He saw that whatever had killed the man had been very violent. It was like something had exploded in him and thrown him against the wall. He didn’t see a weapon anywhere near the man. There were two shotguns up against the wall, but on the other side of the room.
Things were calming down. The house slowly stopped seeming like a den of people trying to kill them and started to feel like a crime scene. They started looking at things. There were tools, generators, and gas cans everywhere. Guns, too, in every room. Tons of stolen property. One of the rooms seemed to be the store room and was full of all kinds of stolen items. At least they had the right house, Grant thought.
The cop in Rich started to kick in. “Secure all of them separately so they don’t talk to each other,” he said. “Zip tie any of them who aren’t already. Read each of them their rights. The guy with Wes already had his read. “Oh,” Rich said, looking disapprovingly at Grant, “the guy with Wes will need the EMT.”
Grant felt bad about his next thought, but thought it anyway. He wanted some of the residents to see this. He wanted them to see that the constables had solved a problem. It was politics. Not a “hey, look how great we are” kind of thing, but a “look what happens to people who rape and steal. There is law and order out here.” Grant needed an excuse to get people to come into the house and see this. As grisly as that was.
“At some point we’ll need to get people in here to identify their items,” Grant finally said. “We need to get the girl to someplace safe first.” They discussed having the neighbor lady take in the little girl, at least for the time being. Eventually they would need to find a permanent home for her. Poor little girl.
“Yeah,” Rich said, “we’ll have people come through and identify their things. Let’s go get their stories,” he said pointing toward the bad guys in the backyard.
After reading them their rights, the constables separately asked the woman and man in zip ties what had happened. The woman was Brittany and the man was Ronnie. They were boyfriend and girlfriend and both admitted to living in the house as guests and being meth addicts. They didn’t know how long they’d been there. They didn’t really ever sleep, so time blended together. It seemed like they’d been there since before the Collapse from what the constables could piece together.
The dead guy was Denny. He was a dealer and didn’t live there. He’d been trapped there when the Pierce Point gate went up and he couldn’t get back to Frederickson. Brittany and Ronnie didn’t know much about Denny.
The house belonged to “Frankie,” who was the guy that Wes was guarding. The woman in her underwear who Grant jabbed with his flash hider was “Josie.” She was Frankie’s girlfriend. The little girl was Crystal, Josie’s daughter. She was nine years old.
Brittany and Ronnie admitted to helping steal the things in the house. They dealt drugs, too, but that had pretty much stopped when the Collapse started. Supplies dried up and no one had gas to come out to Pierce Point and get product. They admitted to cooking meth in the house, which meant the house was contaminated with God knows what toxins.
Brittany started crying. She realized all the bad things she’d done. She was sorry. She wanted to get straight. No one said it, but they all knew that there was very little chance of her shaking off a meth addiction.
Ronnie was a loser; an idiot. He was still pretty aggressive. Even in the zip ties, he was talking shit and threatening the constables, but it was impossible to take him seriously. He was so pathetic. Besides, no one felt like beating a guy over stolen property. That wasn’t child rape.
Rich asked Brittany and Ronnie, separately, if they ever hurt anyone or saw anyone else do so. They hadn’t hurt anyone themselves, they said, but they both described Frankie’s repeated rapes of Crystal. The descriptions were horrifying. They were the kinds of things that shouldn’t be repeated.
Brittany and Ronnie told of what they had personally seen Frankie do, not what they’d heard he’d done. This was important because their firsthand accounts of what they’d seen were admissible evidence. Stories of things they’d heard, but not seen, were merely hearsay. If Brittany and Ronnie testified, they would have more than enough evidence on Frankie for child rape. Then there were also Frankie’s own admissions, but the beatings might make those admissions inadmissible into evidence. However, they had enough to convict Frankie, even without the admissions.
Apparently, Josie was involved in some of the rapes. She was at least in the room when they happened, Brittany and Ronnie both said. Once Ronnie had come into Crystal’s bedroom and seen both Frankie and Josie…doing something to Crystal that should not be repeated. That eye witness account was plenty to also convict Josie of child rape.
By now, Josie was patched up and had a blanket on her, too. She admitted to stealing some of the things, but denied that Frankie was hurting Crystal. “Frankie wouldn’t do that. He loves me,” Josie said. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Pathetic; it was absolutely pathetic.
Now it was Frankie’s turn for some more questioning. Rich wanted to bring Grant back for Frankie’s questioning since Frankie would recognize a guy who had just broken his jaw, which could make him a little more talkative. Rich was only trying to prevent the beatings so things didn’t get out of control; he was fine with shooting Frankie right then and there, but Rich wanted to be a little more professional than Wes and Grant had been. Rich wanted to set the right example.
They came back in the room with Wes and Frankie, who was passing in and out of consciousness. Tim had been by to see Frankie and had bandaged his face.
Wes was bored, except that he was hoping to watch Frankie die. That would be cool, Wes thought. What had happened to the nice young man who worked at the rental equipment store just a few weeks ago? What had happened to peacetime Wes? Now he was beating a man and hoping to watch him die.
Rich would lead the questioning, which was a good idea since Grant had kind of blown it with the kick to the face.
“Frankie, wake up, man,” Rich said. Using “man” was an attempt to bond with the subject.
Frankie stirred when he heard his name. He was surprised this cop, or “constable” or whatever, knew his name.
“We need to ask you some more questions,” Rich said. Frankie was regaining consciousness.
“Crystal. What do you know about Crystal?” Rich said.
Frankie smiled, which was painful, given his broken jaw. It was that demonic smile. “She likes…” Frankie went on to describe something disgusting and horrible. Rich began to seriously think about killing this guy on the spot.
Grant whispered to Rich, “We have all we need to convict him. Let’s stop questioning.” It wasn’t that Grant was a smart investigator; he couldn’t stand to hear any more from Frankie. Frankie’s bragging about what he and Josie had done to that little girl would give Grant nightmares. Grant had kids and the thought of people doing that made him sick.
Rich whispered to Grant, “One more.” Grant nodded. Rich was the professional here, so Grant deferred to him.
“What about Josie? Is she involved with what you do with Crystal?” Rich asked.
Frankie smiled. “Crystal likes to watch me and Josie go at it.”
“I doubt it,” Rich said and walked over close to Frankie. Rich drew his pistol, bent down, and slammed it into Frankie’s face. Blood went everywhere. Frankie’s jaw had already been broken, but now, with the blow from Rich’s steel 1911 pistol, nearly every bone in Frankie’s face shattered. Frankie’s face was so destroyed that he couldn’t even yell out.