Godsend 7: The Halo Effect Page 2

  Derrick let off a few silenced shots as well, hitting a front tire by chance.

  Sergeant Childers picked his injured partner up and carried her over to the shotgun-toting neighbor’s house.

  Brian said, “That’s good. Let’s go.” And they both took off down the street, racing for the Yukon.

  The policemen in Unit 138 opened their doors and began firing at the runners. It wasn’t a plan, but both of them were aiming at the same target. Then, one of the perpetrators went down, crumbling to the street.

  Brian stopped when he saw Derrick fall out of his peripheral view. He swung his gun around and unloaded eight straight shots toward the cops. He rushed up to Derrick, grabbed his gun, and fired more rounds at Unit 138 while observing that Derrick was dead from a shot to the back of his head.

  Brian backed away from Derrick, still shooting, but the two policemen were cautiously returning fire. When Brian saw Sergeant Childers cutting across a yard with the old neighbor’s shotgun, he suspected, he turned and sprinted for the Yukon. If the sergeant could get close enough, even with an imperfect aim, the buckshot from the shotgun would lay Brian’s ass down.

  Etceterra punched the SUV in reverse and met Brian.

  Brian jumped inside the back passenger’s seat and said, “Get out of here! Derrick is dead! Go!” When Etceterra slammed the gear into Drive and sped off, Brian reached back inside the cargo area and grabbed a five-gallon gasoline container.

  Etceterra said, “What’s the plan? Every cop in San Jose will be interested in a white Yukon before we even reach the highway.”

  Brian was dousing gas throughout the cargo area. “Didn’t you once tell me that you like to figure shit out? Well, you get to be the star of this movie. We have to carjack somebody, but you’re gonna have to also set this truck on fire; I’ll have gas all over me.” He was dousing the entire backseat area with gas, including the seat and floor under himself, then throughout the front passenger’s seat and area.

  Etceterra lowered the windows half-way; the smell was trying to strangle him.

  Brian said, “Keep your gloves on. I’ll get all the papers and personal things together. You got a plan yet?”

  “It just came to me. Hold on.” Etceterra turned onto another residential street without slowing down. Then, he whipped the SUV onto the lawn of a beautiful home, slowed the vehicle enough to cut between two other homes, drive around back, and ran the Yukon in some backyard woods until enough supple trees stopped it.

  Brian said, “Get the cigarette lighter.” He gathered a few papers and documents then stuffed them inside his pockets. Then, he got out and began wiping the door handles. He removed the magnetic license plate and left the registered Yukon plates in place. The vehicle was in the name of a dummy corporation that served no other purpose.

  They could hear sirens, dogs barking, and their own breathing in the night air.

  Brian doused the rims, hood, and throughout the driver’s seat area with the rest of the gas. He tossed the empty container inside and ran fifteen yards deeper into the wooded area. The Yukon’s headlights allowed him to navigate easily. “Light it up, and let’s go.”

  Etceterra stood five yards ahead of the SUV then lit a McDonald’s bag and tossed it onto the hood.

  CHAPTER 6

  HAVILAH, CALIFORNIA, thirty-seven miles east of Bakersfield, eighteen miles south of Lake Isabella. A little-known town that isn’t even on most maps. Several dirt roads and too many establishments that amounted to nothing more than relics of the ‘70s and ‘80s. But a mile down the road from Havilah’s most popular cafe was Cycle Hut USA.

  It was Friday evening, just before six, so seventy-five motorcycles, a couple of pickup trucks, and another vehicle with monster tires on it was typical. This was home to the Chrome Bones, a well-established, criminally funded biker club. Cycle Hut was a bar and lounge for the Chrome Bones members only. Blaring classic rock music and serving alcohol were the main functions of Cycle Hut. A super long bar with six bartenders, thirty barstools, forty small tables, a kitchen staff in the back, a huge television screen for certain pay-per-view events, an all-female waiting staff whose ages ranged from sixteen to fifty-three, and a damn trained Boston terrier named Beer Mug. Who in the fuck would name a little pop-eyed dog Beer Mug? Club leader, Billy Talford.

