Warning: explicit language and possible emotional triggers.
Chapter 25
Mike turned into the parking lot of a local children's park, relieved to see that the lot was nearly empty. He parked his truck then turned his attention to his young passenger. "What do you want to play on first?"
"The monkey bars," Antonio announced with a grin, reaching for the door handle.
"You sure you can handle those?" the engineer asked, worriedly.
"O' course I can. I'm five years old now," the boy replied, using both hands to shut the door of the vehicle.
"Ahhh, yea… Guess I didn't think about how advanced five-year-olds are these days," Mike replied, watching as the child ran towards the metal frame on the far end of the park.
Antonio quickly climbed up the small ladder before hanging his head in defeat. "I can't reach it," he said somberly.
Mike felt a laugh bubbling from deep inside his gut but didn't want to offend the overzealous child. "Ahem, know what fireman do when we can't quite complete a job by ourselves?"
"What?"
"We ask for help." Mike stood with both hands on his hips, hoping the little boy would understand.
"Will you help me?"
Mike grinned. "I sure will."
The engineer picked the child up high enough to reach the first cross bar. He then held him up, walking forward so that Antonio was able to move his hands from one cross bar to the next. When they reached the end, Mike nudged Antonio's legs to the ladder and helped him climb down.
"I did it!" the little boy announced, proudly, pumping both fists in the air.
"So, you did," Mike laughed. "And I only helped a tiny little bit."
"I know… 'cause I'm gettin' to be a man, right?"
This time, Mike couldn't contain his laughter. "It won't be long, Antonio. It won't be long at all."
Soon the child had made his rounds of the equipment in the small park. He played on the sliding board then rushed to the swing set.
"Push me, Mr. Mike."
The engineer happily complied with the request as the two chatted away about nothing in particular. The slamming of a car door caused both of them to turn their attention in the direction of the sound. A young couple with a toddler were walking toward the equipment designated for the younger guests.
Mike saw Antonio staring at the young family and felt a sharp pang of regret. He could see the longing on the child's face and knew what he was thinking. As the little boy's face slowly morphed into a long sad expression, Mike's heart nearly broke.
"Are you ready to go?"
"Not yet."
Mike continued pushing the child in the swing trying to think of something else they could do to pass the time. He wondered what his shiftmates were doing at the moment? Had they formulated a plan? If so, how did they intend to find the wayward mother? And if not, how was the Lopez family supposed to explain to Antonio that his mother was probably never coming back?
"I'm thirsty."
Mike slowed the swing to let his young charge climb out. "There's a water fountain over there," he said, pointing in the direction of the restrooms, but the little boy just stood still, once again staring at the young family who were oblivious to being watched.
"Is something wrong?" Mike questioned.
Antonio started walking toward the water fountain, his shoulders slumping as though he carried the weight of the world. He climbed up onto the step that allowed him to reach the fountain. After drinking his fill, he slowly headed for the park bench nearby.
Mike felt a lump forming in his throat. He took a seat beside the youngster. "Why the long face, buddy?"
The child released a long sigh, then leaned over with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. He said nothing but continued to stare at the ground.
"Want to talk about it?"
After a few uneasy moments, the child tilted his head and looked straight into the engineer's eyes. "When am I gonna get a daddy?"
Nothing in Mike's life had prepared him to answer such a difficult question. "Well, I think maybe God knew that your grandmother needed you, so He sent you to her. That way she could take care of you while your Momma was getting better," he replied, remembering that the child had been told his mother had been sick for a long time which was why she had not been with him.
"But some kids have a Momma, a grandma, AND a daddy." He waved at the young family enjoying the park. "That little girl is just a baby and she's already got her daddy. I've been waitin' a lot longer than her and I still don't have one."
Were it not for the pain in Antonio's voice, Mike might have chuckled at the child's obvious naivety of the biology involved in human procreation; instead, the engineer swallowed hard, his blue eyes staring off into the distance. "I know, Antonio. All families are different. Your family has a momma and a grandma. Some kids get a daddy, but they don't get a momma and a grandma."
"It jus' ain't fair," the little boy huffed, leaning back against the bench, crossing his arms over his chest. "I want a daddy."
"I believe that one day you will get a daddy, Antonio. And one day I hope I get a son just like you. But until that happens, why don't we pretend that I'm your daddy and you're my kid?"
Antonio's brown eyes suddenly sparkled as he looked up at the man he adored. "Really?"
"Yea… really… but let's just keep this between us, okay?"
Antonio climbed onto Mike's lap, wrapping his arms around the man's neck. "I love you, Mr. Mike."
Mike felt the backs of his eyes beginning to sting as he embraced the child. He inhaled deeply, pulling the little boy into an even tighter embrace. How could Lexi abandon her child – not once, but twice? "I love you, too."
E!
