Caught in the Crossfire Ch. 04

Jack turned his head to look at Brittany. Seeing that she was looking back at him intently, he gave her a friendly smile before continuing, "Ashante always kept herself clean, which was different from her streetwalker sisters, who usually end up with that meth-head or crack-whore look about them. Ashante was different. She stayed away from the drugs, maintaining a real air of class and dignity as she worked her corner. She dressed well, too, not like the usual street whore who shows too much breast, ass, and leg. It was probably her clean, classy looks that first caught his eye."

Jack paused again for a long while, waiting for Brittany to catch up. Finally, she asked, "Whose eye, this Kellen guy?"

"Her killer's. According to some of Ashante's friends, she and this mystery man were somewhat of an item. Every couple of days for about four weeks, he'd pick her up at her usual corner, and she'd be gone the rest of the evening. Then, she'd be back on her corner the following day, wearing another trinket the mystery man had given her. Usually it was a bracelet or choker, and always with a little blue stone. The gifts were nothing too flashy or expensive that would draw the attention of the other pimps, but high-quality merchandise nonetheless. The other whores could tell that. Anyway, one day Ashante wasn't at her corner, and she wasn't at her corner thereafter."

Brittany asked, intrigued, "Where was she?"

"She was dead, Brit, murdered. Her body was found in an abandoned warehouse a few hours after she was murdered, and just a few blocks from her apartment. Stupid of the killer to just leave her out in the open like that."

He thought for a moment, then added as an afterthought, "If he takes the time and buries her, or weights her down and sinks her in a lake or river so that her body's never found, no one would be the wiser. Ashante would just be another city whore who turned up missing one day. I guess if criminals weren't stupid, we'd never catch them in the first place."

Jack paused again before relaying the more gruesome details of the crime, "When she was found, her head and face were so badly bashed in that she was unrecognizable. There was no ID on her, but fingerprints taken identified the corpse as Sharonda Ferro, a-k-a Ashante. There were other clues as well, she was wearing a new pair of gold earrings, each mounted with a little blue stone. I didn't know the significance of jewelry at the time. Not until I did some digging and found out they were his usual gifts. Like I said, real stupid of the killer, just dumping her body as well as leaving the earrings on her, but the killer was probably in a panic."

"I don't understand. This is tragic, but what does it have to do with Santos?"

Jack didn't answer her, but continued down a seemingly different track, "About the same time Ashante turns up dead, I catch a case. Seems a female acquaintance of a smalltime dealer and thief, someone by the name of Lupe Gomez, informs the department about a chop shop housing a stolen Beamer. I put the squeeze on the owner of the chop shop and dust the car for prints, and come up with three cherries: prints, name, and witness, Kellen Wilson. Dead bang to rights. Being a three-time loser, Kellen is going to prison for grand theft auto..."

Brittany wasn't able to hide her frustration, interrupting him, "I still don't understand. What does this Kellen person and Ashante's death have to do with my family?"

"I'm getting to that. You see, I'm about to put Kellen full into the system and hand his case off to the DA, when I start getting pressure, first from your husband and then from your father, to sit on the case. They don't say why, but it sets off alarm bells in my head. And this is where I fuck up, but I didn't immediately turn Kellen over to the DA. I just kept him in county lock-up until I could figure things out. When I dug deeper into Wilson's life, that's when I came up with Ashante, who'd been missing for about a week already."

"A week? Wait a minute, you just said she'd been found a few hours after her murder."

"They had her on ice down in the morgue, under a Jane Doe, ever since she was found..."

"Who're they?"

"Santos, of course. Haven't you been keeping up?" The question was rhetorical, and said in a very snide voice.

She ignored his sarcasm, and continued to ask, "Why should he be involved in any of this? As far as I know, Santos doesn't even work those types of cases."

"Why indeed. That's an excellent point. Santos is an AI dick, and a lieutenant, no less. There would be no reason why he'd work an ordinary robbery-homicide. You're catching up. You are a smart girl after all. Now, you should really ask me who Ashante's mystery fellow is, or rather, what he drives. That would answer most of your questions."

She stared at him waiting for an answer.

"Not only did her mystery man, her murderer, act stupidly, he was also very unlucky. It seems one of the whore witnesses, and probably the last person to see Ashante alive, was a bit of a luxury car freak. She knew exactly the make and model of the car that Ashante was picked up in before she was killed, a silver and black, Jaguar XFR. The witness didn't get a plate, but she was certain it was local."

