Bayou Pirates Page 12

  He braved eye contact enough to shoot Barrett a scathing look. Holm and I both turned to the detective.

  “Dirty cops?” Holm repeated. “You’ve got a lot of those in these parts?”

  “They’re far from the norm, but you could say we have more than our fair share over here,” Barrett sighed. “Just like those doctors. These guys find a way to pay most everyone off. Or at least people from every corner of life here.”

  “So, they came to see you?” I asked, turning back to Tyler. “When? Who?”

  “I don’t know who they were,” Tyler said, shaking his head. “Just that they were with the gang. The big one.”

  “The big one?” Holm repeated, looking to Barrett.

  “The Ghosts,” Barrett said. “This is the one we’re after. They’re the head honchos in the drug ring in town. There are others, but none measure up to these guys.”

  “They rule the city,” Tyler said bitterly, almost spitting the words out. “Especially this side of it. That’s why I need you to get me out of here.”

  “And we will,” I assured him. “Go on.” I moved my hand in the air to indicate that he should speed things up a bit.

  “Okay, okay,” he said quickly. “They—a couple of their guys, I didn’t recognize them, though it was obvious enough who they worked for—came knocking on my door last night. They had guns. And some kind of new drug. They told me like one in ten people who take it die, and the other nine lose control of themselves. Said they’d make me take it if I didn’t cooperate. Then they showed me a video of someone dying from it and another of someone on it who didn’t die. I’d never seen anything like it before, and I hope I never have to again.”

  Tyler shuddered at this, his voice trembling even more than it had before. He spoke softly, and I could see the fear and revulsion in his eyes. I knew what he was feeling. The images he saw in his head were also plastered in mine and probably would be for a long time even after this case was behind me.

  “It’s alright, Tyler,” I said softly, crossing over and sitting down next to him on the couch now. It sank almost immediately from years of use. “We understand. We know exactly what you’re talking about.”

  “You do?” he asked, his head jerking up so he could look at me. “You know about it? You know what it is?”

  “We do,” I confirmed. “We know all about it. That’s why we’re here. What makes you think that we don’t?”

  If the gang in New Orleans still had no idea that we knew about the drug, that meant that they weren’t still in contact with anyone from the Haitian cartel, which told us more than a few things. It also gave us the upper hand, at least for now.

  “They seemed pretty confident that you had no idea anything was going on,” Tyler said. “I had no reason not to believe them. You never asked me anything about it.”

  He glanced back up at Barrett, who was still leaning against the windowsill.

  “I tried to, today,” Barrett reminded him.

  “You said you heard whispers about something going on before today,” I said, turning my attention back to Tyler. “Why didn’t you tell Detective Barrett about it?”

  “Because I had an idea that it was big,” Tyler said, his eyes growing wide with apprehension. “And I didn’t want to get involved in any of that mess. Not that that worked out all that well for me.”

  He gave another dull laugh.

  “Okay, so they threatened to give you the drug,” Holm said. “What next?”

  “They told me I had to cut off all contact with the police,” Tyler continued with a gulp. “That they were trying to send a message, and they needed us all to cooperate.”

  “Do you think they’re watching you?” I asked, suddenly attentive to the fact that the window was wide open, and anyone could probably see right through to us since we were on the ground floor.

  “I would be shocked if they weren’t,” Tyler said.

  “Do you know anything about where these guys are?” Barrett asked. “The ones who talked to you last night?”

  “None, sorry,” Tyler said, shaking his head and swallowing hard again. “Though they said they would be back.”

  “Did they say when?” I asked sharply.

  “No,” Tyler said. “Why do you think I’m so nervous?”

  “You’re always nervous,” Barrett pointed out.

  “Not this nervous,” the guy shot back.

  “Okay,” I said, my gaze flicking back to the open window. “Maybe we should move this conversation somewhere a little more secure.”

  “Yes,” Tyler said with a sigh of relief, slumping his shoulders. “Please.”

  “Alright, come on then,” I said, rising from the couch and motioning for Tyler to do the same. “Up you go. Grab anything you think you’ll need.”

  Tyler rushed over to the kitchen counter and grabbed some keys, a wallet, and a few other assorted items.

  “Close that window,” I instructed Barrett. “The blinds, too.”

  Just as he was about to do so, Barrett’s eyes widened.

  “What is it?” I asked, suddenly alert.

  “On the roof across the street,” he whispered. “I see a rifle.”

  CHAPTER 14

  “Don’t move,” I murmured, holding out my arms and staying very still. “No one move an inch.”

  Everyone froze. I could see Barrett’s pulse throbbing quickly on the side of his neck.

  “What do we do?” Tyler hissed, more than a little panicked now, though he remained frozen in place where he was pocketing some change in the kitchen. “What the hell do we do?”

  “First of all, we have to try to remain calm,” I said, more for Tyler’s benefit than anyone else’s. “Panicking will only make things worse.”

  “How could this possibly get worse?” Tyler asked, and his entire body was shaking now. He looked like he wanted to crawl into one of the kitchen cabinets and stay there forever. I sympathized.

