The Darker Hours Page 7

  Boyce turned to look at him. “Mr. Santos,” she began.

  “Oh no. Please, call me Gabe.”

  She nodded, “Okay Gabe. I’ve been a police officer a long time. I’ve found that under extreme circumstances, almost all of us have a dark side. A dangerous side. He is no different.”

  He was looking over her shoulder.

  She twisted to look, and Jackson came up beside them.

  “Hey, who wants to go to a party?”

  17

  “Who’s having a party?” Nacho said, coming over from where he was washing glasses.

  “You are interrupting,” Boyce said to Jackson.

  “Sorry,” Jackson said. He stuck his hand out at Gabe. “I’m Jackson.”

  Gabe took it and shook. “Gabriel Santos,” he said with a smile. Not sure of the situation here.

  “Who’s having a party?” Nacho said.

  “Maureen,” Jackson said. “Or, actually, Captain Rand is having a party for Maureen’s birthday.”

  “Tonight?” Nacho said.

  “No. Tomorrow at four. Captain Rand has secured the River Belle for the night. Live band, cash bar, free food."

  “You ever been to Pleasant Lake?” Boyce said to Gabe.

  “You know, I never have,” he said. “Where is it?”

  Jackson started to respond. Boyce poked him to shut him up. “It’s up north. The River Belle is a two-story party boat that hires out for weddings and parties and stuff. Captain Rand is the guy that pilots it. Why don’t you come, it’ll be a lot of fun.”

  “I’m supposed to work tomorrow night,” said Nacho woefully.

  “That’s why I’m here,” Jackson said. “I’m supposed to talk Blackhawk and Elena into closing the club tomorrow. Family emergency.”

  “Good luck with that,” Nacho said.

  The band struck a few chords then jumped into what had become Elena’s intro music. She came sweeping down the stairs, across the room and onto the bandstand. She launched into her opening song and she had all the attention.

  Gabe reached across Jackson and took Boyce’s hand.

  “Let’s dance,” he said above the music. Boyce slid off her stool and followed him onto the floor, which was already filling up.

  Nacho leaned across the bar so Jackson could hear him. “You are a day late and a dollar short mi amigo.”

  “I don’t dance,” Jackson said. “I only have one foot.”

  Nacho grinned at him and moved down the bar to fill the sudden influx of drink orders.

  Two stools down a young attractive woman was looking at Jackson with a smile and a speculative look.

  Jackson held his prosthetic up. “I only have one foot,” he shouted above the music.

  Blackhawk materialized beside him and sat on the stool Boyce had vacated. He looked at Jackson, then looked at the young woman Jackson was shouting at. She had quickly turned away.

  “That is without question the worst pick-up line I’ve ever heard,” Blackhawk said. Blackhawk looked across the dance floor. “Now that’s a nice-looking couple,” he said. “Good dancers.”

  Jackson looked at Boyce and Gabe as he twirled her around the floor.

  “Fuck you,” he said. “So Captain Rand is throwing a party for Maureen’s birthday tomorrow on the River Belle. He would really like for you and Elena to come.”

  “Who’s Maureen?”

  “You’ve met her. She manages the marina.”

  “Oh, yeah. Elena performs tomorrow night.”

  “Yeah, I know. But I told Rand I’d invite you.”

  “Hmmm,” Blackhawk said. “Elena would probably enjoy it. Can we invite anyone we want?”

  Jackson followed Blackhawk’s gaze out onto the dance floor where Gabe was moving Boyce effortlessly across the floor.

  “You really are an asshole,” Jackson said.

  18

  As she waited, she couldn’t understand how she had let herself be talked into this. She checked her hair in the mirror for the fourth time. She felt like a damned schoolgirl on her first date. Finally, the doorbell rang, and Gabe was standing there.

  He looked her up and down. “Girl, you are looking good,” he said with a broad smile. She almost blushed.

  “Come on in,” she said. “I have to get my purse.” She moved back into her condo and he followed.

  “I’m not sure why I was invited, I don’t think I even know these people, Captain Rand and Maureen. Jackson says I’ve met them, but I don’t remember.”