  Billy was a tall, white man—everyone in Chrome Bones was white—and he wore a long ponytail, a handlebar-style mustache, and some Elvis sideburns. He wore faded blue jeans and his leather Chrome Bones jacket, just like the other members; an outsider wouldn’t immediately know who the leader was. But while many members wore bandanas tied around their heads, Billy wore his neatly folded and tied around his right wrist.

  He was sipping beer from a can while a 21-year-old pretty waitress sat on his lap. The sounds of Z Z Top bombarded the airwaves; La Grange was often played like a theme song.

  As if on cue, the throng of voiced settled down and all attention was on the black man and black woman who calmly entered Cycle Hut wearing bulky, black vests with the letters FBI printed across the front and even larger on the back.

  Billy nudged the waitress, urging her to get the hell on.

  The black man shouted, “Turn that fuckin music off! I got some questions!”

  CHAPTER 7

  ECHO AND KIANDRA walked to the middle of the bar and lounge floor. He slowly turned around, glancing at all the white faces, still waiting for the loud-ass music to be turned off. There was no jukebox in sight, so apparently the system was operated by some control panel behind the bar. He walked up to the bar and said to the fattest bartender, “I came to ask questions, but if that cowboy music ain’t off in ten seconds, I’m taking at least seven Chrome Bones to jail tonight, including your fuckin’ owner for using a 16-year-old to serve alcohol.”

  Before Echo reached the middle of the floor again, the place was eerily silent.

  Kiandra kept scanning the white faces until she spotted Dickie Slater. Then, she cut her eyes back to Echo.

  Echo said, “I’m Special Agent Louis Raymond and she’s Special Agent Trenea Hill.” He kept looking from one face to the next. “I did my research. I understand you guys are supposed to be tough, big balls, maybe even deadly.”

  A skinny drunk on a bar stool said, “Say what you gotta say then get on back to your uppity office before you get hurt in here.” That produced lots of laughter and some murmuring approval.

  Kiandra walked up to the man and said, “Interrupt him again and I’mma knot your damn head up.”

  “Ooooh, I’m getting awfully scared, ma’am.”

  Kiandra walked away.

  Echo said, “There’s probably a hundred pocket knives in here and more than a few guns, but none of you got the audacity to use that shit because me and Agent Hill will shoot back. We’re not defenseless and pregnant like Leslie Moreland was.”

  Silence.

  “Cowboy cowards.” Echo was trying to elicit a response. “We’re here to question seven people, starting with Billy Talford. Is Mr. Talford in the house?”

  No answer.

  Echo walked casually and weaved past several small tables, most of them occupied with two Chrome Bones members. He stopped at the table where Billy was and sat across from him without invitation.

  The drunk shouted from the bar, “I’m Billy Talford. What do you want to ask me?”

  Kiandra walked up to him again, pulled a handgun from her shoulder holster, and slammed the butt of it against the drunk’s forehead. Real hard. The man fell off the bar stool, hit the floor, and was out. She said, “That oughta save him from an obstruction of justice charge.”

  A large man, more muscle than fat, a few bar seats away said, “Careful, little lady. That gun and your position might not be enough.”

  She said, “Enough for what? You just saw me use my gun; when was the last time you used yours? Shooting at beer cans and dartboards don’t count. Me and you can go out back and unload. Off the fucking record.”

  He just stared at he
r.

  Echo said to Billy, “I guess you can see why the agency assigned me and her to this case. Anyway, can you look within yourself and dig out that piece of shit Bill Talford?”

  “What the hell do you want with me, you cocksucking cop?”

  Echo said, “I had some questions for you,” he pulled out his handgun, “but now you got your boys thinking I’ll let you talk to me any kind of way.” He fired a single shot, unsilenced, but Billy’s holler was even louder.

  CHAPTER 8

  THERE WAS A COMMOTION, as if several members were going for their weapons, but Kiandra’s gun was already out, and now her aim was sweeping a large section of the crowd. “One more fucked-up move, and your leader is dearly departed.”

  Echo had his gun in Billy’s face now, still sitting across from him. He had shot through the bandana, fucking Billy’s wrist up. “If anybody tries anything, you’re gonna paint the bar red. Tell your boys to sit the fuck down!”

