Degrees of darkness, p.32
Degrees of Darkness, page 32
He sat there, staring at the lake. Moonlight rippled on the water’s surface. Red-orange dots glowed along the shoreline. Laughter and conversations bounced and vibrated, joining the heady scent of campfires and flame-broiled meat. All these people living their uneventful lives, enjoying the cool spring night, unaware of the death and dangers lurking at every turn.
How Remy envied their peace.
Kickstand down, he got off the bike and stretched. Once his muscles uncoiled, he palmed the keys and a penlight, then found the nearest facilities. After he returned to the Harley, he rummaged through the saddlebags and removed a plastic container with his food. He laid a thick, rubber pad on the ground, then tossed a heavy blanket over the top, and settled with his back to a tree to eat.
His Ruger jabbed into his hip, and no amount of repositioning alleviated the problem. Remy unsnapped the cover, sliding the gun from the holster. With the Ruger cradled on his leg, he ate.
The song of the crickets and frogs lulled him, back to his youth. Back to trips to escape like this one and to nights spent under the stars. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d camped out.
His Droid vibrated against his thigh. He’d forgotten to shut it off. Setting the Ruger on the blanket, he dug out the phone. Eighteen messages flashed across the screen, and most of them were from Anderson, Cody’s name mingled among them. His partner must have alerted her to his odd behavior.
Remy scrolled to the delete all function, erased the messages, then shoved the Droid in his coat pocket. Contacting either one of them was out of the question. He brought his knee up, propped his arm on it, and riveted his attention on the water.
Where had he gone wrong? How did he slipup? Or had the slipup come from Paul’s end? But what would his ex-father-in-law have to gain by exposing Remy?
Leaves rustled, dragging his attention from the lake. Silence and dark met his probing gaze.
He shouldn’t have run. No matter how far he went, he still left Anderson and Cody exposed. It wouldn’t take much to connect him to the both of them, then where would that leave them? His partner could handle anything thrown his way, but Cody …
Remy drew in a ragged breath. Cody was an innocent in all this. She might have managed to escape her kidnapper with a badly sprained ankle and had the fortitude to try to stop him from killing Remy. But she wasn’t able to fight back or defend herself in the same way Anderson could.
A whimper reached him. Ears tuned in, he gripped the Ruger and slowly stood, easing the safety off. On swift, silent feet, hunched low, he crept to the place where the noise originated. Crouched down, Remy paused and listened. Softly drawing in a deep breath, he held it.
Another whimper, softer than the first, made his head snap to the left. Someone, from the sounds, a female, was in the brush.
“Where’d she go?” The slurred stage whisper was followed by a harsh hiss. “I ain’t gettin’ all lit up for nuthin’.”
“She couldn’t have gone far.” Another guy snickered. “I got her shoes.”
Both men laughed.
Remy’s gut churned, and he bit back a curse. This kind of trouble, he didn’t need.
What if this had been Marie? Had she been in a place where someone could have saved her but they chose not to involve themselves? Fire replaced the churning.
“Ma’am, I’m a police officer.” He whispered so low, he didn’t know if she’d heard.
“They’re trying to rape me.” She choked on a sob.
The mens’ rustling stopped. “I think I heard something.”
“Can you see me?” Remy asked, crouching lower to the ground. At this point, all he had going for him was the element of surprise.
The whisper of clothing against the leaves and the soft tread of bare feet marked her exit. She grasped Remy’s outstretched hand, her hands like blocks of ice. He eased her closer and gently tugged her upright with him.
“Stay close, and try not to make a sound. If they come, let me handle it.”
Her head bobbed to the point he thought it’d fall off.
The moon’s light revealed her ripped and dirty jeans and blouse. Her breath held the sour odor of alcohol. A ploy to make her an easier victim or a party gone too far? From the men’s comments, the former. Either way, it didn’t matter.
Arm wrapped tight about her shoulders, he started to lead her back to the nearest campsite for help. The Ruger’s rough grip bit into his hand. Dangerously close to the edge, Remy feared what would happen. And it was going to happen.
