’d grown up was very similar. They would rather die than be caught cooperating with the police.
She swallowed a sigh of frustration and pulled away from the curb. Her goal in joining the Milwaukee Police Department was to help eradicate crime in these types of neighborhoods. Yet it seemed impossible to crack through the tough exterior of the long-held cycle of crime and poverty.
Police work alone wasn’t enough. She glanced at Isaiah, who appeared lost in thought. Maybe he was doing a good thing here. Working from the inside as one of them to be a catalyst for change.
“I admire your dedication to the church and the community.” She managed a smile. “I’m sorry if I was testy.”
“I understand.” He met her gaze briefly, before she turned to pay attention to the road. “However, you keep forgetting one important detail in all of this.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m not afraid to die.”
The simple statement was like a kick to the chest. She knew, of course, that those who believed, like Rhy, Joe, Brock, and Steele, among others, felt the same way. Yet hearing him say the words in such a matter-of-fact tone gave her a chill.
“Maybe you’re not afraid,” she agreed. “But I would think you would want more time here to help change the path some of these kids are heading down.”
“Yes, that is true.” He reached out to lightly touch her hand. “I didn’t say I wanted to die, but that I’m not afraid. There’s a difference.”
Was there? Maybe. She nodded and focused on driving. It wasn’t that long ago that someone had fired a shot at her squad in this same neighborhood.
Better to stay alert for danger than to think too much about her own mortality.
When they arrived back at the precinct, she quickly headed inside to find Rhy. He wasn’t in his office, but she found Joe nearby.
“What do you have there?” He eyed the evidence bag curiously.
She filled him in on what she’d found. “I know this technically belongs to the third district police station, but I don’t know many cops there, and honestly, there are still a few questions over what exactly went down outside the church.”
“I agree with you.” Joe’s expression was somber. “The third district has a tough job, no question about that. But I know the mayor is very concerned about the crime in that area, especially since he raised his family there. And the fact that teens and cops exchanged gunfire is a huge red flag.”