  Billy said, “Do it! Sit down and let him ask his questions!”

  Brian and Etceterra entered the bar wearing the same kind of FBI vests. Handguns drawn, examining the crowd as they eased toward Kiandra. They had no idea why Echo and Kiandra hadn’t waited for their arrival.

  Echo said, “My supervisor will probably chew my ass out for shooting you, but at least you’re still living.” He looked around. “Oh, look, more agents are here. I wonder what’s taking the other eight so long.”

  Billy was trying to stop the bleeding of his broken wrist with the bandana. He looked evil when he said, “How can I help you, Agent Raymond?”

  Echo said, “First of all, you got a couple of rats in your camp. They told me all I need to know about you, the Chrome Bones club, and Cycle Hut. And guess what . . . the rats are in here right now, so you better be careful who you confide in.”

  “You think I’m falling for that? Chrome Bones is allergic to rats. Every member here, including the few that ain’t here yet, was handpicked. I suppose you think I’ll cooperate if I actually believe others are doing it.” He smiled, even though his wrist was aching severely.

  Echo said, “I bet I could send a team to a certain spot just off Highway 178, right before you get to Lake Isabella, and find the buried body of Lester Kinsley.”

  Billy stared with no response, worried now, trying not to let it show.

  “How do you suppose I know about old man Lester? And the 16-year-old waitress that works here,” Echo looked around, “she’s probably in the back somewhere, but I know you been fuckin’ her since she was only fourteen, and I know her mother approves because you’re fuckin’ the mom, too.” Echo leaned back and pulled a folded piece of paper from his front pocket. “I got seven names on this paper; yours is at the top. I got specific, detailed shit about each of you, but I’m only concerned about the Leslie Moreland murder from thirteen years ago.”

  Billy grabbed his can of beer with his good hand. “Well, nobody in here can help you with that, Agent Raymond. So you just go ahead and get your evidence up for those lies you have on paper and we’ll see you in court, and maybe even after the charges get tossed.” He drank the beer and crushed the can. Then burped loudly. His Boston terrier had come from the back and snaked through the crowd just to stop at the table where Billy sat. “What’s up, Beer Mug? I’m being interrogated right now.”

  Echo saw the dog sit on its hind legs and cock its head to one side. “Beer Mug?” Then, he said to the dog, “Did your corny-looking master use a gun to force Leslie to overdose on Valiums?”

  The dog barked once.

  “See there? Even this shit-eater is a rat. Get up. You’re under arrest for the murder of Leslie Moreland.”

  “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

  “If I shoot you in one of your ass halves, would you still think I was kidding? Get the fuck up before I decide to cuff everybody on my list.”

  The drunk was coming to. He rested on his elbows, still on the floor, and said, “Anybody know what time it is?”

  When Echo spun Billy around to cuff his hands behind his back, despite the bloody mess, Beer Mug barked more aggressively. Echo looked down at the dog then kicked his ass thirteen feet away, cracking ribs and breaking a hind leg in one fell swoop. When the dog hollered and limped off with difficulty, Echo said, “No further questions, Beer Mug. That’ll be all.”

  One of the Chrome Bones members said, “Being the law don’t give you the right to do Beer Mug like that.”

  Echo said, “If you gave a damn about a pregnant woman the way you do about a cockeyed giant hamster, Billy’s ass woulda already been serving his time like your ex-leader, Jared. Now clear the fuckin’ way. We’re coming through.”

  CHAPTER 9

  BRIAN NEEDED to talk to Echo about something important, so they rode together in a dark blue Envoy SUV while Kiandra and Etceterra transported Billy Talford in a black Escalade.

  Echo said, “Those cops probably shot Derrick because he was the biggest and easiest target.”

  “Probably, but I still feel bad. He was a good dude to work with. I didn’t know he had a mean vocabulary on stash.”

  Echo tried to find the moon from the front passenger’s seat. “You’re bullshittin’ about something. I know you didn’t wanna talk about Derrick’s vocabulary.”