Ricardo Gomez turned the key, unlocking the door to the house he hadn't entered in several months. The musty smell of dust assaulted his nostrils. His nose twitched as a toothy grin quickly spread over his face. He swiped his tan hand over the light switch, brightening the dim environment. He didn't notice the dust particles that floated through the air.
Behind him, Lexi entered the place she had always considered a house of horrors, the genesis of her nightmares. She closed the door, feeling her heart rate increase.
"Glad you got the electric bill caught up," he said, running his fingers across the back of his expensive brown leather sofa leaving a noticeable trail in the thick layer of dust.
"I did what you asked me to do… just like always," Lexi announced, her voice sounding more confident than she felt. She tried to prepare herself for what she was about to do. As much as she had thought about it, now that the time was here, she was having second thoughts. Old fears began to surface, and she wondered if she was brave enough. Her timing had to be perfect because failure was not an option.
Gomez made his way through his expansive living room before dropping his keys on his antique dining room table. Catering to the lustful desires of professionals was a very lucrative business and his home displayed the wealth he had attained by exploiting innocent young girls. He made his way to his refrigerator, opening the door and cringing at the creaking noise it made from disuse. "Damn," he mumbled as his hand found the cold neck of a bottle of beer. He sniffed the empty white interior of the high-end appliance. "Glad I don't cook," he grumbled. "I'd hate to make you clean out a fridge full of rotten food."
"I'd do it… to make it up to you," Lexi said, her stomach lurching at the thought. She had to keep stroking his ego a little longer. She would have to wait until she could catch him off guard.
He quickly pried the cap off the bottle using the novelty bottle opener shaped like a naked woman – a trinket he'd been given by one of his more famous clients. He guzzled half the bottle, belching in Lexi's direction before wiping his mouth with his shirt sleeve. An evil grin crossed his face as his eyes slowly soaked in her beauty. "Oh Lex… You're gonna make it up to me, Hon…" He raised the bottle to his lips, hesitating for a moment. "You are definitely gonna make it up to me."
Lexi swallowed back the bile that was burning the back of her throat. She felt the shiver of dread run down her spine, squeezing the backs of her knees. She leaned against the kitchen counter, hoping her legs would continue to hold her up. "Um… I know," she stammered, pulling her purse a little tighter to her hip. She diverted her gaze, from the bottle to his dark eyes. "It's a little early for beer, isn't it?"
Ricardo's face quickly moved from a smirk to a scowl. His free hand connected with her cheek in an instant. The stinging sensation on his palm seemed to electrify his entire body, filling his groin with the pressure of his pent-up need. "Shut up… and don't eyeball me, bitch!"
Lexi pressed her lips together tightly, her teeth clenched. She wrapped her arms around her midsection protectively, her head hanging down. She shuddered as she felt the tips of his fingers curl her hair behind her left ear, further exposing her reddened cheek. Nausea caused her stomach to churn as he caressed her jawline. She could smell the stench of his breath as he lowered his face to hers, the hotness of his exhalation burning her ear as his breathing rate increased. He moved his entire body against hers, further pressing her into the counter until her back hurt. There was no escape. She gulped, clinching her eyes shut tightly as he used the same hand he had slapped her with to wrap his fingers around the back of her neck. Slowly, he began to squeeze as he raised the beer bottle, gulping the rest of the alcoholic beverage.
"Ahhh," he exhaled, adjusting his grip around the neck of the empty bottle and smashing it on the marble countertop.
Lexi jumped, knowing what was coming. She felt the jagged glass running against her cheek. The sensation was simultaneously cold and hot. How many girls had he scarred with broken bottles? The vision of a young frightened girl, crying as her throat had been slashed with a broken bottle flashed before her eyes. She remembered how the girl's long blonde hair had become matted in the mixture of blood and tears, silently weeping as her skin grew pale. Her naked body had been left slumped against the bedroom wall when the life had finally drained from her. Lexi had been tasked with cleaning up the mess left behind after the body had been removed. The image of the young girl's blood turning the mop water crimson still haunted her. She felt the prick of the cactus needle that had impaled her forearm as she and Bri had been forced to add the rock garden into the landscape of the western edge of Ricardo's house – his way of hiding the remains of the girls who refused to be broken, denied him the pleasure of adding to his stable.
Suddenly, she felt his cold hand squeezing the tender flesh of her bare breast. When had he removed her blouse? Where was her purse? She inhaled rapidly in fear. She couldn't lose her purse.
"Relax, baby," Ricardo crooned into her ear. He tossed the broken bottle into the sink, confident that his silent threat had been correctly interpreted by his captive. "It's not like this is your first time," he chuckled, lifting her onto the counter and pushing her legs apart. He positioned himself between her knees, enjoying the slow torment he was inflicting. "Besides… I know you don't want to go back to the crib, right?"
