Rebels and Thieves Read online

  Pete grabbed the shotgun. “I’ll do the cashier. You do the old man.”

  Realizing he wanted to place himself in the best possible position for a confrontation, Malone crept along the back of the store, holding his Glock 17 nine millimeter in his right hand. He headed down the last row in the store, rounded the bend, and stood in front of the two thugs.

  “Hold it right there,” Malone said. “Miami PD. Don’t move a muscle.”

  “You’re making a big mistake,” Pete said. “We’re going to kill you, too.”

  “That’s not going to happen. Drop your weapons and put your hands in the air.”

  Pete smirked. “Don’t tell us what to do.” He seemed confident. “You’re outnumbered.”

  “I’m not worried about it,” Malone said, his tone serious. “Throw in the towel.”

  “You can’t stop us.” Pete gave him a wide grin. “We’re invincible.”

  Malone knew this guy wasn’t fooling around. He had a crazy look in his eyes, like he didn’t care if he lived or died. “You’re the two punks who have been robbing convenience stores, right?”

  “We’re all over the news,” Pete said, smirking. “We’re called the stone-cold killers.”

  Malone moved closer to them. “So far, you’ve killed six people, right?”

  “Too bad you’re going to be number seven.”

  “Let’s just see about that.” Malone stood still. “It’s time to get this show on the road.”

  Pete looked confused. “Huh?”

  Malone knew he couldn’t convince them to surrender their weapons. Unless he used deadly force, the two punks would kill him and the old man. “Drop your weapons and let the old man go. Or on the count of ten, start shooting.”

  “Come on,” Pete said. He sounded annoyed. “Get serious, will you?”

  Malone felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. “One, two, three …”

  “Knock it off, you crazy son of a bitch.”

  On the count of ten, Malone shot Pete in the center of the chest, knocking him off his feet. Panic-stricken, his partner let the hostage go. He ran toward Malone, firing his pistol. Malone rolled across the floor, hearing bullets whizzing past him, and shot the suspect once through the middle of the forehead. It made a round, dark hole. The suspect’s legs went limp, and he crumbled to the floor.

  Chapter 4

  Thirty-six detectives covered homicide for the city of Miami. They shared a fifty-by-sixty-foot squad room, which was lit by harsh fluorescent lights. A good number of detectives were out for the day, investigating criminal cases. The remaining were studying case files, looking at crime scene photographs, and answering telephones. Malone sat at his desk, his hands folded in his lap, staring at his computer screen. Still hung over, he picked up his mug and drank more coffee. The caffeine was beginning to work, clearing his head and helping him to focus. Outside the squad room, down the corridor, a man was yelling. After listening to him for quite some time, Malone yelled to Detective Jenny Peterson, telling her to come over to him. Taken back by the harsh tone of his voice, she rushed over to him and stood in front of his desk.

  “You look terrible.” Peterson said. “I heard you had a rough morning.”

  “What’s all the commotion about?” Malone asked.

  Peterson took a deep breath. She was slim and strong-looking, as if she spent a great deal of time at the gym. She had dark skin, a narrow face, and deep-set brown eyes. Her black hair was cut short, just above the ears, and combed straight back. She was wearing brown slacks, a yellow blouse, and tan pumps. “Unhappy prisoner, I guess.”

  “No kidding.”

  “His name’s Benson. Todd Benson. He was arrested for drunk driving.”

  “Is he still drunk?”

  “No, he’s just really pissed off.”

  Malone fought to keep his rising temper under control. “He’s getting under my skin.”

  “He swears he wasn’t intoxicated. Says he was just tipsy, that’s all.”

  “That’s what everyone says.” Malone shook his head. No one ever admitted they broke the law, not even when all the evidence indicated otherwise. Over the years, he learned it went with the job, par for the course. “Did you tell him to keep it down?”

  “I’ve already been down that road.”

