Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Jack was on his phone before he started the car, calling his team directly instead of putting anything on the radio.
First responders listen to police scanners.
Brett Callum had been working this county for years and he knew people.
If his name came across a frequency before we got there, he’d be gone before we hit the county line.
I sat in the passenger seat and watched the fields of rolling green go by out the window.
“Wade didn’t love her,” I said, breaking the silence. “Not really. I don’t think he’s capable of loving anyone but himself.”
“I’d agree with that,” Jack said.
“Her need for love and kindness would have made her another of his victims. She still doesn’t know the man he really was.”
“She will once this story breaks in the media,” Jack said.
I tapped my fingers on the armrest absentmindedly.
“It’s hard to wrap my brain around,” I said. “We’re used to working for the dead. Bringing justice to those who don’t have a voice. And making sure in the end, someone pays for taking a life. But Brett killing Wade doesn’t necessarily make Wade the victim.”
I watched a horse farm go by, white fences and green pasture, horses running along the pasture’s edge.
“He built a business out of people’s shame and their vulnerability.
I hate this case. The real victims are those who are left behind.
Zoe Brown who couldn’t figure out why she was having sex with another man when she loved her husband, Matt being a decent man who loves his wife and was willing to put the marriage back together.
Paige being used for her prescription pad.
And then there’s the black book filled with women who were paying a man to keep their shame a secret. ”
“Wade Rivers got a clean exit and never had to face consequences,” Jack said. “But he still got the death penalty.”
“There’s that at least.” I shifted in my seat.
“As far as Brianna goes, he found a veterinarian with prescribing authority and an abusive marriage and he saw an opportunity. The same compounds he was already using exist in veterinary medicine under different labels, accessible through her clinic without a human pharmacy trail. He was grooming her the same way he groomed everyone else. The baby would’ve been leverage or it would’ve been irrelevant. ”
Jack didn’t say anything. He just drove.
We pulled into the sheriff’s office lot and the bullpen was already filling up. Jack had made his calls and people had moved.
Daniels was against the back wall with her arms crossed.
Derby had found a chair. Plank and Wachowski stood near the door close enough that their shoulders were almost touching.
The captain was off to the side by the whiteboard.
Cole had come in early for the occasion, and there were other deputies and detectives scattered around.
I knew most of their names. Others I didn’t.
But they all knew the horrors of this case.
And they all knew that Brett Callum had killed a man in cold blood and then killed his wife’s unborn child. He’d be going down for that as well.
I leaned against the far wall.
Jack stood at the front and waited until it went quiet.
“We have our suspect,” he said. “Brett Callum. Firefighter at King George Proper, currently on shift. Former Marine, two tours, communications and systems specialist.” He paused a beat.
“He murdered Wade Rivers, and after he walked his wife out of that building he beat her so badly she miscarried their baby. He’s been sending her messages for three days telling her he’s watching her. ”
Nobody said anything.
“We’re going to make an arrest today, and I want it to be a big one,” Jack said. “We’re going to show up at Fire Station 12 with lights blazing, and I want everyone to know we’re coming and why we’re there. Those sworn to protect don’t get to take the easy way out when they’ve killed two people.”
There were grunts of acknowledgment around the bullpen and I could feel the anticipation building.
“I want Brett to feel the consequences of his actions, and I want his chief to see how scrubbing his record clean of the domestic disputes helped lead to this outcome.
“We’ve got civilians and crowds that are going to be around. Their safety has to come first, so as a precaution I want two units to head out now and start setting up barricades a block in each direction of the firehouse. Keep the people back.”
Two deputies slipped out of the room to follow orders.
“Let’s make this a fast and clean arrest. Don’t give anyone any internet fodder. Plank, you get the honor of putting the cuffs on him and bringing him in. And I want to thank Wachowski, Daniels and Derby for putting in the midnight oil and breaking this case wide open. Now let’s go get this guy.”
There were several whoops of excitement as the bullpen cleared out, and I fell into step beside Jack as we made our way back to the Tahoe.
“Inspired speech,” I told him. “Very Captain America.”
“Shut up,” he said, but he wanted to smile. I could see it.
We passed the barricades a block away from Fire Station 12 just past noon.
I could smell the grill before I could see the station, and Toby Keith playing over loudspeakers loud enough to hear from inside the car.
The firemen were making the most of the holiday before they had to go man the big fireworks display tonight.
Jack hit the lights and the siren and the sound punched through the car.
Up ahead the lead units were already pulling up to the station, and I could see the firefighters outside start to gather, looking for the emergency.
Jack took the turn fast and I grabbed the door handle.
The radio was going nonstop—units calling in their positions, everyone moving at once.
Through the windshield I watched them converge on us—one reaching for his radio, another dropping his drink, the whole group moving toward the bay to see what was happening.