Her mind was once again sent reeling into the past. The coffin-like cage – also known as the Utica Crib – had been his favorite means of punishment. The item of restraint that had once been used by mental asylums instead of shackles and straightjackets had become a favorite torture device for many pimps. She briefly wondered if it was still located in the 'corral' – the name he had given to a special room created in an outbuilding behind his home to reduce the sounds of screaming girls who were being broken in. How many times had she and the others been locked, naked, inside the slatted frame? The device, only 18 inches tall, had been too shallow to allow her to even turn over. There, she had lain on her back, watching as he had used a padlock to imprison her, leaving her there for hours, denying her food and water. The rough feel of the bare boards pressing into her flesh as he further tortured her by filling the room with smoke pierced her memory. His maniacal laughter echoed through her mind as she coughed, gasping for air, fearing being burned alive. The acrid taste filling her mouth and lungs as she pleaded for relief. She quickly learned to be as still as possible, writhing only caused the splinters to pierce her tender skin.
"Oh, yea… damn I've missed this…"
Lexi's eyes shot open in horror. When had he pushed up her skirt? How had he removed her panties without her knowing it? She felt the pinch of his fingers around her neck while his other hand held both of her wrists pinned tightly behind her back. With only a couple of grunts, he was finished… for now.
"Go clean up," he growled. "I've got plans for you, you nasty slut," he mumbled, zipping his pants as he turned away from her.
Lexi slowly repositioned her clothes, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She thought about her precious child and her loving mother. She was doing this for them. It was the only way to ensure their safety.
Sliding off the counter, she retrieved her purse and stumbled down the hallway towards the familiar bathroom to take a shower. Her body ached as though she had been beaten, like so many times before. She closed the door behind her. There was no lock. Ricardo had been forced to kick open the door a few years ago when a new girl had defied his orders and locked herself inside while taking a shower. After a severe beating, he had sold her to another pimp. Lexi heard the girl had died from a heroin overdose not long after – nobody knew if it had been forced on her by her new pimp, or if the act had been self-inflicted. Either way, she had finally escaped the hell of the streets. The doorknob had been replaced, but without a locking mechanism.
As soon as she turned on the water, a wave of nausea made her knees buckle. The retching caused her muscles to cramp, sending shooting pain through her back. She had not eaten anything in a couple of days, leaving her dry heaving in the shower stall. Her mouth was so dry that her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Stepping in front of the lukewarm stream of water, she allowed a trickle to slip between her cracked lips before swishing it around and spitting it out again. She had to lather and rinse quickly, not wanting him to come into the bathroom in search of her.
She finished up using cold water, hoping to energize her for what was to come. Stepping onto the bathmat, she wrapped a towel around her thin body, barely recognizing the gaunt face that stared back at her from the mirror. The dark circles under her eyes, the prominent cheekbones, she was staring at a shell of the person she had been just a few weeks ago. She ran the towel through her damp hair; the shorter style would dry much faster than her previously long locks.
She reached inside the linen closet, knowing that he kept lingerie for his girls to wear while servicing him. She chose a white one, remembering that he preferred the lighter tones on tanned skin. She slipped the lacy garment over her head, allowing it to skim down her damp body, clinging to her in all the places he would want her to enhance for his pleasure. This particular piece ended just above her knees, a bit longer than he might prefer, but as long as she wasn't wearing any underwear, he wouldn't complain. Besides, what she was wearing was the least of her worries. She reached inside her purse, allowing her fingers to rest on the cold metal of her weapon.
"Momma loves you, Antonio," she whispered to herself. "I just hope that one day you'll understand why it had to end this way." Silently, she prayed a quick prayer that the opportunity would come quickly.
As soon as she stepped out of the bathroom, her purse conspicuously clutched in her hand, she felt a blinding jolt, the punch knocking her to the floor.
"Welcome back to paradise, tramp," he snarled, enjoying the sight of the drops of blood from her nose that dripped onto the snowy white garment she wore. He waited for her to try to get up, then swiftly kicked her in the chin. Fighting back was useless. When she protectively curled into a fetal position, he quickly reached for a handful of hair, pulling her head up at an awkward angle. He knew he was inflicting pain by the way her now battered face twisted as he tightened his grip. Her lip was already swelling, and her agony excited him even more. "Don't you dare bleed on my fuckin' carpet!"
In a panic, she realized that her purse had been knocked out of her reach. "Su… Sorry," she stammered, using the hem of the lacy nightie she was wearing to wipe the blood from her mouth and chin. She tried to inch her way closer to the place where her purse lay, but gasped when he jerked her head backwards. The metallic taste of blood filled the corner of her mouth, in spite of her swollen lower lip. Her vision was growing narrower and another wave of panic wracked her body when she realized she could no longer see her purse from the corner of her swollen eye.
"Pu-please… 'Cardo… I'll… do wha' ya wan'."
