Back in the Game

The goon tightens the grip on Tommy's throat with one hand as he shoves the gun against his head with the other. "I have orders to kill you," he growls.

"Why... Why does Hernandez want to kill me?"

"He said you turned state's evidence against him and the crew to save your cowardly ass."

"I... I'd never do that to him."

"The boss believes you did. He says you got jammed up unloading hot merchandise to an undercover."

"That was the crew, not me. They're the ones who got caught up in that mess. I told the cops everything I knew about Lopez to save their asses, Hernandez's too."

The goon glares into Tommy's eyes. Hernandez thinks the crew gave the pigs Lopez, and you gave them him."

"I bet his crew gave him up."

"They said they overheard you talking to a cop about Hernandez."

"He should know I wouldn't do that, not after everything he's done for me. Rescuing me from an abusive home, giving me a better life, showing me the ropes. I hope that I'm as great as a father to my boys as he was to me." Tommy lies. Hernandez made him do all types of ruthless stuff. Things that he's never told anyone.

"Ah, how sweet, but your heartfelt sentiment doesn't change the fact that he wants you dead."

"I guess Hernandez has forgotten about the time I took the heat to cover his ass. Lost two years of freedom over that."

"He hasn't forgotten, but he does find it a bit odd that you happened to stop working for him right before they arrested him."

"I didn't want to quit, I didn't, but Jen said she wouldn't marry me as long as I work for him. I told Hernandez that, even invited him to the wedding. He wished me well and said he'll always have a job waiting for me if I change my mind. That's why I thought of him when I stumbled across the two bricks of blow."

"I'm sure he'll appreciate your generous gift." The thug cocks his gun.

The door flies open, a tall rounded man steps outside. "No, stop, I was wrong, I was wrong. Tommy didn't do it. He didn't rat me out," he breathlessly replies

.***

Seeing everyone is busy at their desk, the sergeant walks towards them. She's been wanting to get her crew together to compare notes, find a lead, or something that'll connect the victims. So far, the detectives have learned that all the victims have volunteered at the local shelters, food pantries, or soup kitchens. They're from old money and live in Victorian-style homes in an older, established neighborhood.

Kirk hangs up his phone as Rachel steps in front of his desk. "Sergeant, I just heard from forensics. The bullets Sharon removed from the three victims match the gun found at our crime scene. It's registered to John Harris, and the only set of prints found on the weapon belongs to him."

"Maybe our robber wore gloves."

"He didn't have any on when we found him, and forensics didn't find any on his person or at our crime scene."

Rachel glances towards him, a perplexed look on his face. "So, you think John killed his grandparents, and the perp then planted the gun to make it look like the intruder did it?"

"It seems that way, Sergeant."

"What did you find out about Mr. and Mrs. Harris, Jerry?"

"They're retired school teachers, living on a small pension. They've been married for over sixty years and have one child. He and his wife died ten years ago in an automobile accident, leaving them to care for John."

"What about their finances?"

"Their bank account is overdrawn, and their house is in forfeiture for back taxes."

"Do they have a life insurance policy?"

"No, and they don't have a will."

"So, money isn't the reason for their death. What about phone records?"

"It was disconnected months ago for nonpayment. Everyone I've talked to says the Harris's are sweet people. They used to help in the community until they both became ill. They still go to church every week and attend some of the functions."

"Wait, you said they use to help the community, Jerry?" The sergeant questions.

"They helped with the food pantry and the soup kitchen, but that's been years ago before Mr. Harris had a stroke."

"Just like our other victims."

"They stopped volunteering over a decade ago, Jerry argues."

"It's still a connection. Did this Charles guy work at any of those places?"

"Not that I can find. Besides, this robbery isn't like the others, sergeant, other than the type of house, but that could be a coincidence."

"So, maybe the robber saw the house, though it was abandoned and broke in."

"He was searching upstairs when he discovers the Harris' bodies. He panics and tries to run. John shoots him too," Kirk concludes.

"That's a plausible theory. Now we have to find something to support the claim."

"Not according to their neighbors. They said the Harris' grandson left late last night and hasn't returned. John told them he was headed back to school earlier in the day.

"What school is that, Jerry?"

"The University of Arkansas in Fayetteville."

"See if he made it back."

"I'm on it, sergeant. Jerry reaches for his ringing phone.

The neighbors I talked to claim there was a Honda parked at their house early this morning. Said he was there for about an hour, left when the sirens began."

"Could they describe him or the car, Kirk?"

"They didn't get a real good look, but they believe he's in his early thirties. He has a tan face and sandy blond hair. The car is a black nineties model Honda Accord. I ran it through the system but haven't come up with anything yet."

Jerry hangs up. "I just finished talking to one of the managers at the local shelter. He said they have several male volunteers in their thirties. I asked if any of them worked alongside the other victims, and he said it's possible, but they don't keep a record of who works when since it's all-volunteer. I asked if any of the male workers seem in desperate need of money. He said he can't think of anyone off the top of his head but says he'll give us a list ."

"Stay on top of it, Jerry."

"I will, Sergeant, and I'll ask if any of the volunteers on the list worked when the Harris's did when I talk to him again. Oh, and the fingerprints they found on the window doesn't match Charles or anyone in the system."

"That figures. What did you find out about the material?"

"I took a sample to the uniform shop in Harrison. They said they'd look into it."

"Hopefully, they can tell us something."

***

Last evening events replay in Tommy's mind as he pulls up to his first satellite installation of the day. First the dogs and then the goons, I'm lucky to be alive. He then recalls the hefty profit he made. The money I got from the drugs plus all the cash will cover all of Jen's medical expenses with plenty to spare. I'm glad Hernandez agreed to help me make money look legit. He then remembers Hernandez's generous proposal. Maybe I should work for him on the down-low. God knows we can use the extra cash with four growing boys to feed. His oldest already eats double what Tommy does, and he's only eight. It would be nice to work with an experienced crew and not my two dim-witted friends. Nearly getting caught for costume jewelry, how pathetic is that? Tommy shakes his head. They were good back in the day, but being out of the game for a while, they've seemed to have lost their back.

A small annoying canine gowls at him the moment he steps out of his truck. "Get out of here, you flea-infested mutt," he warns, lunging towards him. The frightened canine yelps as he scampers away. "Guess you're not half as brave as you thought you were." Tommy laughs, pulling equipment from his truck.

He didn't notice the two large, dark brown eyes watching him from afar, nor does he realize this tall, burly stranger has been following him for weeks, waiting for the right opportunity to settle an old score.