Team Mom (14 page)

Within two minutes Coach was in the car with Calvin, and the only sound that could be heard was the new tires on the Chevy making love to the pavement.

“You mind telling me where we going?” Calvin said. “Shoot, man, I had something working back there. I didn't even get a chance to get her number.”

“Got to go. Some personal business I need to take care of,” Coach said.

Calvin said, “What do you think I was trying to do back there?”

Coach didn't respond.

“What's the problem, man? What the hell happened back there with Jarques, and why are you driving like we are chasing somebody?”

“Damn case I'm on. A crew at Jarques's school threatened him, and he's mad at me. I know who is behind it, though.”

“Threat? Like the threat against Lois?”

“Yeah, against him and his mother.”

“So where you going?”

“To handle this.”

“You're going to drop me off first, right?”

“Sorry. You gotta roll with me.”

“Oh, no, the hell I don't,” Calvin said. “See? What did I tell you? You mess with the team mom, and there's nothing but problems. I guess every man has to learn on his own.”

“That's all unrelated. This guy I have been chasing has had this whole side of town on edge. Has people doing shit for him because he gives them no choice. Not going to happen here, though.”

Calvin said, “So, you know where he lives?”

“Yeah, I've had a tail on him since he left the police station when we couldn't get a charge to stick.”

“So you're calling for backup, right?”

Coach held up his Glock. “This is my backup.”

Calvin responded by moving closer to his car door.

“There is an unmarked car in front of his house, so we're good,” Coach said.

“I know you don't expect me to go up in there with you. Shit, I'm not a cop.”

“Stay in the car, Calvin. Can you do that?”

“You don't have to ask, believe that.”

Coach pushed on the gas pedal, and the car took off like a plane on the runway. Calvin reached for his seat belt and strapped in nice and tight.

Before long Coach pulled up to the address where they had the tail on Vernon. Coach quickly explained to the officer on surveillance that he needed to go in and get Vernon. Calvin could see everything going on, and he slid down into his seat, just in case bullets began to fly.

Coach yelled, “Police!” only one time before he kicked the door, his Glock in his hand and a bulletproof vest covering his chest. When the door burst open, he and the officer on surveillance rushed inside. They were inside for only five or six minutes before they came back out. They had a few heated words back and forth, and then Coach plopped back down in the front seat of the car and slammed the door shut.

Coach was silent. He was breathing heavily.

“You all right, man?” Calvin said.

“He's not there. How in the hell is he not there?”

For the next five minutes or so, on the way to taking Calvin home, Coach remained completely silent.

Calvin said, “So that's probably it between you two, huh?”

Coach turned to look at him. “Told me good-bye.”

“Damn,” Calvin acknowledged.

“Thought I was getting back into it the right way, man.”

“Well, that's how things work out. When you think you're doing the right thing, something always comes a-knocking, and nothing you can do but deal with it.”

“She's probably scared out of her mind right about now, getting threats like that,” Coach said.

“So, what're you going to do?”

“I got to find this guy. Make sure they are okay in the meantime.”

Coach pulled up to Calvin's place.

“Hey, be safe out here, Coach.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

 

 

Who would have thought that Coach would be told that it was over between him and Shonda and that the guy he had been chasing had fucked up his relationship and scared the hell out of Shonda and Jarques at the same time? Coach didn't have too many options at this point other than to find this guy and have him locked up. There was no way he was going to have anyone testify against him in a court of law, because Lois didn't see his face, his brother was long gone by now, having headed out west to his new job, and the cavernous asshole who had witnessed the beating and thought Vernon was a friend was in the morgue.

Coach was not going out like this. This was his very first case and his only case at the moment, and he was going to have to take responsibility for going awkwardly in the wrong direction. He didn't know which way to go, but for now, he was on his way back to keep an eye on Shonda and Jarques, even though he would have to do it from inside his car.

Coach parked his car right in front of Shonda's place and didn't care who saw it there. He was determined not to let anything happen to them. Losing two women whom he cared about would be too much for any man to bear. About three hours passed, and it was close to one in the morning when his cell phone rang as he was about to doze off.

He answered, “Yeah.”

The watch commander said, “Just got a call at the front desk.”

“Yeah? From who?”

The watch commander seemed as though he had been in a deep sleep. “Lois Gregory's address.”

Coach sat all the way up. “Yeah? What about it?”

“Get over there. There's something you might want to see.”