  Malone could tell by her tone that things didn’t go well. Even though she was an excellent detective, he knew some criminals never respected women as authority figures. “This part of the job never gets easier, does it? Dead end, I suppose.”

  Peterson nodded. “He called me a few choice words. Copper, pig, bitch, things like that.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Do you want to see the arrest report?”

  “Bring it to me.”

  Peterson left the squad room and came back with the report. She handed it to Malone and sat down on the corner of his desk. Outside, down the corridor, the man started yelling again, this time threatening to bring a lawsuit against the Miami Police Department. Malone took a deep breath and then blew out a long breath of frustration.

  “I’ve had a rough morning,” Malone said. “And this is only making things worse.”

  “He swerved across the double white line,” Peterson said. “Into oncoming traffic.”

  “I see that.” Malone continued to read the report. “He was pushing ninety miles an hour.”

  “He’s lucky he didn’t kill someone.”

  Malone knew over ten thousand people died in alcohol impaired driving crashes each year. “The report says he blew a .162. That’s more than twice the legal limit.”

  “He denies it, though.” Peterson sounded annoyed. “He claims it was a bogus arrest.”

  Malone considered this. “I’ll handle it.”

  “He’s a big guy, about six-foot-one.” Peterson threw him a warning look. “And he probably weighs at least two hundred and thirty pounds.”

  “What am I, chopped liver?” Malone grinned. “I’ll be back in a flash.”

  Malone got up, headed down the corridor, and stopped in front of the first holding cell. Inside the cell was a big, burly man with long brown hair. Up and down both of his arms were black and gray tattoos, some of them skulls, others oriental dragons. He looked like he was having a really bad day.

  “What’s all the commotion about?” Malone asked.

  “Now, that’s a stupid question,” Benson said. “You’re an idiot. Do you know that?”

  “You shouldn’t call people names, especially if you don’t know them.”

  Benson’s face drew tight. “Well, you work here, don’t you?”

  Malone felt himself redden. It was obvious the guy had an axe to grind. “That’ right. You could say this is my home away from home.”

  “Well, in my book, that makes you just as screwed up as everyone else here.”

  “You’re the one who’s locked up, not everyone else.”

  “I’m going to rip this damn door off its hinges. And then I’m going to kick your ass.”

  “I’ll save you the trouble, tough-guy.”

  Benson cocked his head to one side. “Huh?”

  “Back up.” Malone unlocked the cell door, walked inside, and let it click shut behind him. With both hands clenched into fists, he moved closer to Benson. He stood in front of him, eye to eye. He waited for him to make the first move.

  “You’re a jerk. Turn around and open the damn door.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  Benson jabbed his finger at his chest. “The hell it isn’t. I’m going to get even with those pigs for arresting me.”

  Malone fought hard to control his anger. He wasn’t going to listen to him run his mouth for much longer. “First, you’ll have to go through me.”

  “Get out of my way. Or I’m going to knock you on your ass

  “It’ll only make things worse for you.”

  Benson’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll take my chances.”

  Malone got a bad
feeling in his gut. He knew things were going to get worse before they got better. “You’ve been arrested. And you’re going to have to make a court appearance.”

  “Those pigs gave me shit.”

  “You mean, the two officers you shoved?”

  Benson’s face tightened. “They had it coming. No one insults me like that.”

  “The police officers were just doing their jobs.”

  “It doesn’t give them the right to pepper-spray me.”

  Malone held his ground. He wasn’t going to back down. “You resisted arrest, right?”

  “It was a bogus arrest.” Benson ground a fist into his palm. “The system sucks.”

  “I’m not here to debate that with you. So, keep it down in here, all right?”

  “Why should I?”

  Malone felt his heart pounding harder in his chest. He was prepared for a physical altercation. First, I can’t stand the sound of your voice. Second, I have a pounding headache.”

  “No one tells me to shut up.”

  “Well, I just did it, tough-guy.” Malone raised his voice. “And I won’t tell you again.”