Jack was out of the Tahoe before we stopped all the way. “All units hold position,” he said into the radio. “Nobody goes in yet.”
Jack was out of the car and moving before I had my door open. I stayed in position behind the Tahoe door out of precaution. I knew better than to get in the way of what was about to go down. The fire guys had clustered at the bay entrance and Jack went straight through them without breaking stride.
“Brett Callum,” he said to the first man he reached. “Where is he?”
The guy shrugged. “He was here a minute ago.”
Jack was already moving. The fire chief stepped out of the side office with his phone in his hand and Jack didn’t even slow down.
“You and I are going to talk,” Jack said, not stopping. “After.”
A loud clang echoed through the firehouse, making me jump and a couple of the deputies around me grab their weapons.
A heavy tool cabinet lay on its side, tools scattering and bouncing on the concrete.
And then I saw Brett Callum like a blur from the corner of my eye, running out the side of the station house and toward a neighborhood.
He had maybe forty yards on Jack when Jack took off at a sprint after him. Jack’s deputies were trained well and immediately split off in different directions to cut him off, but it didn’t matter. Jack’s long stride easily caught up with Brett just as he went to launch himself over a fence.
Jack grabbed him by the back of the shirt and threw him to the ground. It was an incredible show of strength, but Brett was in good shape and launched off the ground at Jack swinging.
Jack dodged the blow and planted a thick fist in Brett’s gut. For Brianna, I thought. For the baby. For every different hospital she visited so no one would connect the dots.
Brett doubled over and Jack took him down onto the grass, knee in his back.
Plank was there in seconds with the cuffs.
“Brett Callum, you’re under arrest for two counts of murder,” Plank said. He snapped on the cuffs and then brought him to his feet.
“Two counts?” Brett said, his breathing labored. “What are you talking about?”
“For Wade Rivers and the unborn child your wife was carrying,” Jack said.
Brett spat and then jerked his shoulder, trying to dislodge himself from Plank’s grasp, but Plank didn’t budge.
“Wasn’t my kid,” he said.
“Doesn’t matter,” Jack said. “Murder is murder.”
They walked him back toward the fire station and the crowd who’d gathered there. Someone had forgotten to turn off the music and it was eerily loud in the quietness of the onlookers.
At the patrol car, just before Plank put a hand on his head to guide him in, Brett stopped.
“He ruined my life,” Brett said. “My marriage. He deserved what he got.”
“From where I’m standing,” Jack said. “You ruined your marriage the first time you beat your wife. Get him out of here.”
Plank guided him into the back of the patrol car and closed the door.
Jack found the fire chief and gave him a hard look. “I’ll have that word now.”
The fireworks started at nine.
The county had pulled out everything for the 250th.
Professional crew out of Richmond, music timed to the program, the square blocked off and packed from the courthouse steps all the way back to the fountain.
The Gothic courthouse rose up lit from below, the stonework going gold, the gargoyles crouched at every corner.
We found Doug and Kayla near the fountain.
She was a bright-eyed girl with a dark ponytail who’d had the presence of mind to bring a blanket.
Oscar had already taken the center of it and lay on his back in case anyone wanted to scratch his belly.
Jack had gotten another blanket out of his Tahoe, and he’d also had the presence of mind to pack snacks and drinks and a cooler.
I had a lot of skills, especially if you were bleeding in the middle of the street, but planning ahead for things like this wasn’t one of them.
Fortunately, Jack and I complemented each other well, and I got to just show up to things and know that it would all be taken care of.
“Oscar, stop begging,” I told him. “It’s unbecoming.”
He looked at me with wise eyes and then very defiantly lifted his paw to ask for a potato chip.
“Fine,” I said, giving him one. “But this is the last one. The salt isn’t good for you.”
“You two have plans for the weekend?” Jack asked Doug.
“Kayla’s going to come over tomorrow so we can run a campaign,” he said. “We can order pizza.”
“You think the delivery guy gets tired of delivering pizzas to our house?” I asked.
“Probably not,” Doug said. “I always tip him well.”
“My credit card has noticed,” Jack said dryly.
We watched families get settled as the sun started to go down. The air smelled of funnel cakes and burgers, and the cover band on the main stage was doing a pretty good rendition of “Uptown Funk.”
I leaned back against Jack, and he put his arms around me, placing his hand on my stomach. These were the moments that made all the others worth it.
The first firework lit the night sky, a warning shot for what was to come in brilliant flares of red and gold.
The crowd ahhed and let out a cheer.
“Oh,” Doug said, amplifying his voice over the noise. “I almost forgot to tell you with the whole murder thing going on. I got a message from Uncle Ben last night.”
I felt Jack tense behind me. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, he left it encrypted with Margot. He said he might be coming to visit soon.”
Doug’s attention went back to the fireworks, and I laid my head back against Jack’s shoulder.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said, kissing the top of my head. “Happy Fourth.”