Coach didn't want to leave Shonda's house unguarded, so he called in a cruiser and told the officer to sit tight until he returned. He sped over to Lois's to see what was so pressing. When he arrived there, he found at least six police cars, all with flashing lights, and yellow tape surrounding the house. When Coach walked inside, he almost became deflated when he saw the body of Chucky Lang, who was supposed to be on his way out west to start his new job.

Just like the body in the check-cashing joint, Chucky Lang's body had been put in the house after he was shot somewhere else. His opportunity out west was not going to happen. Coach knew that Vernon was sending him a message and cleaning up his mess by shooting both Chucky and Mark twice in the head. Coach didn't know what Vernon would do next, so he stationed himself back in front of Shonda's house before they placed Chucky Lang's body on ice, to make sure she and Jarques would be safe.

Coach had to call Lois and Mr. Tall at the hospital to let them know what had taken place and even though it was sad for Lois, Coach was relieved to find out that Mr. Tall would be at the hospital, watching over her, and they would be somewhat safe there.

Shonda was aware that Coach had sat in front of her home most of the night. She couldn't sleep, and for most of the night, she looked out her blinds at him. When she came outside early the next morning and tapped on his window, he gave her a half smile, still feeling sorry for what her family was going through. He rolled down the window.

“Want some coffee?” she said.

His smile told her yes, and she handed a cup to him.

“So, are you going to invite me in?” she said.

“Yeah, sure, c'mon.”

Coach kept his eyes on Shonda the entire time she maneuvered around his car to the passenger's side in her housecoat and slippers. When she got inside the car, she wrapped her arms around her chest and burrowed her hands deep into her housecoat.

“Wow, it is chilly out here,” she said.

Coach transferred the coffee from one hand to another so he could start up the car. “The heat in here will get you right.” He sipped his coffee and smiled. “Thanks.”

“Least I can do, since you have been out here all night,” she said.

“Look, I'm sorry. I never knew my case would have long enough legs to involve you and Jarques. I should have never taken him to school or told the perp that I am investigating that I remembered him from the park. He's probably been following me without me even knowing it.”

She took a deep breath. “It's okay, Coach. How were you supposed to know? I've been thinking about it. You can't control anyone but yourself, and you have treated me and my son very nice, and I appreciate it.”

“Thank you,” Coach told her, then drank more java.

“I didn't sleep one wink last night,” she confessed.

“Really?”

“Nope. I was thinking about you . . . about us. I decided that you can't run scared in life. No matter what it brings you, you cannot run scared.”

“And you don't have to be afraid, because I will be here every night until I lock this bastard up. I promise you that,” Coach said.

Shonda gathered her thoughts before she spoke. “So, what do you do next? How are you going to get this guy?”

Coach didn't have an answer right off.

“I just don't want Jarques to have to worry. He still has to go to school and to other activities,” Shonda told him.

“Well, if they are watching him, it probably would be best if they saw him ride with me.”

She grabbed on to Coach's hand. “I think so too.”

“I will call the school resource officer and make sure he has Jarques in his sight all day long, and I'll station an undercover car right outside the school.”

“Okay, good,” Shonda agreed. “So, you'll come inside for some breakfast and promise to stay with me tonight?”

He smiled. “Yes, and every night, if you guys will have me.”

During breakfast Shonda explained to Jarques that she thought it would be a good idea for him to be seen with police protection to prevent anything from happening to him. Jarques was not in a very receptive mood, but he hated to see his mom in such a worried state, and so he agreed.

After breakfast Coach and Jarques headed to school. They were quiet in the car. Coach didn't want to say anything that would upset Jarques. On the other hand, the kid was kind of embarrassed about going off the way he had, understanding now that he could have just come out and told the adults what was going on. The police radio was the only sound in the car as it blasted directions to locations of early morning accidents and a few domestic disputes.

Coach turned to him. “Jarques, look, I want to apologize for getting you upset due to my work.”

Jarques was still listening to the car radio. “So, all this stuff is just happening minute by minute?”

“Huh?”

“On this radio. Things happen so fast.”

“Oh, yeah, that's the way it happens,” Coach assured him.

“So the cops handle that, and you handle the investigation ?”

“Right . . .”

Jarques continued to listen to the radio.

“Jarques, did you hear me apologize?” Coach said.

“Yeah, I heard you.”

“I mean it. I should have been more aware.”

“It's not your fault. How could you know?”

Coach thought about what he had said. “Yeah, but it's my job to know. It's my job.”

There was another few minutes of silence.

“So, think you'll be able to trust me now?” Coach asked him.

Jarques thought about it. “Yeah, I think so.”

Coach said, “My man.”