  “It can always get worse,” Holm said dryly, from where he was frozen pressed against the wall. I was in the middle of the room, just a few steps away from Barrett and the aim of that sniper’s gun.

  “Alright,” I muttered, so that whoever was watching us would be unlikely to notice my lips move. “Holm, there’s no way they can see you from where you are. Do you think you can make it to the door?”

  The door was on the other side of the room from Barrett, Tyler, and me, tucked far enough off to the side of the window that it was unlikely anyone could see it from outside.

  “Yeah, I think so,” Holm whispered with a curt nod. “I’ll head out and see what I can find.”

  “Okay, just don’t get yourself blown to pieces,” I said, covering my genuine concern for my partner with humor.

  “I’ll do my best,” Holm said dryly, hugging close to the wall and shuffling on his feet as he made his way slowly around the perimeter of the small apartment.

  When he made it to the door, he pulled out his gun and held it down at his side. Then he nodded in Barrett’s direction.

  “I’ll see if I can find him and distract him,” he said. “As soon as you can, make a break for it.”

  “Watch your back out there,” I hissed after him as he disappeared behind the door, closing it as softly as he could behind him.

  It felt like hours passed in the moments between when he left and when we heard from him again. My heart drummed in my ears, Tyler continued to tremble and now whimper, and Barrett’s pulse still beat rapidly in his neck.

  Finally, my phone rang, and I picked it up. It was Holm.

  “We don’t have time to wait for backup,” he said without even waiting for me to answer. “You guys have to get out of there now.”

  “Okay,” I said, hanging up on him. Then, to Barrett and Tyler, “Drop to the ground!”

  But the detective was way ahead of me, already crouched down on the ground below the windowsill and hanging tight to the wall just as Holm had.

  Tyler, however, did not follow my instructions. H
e remained frozen by the kitchen counter, whimpering with his eyes shut tight. His arms hovered precariously in the air over his change.

  “Dammit, Evans, get on the floor!” Barrett hissed at him.

  “Now!” I snapped, but this seemed to have no discernible effect on the confidential informant who remained right where he was, except shaking even more now.

  I shook my head and shimmied across the dirty, crumb-covered floor on my elbows and knees until I reached Tyler, grabbing hold of his elbow and pulling him down next to me.

  He let out another, louder whimper but followed my lead.

  “Shut it!” I snapped in a sharp whisper. “Do you want to get out of here or not?”

  His eyes still shut tight, Tyler nodded and swallowed hard, but the whimpering stopped.

  Together, Tyler and I made our way across the floor and to the side of the room, where we followed Barrett and hung tight to the wall until we reached the door unencumbered.

  Barrett held it open for us with his foot from the other side.

  Once out in the hall, Barrett and I both drew our guns. I shuffled Tyler out in front of me so that one of us would be on either side of him.

  To his credit, he was moving faster and shaking less now, and his eyes were open. He seemed to have realized that his demeanor was obstructing our ability to get out of this situation in one piece.

  We moved more quickly once in the hallway, though we still kept tight to the wall. None of Tyler’s neighbors seemed concerned about whatever was going on between Holm and the sniper outside. I imagined that they got a lot of this kind of thing around here, though it was most likely usually between drug dealers and not involving federal agents.

  Barrett was parked right in front of the doors, away from the line of fire, so we ran over to his car.

  “We’ll hang back here in the car,” he told me when we drew close to the front doors to the apartment complex, opening the trunk and pulling a rifle out of a safe in the back and handing it to me. “I can’t leave Tyler alone, so we’ll wait for your signal.”

  I nodded, taking the rifle from him.

  “Call for backup,” I instructed.

  “Already on it,” Barrett said, pulling out his phone.

  I left the two men behind and crept around the brick building, slowly but surely, keeping up against the wall just like we had inside the apartment.

  I knew that Tyler’s apartment was on the other side of the building, which was also where Holm was. I kept the rifle trained and ready as I made my way around the building.

  I stopped short of creeping around the final corner to the side where Tyler’s apartment was located, opting instead to stand right behind that corner, where I would have some measure of cover if a fight broke out.

  I peered around the corner enough to see the edge of the parking lot, and the back of Holm’s shins not too far from me. Across the lot was a row of buildings, including a single-story laundromat where the sniper had settled in on the roof.

  I began to creep around the corner on my haunches with the rifle still held out at my side.

  I stayed behind several of the cars and made my way to Holm, who was tucked behind an old Ford off to the mid-to-left-hand side of the parking lot. It was a delicate dance since the parking lot wasn’t full, and there were gaps, but I made it without the sniper showing any signs that he noticed me. Fortunately, Holm didn’t either, so he didn’t tip the guy off.

  “Right behind you,” I whispered when I was almost upon him, and Holm just about jumped out of his skin.

  To his credit, he didn’t say anything. He just flashed his eyes over in my direction and gave an almost undetectable nod to show that he saw me.

  A shot rang out, and Holm ducked back down under the car to our level as a bullet dinged loudly off the other side. My partner shook his head.

  “I guess he spotted us,” I grumbled.

  We stayed in place, and a few more shots struck down nearby, but we were fairly sheltered behind the Ford.

