Blake Pierce - Cause to Run

“You used to be a lawyer, right?” the man said.

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “But then I made a stupid mistake and my life turned to shit. Don’t be like me,” she warned. “Let’s end this now.”

“What about her?” He pointed at his wife.

“Why would you want to be with someone like her?” Avery asked.

“I love her.”

Avery sucked in her lips and challenged him with a stare.

“Does this look like love?”

The question seemed to genuinely bother him. With a furrowed brow, he glanced from Avery to his wife and back to Avery again.

“No,” he said and lowered his gun. “This ain’t no way to love.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Avery said. “Give me that gun and let these guys take you in quietly and I’ll promise you something.”

“What promise?”

“I promise I’ll check in on you and ensure you get treated right. You don’t look like a bad guy to me, Fernando Rodriguez. You just look like you’ve had a rough life.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” he said.

“No,” she agreed. “I don’t.”

She held out a hand.

He let go of his hostage and handed over the gun. Instantly, his wife scrambled across the lawn and ran to safety. The aggressive cop that had been prepared to open fire came forward with a snarling look of thinly veiled jealousy.

“I’ll take it from here,” he sneered.

Avery got in his face.

“Do me a favor,” she whispered. “Stop acting like you’re better than the people you arrest and treat him like a human being. It might help.”

The cop blushed in anger and seemed ready to push past and destroy the tranquil vibe that Avery had created. Thankfully, the second officer reached the Latino man first and handled him with care. “I’m going to cuff you now,” he said softly. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get treated right. I have to read you your rights. Is that OK? You have the right to remain silent…”

Avery backed away.

The Latino aggressor glanced up. The two held each other’s gaze for a moment. He offered a nod of thanks, and Avery responded with a nod of her own. “I meant what I said,” she reiterated before she turned to leave.

Ramirez had a big smile on his face.

“Shit, Avery. That was hot.”

The flirtation bothered Avery.

“Makes me sick when cops treat suspects like animals,” she said and turned back to watch the arrest. “I bet half the shootings in Boston could be avoided with a little respect.”

“Maybe if there was a female commissioner like you in charge,” he joked.

“Maybe,” she replied and seriously thought about the implications.

Her walkie-talkie went off.

Captain O’Malley’s voice came over the static.

“Black,” he said. “Black, where are you?”

She picked up.

“I’m here, Cap.”

“Keep your phone turned on from now on,” he said. “How many times do I have to tell you that? And get over to the Boston Harbor Marina off Marginal Street in East Boston. We have a situation here.”

Avery frowned.

“Isn’t East Boston A7 territory?” she asked.

“Forget about that,” he said. “Drop whatever you’re doing and get over here as fast as you can. We’ve got a murder.”

Avery reached the Boston Harbor & Shipyard by the Callahan Tunnel, which connected the North End to East Boston. The marina was off Marginal Street, right along the water.

The place was crawling with police.

“Holy shit,” Ramirez said. “What the hell happened here?”

Avery took it slow into the marina. Police cars were parked in a haphazard pattern, along with an ambulance. Crowds of people that wanted to use their boats on this bright morning ambled about, wondering what they were supposed to do.

She parked and they both got out and flashed their badges.

Beyond the main gate and building was an expansive dock. Two piers jutted out from the dock in a V shape. Most of the police had clustered around the close end of one dock.

In the distance stood Captain O’Malley, dressed in a dark suit and tie. He was in deep discussion with another man in full police uniform. By the double stripes on his chest, Avery guessed the other guy was captain of the A7, which handled all of East Boston.

“Look at this character.” Ramirez pointed at the man in uniform. “Did he just come from a ceremony or something?”

Officers from the A7 gave them hard stares.

“What’s the A1 doing here?”

“Go back to the North End,” another shouted.

Wind whipped across Avery’s face as she walked down the pier. The air was salty and balmy. She tightened her jacket around her waist so it wouldn’t fly open. Ramirez was having a difficult time with the intense gusts, which kept messing up his perfectly combed hair.

Docks jutted out at perpendicular angles on one side of the pier, and each dock was filled with boats. Boats were also lined on the other side of the pier: motorboats, expensive sailing vessels, and tremendous yachts.

A separate dock formed a T shape with the end of the pier. A single mid-sized white yacht was anchored in the middle of it. O’Malley, the other captain, and two officers talked while a forensics team scoured the boat and took pictures.

O’Malley sported the same gruff look as always: dyed black hair cut short, and a face that looked like he might have been a boxer in a former life, scrunched and wrinkled. Eyes were squinted from the wind and he seemed upset.

“She’s here now,” he said. “Give her a shot.”

The other captain had a regal, stately quality about him: graying hair, lean face, and an imperious glance below a furrowed brow. He stood much taller than O’Malley and appeared slightly befuddled that O’Malley, or anyone outside of his team, would encroach on his territory.

Avery nodded to everyone.

“What’s up, Captain?”

“Is this a party or what?” Ramirez smiled.

“Wipe that smile off your face,” the stately captain spit. “This is a crime scene, young man, and I expect you to treat it as such.”

“Avery, Ramirez, this is Captain Holt of the A7. He was gracious enough to – ”

“Gracious my ass!” he snapped. “I don’t know what kind of show the mayor is running, but if he thinks he can just walk all over my division, he has another think coming. I respect you, O’Malley. We’ve known each other a long time, but this is unprecedented and you know it. How would you feel if I walked over to the A1 and started to bark orders?”

“No one is taking over anything,” O’Malley said. “You think I like this? We have enough work on our own side. The mayor called both of us, didn’t he? I had a whole different day planned, Will, so don’t act like this is me trying to make a power play.”

Avery and Ramirez shared a look.

“What’s the situation?” Avery asked.

“Call came in this morning,” Holt said and motioned to the yacht. “Woman found dead on that boat. She’s been identified as a local bookseller. Owns a spiritual bookshop over on Sumner Street and has for the last fifteen years. No record on her. Nothing outwardly suspicious about her.”

“Except for the way she was murdered.” O’Malley took over. “Captain Holt here was having breakfast with the mayor when the call came in. The mayor decided he wanted to come down and see it for himself.”

“The first thing he says is ‘Why don’t we get Avery Black on this case,’” Holt concluded with dagger-eyes at Avery.

O’Malley tried to ease the situation.

“That’s not what you told me, Will. You said your guys came in, they didn’t understand what they were looking at, and so the mayor suggested you ask someone who’s had some experience in this kind of thing.”