They gave one another a pound with their fists.

“Well, you know what they say. In order for two people to trust each other, they really have to know one another.”

Jarques turned to look at him. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I am going to tell you something that I haven't even told your mom yet, and you have to promise me you won't tell anyone.”

He smiled. “What? You got kids somewhere? You married, Coach? Maybe a woman on the other side of town?” Jarques loved his own jokes.

“No, boy.”

“What then?”

“You really want to know?”

“You're the one who offered, and if you're going to tell me, you better hurry up, because school is right up the street. . . .”

“I'm a millionaire.”

Jarques paused and let what Coach had said to him soak in, and then he began to laugh. The thought of Coach being a millionaire got so good to him that he couldn't stop laughing.

Coach turned and looked at him after he stopped the car in front of the school. “What?

What's wrong?”

Jarques grabbed his books and opened the car door. “Okay, trust me, Coach, I'll never tell anyone. A millionaire, right . . .” Then he got out of the car and walked away.

The watch commander was not in a brother-in-law-loving mood, as he was being pushed by higher-ups for answers concerning the connected murders. He wanted to see Coach as soon as possible and called a meeting with him without delay in order to understand what the hell was going on, because things had gotten out of hand. When Coach walked toward his door, the watch commander waved him into his office without wasting any time.

“How many more, Coach? How many more?”

Coach replied, “He's cleaning up his past. That's all I can say. Everyone connected to him has been killed, so that they can't testify against any of the shit he's done.”

“So, you're telling me that he's smarter than you?”

“What?”

“You're the one who is supposed to find witnesses and get people to testify, and everybody that you know that can do just that ends up getting killed.”

“He's thought this out. This guy thinks about what he is doing way before he does it and picks out people he knows he can get next to and control.”

“Well, this guy needs to get picked up. I don't know how you're going to do it, but it needs to be done. As a matter of fact, you can start with a press conference in an hour.”

“Whoa. Say what?”

“Aren't you still the public relations officer in this unit?”

“Well, yeah, but you were supposed to find someone else for that.”

“But I haven't, so change your clothes and do what you do best, because I'm tired of trying to answer all these gotdamned reporters.”

“I have to get back on the streets,” Coach said.

The watch commander said, “Afterward. It shouldn't be that hard. You're the lead investigator, so just tell them what you just told me.”

Being ambushed by the watch commander was nothing new for Coach, so he went down to the locker room and put on his day uniform, which he'd worn whenever he needed to address the press before he became a detective. While getting dressed, he thought about all the possible questions that might come from the four or five reporters who usually peppered him with questions. Coach had to play his cards right. There was no way he was going to tell them that he was the lead detective on the case. He promised himself to stay away from any questions that would lead the reporters to asking who the lead detective was.

He was downstairs in the briefing room exactly at eleven, and the reporters were there, awaiting his arrival. There were way more than four or five reporters waiting to find out what was going on, and they didn't waste any time.

“We understand there has been a beating of a senior citizen and two murders in the last few weeks and they are all connected. Is that correct?” one reporter said. He didn't have a notepad. He just shoved his recorder in Coach's face and waited for his answer.

“Yes, that's correct. There has been an assault and two murders. We are still working on establishing whether they are connected or not.”

“How will you determine if they are connected or not?” Another reporter asked. She was a reporter from the small community newspaper that always did a much better job than any major paper ever could.

Coach said, “The department will put the pieces of the puzzle together, like we always have, and will determine if they are connected.”

“Do you have a suspect?” asked another reporter.

Coach thought for a moment. In his position as a public relations officer, he had never given a suspect's name. It wasn't the department's policy, for some reason or another. But he was a detective now. And he needed to get this bastard.

“Yes, yes, we do. As a matter of fact, we had him in for questioning, but our victim was unable to identify him and we had to let him back out on the streets,” Coach said.

“You mean to tell us, you let a killer walk right out the door of this building?” said one of the reporters.

“Well, at that time he wasn't a killer. But now this is what we know. A family member of this suspect reported to us that he was involved. But now that witness is dead. We also suspect that he has killed everyone who could place him at the scene of the assault of the senior citizen. Everyone, from his friends to even his own family member.”

“Do you have a name?”

“A name?” Coach repeated. “Yes, his name is Vernon. Vernon Wise. And here is a picture of him as well.”

After the question-and-answer session was finished, Coach was happy with the progress he'd made, because if Vernon wanted to play hide-and-seek, now he had to hide from more than one person. In fact, he had to hide from the entire city, if he was still here.