  “As long as he’s still shooting at us wildly, he’s got us cornered,” he said, his tone and expression dark. “Which means that he might have backup coming, and he’s biding his time until they get here. We need to take him out or take him in quickly before that happens.”

  I nodded.

  “I think the only way is to draw his attention to you so that I can take him down with the rifle,” I said, my lips set in a thin line as I said it. I didn’t like this plan, but it was the only one I had.

  Holm grimaced. “As much as I hate that idea, it’s a solid plan. If this guy keeps shooting, he could hit a bystander. It’s the middle of the day. He’s perched on the roof of the laundromat, and there are too many innocent people around. We need to stop him, and soon.”

  “I’m thinking the same thing,” I sighed. I readied the rifle against my shoulder and slid into a position to take aim. “I’m ready when you are.”

  Holm nodded that he understood and darted out in front of the car. He raced across the parking lot, drawing fire from the sniper.

  I immediately trained the rifle on the sniper and fired one, two, three times. The sniper fire ceased.

  The man was quivering on the roof of the laundromat now, bleeding with his weapon discarded off to his side.

  “Okay, okay,” he cried out in a mangled voice. “You’ve got me. You’ve got me.”

  “Throw down your weapon,” I barked, grateful that my voice could carry across the small lot.

  This proved to be a difficult task for him, given his injuries. But he managed it, pushing and pushing until the weapon clambered to the ground in front of the laundromat where I could vaguely see several patrons and employees cowering inside behind the washing machines.

  I glanced over to see that all the blinds and windows to the apartments were now shut, and I once again got the sense that this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence around here.

  One of the customers nearest to the door scrambled out and screamed at us.

  “Will you come in here?” he hollered, his tone panicked, and his voice shaky. “Please?”

  “Come on,” Holm said, moving out from behind the car and beckoning for me to follow him. “Let’s go get him off the roof.”

  “Better call an ambulance first,” I said, and Holm pulled out his phone.

  Holm and I crossed over to the laundromat, looking over our shoulders the entire way in case anyone was following us. But we arrived at the laundromat and slipped in the doors unencumbered.

  “Is it safe to go out there?” one older woman asked me as she clutched her purse to her chest and what looked to be her young grandson to her side. “Can we leave?”

  “Yes, for now,” I said, nodding to her. Then, calling out to everyone, “You should all get out of here, now.”

  Everyone but one older gentleman, probably in his early sixties, fled the scene like moths to a flame.

  “This is my shop,” the man told us stubbornly. “I’m not leaving it.”

  “Don’t be an idiot,” Holm scoffed. “Get out of here. The police will tell you when it’s all clear, okay?”

  He hesitated but then nodded his thanks to us and then sped out after the rest of the crowd.

  Holm and I clambered up the stairs to the roof, where we found the sniper lying in a pool of his own blood.

  “Alright,” I said, making my way over to the gangbanger. “An ambulance is on its way. It should be here soon to look after your injuries. But until then, how about we have a little chat?”

  The sirens off in the distance were growing closer now, and I was almost certain that it was either backup for us or the ambulance. Either way, it was our ticket out of here before backup for the gangbanger showed up.

  Holm and I flashed the guy our MBLIS badges. The man’s wide, panicked eyes lingered on my badge as he realized that my partner and I were more than just your average plainclothes police officers.

  “Look, I don’t know nothing,” he said, shaking his head vigorously as he cl
utched at his wounds.

  His face was pale, and he looked like he was losing blood fast. I glanced back over my shoulder at the street below. There was still no ambulance, though the sirens were growing closer.

  I turned back to the man. He looked to be somewhere in his mid to late twenties, a crop of brown hair atop his head and a decent five-o’clock shadow on his jaw. He wore just a plain t-shirt in jeans, both now covered in his own blood.

  “You clearly knew enough to start shooting at us,” Holm said sternly.

  “Look, I just do what I’m told,” the guy said, averting his eyes from us.

  “So, what were you told?” I asked.

  “Mr. Williams just said to wait here. He told all of us to do that and gave us a list of addresses,” the guy muttered, staring at the ground in front of him. “Said if any cops come looking for the CIs, take ‘em out.”

  “So there are snipers at every confidential informant’s home, watching them in case they step out of line?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. If this was correct, it was a highly organized operation.

  The guy nodded, which took some effort. He was looking paler by the minute.

  “Why?” Holm asked. “And how? How’d they get the list of CIs?”

  “Some cop gave it to ‘em,” the guy shrugged.

  Holm and I exchanged a look.

  “Typical,” he muttered.

  “You said ‘Mr. Williams,’” I reminded the guy. “Is that Daryl Williams?”

  Another nod.

  “Can you tell us where he is?” I asked.

  The guy hesitated now, looking up at me nervously and then averting his eyes again quickly. It seemed this was one question too much.

  “Look, you’re going to have to tell us,” I said, crouching down and leaning in closer to the guy. “We can do it the easy way, or we can do it the hard way. That’s up to you. But just know that how things turn out for you in court might hinge on which way you go right now.”

  “You are offering me a deal?” he asked, giving me a skeptical look.