Busted (6 page)

Will knew this was bad news. A high-velocity bullet generated enough heat to cauterize and disinfect the wound. A low-velocity shot opened up the body to all kinds of infection.

Amanda said, “He wasn’t in the best of health to begin with. Brittle diabetic, pack-a-day smoker, high blood pressure, overweight, and then there’s the melanoma he’s
been fighting for the last four years.” She stopped outside a closed door where a GBI agent stood guard. “He knows he’s going to die without treatment. Let’s pray he wants to unburden his soul.”

Faith started to go in, but Amanda stopped her.

“Mr. Walker has made it clear he’s not going to waste the last few hours of his life explaining himself to a woman.”

At least Will finally understood why Amanda had let him come to the hospital. He pushed open the door. Sunlight flooded the room, probably some doctor’s or nurse’s attempt to bring in some UV rays and kill the infection.

And there was no mistaking that an infection was raging inside Wayne Walker’s body. The blankets covering him were soaked through. He shivered like a parody of someone who was freezing to death. His teeth chattered. What was left of his hair was stuck to his head like pieces of moldy straw. His eyes were wide with panic. Sweat dripped down his face, pooled under his chin. He looked exactly like what he was: a man who was in the process of dying.

Still, Will took his time. Under Walker’s watchful gaze, he dragged over a chair, letting the legs scrape the floor. Will stopped a few feet from the bed. He tried to keep his expression passive. In Will’s experience, deathbed confessions weren’t all they were cracked up to be. On the one hand, there were the people who held out a tiny sliver of hope that a miracle would occur. On the other were the people like Wayne Walker, who seemed ready to not only embrace death but give it a big, wet kiss.

Will sat down in the chair.

“You.” Walker’s teeth clicked around the word. He blinked rapidly, like he was
afraid to close his eyes too long. “You’re a cop.”

Will guessed Wayne Walker had seen a lot sitting in that truck outside the convenience store. “That was a good shot,” he told Walker. “Taking out Pierce like that. Right through the center of the head.” Will didn’t have to work to sound impressed. Walker was some kind of marksman. “I don’t know a lot of cops who could make that shot.”

Walker didn’t respond. He just lay there shaking like a paint mixer. The pain must’ve been excruciating. Will could make out the cast covering his entire lower half. Both arms had been broken. Pins and bolts stuck out of the casts, which were frozen in a permanent Hammertime. His neck and face had been belt-sanded by a motorcycle tire. The shattered ribs alone must’ve been torturous. Will had broken his share of ribs. Just breathing could cause a knifelike stab to your lungs. Every movement put you in deeper agony.

Will said, “You know you’re going to die if you don’t let the doctors give you treatment.”

Walker’s shoulder jerked up, which Will guessed was voluntary. “Rather die than go to jail.”

Will had heard these words before, but he’d rarely met someone who was ready to go through with it. “You got Doug-Ray Pierce the job at Spivey.”

Walker’s mouth worked, but it took a few seconds for him to make words. “Worthless cocksucker.”

Will could see why people called this man an asshole. “He must’ve been your friend at some point.”

“Fuck him. He was—” Walker was racked by a violent shudder. He called out from the pain. “Oh, God!”

Will knew he should feel some kind of compassion. The man was a killer, but he was a human being in pain. Still, there was something so pervasively off-putting about the guy that all Will could do was sit back in the chair and wait for the episode to pass.

Walker clenched his jaw to stop his teeth from chattering. Will thought he was going to keep up the silence, but he hissed out, “It was Billie.”

So, the teenager was at the heart of this after all.

“Pete was supposed to get shot in the arm.”

“With a shotgun? By a man who didn’t know how to use a shotgun?” No wonder Pete McClendon had stunk up the bathroom. Will’s stomach would’ve been upset, too. “Tell me what’s really going on here, Wayne. I know there’s more.”

“She was two-timing me.”

“Billie?”

Walker watched him carefully. There was real fear in his eyes. Will was beginning to think death wasn’t the man’s biggest concern right now. He was either covering for the third man or he was covering for somebody else.

Will asked, “Where is she?”

Walker turned away. Guttural sounds came from his throat. Will wasn’t sure, but it sounded like he was crying.

“Tell me where she is, Wayne. That’s the only way she stays safe.”