  “Elena wanted me to go,” Gabe said. “And I sure as heck don’t know these people. But I’m glad you decided to go; I didn’t want to be a fifth wheel.”

  Boyce checked her makeup in the mirror one last time. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  They were at the lake in under an hour. By the time they were carted down the hill from the marina parking lot and stepped aboard the River Belle they were blessed with one of God’s special Arizona evenings. The sun was kissing the far west mountains and turning the sky into a rosy hue. The slight breeze was warm and pleasant. The party was starting, and the din was lively and festive.

  They were escorted aboard by a young pretty girl in a jaunty sailor’s cap, and a crisp white blouse. She wore a pair of very short white shorts that were definitely not Navy regulation and were filled to perfection. She pointed them to the bar. The band was playing, and a space had been cleared in the middle of the deck for dancing.

  As they slowly moved through the crowd, Boyce looked around but didn’t see anyone she knew.

  “Let’s go up top,” she said to Gabe. Without waiting, she moved past the crowd at the bar to the stern deck. The staircase was outside on the stern and on the port side of the deck. She started up and Gabe followed. As soon as her head cleared the top deck, she saw Eddie. He was talking to a young man and woman and Boyce was pretty certain the guy was Eddie’s nephew: the cop from Cottonwood who had been arrested for murder and whom Jackson had helped clear. Behind Eddie and closer to the bow end of the upper deck she saw Jackson and Blackhawk and Elena. There was a very attractive dark-haired woman standing beside Jackson. She had her hand on his arm.

  Elena saw them at the same time and waved. The small group turned to look, and Boyce felt a self-conscious flush wash over her. Elena was waving them over. Gabe was a lot more comfortable in the social setting. He surged ahead, taking her arm and pulling her along. Eddie and his group moved to join them.

  “You made it,” Elena grinned, moving to hug Gabe and then Boyce.

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” Gabe said, his eyes on the dark-haired girl. “You all probably know each other, my name’s Gabe. Gabe Sanchez.”

  “Gabe is interviewing me for his radio show,” Elena said.

  “Podcast,” Gabe said.

  “Let me do the introductions, make it simpler,” Jackson said. He indicated Eddie. “This handsome brute is my neighbor Eddie. He lives right over there.” He turned and pointed toward the area of the marina that Eddie’s River Runner rested in. He continued, “This young fellow is Eddie’s nephew Billy.” Jackson frowned. “Still a policeman in Cottonwood?”

  “He’s a sergeant now,” the girl said, beaming.

  “And this pretty girl is my new niece, Lucy,” Eddie said. “They just got married. When Maureen invited me to the party I asked if my family could come down.”

  “Well, congratulations,” Jackson said. “And this,” he said turning to the dark-haired girl, “is Lucy’s sister, Dahlia.” He turned to Boyce. “Dahlia, this is Detective Boyce of the Phoenix Police Department. The best bullet-proof vest a man could ask for.”

  Boyce put her hand out to Dahlia. “I’m sorry. Jackson always thinks he’s funny. We met in Cottonwood. How is your daughter?”

  “Counseling helped. She’s pretty well back to being a normal teenager, if there is such a thing.”

  “What happened to your daughter?” Gabe asked. There was an awkward silence. He looked around. “I’m sorry. I’m a journalist. I’m just naturally curious.
”

  Blackhawk cleared his throat. “This is an old story we don’t want dredged up again,” he said to Gabe with emphasis on the last. “But a while back there was a group of homegrown terrorists that were planting bombs up north. Jackson pissed them off, so they came after him and Meghan,” he nodded at Dahlia, “Dahlia’s daughter, was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “But she’s okay?” Gabe said to Dahlia. “Your daughter’s okay?”

  “They kidnapped both Jackson and Meghan,” Blackhawk continued, “but Jackson managed to get her to safety.” Dahlia hugged Jackson’s arm.

  Gabe was looking at Jackson, clearly intrigued. “What happened to the terrorists?”

  Jackson shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the way the conversation had gone.

  “They disappeared,” Blackhawk said.

  “Never to be heard from again,” Billy Bragg said with a wry smile.

  “Disappeared?” Gabe said, looking at Boyce.