Brittany thought for a long moment, at first not seeing or understanding the connection, and then it hit her. She began to shake her head vigorously, while repeating, "No...no...no!" as a response.

"It's a rare vehicle. There are only about five, silver and black, Jaguar XFR's registered in the city. I was able to track down most of the other Jag owners with ease, and determined they all had valid alibis for the night of the murder. That is, all except one. I had a hard time tracking that last owner down. Part of my problem was the Jag was registered under a bogus name. Once I determined that, it wasn't too hard for me to figure out the real owner."

Jack looked over at her. She was staring back at him wide-eyed, still shaking her head, as if that action alone would somehow alter the facts of the case. Jack had seen that look many times before. Mostly in the families of suspects, he'd arrested. Brittany was falling deeper into denial.

She turned her eyes away from him, saying, "I don't want to hear anymore."

Jack ignored her request, "He never drives it, does he? He just keeps it stored in that garage over on Mitchum. It seems the only time he took it out was his last meet with Ashante. I can only assume he really needed to see her that night, but couldn't use his regular car for some reason, so he used the Jag, instead. Like I said, stupid and unlucky. He picks up Ashante in his own fucking car. Really un-cop like. With so much weapons-grade stupid, I'm wondering how he ever got to become a cop, let alone a lieutenant, in the first place.."

"No, you're wrong! You're lying!"

"No, I'm not lying, and facts are never wrong. I would have thought the blue stone would have tipped you off sooner, seeing how Santos has such an affinity for sapphire. I found that out digging into his life a little bit, finding some of his other mistresses. They also had special gifts with little blue stones. I've always wondered why you never wear that heart-shaped pendant made of sapphire he gave you."

Brittany was almost numb with shock and horror. Not only was Jack accusing Santos of multiple affairs with whores, he was implying he was a murderer as well. She ignored the lesser of two evils for the moment and blurted out, "That doesn't mean anything. Okay, Santos was fucking around behind my back, but it doesn't mean he kill...it doesn't mean he's a murderer."

"That's true. She might have met up with the killer after seeing your husband that night, but if so, why try and stonewall the investigation; two investigations no less, Ashante's and Kellen's. Not only that, he gets your father involved, and now, 'Captain Daddy' is pressuring me to drop the Wilson case, as well. I guess your father couldn't stand having his daughter's husband going away for murder, too much family honor for that. Blood always trumps values, it would seem."

By now, Brittany was sitting up with her arms wrapped around her legs, clasping them close to her chest as if in a defensive position, staring blankly at the wall across the room.

Jack continued, "Now we come to my inadvertent role in all this. I couldn't figure out why they wanted me to sit on an open and shut case. That is, until I started digging deeper into Kellen's life, and came up with Ashante. With a little more digging I found out she had disappeared, and the more I dug, the more it became obvious to me why they wanted me to sit on Kellen. They needed time."

"Time for what?" she asked, weakly.

"Time to get their ducks in a row. They needed time to wipe any damning evidence away that linked Santos to the crime, while fingering Kellen. They were always planning to set Kellen up. It would be easy to frame him for the murder, being that he was Ashante's boyfriend and a low-life drug dealer. Along with the frame, your husband had the precinct captain in his pocket, your father, running interference. Believe me, a captain produces a hell of a lot of interference."

He paused for a moment as if in thought, and smiled before continuing, "It also makes him an accessory to murder; but what the hell, you do these things for family. Anyway, all Santos needed now was the chief forensics investigator on their team, and given the evidence that was destroyed, I'd say they did. It was almost perfect, too, except for one thing. They hadn't figured on Lupe Gomez." Jack chuckled at the irony, before finishing, "It's always that small, random, unlooked for variable, like a Lupe Gomez, that fucks up the most detailed plans. Fucks them up every fucking time."

Infuriated, Brittany blurts out, "Who the fuck is Lupe Gomez?"

"Don't you remember, she's the one that tipped me off to the chop shop. You see, once she does that, now I'm on the case looking hard at Kellen Wilson, the guy your husband, and now your father, are trying to set up for murder. They are essentially fucked and all their work wasted, unless they can get me to play ball or back off my investigation."