He laughed loudly at her comment. "Damn right, bitch… Say it…" When she didn't respond fast enough, he pulled tighter on her hair, wrapping his fingers around her neck and choking her. "SAY IT!"
Gasping for air, she was only able to mouth the phrase she knew he wanted to hear. "I… wan'… it."
"That's right, baby," he crooned, stroking her injured face gently. "Why do you make me do this to you? I can be a gentleman for you, but you won't let me," he said, kissing her roughly, enjoying the faint taste of blood on his tongue. "See, sweetheart?" he whispered. "I've missed you… I've always loved you more than the rest of my girls."
A part of her wanted to believe him, the same part that was once again believing she deserved the punishment he was inflicting on her. Did he really love her? Why couldn't she just be obedient? She knew his rules and she knew what would happen when she broke them, so she deserved the beating, didn't she?
"Well now… seeing how you're already on your knees…"
She heard the sound of his zipper and knew what he was about to do, but his efforts were interrupted by a loud banging on the front door.
"What the hell?" he groaned, shifting his hand from her hair to her mouth, silently warning her not to say anything. "Shhhh." He waited for her nod of understanding, then tiptoed to the nearest window. When he saw the familiar silver sedan, he rolled his eyes.
Lexi's heart was beating wildly inside her chest. While his back was turned to her, she ran her fingers along the floor, turning her head to the side to use her unswollen eye. Spying her purse, she fumbled with the clasp.
Another pounding, harder this time, resounded through the house.
"C'mon, Gomez… I know you're in there…. I'm not here for you…. I'm here for Alexia?"
Lexi recognized the gruff sound of Lieutenant Crockett's voice. How did he know she was here?
"Gomez, don't make me damage your door, man," the ebony officer shouted, knowing he was not allowed to enter the residence by force. Even so, he wanted to exude authority, hoping that if Lexi was inside, she would come to the front door willingly.
"Fuck off, Pig!"
"Knock it off, Gomez… I have a warrant for the arrest of Alexia Marie Lopez," the officer answered, instinctively patting his pocket with the folded warrant inside. His other hand was poised on his weapon in case a quick response was needed.
"Don't know her," the other man shouted back.
"Like hell… You know damn well who she is and we both know she's in there, now open up."
"Alright, Lex," Ricardo whispered, spinning around to give her instructions to remain quiet until he could get rid of the lawman, but his words never escaped from his throat. The battered and bleeding woman had crawled into a corner, leaning against the wall with a gun aimed directly at him.
His hands raised in a stance of surrender. "Whoa… Let's talk about this, baby… just put the gun down."
"You've hurt me for the last time, you filthy bastard," Lexi spat out, feeling empowered by the cold metal weapon in her hand. Feeling the power shift in the room, she willed her trembling hands to calm, her aim had to be perfect. She wouldn't get a second chance to secure the future for her loved ones. It was now or never.
"C'mon, sweetheart… think about what you're doin'. There's a cop on the other side of that door," he said, jerking his head toward the sound of the Lieutenant's continued pounding. "If you shoot me… he'll shoot you… then we'll both be dead," Ricardo said, backing closer to the front door.
A smile curled the sides of her bloody, swollen lips. "I hadn't planned on it… but it's perfect," she said, using the wall as support to stand. Slowly, she took a step closer to her intended target.
"And even if he doesn't kill you, you'll be in prison for the rest of your life… either way, you'll never see your son again. Is that what you want?"
"Oh, I'm not goin' to prison," she scoffed. "This baby holds six rounds," she said, using her thumb to pull back on the hammer. "That's five bullets for you… and one for me. So, I guess I'll see you in hell."
"PUT DOWN THE GUN, LEXI!" Ricardo shouted, ensuring Lieutenant Crockett could hear his cry for help.
From the small front porch, Crockett unholstered his weapon, reaching for the doorknob, surprised to find it unlocked. His actions did not go unnoticed by the paramedics anxiously waiting in his car.
"Uh-oh," Johnny mumbled.
"That can't be good," Roy responded, feeling the need to duck down in the seat, but unable to lose sight of the drama unfolding in front of them. "Please be okay," he whispered, a thousand horrible scenarios running through his mind, none of them pleasant.
Crockett opened the door with his left hand, his right hand securely gripping his service revolver. Quickly, his eyes scanned the scene and stopped on the immediate threat. He looked at the hands first, and what he saw sent his stomach lurching. The 'threat' was a scantily clad and badly beaten young woman he barely recognized. "Don't do it, Lexi," he said, pointing his weapon at her. "Just put the gun down."
Shivering, Lexi fought back the tears. It wasn't supposed to end this way. No one was supposed to interrupt her plan. She couldn't allow herself to be killed by law enforcement without first taking out the notorious Ricardo Gomez. Her dark eyes never left the chest of her intended target as she slowly shook her head from side to side. "No… He's… he's got to pay for… for what he's done… to me… and all the others."