The crackle of last autumn’s foliage brought him around. He pushed the woman behind him.
“Hey, dude.” A flashlight blinded Remy. “You found our friend.”
Cursing, Remy blocked the light with his arm and pressed his Ruger to his thigh. “Sir, could you lower your light.”
“Oh, sorry about that.” The flashlight’s beam hit the ground. “Our friend, Melanie there, wandered off, and we were looking for her. Come on back, girl.”
“They’re lying,” she hissed in Remy’s ear.
He kept himself between her and them. The blasted spots dancing in front of his eyes from the flashlight had put him at a disadvantage, which would last another thirty seconds. Either the fool knew what he was doing or had a caseload of dumb luck. “Sir, I’m a police officer.” He lifted his Ruger and leveled it on the two. “I’m gonna have to ask you to set the flashlight on the ground and get your hands up where I can see them.”
Through the clearing haze, he saw them glance at each other. Couyons, don’t press the issue.
“A cop.” The taller of the two snickered. “Well, officer, Melanie’s got this wild idea we’re gonna do something bad to her. But she’s a party girl. Ain’tcha, Mel.” He inched forward.
“Not another step!” Remy eased back, training the Ruger on the taller one, his most immediate threat.
“Whoa. Hold up there, officer.”
Both men threw up their hands. The flashlight thumped to the ground and rolled; the beam shone on their bare legs.
The woman’s terrified whimper and death hold on Remy’s arm distracted him. He had to get her out of here. Logic battled with desire. Remy needed to call for backup, but his emotions, already riled by the photos of Marie, were coiled and threatening to strike.
“Ma’am, I want you to find the nearest camp and get some help. Understand?”
“They might kill you,” she whispered.
Only if he lost his gun. He nodded toward the road. “Go. And hurry.”
She hiccupped then took off running.
Adjusting his grip, Remy took a step forward. “Hands behind your heads, fingers interlocked.”
Both men looked at each other before doing as he ordered.
“Now, slowly, get on your knees and lie face down on the ground.”
Drunkenly, they struggled to their knees, then lay down, the leaves crunching.
Disgusting. Men like them should rot. No, these men were like Jared Savard. They should burn in hell. Remy dragged his Droid out and dialed 9-1-1.
“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”
Gun leveled at the men, Remy inched a step closer. “This is Detective LeBeau of Dallas PD. I need backup at Lake Mesquite park. I’m holding two suspects on an attempted rape and kidnapping.”
“Dispatching backup quickly, Detective. Can you give your exact location at the park?”
“I’m in the campgrounds closest to the lake.”
Once the dispatcher acknowledged his position, Remy ended the call. A slide show of Marie’s damaged body flipped through his head. Heat surged into his veins and fueled the anger.
“Boy, you’re making a huge mistake,” the tall one said. “Huge.”
The last person to call Remy boy had gotten their nose broken. “Stupid rednecks. You never learn.”
Enough of this. Remy jerked his cuffs free. He wasn’t standing here all night, waiting on backup, while these two weren’t secured. “Hands behind your backs. Now!”
After they’d complied, Remy straddled the tall one and slipped his gun in the holster. He’d get this guy first, his biggest threat, and after the gal came back with help, he’d tie up the other one.
Bending over to grab the tall guy’s wrists, he slapped one cuff on. A grunt to his left made him look that way. The short guy vaulted to his feet and plowed into Remy. He hit the ground, face first. Grit and leaves puffed in his face. Weight pressed him into the ground.
Remy’s over-eagerness had cost him, but he wasn’t out of this yet. He bucked hard and swiveled. The man on his back flopped off, landing on his backside. Remy rolled and popped up to his feet.
Both men faced him, the cuffs dangling from the taller one’s wrist.
Remy’s hand went to his holster. Empty. Shit!