  Benson shoved Malone. “Come on, pig. Give me your best shot.”

  Malone kneed him in the groin. As Benson pitched forward, Malone grabbed him by the hair and rammed his head against the steel bars. Dazed, Benson stumbled around the jail cell. Malone knocked him to the ground, knelt on his chest, and punched him in the face.

  “We can do this all day,” Malone said. “I’m just getting warmed up.”

  “Stop it.” Benson looked shocked. “You’re a police officer.”

  “That doesn’t mean I should take your crap.”

  “That’s it. I’m going to get even with you for hurting me.”

  Benson tried to get to his feet. Malone hit him again, this time delivering a crushing blow to his mouth. Benson’s bottom lip split open and blood gushed down his chin. Malone cocked his right fist back and held it there. Benson shook his head.

  “Don’t do it.” Benson’s eyes were wide. “Don’ hit me again.”

  “You finally get it, don’t you?”

  Benson took a shaky breath. “Yes, I won’t say another word.”

  “That’s not good enough.”

  “I’m listening.” Benson swallowed a mouthful of blood. “I’ll do anything you want.”

  Malone felt a deep throbbing in his temples. Day in and day out, law enforcement officers put their lives in danger—all for the sake of keeping the community safe for everyone. “You’ve got to be nicer to the people here, especially to the women in this department.”

  “I’ll do better, I promise.”

  “You’d better keep your word. Or I’ll be back.”

  Malone left the cell, locked the door, and headed back to the squad room. Sitting behind his desk, he opened the top drawer and grabbed three Advil. He popped them into his mouth and washed them down with his coffee. Fighting a pounding headache, he closed his eyes and sighed. Oh, this job is really starting to get to me, he thought. He lowered his head, placed his hands on his temples, and rubbed them in circles.

  Chapter 5

  Malone crossed the homicide squad room to Lieutenant Michael Harper’s small glassed-in office. Not looking forward to seeing him, he sat down in one of the visitor’s chairs in front of his desk. A veteran of the force, Harper had served over twenty-five years in Homicide. Over the course of his career, he had learned how to work the angles—how to confront hardened criminals on the streets, how to deal with fellow law enforcement officers, how to negotiate with bureaucrats. He had thick white hair, a big, square jaw, and dark brown eyes.

  “Tell me what happened,” Harper said, glaring at him. “Don’t leave anything out.”

  “Well, there was an incident this morning,” Malone said. “It started around—”

  Harper cut him off. “Is that what you’re calling it now, an incident?” His voice was sharp. “Like it’s something that happens every damn day?”

  Malone didn’t like his tone. These meetings always turned into a grilling session, instead of a debriefing. “No, not every day.”

  Harper leveled his gaze at him. “I’m warning you, Sergeant. Don’t patronize me.”

  “I’m just trying to tell you what happened.”

  “Get to the point, will you?”

  “I parked behind the 7–Eleven. Aware a robbery was in progress.”

  Harper looked at him sharply. “You didn’t call it in, though. You didn’t call for backup.”

  Malone didn’t want to get into with him. He knew it was important to call for backup, but sometimes he liked to handle things alone. “No time. I had to act fast.”

  “The press is going to have a field day with this, Sergeant. It’s not going to be pretty.”

  “So?” Malone shrugged. “There’s not much of a story.”

  “They interviewed the hostage you saved. My phone has been ringing off the hook.”

  “That’s good news, isn’t it?”

  “No, it isn’t, Sergeant. The hostage told the press you were a badass.”

  Malone couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. He got two criminals off the street, but he was still getting the third degree for it. “I cleared the case for you, didn’t I?”

  “It’s not about that, Sergeant. The hostage made you out to be some sort of an avenger.”

  “That’s a stretch.”

  “The hostage told the press you gave the robbers a countdown, for crying out loud.”

