Chapter Eleven
Chapter
Eleven
Chaos Strikes Again
Dutch
“You have got to be…fucking…kidding me,”
Dutch groused when his phone ringing woke them both the next morning, him on
his stomach, Georgie again curled into his back.
“Gluh,” she mumbled, pressing
closer as Dutch reached for the phone.
He saw on his bedside clock it was late morning, they’d
slept way in, it was after ten.
They should have set an alarm.
He grabbed his cell and didn’t know what to think when he
saw it said Eddie Calling.
“Shit,” he muttered.
“What?” she asked.
He twisted. She shifted.
He caught her sleep-cute eyes.
“Eddie.”
“Oh boy,” she said.
He took the call with a, “Yo.”
“I don’t even know what to say,” Eddie replied.
“You woke me up in bed with my woman,” Dutch told him.
“Then whatever it is, I best get to sayin’
it.” Eddie Chavez sounded amused.
“I’d be obliged,” Dutch returned, moving more, so he was up
in bed, back to the headboard, Georgie moving too, to stick close.
“Jessica Browbridge, I’m thinkin’
you know who I’m talkin’ about, strolled in bright
and early this morning, tweaked as all fuck, falling all over herself
with apologies, doing her best to impress on us just how very upset she was at
the time she falsely reported to police officers she was in the middle of an
attempted rape when her assailant became a killer and shot Khalon Stephens. She
shared effusively how much she liked her neighbors. They were nice. The wife
gave her Christmas cookies. The husband fixed her sink and switched out her
smoke detectors when one started acting up. The kids were always nice and
respectful.”
The more Eddie said about how the Stephenses
had looked after that woman, the more Dutch thought he was going to be sick.
“Instead,” Eddie continued, “she shares she was having one helluva tiff with her boyfriend who’d found out she was sleepin’ with some other guy. Stephens shows when this guy
is in the throes of bein’ seriously fuckin’ pissed
his piece is steppin’ out on him, so much so, he’s jackin’ her up and brandishing a weapon. Since he is, as
she put it, ‘not himself,’ he lost it when Stephens arrives. So Stephens takes
a bullet.”
“Holy shit,” Dutch whispered.
“Yeah.” Eddie did not whisper.
Georgie pressed closer.
He gave her his eyes.
When he did, she read them and hers got big.
“She gave us a name,” Eddie carried on. “And incidentally,
Hank and me are close when this is goin’ down, but
Hank’s on the phone with Lee, talkin’ about Lee and
Indy lookin’ after his and Roxie’s kids so Roxie and
him can hit Breckenridge to do some skiing, ’cause
they got whacked with a huge early snowfall last night, and they’re feelin’ some slope time and then some alone time. I
overhear Browbridge. Hank overhears her. Lee has
already filled both of us in that he and his boys are on the job and they know
where Carlyle Stephens is and what he saw. The detectives get a name.
Unsurprisingly there’s a mugshot. Hank texts that to Tack, and a judge is
called out of his bed early on a Saturday morning for a warrant.”
His heart racing, Dutch curled his hand around the back of
Georgie’s neck and brought her closer.
Eddie kept talking.
“Browbridge is now a font of
information and can share where he is. And as such, James ‘Jimmy D’ Dooenck was
picked up five minutes before I phoned you. He’s been charged with murder. And
as cooperative as she was, the minute the man was cuffed, she was charged with
false reporting and accessory.”
“Fucking A,” Dutch pushed out.
“Chaos strikes again,” Eddie said.
When he did, Dutch stared unseeing at Georgie.
“Now, as a cop, there is no way in fuck I’d advise a citizen
to charge into an uncertain situation. As a man, and the man I am, I get it,
and so does every cop I know. And I’ll tell you what, this case has been stickin’ in all of our throats. So you got our gratitude.
And the officers on this case are gonna push hard
neither of them get a deal. No matter that woman finally did the right thing,
she’s been lying for three months. And no matter what else they’re involved in,
and I suspect you know what I’m talkin’ about with
that too. But I’m gonna warn you, and I’ll do it
advising you warn Carlyle Stephens and his family, if they got good shit to
stop bad shit floating around the streets of Denver, they’ll probably both
swing deals.”
“Right,” Dutch grunted.
“Good work, Dutch,” Eddie said.
“Yeah.”
“Later, man.”
“Later.”
Eddie disconnected.
Dutch dropped his phone hand.
“What?” Georgie asked.
“Jessica came clean. They picked up Khalon’s killer this
morning.”
“What?” she cried, bouncing up to her knees, a
smile spreading on her face.
Seeing that, he started grinning.
“How did that happen so fast?” she asked.
“I don’t know. But I suspect it’s about something Vance said
to me.”
“What’s that?”