With a roar, the shorter guy barreled forward. Remy ducked the flying fist. Using the idiot’s momentum, he hooked his boot under the man’s leg and kicked his feet out from under him. He sprawled into the dirt face first.
Remy spun in time to jerk his upper body back and grab the taller man’s wrist as a fist flew past his face. A quick flip, and he twisted the hand out, pressing the wrist backward. The man screamed and rolled. Remy took a step back and flung him to the ground on his gut. Fire would be tearing up the man’s arm, numbing it.
Rock-hard knuckles met his jaw, and Remy staggered over the downed man. Turning, he faced his attacker; white spots danced across his vision. The man moved forward, swinging one fist after another, Remy dodged each swipe. With his last throw, the man stumbled forward, gasping like an asthmatic. Remy stepped past him and brought his elbow down in a crushing blow between the man’s shoulders. His attacker crumpled and lay still.
Facing his second attacker, Remy flexed his fingers. The other man rubbed his now sore arm, cursing a blue streak.
Cool air brushed across Remy’s face, and he felt a damp spot on his chin. He licked his lips and found them bloodied.
Shouts suddenly sounded. The other man jerked his head in the direction of the noise. Lights coming toward them bobbed and weaved. Now outnumbered, the guy bolted.
Cursing, Remy gave chase, catching a break when he spotted his Ruger glinting on the ground. Barely hesitating, he scooped it up. For being drunk and decidedly overweight, the man could run. The ground jutted out into the lake here, and if the man made it to the water … Remy really didn’t want to take a swim tonight.
He skidded to a halt and lifted the weapon, training it on the man’s back. “Stop! Don’t make me shoot you!”
The man slid to a halt, arms jerking up. “You wouldn’t shoot a man in the back.”
Remy stalked forward. And tarnish his record for this guy? Don’t think so. “Get on your knees and lie face down with your arms outstretched.”
Swearing, the guy did as he was told. Once he was down, Remy put a knee on the man’s back and pulled his arms behind him, keeping his Ruger trained on him. Comments about his rough treatment and getting sued for police brutality spewed from the man’s mouth.
Remy bent closer. “You started the fight, pou.”
Someone hollered.
“Over here! And bring me some zip ties or rope. Whatever you’ve got on hand.”
“Sure thing!”
A few guys joined him.
“The gal back there said you were a cop and needed some help,” a burly, brown-skinned man said.
“There was another man, I knocked him out. He still down?”
White teeth flashed. “Out cold. Some of the guys are making sure he don’t get up and get away.”
• • •
Remy stood next to the Clay County sheriff, watching the two would-be rapists being ushered into squad cars by deputies.
“Can’t believe we finally caught those two.”
Remy graced the sheriff with a frown, flinching when his lips burned. “They’ve done this before?”
The sheriff tipped his hat back and crossed his arms. “If they’re who I think, their victims couldn’t remember them. We found traces of GHB in two of the women, which explains the blackouts.” He looked at Remy. “What’s a Dallas detective doing way out here?”
“Weekend road trip.”
Turning to the ambulance, he spotted Melanie with a female EMT. Wrapped in a gray blanket, Melanie stared at the EMT, nodding on occasion. The girl had grit.
Not unlike Cody, Texas women were a different breed. Kind of like Cajun women. Maybe Remy wasn’t giving Cody enough credit.
“LeBeau?”
The questioning in the sheriff’s voice made Remy face him.
“You wouldn’t be that detective who brought down a serial killer ’bout five months back?”
“Might.” Remy’s Droid buzzed. Removing the phone from his pocket, he grimaced at the ID. “Excuse me. Gotta take this.” He wandered a few feet away from the noise and connected the call. “LeBeau.”
“You better have one helluva reason to be over a hundred miles away and picking a fight with two stupid drunks, detective.”
“I have one, sir, but I don’t think you’ll like it.”
“Give the man a gold star! You better be in my office at oh-six hundred, or you’ll face disciplinary action.”
“Yes, sir.”
Silence met his answer. Sighing, Remy slipped the phone back into his coat pocket and returned to the sheriff.
