His pulse racing, Damien opened the door and stepped inside the attic.
Chapter 41
Newton Laskey removed his vibrating cellphone from his sport jacket. He looked at the screen; a text from his wife.
He read the message. I wish you were here. But I’m not mad. I know you’re keeping the nation safe. I’ll see you in the morning. I love you.
Laskey put the phone back into his pocket along with his guilt. He’d long ago mastered the art of postponing his marital obligations. But at some point he knew a big decision would have to be made. If he continued working these long hours his marriage would erode even further. He loved his wife, but he also loved his career. Something had to give.
A pair of headlights turned into the driveway. Laskey watched the headlights grow larger.
The Bedford Police SWAT team rolled up the driveway in an armored rescue vehicle. As soon as the armor-plated vehicle pulled to a stop, doors in the back swung open and officers deployed out the back of the ARV with practiced efficiency. Standing in the background, Newton Laskey witnessed them maneuver into place. A nauseous feeling twisted his stomach.
Two marksmen climbed up into trees and aimed their scope-mounted Remington 700 sniper rifles at the plantation house. Two other Special Weapons and Tactics officers snuck onto the upper gallery and, using black paracord, hung charcoal-colored ball cameras from the gallery columns. The baseball-sized cameras dangled in front of the windows and rotated four revolutions per minute, streaming video to a Personal Display Unit—PDU, held by another SWAT officer. All these preparations took only a few minutes.
Laskey watched a tall SWAT team member talk privately with Sheriff Tubbs. He strained his ears but couldn’t hear the conversation. Laskey pretty much knew the topic being discussed though. The SWAT leader, a lieutenant, wanted to know when he could send in his men. Legality held them up for the moment. SWAT teams often find themselves in hot water for making raids without warrants.
Not long ago, Sheriff Tubbs ordered a deputy to go and retrieve the needed warrants. An off-duty judge could still issue the warrants even though it was far past courthouse operating hours. The deputy had a list of judges to contact in case of an emergency. He would keep at it until he reached one of the judges.
Laskey flinched at a hand touching his shoulder. He turned and saw his agents, Kevin Brubaker and Otis Grant smiling back at him. “What are you two so happy about?”
Brubaker continued to grin. “Your theory about the cop and the shooter knowing each other holds water, Newt.”
Laskey felt his heart quicken. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense, Kevin. What did you find out?”
Brubaker took a long drag on a cigarette. A smoke cloud billowed out his mouth as he began to speak. “Facebook strikes again. We found out that the Charbonneau brothers and Josiah Barrett went to the same high school together. Arcadias and Barrett graduated the same year, and both are Facebook friends.”
“Good work, guys. Maybe your discovery will delay the raid. This SWAT team is ready to roll. They’re just waiting for warrants. And they might not wait much longer,” Laskey said.
“That’s fine as long as they can distinguish the good guys from the perps,” Otis Grant said.
Laskey massaged his brow. His head throbbed from all the lights. The red and blue cruiser lights flashed onto the house, the grass and trees, and everyone’s face like a disco ball. All the flashing lights served a purpose though. They hopefully intimidated the perpetrator(s) inside and bullied them into surrender.
“And so from the info you just discovered, Kevin, we can surmise that one of the Charbonneaus answered the door when Officer Barrett showed up. They then talked for a while, Barrett turned to leave, and Arcadias or Damien then gunned him down. Why would they do that? And what do you think the conversation was about?”
“That is the million-dollar question, Newt,” Brubaker said. “And I don’t know the answer.”
Laskey turned to agent Grant. “How about you, Otis, do you have any thoughts on the matter?” Although he looked like he could play running back in the NFL, Otis Grant’s mind was even stronger than his body. Not only did he possess keen intelligence, his uncanny perceptive abilities left his peers wondering whether he was borderline psychic.
Grant shook his head. “I’m as baffled as you are, Newt. Either Jon Rafter has lost his mind, or the guests have taken over. Somebody inside felt threatened by the cop and felt the need to shoot him. Whoever they are…they’re hiding something.”
“Or maybe the cop was in on it,” Brubaker mumbled.
“Are you serious, Kevin? Do you really think that? The cop came here looking for an old man, not to check in on a criminal enterprise,” Laskey said. “I admit, though, it is a strange coincidence that Barrett knew the Charbonneaus.”
Brubaker shrugged. “I was just thinking aloud, Newt. It’s been a long day. My brain is tired. Ignore my last comment.”
The sound of a siren approaching stopped their conversation. Another cruiser pulled into the long driveway and headed their way, traveling at a rapid clip. The sheriff cruiser skidded to a halt near the other squad cars. Laskey watched a deputy hop out and trot up to Sheriff Tubbs.
“Do you have the warrants?” Tubbs asked.
The deputy nodded. “It took some doing to find a judge not out of town and at home, but I have one search warrant for 149 Levee Road and one arrest warrant for Jon M. Rafter, M as in Mark.” The deputy started to hand the warrants to the sheriff, but Tubbs shook his pumpkin-sized head. “Give the warrants to the Lieutenant, here.”
The deputy handed the warrants over to the SWAT team leader. “I guess we have what we need now, Sheriff,” the lieutenant said.
Tubbs nodded. “Any time you boys want to rush the house, feel free. It’s your call. But just remember that Jon Rafter used to be a hostage negotiator. He knows exactly what you will do and plan accordingly. He may have even booby-trapped the house.”
Laskey stepped forward. “Sheriff, you might want to hold up. I have some information on the Charbonneaus you should consider.” Laskey was about to elaborate when another deputy jogged up to the sheriff, interrupting him.
“The landline is back on,” the deputy blurted out. “Someone inside just turned the phone back on.”
Chapter 42
Arcadias strode toward the ringing phone sitting on the fireplace mantle. He’d put the cordless handset there after plugging the base back in. He grabbed the phone and left the parlor. He hit the talk button once he reached the foyer. “Hello?” he said.
“Hello, I’m Roy Nixon. I’m calling from outside the house. I’m a negotiator with the Bedford Police Department, and I am your friend. Can I ask who I’m speaking with?”
Arcadias gripped the handset with a shaky hand. He almost said his name, but his brain stopped the signal to his vocal cords at the last moment. “You’re speaking to Jon Rafter. I’m the homeowner.”
“Is everything okay in there? Does anyone need medical attention?”
“Everyone is alive; if that’s want you want to know, Mr. Nixon.”
“But do they need medical attention? And please call me Roy.”
“I think they’ll survive this night okay.”
“Can you please tell me the names of everyone in the house?”