"He's not worth going to prison… or dying for, Lexi. If you shoot him… I'm gonna hafta shoot you."
Gomez backed up slowly, never before having been the one in fear for his life. He had spent years being the tormentor… not the tormented. "Just shoot the bitch, why don'tcha?"
"C'mon, Lex… easy now… hand me the gun, sweetheart," Crockett said softly, seeing that her revolver had already been cocked. One nervous twitch and the scene could turn deadly.
"Can't… you don't… understand."
"I can see what he's done to you… I'll take him in for assault, Lexi, but you've got to hand me the gun."
Ricardo couldn't believe what he was hearing. "ASSAULT? Are you fuckin' kiddin' me? She's crazy, man. The bitch is fuckin' crazy. Can't you see it?"
Crockett ignored Gomez' comments and kept his eyes on Lexi. He saw the subtle changes in her demeaner. Her fingers were beginning to relax. His words were having the desired effect. "Just hand me the gun and we'll all live to see another day. He won't be able to hurt you anymore, Lexi. He's violated the terms of his release by what he's done to you today." Crockett slowly inched his way closer to the hurting young woman. If he could get close enough to grab the weapon with his left hand, he could slip the tender flesh between his index finger and thumb in front of the hammer. If she pulled the trigger, it would rip into his hand. It would hurt like hell, but the pistol would be unable to fire. "He'll go back to jail and you can still go home… home to your family."
Ricardo's eyes widened. "HOME? You're gonna take ME to jail and let her go HOME?"
"Shut-up, Gomez," Crockett said in a voice filled with frustration.
Ricardo felt a trickle of nervous perspiration slithering down his temple. "You said you had a warrant for HER arrest… not MINE. Besides… I ain't done nothin' she didn't want done… Whores like it rough!"
The detective had never wanted to punch a man in the face any more than he wanted to punch Ricardo Gomez, but he had to tamp down his anger and deal with the current threat to all of them. "That's it, Lexi… just hand it over," the officer said, reaching out his free hand.
"I… I jus' can't… he'll go to jail… then get out… always does… always will… I can't let him kill my baby like he did those girls… buried out there," she said softly, her voice growing faint. "Cactus… garden."
Crockett realized that she was about to lose consciousness but didn't want to frighten her by rushing towards her. Any sudden movements could cause her to squeeze the trigger. But her accusation resounded in his mind. Ricardo Gomez was more than a drug dealer and street pimp… he was a serial killer.
Gomez couldn't believe what he had heard. Didn't she know the penalty for snitching to the police about the cactus garden? He clenched his jaws together so tightly he thought his teeth would crack. "You fuckin' lying cu-"
Ricardo Gomez never finished his final verbal assault of Lexi. The aim was for center mass and the bullet tore through his flesh, fatally damaging his heart and lungs. His body fell limply to the floor.
Crockett yelped in pain as the hammer dug into the tender flesh of his left hand. His training and sharp reflexes had enabled him to do the impossible in a split second – he had prevented Lexi from taking the life of her tormentor with one hand and had fired his own service revolver with the other. His quick reflexes and expert marksmanship had neutralized both threats, simultaneously.
Johnny and Roy heard a gunshot, and the two paramedics exchanged worried glances. How could they help a gunshot victim without their equipment? Or would their services even be needed?
"Sonofa-"
Roy grabbed the back of his partner's collar. "Get down, Johnny! We can't go in until we know the scene is secure."
"We're not on shift," Johnny retorted.
"And we're not cops, either."
Johnny stared at his partner, the older man's words finally penetrating his rattled brain. He knew Roy was right, but the thought of having to tell Marco that his sister was dead made him sick.
Movement from the front door caught their attention.
"Oh, shit!" Johnny cursed, seeing Lieutenant Crockett carrying the bloody, limp body of Lexi in his arms.
Both men rushed to her aid, horrified by her appearance. Crockett gently laid her on the ground then began barking orders. "Roy, take care of her. Johnny, I need you inside with me."
Johnny knew that meant there was another victim inside the residence, and he knew that meant he would be asked to treat Gomez. His brain had already made the shift into paramedic mode. He had treated criminals before, not caring about their guilt or innocence. He was neither judge nor jury; he was a fireman/paramedic and had taken an oath to serve all the citizens of Los Angeles County.
He quickly followed Crockett back through the front door, finding Gomez lying still on the floor.
"I didn't have a chance to check him yet," Crockett said, withdrawing his neatly folded handkerchief from his pocket and shaking it open.
Johnny kneeled down beside his patient, checking for a carotid pulse. Finding none, he turned his attention back to Crockett, surprised by what he was seeing.
"You're hurt."
The detective, who had wrapped the handkerchief around his injured hand, removed the small revolver from the inside pocket of his jacket and began carefully wiping it down with the edge of his coat.