Walker didn’t answer. Will guessed Billie had managed to tie him into knots. There was no other reason for him to protect her.

“You were a teacher,” Will tried. “I know there’s good left in you.”

Walker’s mouth opened in a sob. “Tell Terri …” He stopped to swallow. “Terri …”

“Your daughter?” Will remembered. Walker had a twenty-year-old serving in Afghanistan.

“Tell her …,” Walker began. “Tell her my last thoughts were about her.” He had to stop to breathe through the pain. “Promise me you’ll tell her that.”

“I promise,” Will said. “But you can tell her yourself, Wayne. Let the doctors treat you. You’re not a bad guy. You just did a bad thing. You can make that right now.”

“She’s a soldier,” Walker said. “I’ve always been proud of her.”

“You can tell her that yourself.”

Walker took a deep breath. His teeth started chattering again. Will thought he was having a seizure until the man mumbled, “Don’t hurt her.”

Will thought he meant Terri, but then he realized Walker was still worried about Billie. “I have no intention of hurting her.” Will didn’t think prison would hurt Billie that much. “Let’s end this, Wayne. Tell me where she is. Maybe I’ll let you see her before you go.”

“Please.” Tears streamed down Walker’s face. “I did everything you told me to.” His throat worked as he tried to swallow. “I’m begging you. Don’t hurt her.”

“I won’t,” Will repeated, wondering where this was coming from. Maybe the fever had reached Walker’s brain. “I promise you, Wayne. I’ll do everything I can to keep Billie safe.”

“No!” His lips smacked together. They were darker now, almost black. “They got
her at the house. You gotta save her.”

“What house?” Will leaned over the man. He wanted to shake him, but he was already shaking too much on his own. “Who has her, Wayne? Who has Billie?”

“Not Billie,” he whispered. “Gloria.”

Will sat in the mobile command center watching the GBI’s SWAT set up outside Gloria Pringle’s house. They couldn’t use Clayton County SWAT. According to Wayne Walker, Officer Pete McClendon was part of a ring of dirty cops who’d been robbing local businesses for the past year. There was no telling who else on the force was involved.

The speakers inside the converted box van buzzed with a low static. A man’s voice said, “Team three, check.” Another answered, “Team one, check.”

Will thought about the story he’d finally gotten off Wayne Walker.

Four hostages were inside the two-story house: Gloria Pringle, her nineteen-year-old daughter, her twenty-year-old son, and the son’s nineteen-year-old girlfriend.

They were being held by two masked men, all heavily armed, all ex-military. Wayne Walker had been very specific about the weapons inside the house. AKs. Fully automatic. Enough ammo to last through a long siege. Flash grenades. Explosives. Pipe bombs.

And Billie had orchestrated it all.

Will studied the bank of monitors inside the van. They showed real-time footage from the headcams the SWAT team wore. Two women checked inside Gloria Pringle’s station wagon. Their weapons were out in front of them. He heard a woman’s voice from the speakers. “Team six, check.”

“Something’s not adding up here,” Will said, though Faith and Amanda were only half listening. Their eyes were glued to the monitors. Six men were stationed under each
window in the front of the house. Another team was preparing to breach the front door while several other teams secured the back.

Will said, “There was maybe a thousand dollars in that cash register.” He started pacing back and forth in the tight quarters. The van shifted with his weight. “There’s three men outside that store: Walker, Pierce, and the third guy, the one who went around the back. There’s Billie inside. There’s Pete McClendon, who’s running some kind of French Connection. They’ve kidnapped Wayne Walker’s girlfriend, her family, her son’s girlfriend, so that’s two more guys.”

Faith was finally paying attention. “All for a thousand dollars.”

“I don’t care what kind of magical spell Billie casts on men, that’s just south of a hundred fifty bucks each for a whole lot of risk.” Will stopped pacing. He braced his hands above him on the ceiling. “Let’s say I believe there’s a ring of cops breaking into businesses.”

“It’s happened before,” Amanda said.

“More than once before,” Faith corrected. “We
are
talking about Clayton County.”

“All right.” Will relented. “We’ve got a ton of break-ins on Pete McClendon’s beat. It’s one of the most crime-ridden areas of the county, which – yes – that’s saying a lot.” Will paused for a breath. “Let’s say McClendon was involved in all of those robberies. We’re talking around ten thousand dollars each job – tools, light machinery, a couple of safes. McClendon hits them at night or early in the morning, when he knows nobody is going to be there. I buy him being in on that. But what happened at the Lil’ Dixie doesn’t fit his pattern.”

