Robert Crais - Free Fall

I stayed high on Thurman’s shoulders and let him carry me across the room and into the wall. He was angry and scared and probably not thinking too well, but he was also large and strong. We hit the wall and he backed away to throw a punch, and when he did I spun left and kicked him on the right side of his face and then I slipped to the side, and kicked him behind the left knee. He went down. I could’ve kicked him on the outside of his knee and broken the ligaments, but I didn’t want to do that. I said, “Don’t be stupid, Mark. You’re not helping you and you’re not helping Jennifer.”

He shoved his way up and this time he sort of crabbed in sideways, like he wanted to box. He feinted with his left and threw a straight right and when he did, I pushed it past and snapped a side kick to his head that made him stumble back and drop his hands. I kicked him twice more, and punched him hard once in the solar plexus, and he went down. I’d hit him hard enough to keep him there.

I squatted beside him and said, “You’re going to listen to this.”

He shook his head. Like a five-year-old. His nose was swelling and there was a smear of blood along his lower lip.

I said, “Eric Dees and Akeem D’Muere conspired to set me up for this dope bust. In the course of that action, Akeem D’Muere murdered James Edward Washington. That makes Dees a co-conspirator to murder.”

Thurman was breathing hard. Sucking deep breaths and letting them out.

“You tried to keep all of this from Jennifer, but Jennifer hired me, and you finally brought her in. You told Jennifer about Charles Lewis Washington and Akeem D’Muere, and that means you’ve implicated her. You’re a cop. You know what that means.”

Mark Thurman looked at her.

“She’s become an accessory after the fact to murder. She can be charged, and she can be tried. Do you see that? Do you see what you’ve done to her?”

Jennifer Sheridan frowned. “Mark?”

I said, “Who are you going to protect, boy? Eric Dees, or Jennifer?”

Mark Thurman raised his hands as if he were about to say something, but the something didn’t come and he lowered them. He looked from me to Jennifer Sheridan, and then back to me. He said, “It was Floyd.”

You’d know it was Floyd. It’d have to be.

“I’m not even sure what happened. Floyd was hitting him, and then Pinkworth was hitting him, and he just died.” Jennifer Sheridan knelt down beside him and put her hand on his arm.

I said, “You told yourselves it was an accident. Everybody’s thinking Rodney King, and you decide to cover up.”

He nodded. “Only a couple of days later, here comes the tape. Just like Rodney. Only this time the bad guys had the tape, and not the good guys. Akeem had the tape.”

There was quiet in the small house.

Jennifer Sheridan said, “He went along because he didn’t know what else to do. You can see that, can’t you?”

I didn’t answer.

“He didn’t do it for himself. Don’t you see that?”

I looked at Pike and Pike looked at me.

Mark Thurman said, “What are you going to do?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

He said, “It was just an accident.” I looked at him and he wasn’t a cop anymore. He was a big handsome kid who looked confused and scared, and more than a little bit lost. He said, “I dream about it every night, and I just don’t know. It got out of hand, and we didn’t know what to do. Even Floyd was surprised. Floyd didn’t expect to kill him. It just happened.” He tried to think of another way to say it. His mouth opened and closed a couple of more times. His brow knotted. Then he just shook his head.

“So you decided to protect each other.”

“You think I’m proud of this? You think I don’t see that poor guy? Jesus God, I don’t know what to do.” He was shaking his head. Jennifer Sheridan looked like she wanted to hold him and take care of him and make it all better even though she knew it was wrong. Maybe that’s what love is.

I said, “How many copies of the tape are there?”

“We got one. I don’t know how many D’Muere has. Maybe a million.”

“Who has the copy you saw?”

“Eric.” Jennifer Sheridan put out her hand and Mark Thurman took it. Jennifer smiled, and Mark Thurman smiled back at her. They looked relieved, as if by finally sharing this the weight was becoming bearable. Mark said, “I know where he hides it.”

I took a deep breath and then I let it out. I felt tired and my back hurt where the muscles lace over the shoulder blades. Tension, I guess. Stress.

Jennifer Sheridan said, “Will you help him?”

I looked at Jennifer Sheridan looking at me and I nodded. “Okay,” I said. “I want to see the tape.”

Jennifer Sheridan helped Mark Thurman to the couch and sat next to him. He could’ve made it on his own this time, but he let her help.

I said, “Has everyone on the REACT team seen the tape?”

“Yeah.”

“Has anyone else?”

He shook his head. “Not on our side. Who would we show it to?”

Pike went to the window and looked out the curtain. He said, “Eric would have a plan. Akeem pops up with the tape, says do what I want or I burn you, Eric isn’t going to just roll over.”

Thurman nodded. “Eric said we should play along until we could find something to make Akeem back off.”

“Like what?”

“We started running intelligence on him and doing twenty-four-hour surveillance. We even went out and bought these video cameras. We figured if we got him doing a capital offense on tape, we could trade him. You burn us, we burn you, like that.”

Pike moved to the other side of the window and looked out the curtain from that side. “Dorks.”

Thurman gave him hard. “Hey, what would you do?”

Pike didn’t bother to look at him. “I wouldn’t be where you are. I wouldn’t’ve killed Charles Lewis Washington, and then lied about it. I would’ve done the right thing.”

Jennifer Sheridan frowned. “You don’t need to be so harsh.”

I said, “A man died, Jennifer. It doesn’t get much harsher than that.”

She put her hand on Mark Thurman’s thigh.

I said, “Okay. So you were looking for something to press Akeem. Did you get anything?”

“Not yet.”

“So the five of you went along with him, committing crimes.”

“That’s right.” Thurman made a tiny nod, the kind where your head barely moves, and he wouldn’t look at me.

“And Eric figured you guys would keep on like that until you found something to use against Akeem?”

“Yeah.”

“Committing crimes.”

“Yeah.” He stared at the floor and looked even more ashamed. He was a guy with a lot to be ashamed of.

Jennifer said, “Why do you have to keep asking him about these things? He feels bad enough.”

I said, “I have to ask him because I don’t know the answers. I have to know what he’s done so that I’ll know how to help him or even if I can help him. Do you see?”

She saw, but she didn’t like it. “I thought you said that you’d help.”

“I’m deciding. Maybe I’ll help him, but maybe I won’t. Maybe I can’t.”

She liked that even less. I looked back at Thurman, and then I stood up. “Where does Dees keep the tape?”

“He’s got it hidden in his garage.”

“You know where?”

“Yeah. If he hasn’t moved it.”

“Let’s go see.”

We took Thurman’s Mustang, and Thurman drove. Joe Pike stayed with Jennifer Sheridan.

Forty-two minutes later we left the freeway in Glendale and turned onto a pleasant residential street lined with mature trees and sidewalks and the sort of modest middle-class houses that more suggested Indiana or Iowa than Southern California. Mark Thurman said, “Are you sure about this?”