Johnny's mouth hung agape. Was Crockett doing what he thought he was doing?
"Is he dead?" Crockett asked.
"Du-uh… yea… um, what are ya doin'," the paramedic asked, slowly standing up.
Lieutenant Crockett looked up at the slender medic. "We call this a throw down gun. Serial number has been filed off. It can't be traced back to anyone." He finished removing the prints both he and Lexi had left behind then looked up at his friend. "Forget what you're seein' here, Gage," he said, carrying the revolver over to where Gomez' body lay. "Go back and help Roy."
"I need to check your hand."
"I'll be alright, once the bleeding stops. Besides…" He hesitated, spying the broken shards of glass on the floor in front of the sink. "I cut it on that broken glass over there," he said, waving his injured hand toward the remnants of the broken beer bottle. "It's got my blood on it."
Johnny glanced at the floor, seeing no trace of blood. He had no idea how Crockett had been injured, but he knew it wasn't from the broken beer bottle. "The glass looks clean to me."
"Yea… well… It won't be for long," the lieutenant said.
Johnny watched as the officer kneeled down beside the body of Ricardo Gomez. If he was right, he needed to turn his face away quickly, or he might be a witness to evidence tampering. Johnny turned to leave, but just as he reached the door, he heard the lieutenant call out his name.
Hey, Gage?"
Johnny turned around, reluctantly.
"I'm not a bad cop, man… I'm really not. But what that young woman… and many others like her have endured at the hands of this creep is beyond anything either one of us could ever comprehend. I don't want her to have to go through any more hell because of this monster. The investigation of Ricardo Gomez is just getting started, and the evidence will show that I took him out because he was a threat to Alexia Lopez' life… and mine."
Johnny stared into Crockett's dark eyes. "Sounds like the good guys finally won with this one," he said, nodding in the direction of the lifeless body.
Crockett looked down at the man whose life he had ended… whose reign of terror had finally come to an end. "It took far too long… too many lives lost." He carefully wrapped the still warm fingers of Ricardo Gomez around the grip of the revolver, then stood up, his task complete. "He was a cold- blooded killer, John. I don't know how many lives he's taken, but thanks to the bravery of Lexi… I know where the bodies are hidden."
Johnny's eyes widened. "Bodies?"
Crockett removed the handkerchief from his injured hand, allowing the blood to flow towards his wrists. He took a step towards the broken glass. "Long story, but yes… bodies."
"Damn, I knew he was evil but… I had no idea," he said, running a hand through his mussed-up hair. "I should go help Roy," he explained, quickly diverting his gaze when Crockett smeared his own blood onto the largest shard of glass.
"Gage, I really need a favor, man."
"Um, 'kay," Johnny replied.
"See if you can get her ER doctor to refuse to let her be questioned… At least not until I have a chance to talk to her first."
Johnny knitted his eyebrows together in confusion. "Okay, but aren't you the detective in charge?"
"Officer-involved shooting, Gage. California Bureau of Investigation is going to be questioning me for a while… probably confiscate my weapon, too. I won't be able to officially interview her, but I don't want her confessing to something she didn't do, ya know?"
Johnny nodded his agreement. "Lemme go help Roy… I need to see if Chet and Cap are still waiting at the end of the driveway," he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "We need to get her to the hospital."
"Yea, and I need to call this in." Crockett rewrapped his injury as they exited the residence that was now a crime scene. "Please, John…"
"No worries, Crockett. I didn't see a thing."
Johnny scurried over to the place where Roy was kneeling beside Lexi. When Roy's blue eyes met his questioningly, Johnny merely shook his head. "Dead… Crockett had to take him out before he killed her."
Roy looked back down at their semi-conscious victim. "He really did a number on her. She's trying to come around, but I don't have anything to work with," he replied, his hand splayed open.
"I'm gonna go get Chet so we can get her to Rampart."
Crockett opened the driver's door, pulled his keys from the ignition, and stepped around to the trunk. "Blanket's back here." He pulled out the folded gray item and tossed it to Roy, then headed back to notify dispatch that he needed the coroner and his supervisor.
Roy nodded, standing up to unfold the blanket. "Thanks… She's got to be cold."
E!
Mike hung up the pay phone after talking with Marco. There still hadn't been any news on Lexi. He looked back at the little boy who was eating a corndog and sipping his soda, his legs swinging happily beneath the picnic table. Pasting a smile on his face, he walked back over and took a seat.
"About done there, Champ?"
The little boy looked up quizzically. "My name's not Champ."
"No, but I think you are a champion, Antonio, so I'm going to call you Champ."
"What's it mean?" Antonio asked, wiping his mouth with the paper napkin before wadding it up and putting it back inside the white paper takeout bag.