Faith said, “Broad daylight, witnesses, right out in the open during rush-hour traffic.”

“Right,” Will said, glad she finally understood. “This doesn’t sound like a stickup. This sounds like a hit where maybe they get to keep a little cash.”

“Pete McClendon was the target,” Amanda said. “That’s an interesting theory.”

“Maybe not just Pete McClendon. Doug-Ray Pierce was shot, too.”

“You think Wayne Walker wanted them both dead so he could have Billie to himself?”

Faith said, “And his girlfriend. Don’t forget Wayne said he’s been dating Gloria for a year.”

“About that,” Will started.

Amanda’s cell phone rang. She held up her finger for silence. Will watched her face as she listened to the call. And then he couldn’t see her face anymore because she put her head in her hand.

Finally, she said, “Very well. We’ll discuss this later.”

Amanda made a show of putting her phone on the desk in front of her, setting it parallel to the edge. “That was Nick Shelton. Maw-Maw gave his men the slip.”

Faith narrowed her eyes. “An eighty-four-year-old woman sneaked out of her house under the noses of two trained GBI agents?”

Amanda quipped, “Thank you for the summation, Faith. It wasn’t clear to me until now.”

The speaker crackled again. The SWAT team commander said, “Deputy Director, all teams in position. Good to go?”

Amanda tapped the button on the microphone. “Hold. Repeat – hold.” She looked at Will. “You’ve got twenty seconds. Finish your thought.”

Will ran through all the information they’d found while the SWAT team was staking a perimeter around Pringle’s house. “We couldn’t find one person at the school or the church who said Wayne Walker was dating Gloria Pringle. The pastor said he was under the impression that Gloria couldn’t even stand him, that there was some bad blood between them. That Wayne had bad blood with just about everybody.” Will repeated the pastor’s words. “Wayne Walker is an asshole. Even his ex-wives won’t return our calls because they don’t care whether he lives or dies.”

Faith got back to brass tacks. “We’ve got no phone calls between Wayne Walker and Gloria Pringle going back six months. No overlapping credit cards. They never even bought gas at the same station or shopped at the same Walmart. They don’t work together. Gloria’s kids didn’t go to his school.”

“So why would Walker send us here?” Amanda indicated the monitors. “He had to know we’d bring an army. He’s practically put Al Qaeda inside that house. I’ve got a helicopter set up two miles from here. Tell me what Walker is playing at.”

“I don’t know,” Will said. “I wish I could tell you. This just feels wrong.”

“Your feelings have always mattered so much to me.” Still, Amanda tapped the mic again. “Major, do you have eyes inside the house?”

“That’s a negative, ma’am. Shades are all pulled. We hear a television. There’s some interference from a microwave.” He paused a moment as he switched to another channel, then back. “We think the daughter’s upstairs. The son and mother appear to be downstairs. No idea where the girlfriend is. Maybe in the basement.”

“What’s on TV?”

If the major thought this was a strange question, he didn’t say. “Sounds like
The View.
”

Amanda sat back in her chair. She steepled her fingers together. It didn’t take her long to form a new plan. She told Will, “Go knock on the door.”

“What?” Will and Faith said in unison.

Amanda spoke into the mic. “Major, I’m sending my agent to the front door. Tell your team to drop back.” She looked up at Will. “Don’t worry. They’ll still be there for cover.”

Will felt a bead of sweat roll down his back. He was pretty sure he was right about this, but he wasn’t sure enough to risk his life.

“Oh, for godsakes.” Amanda pushed herself up from the chair. She threw open the back door and was down the steps by the time Will managed to jump down from the van. She walked across the yard with her head high, ignoring the twenty men surrounding the house. Two steps up to the porch. Another two steps to the front door.

Amanda raised her hand and knocked.

Will waited. He heard laughter inside the house, obviously from the television. A woman’s voice called a jovial, “No, no! Let me get it!”

The bolt slid back. Then the thumb latch turned. The door opened. An attractive woman in her fifties with long dark hair stood in her bathrobe. She smiled at Amanda. Then she saw Will and Faith and her smile faltered.

Then she saw the SWAT team surrounding her house and started screaming.