  Malone felt anger rising in him. If he hadn’t responded with deadly force, the two punks would have killed him and the old man on the spot. “They got what they deserved.” He cracked his knuckles. “They killed six people.”

  “I know that.” Harper raised his voice. “But you should have handled it differently.”

  “Stop sympathizing with them, Lieutenant.”

  Harper jabbed a finger at Malone. “I’m not. And you know it.”

  “That’s not how I see it.”

  “Don’t turn this around. Don’t drag me into a pissing contest with you.”

  “Give me the bottom line, Lieutenant.”

  “The Miami Harold is coming out tomorrow morning.”

  Malone knew the conversation was going downhill. The lieutenant didn’t want anything to tarnish his precious reputation. “Don’t worry about it. No one believes everything they read.”

  “Guess what the headline is going to say?”

  Malone didn’t want to go down that path. “I’d rather not.”

  “You two punks have ten seconds before I execute you—one, two, three, four …”

  Malone put the pieces together. Harper didn’t want the press to report there was a rogue detective working at the Miami Police Department. “I gave those punks every opportunity to surrender. I was very clear about that.”

  “The mayor’s on my ass, Sergeant. And he’s not letting up on me.”

  “Take it easy, will you?”

  “No, I’m not going to.” Harper’s voice toughened. “End of discussion.”

  “All right, Lieutenant. Take a deep breath. I’ll ease up a little.”

  Harper gave him a nasty look. “You better do a hell of a lot more than that.”

  Malone felt like he got kicked in the gut. Instead of standing up to the mayor, the lieutenant would rather throw him under the bus. “I get the message, loud and clear. To be politically correct, I’ll tone it way down.”

  “That’ right, Sergeant. No more bad publicity for the Miami Police Department.”

  “You’re the boss, Lieutenant.”

  Harper slammed his fist on the desk. “Start acting like it. Or take a permanent vacation.”

  “Are we done here, Lieutenant?”

  “I hope we are, Sergeant. For your sake, that is. Now, get back to work.”

  Malone got up, left the lieutenant’s office, and crossed the homicide squad room. He noticed a few of his fellow detectives rolling their e
yes, as if to say aren’t you ever going to get it together. He sat down at his desk and stared out the window. Still hung over, fighting a pounding headache, he needed another cup of strong coffee.

  Chapter 6

  The homicide squad room was designed with long rows of desks that faced each other. Partners sat across from one another, making it easy for them to share information about current investigations. Malone sat at his desk, staring out the window, at the Miami Police Department’s parking lot. His desk was one of the few desks in the squad room that had a window view. He was taking a break from sifting through piles of folders, stacks of photos, and department releases. Carrying a folder, Peterson walked over to him.

  “I have the goods,” Person said. “Everything is right here.”

  “Oh, do you? You sound like you’re undercover. This isn’t a drug transaction.”

  Peterson gave him a wry smile. “Do you want to look at the Medical Examiner’s report?”

  “I’ve been waiting a long time. I mean, I was beginning to think you took a vacation.”

  “You just love giving me a hard time, don’t you?

  “It’s a bright spot in my life.” Malone chuckled. “Plus, you do have the gift of gabbing.”

  “I probably inherited it from my mother.”

  Malone knew her mother was a retired college professor. She had spent a good portion of her time in the classroom, interacting with students on a variety of subjects. “I hear you, loud and clear. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

  “We’re always dealing with dark, negative things.”

  “We can’t do anything about that.” Malone looked out the window. Two police officers were escorting a man into the building, handcuffed. Malone knew there wasn’t a shortage of criminal in Miami. “It’s the business we’re in.”

  “I know that.” Peterson looked pained. “But over the long run, it can’t be good for us.”

  “Do you have a point?”

  “We should try to do something to offset it. You know, like attend church, read inspirational books, or watch comedy shows.”

  “Skip the psycho analysis, will you?” Malone grinned. “Give me the facts of the case.”