  “Enough,” Elena broke in. “We all know each other now, let’s go get a drink and let’s go dancing!”

  “Good idea,” Gabe said taking Boyce’s arm. Boyce watched as Jackson took Dahlia’s arm and led her across the top deck toward the stairs.

  The band was playing old rock and roll standards and the floor was filled. Captain Rand blasted two toots on the ship’s horn and the ship shuddered as he pulled it gently away from the dock. In moments it was moving out to the open lake. Boyce moved to the bar and found herself next to Dahlia and Jackson.

  “Boy, they can dance, can’t they,” Dahlia said.

  Boyce looked over her shoulder. Gabe and Elena were putting on a clinic.

  “Ginger and Fred,” Jackson said.

  “Who?” Dahlia said.

  Boyce felt just a little smug. Even she knew who Ginger and Fred were.

  19

  Captain Rand took the big boat at a very stately speed all the way to the end of the lake. After the sun was down and the only light was from the moon and the soft romantic glow of the boat lights, Boyce found herself sitting at a round table on the top deck with Blackhawk, Jackson, Dahlia, and Eddie. Gabe and Elena were still dancing. The newlyweds, Billy and Lucy, were cuddled on the stern watching the rolling phosphorescent wake in the moonlight.

  “So sorry about Captain Mendoza’s niece,” Blackhawk said softly.

  “What happened to the captain’s niece?” Eddie said.

  Jackson was watching Boyce. No one said anything and it took Boyce a few seconds before she said, “The captain’s niece, Livvy, was shot in a drive-by shooting. She and another kid died. Several were wounded. Olivia Cromwell was her name. She was only seventeen years old and was the daughter of the captain’s youngest sister.”

  “That’s awful,” Dahlia said. “I think I saw something like that on the news. Except they didn’t say anything about your captain.”

  “I heard there was another drive-by,” Jackson said.

  Boyce nodded, then she looked around. “Anybody got a cigarette?”

  They all shook their heads.

  Boyce shrugged, “Doesn’t matter. I’m trying to quit anyway.” She looked out over the water toward the moon. Her face was soft in the light. “Same as Livvy,” she said. “Bunch of kids hanging at a burger joint close to their school and the assholes drove by shooting everything in sight. Three kids killed.”

  “I heard a cop was killed,” Blackhawk said.

  Boyce was silent a moment. “That came later. detective name of Dino DiMartini.”

  “What do you mean, later?” Jackson said.

  Boyce shook her head. “After the initial shooting, DiMartini, who was called to the scene, was shot in the head as we were standing in the parking lot of the burger joint.” She paused, “He was targeted.”

  “That doesn’t make a lot of sense,” Blackhawk said. He looked at Jackson.

  “We?” Jackson said. “You were there?”

  Boyce nodded.

  Jackson looked at Blackhawk. “No, that doesn’t make a lot of sense,” he said. He turned back to Boyce. “They drive-by and shoot the kids, then they shoot a cop who shows up later? Why him?”

  “I don’t know,” Boyce said. She was looking around, trying to find someone who was smoking. “The kids were shot with an AR automatic rifle. DiMartini was shot with a 7mm hunting rifle. The shooter came in behind a Walgreens across the street, lined up the rifle across the hood of the car and waited for the shot.”

  “And you were there?” Dahlia said.

  “Standing right next to him,” Boyce said.

  “But you didn’t see the shooter?” Jackson said.

  Boyce shook her head.

  “Tell me about DiMartini,” Jackson said. “Why him? You’ve been thinking about this for a while, what are you thinking?”

  Boyce’s chin dropped onto her chest. She was beginning to feel tired. “DiMartini was working on Livvy’s shooting. There were distinct similarities between the two shootings. Same assholes did them both.”

  “DiMartini knew something you didn’t?” Jackson said.

  “Not hard to do,” Boyce said.

  “Livvy’s shooting seemed to be random,” Jackson said. “This burger joint shooting not so much.”

  “Which means Livvy’s wasn’t either,” Blackhawk said.

  “Do you think they shot the kids to draw DiMartini in?” Jackson said.

