Page 105 of Left Behind

All he could think of was getting rid of evidence, and he headed for the old rent-controlled apartment that had been his childhood home—the one place he kept for himself after his parents died that not even Junior knew about.

At first, keeping it had been nothing but a sentimental gesture. Sometimes he’d go there just to disappear from the world he’d created, surrounded by his parents’ old furniture and the simplicity of the tiny kitchen and old dining table and chairs. He even slept in his childhood room, rather than the master where his parents had been.

But after a while, he realized it was the perfect place to turn into a stronghold, and began the work to make it one in increments. He began by hanging a bulletproof door, then turning his parents’ bedroom into his workplace, and having a steel door with combination locks installed. He soundproofed the room to make phone calls on burner phones, and considered himself unbreachable and untraceable.

But now that his world was crumbling, the cops would start digging through everything. They would eventually find out about the place, and it was that fear that sent him out the door. His phone kept ringing, but he didn’t take the calls. He couldn’t help them when he couldn’t even help himself.

Only he was mistaken in believing his stronghold was still a secret. The cops had already discovered the property in his name. They also knew the apartment was vacant, but that he had been seen coming and going from there, and when nothing of consequence was found in the storage unit, this information prompted them to get a search warrant for that address.

The detective they’d had tailing the Henleys witnessed the police hauling Junior off the estate, and when he spotted Carl leaving the estate in haste and heading to the seedier part of the city, he called it in.

Police were already nearby, waiting for orders, and when they got them, they quickly moved into the building and took cover in an empty apartment across the hall from Carl’s stronghold, waiting and watching through the peephole until Carl unlocked his door and was walking inside.

They came storming out with their guns drawn and followed him in, served the search warrant, and then handcuffed him to a table, put a guard on him, and began to search. At that point, Detective Gardner arrived.

Carl began cursing him, and shouting. “You have no right to do this!”

“That search warrant on the table in front of you says we do,” Gardner said. “You have about two minutes to decide whether you’re going to give us the combination to the locked room and open your safe, or we’ll get a locksmith and a blowtorch and blow the hinges off this place and let ourselves in.”

“Where’s Junior? What have you done with my son?”

“He’s being interrogated as we speak,” Gardner said.

“You don’t have anything on either of us!” Carl shouted.

“Well, yes, we do. After we picked up Lonny Pryor a few days ago, he decided it was in his best interests to cooperate fully with our investigation. And now we know that the fact you were worried about a new gang invading your territory is part of what got Billy Eggers murdered and connects you to the whole ugly mess of attempted murder on his sister as well. One thing led to another, and here we are.”

Carl’s expression froze, and then as Gardner watched it melt to one of dismay, he suspected Carl was sadly facing his future.

“So, which will it be? Blow the doors off the hinges, or the combination? And blowtorch the safe, or the combination?”

“I want my lawyer,” Carl muttered.

“Well, he’s at the PD with Junior, who’s already peed his pants. They’re making bets on how long it’s going to take for him to break. It’s in your best interests to cooperate now,” Gardner said.

“I’m not helping you do anything,” Carl muttered.

“No problem,” Gardner said, and waved down a couple of officers. “You two, Mr. Henley is ready to transport to the PD. Book him in for abetting a murder and an attempted murder, and for buying and selling illegal drugs. We’ll add other charges as the need arises.”

Carl Henley already knew he was a dead man. His death would be in his contacts’ best interests. Junior was probably going to wind up some goon’s girlfriend in prison, and it would serve him right. All of this chaos was his son’s fault. Every stinkin’ bit of it. When they put Carl in the back seat of the police car and drove away, all he kept thinking was that he should have let Junior drown.

Chapter 16

July was almost over, and with Ava and Linette settling into his space like they’d always been there, Wiley felt like the world was beginning to make sense again.

He was coming out of the morning briefing and waiting for his partner, who’d gone to pick up a warrant they needed to serve, when he saw Lilah Perry coming up the hall with an armful of files. Usually, she was all smiles, but this morning she appeared distracted.

Someone banged a door behind her, and when they did, she flinched, lost hold of the files, and then watched in dismay as they fell to her feet.

Wiley ran toward her, but when he knelt down to help, he saw that she was crying.

“Hey, hey, honey, no harm done here. Let me help,” he said, and began gathering up files and handing them to her, then helped her to her feet. “See, all done and no harm, no foul.”

“Thank you, Wiley. It’s been a rough week,” she muttered.

“Why? What happened?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows, and I feel like a fool.”

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