"Well, it means you're the best at something," the engineer explained. "I think you're the best at monkey bars, and…" Mike thought for a moment. "And I think you are the best five-year-old boy I've ever met."
Antonio grinned from ear to ear. "You really think so? You really think I'm good?" He asked excitedly.
"Of course, I do. Don't you think you're good?"
A shadow crossed the youngster's face. "My Momma thinks I'm bad. She's mad at me all the time."
Mike felt his chest tighten. Once again, Lexi was destroying her most precious gift. "Well, Champ… I think your Momma might be having what we call a relapse. That's when people who've been sick but got better… well, their sickness comes back."
"She's been stayin' with Aunt Bri for a long time. Is she gonna go away to the hospital again?"
"She might… but if she does, just know that it has nothing to do with you. She loves you very much."
The little boy tilted his head to one side, obviously deep in thought. "I love my Momma… but sometimes… I just don't like her very much."
Mike let the child's words sink into his heart. He pressed his lips together for a moment, then reached out and rubbed the little boy's head playfully. "Sometimes I feel that way too. It's okay to feel what you feel. It isn't right or wrong."
The child, his belly fully satiated, yawned in response.
Mike grinned. "I have an idea. Why don't we go back to my place and take a nap? We've had a busy morning."
"Yea… we've been workin' hard," the tyke said with a serious expression on his face.
Mike picked the child up, resting him on his shoulders and the two made their way back to his truck. "Alright, down ya go," he said, swinging the child down and positioning him in the passenger's seat.
The trip to his apartment was a short one, but Antonio struggled to stay awake. When they arrived at his apartment, he parked near the mailbox center. He hadn't checked his mail in a couple of days. He laughed at the child whose head was lolling from side to side.
"Hey, Champ, let me get my mail and I'll carry you upstairs, okay?"
"M'kay," he mumbled, quickly drifting off.
After collecting his mail, Mike returned to the passenger's door of his vehicle and scooped Antonio into his arms. He carried the child up the stairs and somehow managed to fish his keys out of his pocket and open the door without his young charge ever moving a muscle. The morning had obviously made the youngster tired, and the addition of a full belly further relaxed him. Mike dropped his keys and mail onto his desk then carried his young charge back to his bedroom, gently laying him down on the bed. He removed Antonio's shoes then pulled a blanket up to his chin. Antonio released a deep breath drifting farther into blissful sleep.
For several moments, Mike simply stood in the doorway staring as the child slept. He wondered if Antonio had been spending sleepless nights worried about his mother. When he was confident that the child was deeply sleeping, he returned to his kitchen. He poured himself a glass of iced tea, pulled open the drawer of his deck and removed his checkbook. It was time to pay his monthly bills.
One by one, Mike sorted through his bills, writing out each check in clear script. He snickered briefly thinking about how Chet always seemed to mock him about being meticulous with the engine. Mike was just as meticulous about his finances. Every bill was paid on time and logged into his checkbook – which was also carefully maintained and balanced. He knew this was a trait that would serve him well when he moved up in the department. He had planned on one day being a captain for the Fire Service. It was something he was both anticipating and a little apprehensive about. He didn't want to lose the special bond his current shift had, but he knew that one day they would all be advancing. Heck, Chet might even pass the engineers exam, at some point. That thought brought' a slight smirk to his face as he fumbled through a few sales circulars. The Christmas season sure had a way of increasing the volume in his mailbox.
When he got to the last item, his heart leaped into his throat. There was no return address, but the handwriting was unmistakable. It was from Lexi. He held it in his hands briefly, then tossed it into the wastebasket beside his desk. He was through with her. There was nothing she could have written that he needed to read.
He pulled open another drawer and removed a book of stamps. He licked them, placing them on the upper right corner of each bill, another thing that he was conscientious about. He never left anything to chance or left a task halfway complete. He despised a stamp on a letter that was crooked. He glanced back into the wastebasket at the letter that lay haphazardly in the trash. The stamp on the envelope had been carefully positioned, just the way he positioned his. The handwriting was neat, and the margins were exact. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the beckoning envelope. If he didn't read the letter, it would eat at him the rest of his life.
"Ahh, damn you, Lex," he groused, retrieving the envelope, and opening it up. He removed the lined paper and began to read.
'My Dearest Michael,
If you are reading this, then I am either in jail or dead. Neither of those options are what I wanted, and I don't expect you to understand. This was something that I wanted to share with you many times, but knew that the only way to carry out my plan was to do it alone.
I fell in love with you not long after we met. I'm still amazed that you rescued me from the streets and gave me a chance to get to know my son. It broke my heart that you paid such a heavy price for my freedom. Now I'm paying a heavy price for Antonio's freedom.
I returned to Ricardo, not to work for him, but to kill him. It's the only way that I can be assured that he will never hurt Antonio or any member of my family. I've seen him kill before. I know what he's capable of. I can't live with that fear and I certainly can't live with myself if he hurts my precious son in retaliation for my leaving.