  “That’s awful,” Dahlia said.

  “The world is awful,” Eddie said, speaking for the first time.

  “Neither one was random,” Blackhawk said. “Find out what DiMartini knew and you’ll find out why they killed those kids.”

  Everyone was silent for a long moment. The big boat had made a sweeping turn and was heading back. The breeze that had been in their faces was now behind them and the speed of the boat made it seem as there was no breeze at all.

  “Were you and DiMartini assigned to Livvy’s shooting?” Jackson said.

  “DiMartini was dayshift Homicide. But he came to the scene as soon as he heard of it. I’m assigned to Gangs, not Homicide. But I got a call from the scene in the middle of the night because they found a picture of me in her pocket. They hadn’t connected her to the captain yet. Different names.”

  “You knew her?” Dahlia said.

  “They were close,” Jackson said to save Boyce from having to.

  “Who else besides DiMartini was assigned Livvy’s shooting.”

  “Bennett and DiMartini were directly assigned. There were lots of us working on it. It was like a family member for a lot of us.”

  “Good detectives?” Jackson said.

  “Bennett and DiMartini? Yeah, they both are, or were, or whatever. Old school.”

  “Have you talked to Bennett?”

  “Not in depth. He’s on my list.”

  “I’ve got a question?” Blackhawk said.

  Boyce looked up at him.

  “Where were you when DiMartini was shot?”

  “Like I said, I was there.”

  “We know,” Jackson said. “But, exactly where. Across the parking lot. Within ten feet. Twenty feet?”

  “Next to him,” she said. She reached out a hand and put it on Dahlia’s shoulder. “Close as this.”

  “Was he standing still?”

  She thought a moment. “No, he was moving.”

  “Toward you or away from you.”

  She cocked her head at him. “If it matters, he was moving to me. I think he was about to say something.”

  She watched Jackson and Blackhawk look at each other.

  Jackson pushed back from the table. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

  Boyce and Dahlia watched him walk away. At the same time, they looked at each other. Embarrassed, they turned their eyes to the moon-shimmering lake.

  They sat in silence for a few minutes, then Jackson returned. He handed Boyce a filtered cigarette and a pack of matches.

  Boyce looked at him. She took them, put the cigarette between her lips
and lit it. She took a deep drag and blew the smoke toward the stern. Dahlia was watching her, then looked at Jackson.

  “Damn things will kill you,” Eddie said. “But sometimes it just feels right.”

  20

  Boyce sat at her desk feeling guilty, waiting for her boss, Tubner, or Mendoza or someone else to bust her for being in while she was on administrative leave. When the big boat had docked last night, it still took a while to tear Gabe away from the party. Like trying to get a pony away from the oat bucket. She regretted she hadn’t driven herself. At least, by the time they got to her door it was too late for Gabe to come in. He didn’t think so, but she did.

  She kicked her computer awake and searched for the notes on the Burger King shootings. With DiMartini’s murder, the shootings were high-profile and Assistant Chief Deke Sawyer had stepped into the media spotlight. Everyone, Boyce included, had been interrogated. All the info had been gathered into the computerized murder book.

  There was a full profile of DiMartini, including a photo that had to be ten years old. He had actually been a sweet-faced young kid at the time. She skipped through that, intending to come back later. She pulled up the kids that had died in both of the drive-bys. She glanced through Livvy’s profile but saw nothing new. She turned to the boy, Wade Huang.

  His yearbook photo was in the file. His parents were Nguyen and Phan Huang. They were immigrant Vietnamese who had made their way to the United States just before Wade was born. It was at a time before the relationship with Vietnam and the US had repaired itself. They had been very young when they had come over. They had married and now they owned an Asian restaurant, called the Half Moon. It was located at the corner of 32nd Street and Shea Boulevard. The boy, Wade, was on the track team and was a mediocre student.

  She went on to the Burger King victims. Richard Dickson, a junior, both parents, Steve and Susan, were doctors. One worked across the street from the shooting at the Abrazos hospital. The other worked at Scottsdale HealthCare. Richard was the treasurer of his class. His yearbook photo showed a small kid with a big smile and black rimmed glasses.