“Are you through with me?”
The sheriff nodded. “If we need anything else, I know how to find you.”
Remy turned to leave.
“LeBeau.”
He paused and looked back. “Yeah?”
“If you were one of my men, I’d be handing you a medal right now. But that was some stupid move on your part not waiting on backup. Either you’ve got a death wish, or you think yourself a super cop.”
“Believe me, sheriff, it was neither.”
Chapter Nine
Fire burned in Remy’s gut as he entered the bullpen. Was it regret or dread? Probably a combination.
On the long drive home, he’d reviewed his actions. He’d done a textbook situation control, right up until he let his raging anger and memories take over. Moreno had the grounds to put him on the chopping block. The worst, the one that should get him fired, was not waiting for backup and trying to cuff both men alone.
He paused outside Moreno’s office. All the blinds were closed and the door shut. Light seeped through the cracks. He groaned. This would not go well.
A gruff “Enter” answered his rap. Remy stepped inside, the window blind rattling at his entry.
Moreno glanced over the top of his reading glasses, then directed his gaze to the chair across from him. Once Remy took the seat, the lieutenant removed his glasses and placed them on the desk. Crow’s feet etched the corners of Moreno’s dark eyes. Gray streaked his temples, giving the appearance he was older than his early fifties. He ran the homicide department with an iron will, earning the nickname Iron Man. It showed in the high success rate of the cases that crossed his detectives’ desks.
Interlacing his fingers, he laid his hands flat on an open file and stared at Remy. Murmurs and chuckles drifted through the glass, but inside the office remained silent.
Heat prickled under Remy’s collar. His suit jacket seemed tighter across his shoulders. If Moreno kept up his stare down, Remy might crack. Might.
Heaving a sigh, the lieutenant rocked back in his well-oiled chair. “LeBeau, in the four years you’ve been a detective under me, not once have you crossed a line, broken a barrier, or generally gone rogue.” He leaned forward, arms braced against the desktop. “Why now?”
“Sir — ”
“How you answer me determines my next course of action.”
Remy swallowed. His rehearsed blow-by-blow didn’t pan out how he hoped. What did he say? Admit he’d lost his sanity and, like a coward, he ran? Moreno would be all over it, like a gator on gravy.
The lieutenant slid some papers around until he had what he wanted. He returned the glasses to the bridge of his nose, and after a glance over their rims, he focused on the report. “The Clay County sheriff reports you came to the aid of a distraught woman at Lake Mesquite Park. Upon discovering two men were chasing the victim with the intent to rape her, you proceeded to assist the victim back to safety.” Moreno peered over the glasses. “How can you afford a Harley Davidson on a cop’s salary?”
“Sir, I owned it before I became a cop.”
With a roll of his eyes, the lieutenant continued. “You announced yourself, got the victim out of the area, and called backup. So, where in all of this did you decide to play hero and cuff those men? Alone?”
“I thought I had the situation well under control.”
Moreno tugged his glasses from his face and let the report flutter to the desk. “You thought you had it under control? I hear the words coming out of your mouth. But somehow I fail to comprehend how a nine-year veteran of the police force would do something so stupid. One I handpicked to fill an empty Sergeant’s slot at that.”
Cut to the core of the matter. Remy gripped the armrests and leaned forward. “Lieutenant, I didn’t ask for the position. I wasn’t looking for it.”
“So, you’re now going to question my decisions, too?”
“Sir, not what I meant. And in regards to the incident at the park, I’d expect you to understand if you’d been there. And since you weren’t — ”
“If you continue I will slap you with insubordination.”
“I might have lacked judgment in the situation,” Remy snapped his spine upright, “but I did what I had to do.”
“Did you?” Moreno slapped his hands on his desk and rose from his seat. “I don’t have time to deal with cowboys, detective. I’ve got a delicate, ongoing murder investigation, and its lead detective is running around half-cocked, picking fights with a bunch of dickheads.”