It was obvious Brittany was frustrated and angry with Jack with what he was telling her, but her voice sounded weak as she tried to punch holes in his story, "That doesn't make sense. If what you say is true, why would they risk getting you to back off? Why not just let your case go to the DA, and then frame this Kellen afterwards?"

"Because I'm the one guy who knows what Kellen's been doing for those two weeks surrounding the murder, and it wasn't killing Ashante. I'm his ironclad alibi. I punch a big fat hole in their case against him. As such, they needed me to go along with the frame, or, at least, turn a blind eye to everything they were doing to him. I wouldn't do that, however. I'm many things, Brit, but accomplice to murder isn't one of them. So, I told Santos to fuck off, leaving him no choice but to frame me with a dime bag of heroin. I'm brought up on corruption charges, and investigated by your husband and under the direction of your father, no less. It was about that time I figured it all out, but it was too late. I was told either resign or be prosecuted. I chose to resign."

"What happened to Kellen?"

"The brakes were off once I was gone. A grand jury was convened and he was indicted for Ashante's murder. A trial date was set, but with me running around, they couldn't take the chance of a jury trial. Kellen was always too dangerous a liability for them to leave alive, anyway. So, one day in county lock-up waiting for trial, he gets shived taking a shower. It was some jailhouse favor, done by another inmate or a guard. I'm not sure which. I did find out who was first on the scene after Kellen was knifed, a one, Officer Ernesto Bochas. That name should be familiar to you, at least."

"Santos' cousin."

"Quite a coincidence, the guy being framed conveniently departs the world, allowing anyone to say anything about what happened to Ashante thereafter. And the guy who discovers the body bleeding out in the shower is cousin to the detective investigating the murder in the first place. Quite a family you have."

Brittany felt sick.

Seeing her staring down at her hands folded in her lap, Jack finished, "I guess I should thank them they didn't just off me, as well. It would have been easier for them in the long run, and cleaner in some regards; fewer loose ends. However, killing a cop would send up more red flags, and they couldn't risk that. They couldn't be sure how much I knew and who I may have talked to about it. In these cases, it's better to ruin the cop's life. Drop a dime on him and threaten him with prosecution. Once you cut his authoritative legs out from under him, making him a citizen, he can't do anything. I mean, who's going to listen to a dirty cop, anyway?"

When he finished her story, she looked back at him, and started to say, "I...I can't..."

"Believe it," he finished for her, "I know, blood trumps values."

"What does that mean?" she asked, frustrated.

"Nothing," Jack said with irritation. He got off the bed and went to the sink to wash his hands and face, leaving Brittany with her head spinning in astonished disbelief.

She couldn't believe it. She wouldn't believe it. That the man she loved and married, and the father who reared her with such gentle hands, could be capable of such things. As such, Brittany began grasping at straws, and asked, "Is there any proof?"

"Well, the real proof had his throat cut in a shower. If I had proof, hard forensic proof, we wouldn't be here today, and Santos and your father would be getting justifiably corn-holed by some inmate. All the evidence was mishandled, mislaid, or destroyed, and that chief forensics guy I mentioned, he took early retirement. I hear he's living well somewhere up in Washington."

"Then how do you know this Kellen guy didn't do it?"

Jack sighed in exasperation before answering, "Because at the time, Kellen was on his way back from New Mexico, probably on drug business. I arrest him about an hour after he hits town. I'm his alibi, making me the one piece of evidence they couldn't bury.

"But..."

"Just shut up about it, now. You either believe it or you don't. You either believe me or you don't. I really don't give a shit either way, but I'm done talking about it."

Brittany watched him getting dressed, certain he would continue to argue his case and try to convince her. Yet, he said nothing more about it. Moreover, as his silence mounted, like a damp, thickening fog chilling everything it touches, she felt a chill growing in her heart, realizing that his silence now is the most damning piece of evidence against her husband. She began to fear for what he had told her.

Sitting on the end of the bed to put on his socks and shoes, Jack felt her arms wrapping around his chest as she kissed his back. He felt a second kiss up by his shoulders, and then her warm, sweet breath at his neck. There was a third kiss to his bare skin, as she said softly, close to his ear, "I'm sorry."

Putting a hand on her arm for comfort, he reminded her, "We need to go. It's almost four, and your husband will be getting off work in a couple of hours."

Brittany didn't want to leave. She didn't want to go back home, and instead, held him tighter. "Fuck me again, Jack. I need you to fuck me, and keep fucking me until it gets dark."