  Brian was doing the speed limit, eyes on the road. “I don’t want to sell Godsend to Sheree. It’s the only thing I ever been successful at.”

  “Shit, it’s a money-maker. I’m with you; I wanna keep my ownership stock, too.”

  “No, you don’t understand.” He glanced at Echo. “I want to actually work some more cases, not just sit on the side and collect a percent from the workers.”

  Echo was quiet for a moment then said, “I know the damn feeling. It’s like having power and now wanting to give it up. If you stay on, count me in with you. That means I’ll have to move my wife and daughter out here.”

  “I didn’t tell you this just to get you to join me.”

  “Brian, I know what you’re going through. I started doing this shit because I was broke, and you brought me into good money. But then I started liking the cases and the people we could help. Like the little girl, Rochelle, and even the dead people, like the old women who was raped and killed. And now the pregnant woman. I know I go too hard sometimes, but those type of victims make me sacrifice myself at times.”

  “Speaking of going too hard, why the fuck didn’t you wait for me before going in Cycle Hut with just a woman?”

  Echo laughed. “Kiandra ain’t faking. I told you how she handled her business in Compton a few weeks back. That wasn’t a front. Plus, you and Etceterra was taking too long. I was ready to get some shit jumping. Matter fact, you starting to slip. Didn’t you let a damn friendly white boy named Halo get away? I never met a hard muthafucka named Halo.” He laughed again.

  Brian said, “I’mma bus’ his soft ass up when I catch him.”

  “What about Janelle? Didn’t you promise her you would stop working cases? Y’all got two daughters and live together now; she ain’t going for that shit, you breakin’ your word.”

  “We argued this morning for the first time. She even cried, but she ain’t going nowhere. I keep her and her daughter happy, but she worries about me in this line of work.”

  Echo was quiet again. Then, “My wife don’t worry about me. She says she prays for the suspects I run across. Ain’t that something?”

  “Don’t believe her. Your wife always tells my sister how much she worries about you.”

  Echo said, “I know my wife is probably fuckin’, just like I am. She’s human. But she knows if I find out about another man I’mma tattoo his brain with a .45.”

  “Put your mind on something else.” Brian was nearing Lake Isabella, and Kiandra was in his rearview mirror. “I can’t believe Kiandra gave Derrick’s wife $75,000. Sheree says they didn’t know each other all that well.”

  “Well, Sheree got her $300,000 in one lick for the drugs I took from Breno. K
iandra already feels like Godsend is family, even though we’re all together only when we’re collaborating after studying a case file. Besides, she hates the fact that Derrick left behind a 9-year-old son. Plus, she knows she’ll make more case money with Godsend; might even run across a bunch of gold or something.”

  “Yeah.” Brian still wondered why Halo had a silent home security system, as he’d learned from news reports of the big story. “I hate that I have to kill my Richard Gaston identity.” Then, he stopped the SUV, parking near the lake at eight in the evening.

  Echo said, “Call yourself Ike Ant.”

  “What the fuck kind of private eye and special agent name is Ike Ant?”

  Echo laughed. “I can’t . . . catch Halo.”

  “Muthafucka, that shit ain’t funny.”

  CHAPTER 10

  BILLY TALFORD was sitting on the soft ground, a few feet from the shore of Lake Isabella, hands still cuffed behind his back, his injured wrist causing him agony. He was facing the bright headlights of Kinadra’s Escalade and Brian’s Envoy. Echo and Kiandra were sitting on the hood of her SUV; Brian and Etceterra were on the hood of the Envoy.

  Echo said to Billy, “And now for the bad news. We’re not federal agents. No cops at all. That means you’re about to get fucked up because I know you wanna act tough. But if you can’t swim with your hands behind your back, you better give us some answers, and they better make sense.”

  Billy said, “You guys planning on killing me whether I know something or not?”

  Echo shook his head. “You can live. You can walk away from here with nothing more than that fucked-up wrist. Either way, we ain’t giving your stupid ass a ride back. Now, first question: How did you get Leslie to show up at a nasty motel like the Full Moon Inn?”

  “I had nothing to do with her coming to Full Moon. I wasn’t a leader back then, so I didn’t make the call.”