“Vance said people like this, the shit they’re tied up in,
don’t like mess or distractions. She made a mess. Chaos picked up Bronson and
he probably reported that to his superiors. It’s been a while since we’ve been
in the game, but we’ve proved, repeatedly, we get the job done and we don’t
fuck around. Eddie said she came in and she was tweaked. So my guess, they
served her up to serve up the killer, and in the meantime, they probably packed
up that warehouse and are currently setting up in Pueblo or something.”
“Well, whatever, has Carlyle confirmed this is the guy?”
Dutch nodded.
She threw herself at him to give him a hug.
He lifted and rolled as he returned it but did it so he
ended it with him on her and Georgie on her back.
“This is amazing, Dutch,” she said, beaming up at him.
“Yeah, it is.”
“Does Carlyle know?”
She asked that as his phone rang.
Since it was still in his hand which was at the end of his
arm that was around her, he pulled his arm from under her and looked at it.
It said Tack Calling.
“I’m about to find out.”
He kissed her quick and took the call.
“Yo,” he greeted.
“Yo, Dutch. Listen, Carlyle wants
to see his mom and sister. If you want in on that, you best get your ass up
here with them because Red and me don’t think he should wait. I also wanna make sure all is copacetic before we expose him. So
Chaos needs to roll out with an escort.”
“I’m in. Does he know the guy’s been arrested?”
“Eddie was talkin’ to you while
Hank was talkin’ to me.”
“How is he?”
A beat of silence then, “There’s relief, brother. But with
this obstacle out of the way, nothin’ left to hold
back grief. Get his mother here.”
“On it,” Dutch said.
“See you soon. Later.”
They disconnected and he looked to his girl.
“We gotta go. Carlyle wants his
mom and sister.”
She shoved him off before he could roll off and he got a
view of her ass as she scrambled out of bed while he pushed up on an elbow.
She did this bossing.
“This time, I’m on coffee and cat food. You in the bathroom
first. I’ll sort travel mugs. You just pour the coffee in while I get ready.
Then we’re outta here!”
The last two sentences were shouted from the hallway.
He only had a second to stare at the door.
But he took that second to let it settle in his woman was
safe and happy.
And the man who took Khalon Stephens from this world was
going to pay for it.
Then Dutch got out of bed.
“They’re right, Shizlayaya
is the shizla.”
Dutch looked from Georgiana—who, along with Carlyle’s little
sister, Christian, was trying on about seventeen pairs of Tyra’s shoes—to
Carlyle.
“Yup.”
Carlyle turned into him, and the way he did, his back was to
the room and Dutch was hidden.
“Man—” he started.
“You don’t have to say it,” Dutch told him quick and low.
Carlyle looked to his shoes.
Then back to Dutch. “You didn’t mess around.”
Dutch looked around him to Georgie, muttering, “I had help.
A lot of it.”
“Did they find yours? The guy that—”
Dutch again caught his gaze. “Yes.”
Carlyle aimed his eyes over Dutch’s head.
Dutch made a decision.
“Listen, Carlyle,” the kid looked back to him, “I wish I
could say this is closure and one step closer in a process to bein’ able to lock up the feelings that grip you so fuckin’
tight, you think they’re gonna choke the life right outta you. But there is no process. This is just another
day in a life without him.”
Carlyle looked back to his shoes.
“You steer clear of your mother and sister because he saw
you?” Dutch asked.
“Yeah,” Carlyle grunted.
“Okay then, that seals it.”
Carlyle lifted his head. “Seals what?”
“He’s not lost because you’re here. You’re gonna look after your mother and sister. You’re gonna become the man he made you. Him. In his image. He
carries on because he made a good kid who’s gonna
become a good man like he was.”
“That’s not enough.” His face froze. He cleared his throat.
And then he said, “I want him back.”
Dutch clapped him on the shoulder and held on, tight.
“You don’t get that, brother. But what you earned in this
mess is me. I know how this feels. And when those feelings creep out of that
box you put them in and grip you tight, you call me, and we’ll figure out some
way to get you past them.”
Dutch dropped his hand.
And Carlyle asked, “Why you doin’
this?”
“Because I’m the man my father made me.”
It hit him then and Dutch didn’t look away when the wet
shone bright in his eyes. He kept hold on Carlyle’s gaze when the first one
silently fell. And the next. And the ones after.
They stood that way, Carlyle’s back to the room, Dutch
giving him his attention, until Carlyle sniffed. He lifted his hands and rubbed
his face with the heels of his palms.
Then he took them away.
“I’da’ve liked to’ve
known your dad,” he said quietly.
“And I’d have liked to have known yours,” Dutch replied.
“Carlyle, Georgie’s gonna take me
shopping!” Christian shouted.
Carlyle sniffed again, muttered, “Definitely the shizla,” lifted his chin to Dutch and turned. “Girl, you
don’t need more shoes.”
“A girl always needs more shoes,” Christian retorted.
“This is the God’s honest truth,” Tyra decreed.