I had to break away from you and my family in order to do what had to be done. If I kill Ricardo, then I will go to prison for the rest of my life. If he kills me, then he will have no reason to harm my family. He will simply move on with his life. I know you are wondering why I didn't go to the police. The legal system treats me like a criminal which I guess I am. Nothing I say is believed because I'm just a piece of trash. No one would believe the stories I could tell them and no one but you ever even tried to help me. You are the only person outside my family that ever saw anything good in me.
I'm writing Mr. Crockett a letter letting him know everything I know about Ricardo and what he's done. I will include the place where the bodies are buried. He's a killer, Michael, and I can't let him kill the people I love. Bri was able to escape because he had nothing to hold over her. Her baby was the only family she had, and Ricardo made sure he took that away. She has nothing else he can take. But I do, and I will gladly lay down my life for them and for you.
I don't expect you to ever forgive me and I know I will never see you again. I simply couldn't leave this world without somehow letting you know how much I appreciate the chance you gave me to say goodbye to my family, to say hello and goodbye to my Antonio, and to let you know that you hold a place in my heart that I never thought could be filled. I truly do love you, Michael Stoker. I love you with all my heart. I hope you will find a good woman who will love you and make you happy. I've seen you with Antonio and I know what a great husband and father you are going to be one day. You're one of the best men this world has ever known. Please keep my brother safe on shift, and if you ever have a spare afternoon, would you mind taking Antonio to another Dodgers game? That was the most fun he and I ever had together. I'm glad he will have at least one good memory of me. He adores you so much and you are such a good influence on him. I trust you with him, Michael. And trust is something that doesn't come easily for me.
Well, I've rambled on long enough. I guess I really don't want to say the words, but it's time. I know you can't forgive me. I just hope you can somehow understand why I felt like I had to do this.
Okay, I've put it off long enough. I love you, Michael Stoker. Goodbye.
Mike dried his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers as his breath hitched. "Ohmygod, Lexi… What've you done?"
E!
Chet pulled his van up to the emergency entrance at Rampart. Roy and Johnny opened the back doors and Roy scooped Lexi up in a fireman's carry, heading for the doors. Johnny was a few steps ahead of him, retrieving a gurney and helping his partner position their patient on it just as Dixie rounded the corner.
"What's going on?" the head nurse asked, not recognizing the young woman mumbling incoherently on the stretcher.
"Is Doc on shift?" Johnny questioned, just as the director of emergency medicine rounded the corner, his hands in the pockets of his lab coat.
"What've you got," the doctor asked, pulling his stethoscope from his coat pocket. After a brief explanation that she had been assaulted and her assailant had been killed by Lieutenant Crockett, Dr. Brackett immediately began barking orders.
"Which treatment room is available, Dix?" he asked, giving his patient a quick assessment.
"Two and 3 are both ready," the pretty nurse responded, her smoky voice as professional as ever.
"You fellas get her in treatment room 2. Dix, I want Malcolm down here STAT for x-rays. I also want a complete blood work-up including toxicology."
As the paramedics ushered her into the exam room, Johnny pulled Dr. Brackett off to the side. "Doc, um… this is gonna sound crazy but… Lieutenant Crockett really needs you to deny access to her by anyone from law enforcement. He doesn't want her questioned until after he talks to her… not even her family."
Dr. Brackett's blue eyes glanced back at his battered patient then returned his gaze at Johnny. He crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm afraid to ask why, but she's in no condition to be questioned about anything anyway."
"Good… good," Johnny replied, returning to Lexi's side to offer whatever assistance he could. Roy was adjusting a nasal cannula for oxygen while Dixie was busy drawing blood and starting an IV. Johnny grabbed a bottle of saline solution and gauze and began cleaning her wounds. He noticed how she flinched each time he touched her and knew that it was more than just the pain from her wounds. His questioning eyes went to his supervisor who was checking her pupillary response.
Brackett placed his penlight back into his pocket and saw the questioning look on Johnny's face. "She's in shock and probably has some facial fractures. Probable concussion, too. "Dixie, she is not allowed any visitors without my express permission, even when we move her to the floor. And I mean nobody."
"Yes, Kel."
Johnny offered his superior a brief nod of appreciation. "I'm gonna go call Marco," he said, heading for the door. He blew out his breath, as he walked toward the bank of payphones. This was a call he was glad he was getting to make.
"How is she?" Hank asked, handing his junior medic a dime to make the call.
Johnny held the receiver pinned between his ear and his shoulder, reminiscent of how he normally handled the biophone. He looked at his captain and then over to his shiftmate. He could tell that both men were anxious for news.
"She's hurt pretty bad, but I think she's gonna be a'right," he replied, slipping the dime into the coin slot. "In fact, I think everything is going to be a'right."
