Readjustment (Restitution #2)

13

Adam Dawson

Red veins strained around Caleb’s irises as he stared at the latest report on Kaiser.

On the premise that Kaiser was interfering in an investigation, we’d submitted an arrest warrant and headed to discuss our next move. Branson had ordered us to keep everything wrapped up tight and lent us his office for privacy.

I grabbed a water bottle and unscrewed the cap.

“Something isn’t right about this.” Caleb set the paper down and pushed his fingers through his curls. “Three suspensions for a guy who’s been on the force two years? Even Peyton would fire that guy.”

“Issues recruiting?” I offered.

“Cops jump from these smaller towns all the time,” he said with a half-shrug. “He could’ve made some major arrest and they’re giving him more leeway?”

“Or there’s a different reason.” I tapped my pen against my lips and shuffled the puzzle pieces in my head “Someone sent Kaiser to Jordan’s house, then tried to make us look bad so Jordan wouldn’t squeal. If Keola had evidence, Kaiser has to be part of it. It explains why these guys keep him around. And why we don’t have that goddamned laptop.”

Caleb stacked up his reports and stuffed them in a folder. “He was the last one to handle the laptop.”

“And he could’ve been at Hawes’ place to case it. When it didn’t turn up anything they moved onto Plan B.”

“So, they either can’t get into the laptop, or they did, and it didn’t give them what they wanted.”

“Right,” I said. “If Brass and Myers wanted to tamper with Hawes, they could’ve done it themselves. They knew the place would get ransacked, and they’d be called to that scene. So, they sent Kaiser to cover their asses and threatened Jordan if he talked.”

“Hang on.” Caleb flipped through another stack and ran his finger down the page. “Kaiser was off yesterday. And he didn’t show up today, either.” He looked like he might say something more when his phone pinged.

“We’ve got the warrant.” He pulled at the knot of his tie and blew out a long breath. “How do you want to play this?”

“We arrest on tampering with evidence,” I said, shoving the reports into folders, “then we accuse him of murder.”

A soaked plastic bag tumbled down the road’s shoulder as we drove. It bounced off a guard rail and landed in the dirty slush of wet snow and rock salt.

We need to talk.

I was so screwed.

In the side mirror, the plastic bag was crushed by an Aerostar van. I was almost jealous.

Kaiser’s neighborhood was rundown and clearly subsidized. Plastic lawn chairs littered front yards surrounded by rusting fences. Broken furniture and appliances were left to rust and mold on the side of homes, and multiple cars on the street had garbage bags duct taped in place of windows.

The deputy lived in a pale blue bungalow on the South side of the street. A wooden porch leading to a red door was covered in oil and moss. In the driveway, A dark green Ford Ranger sported a bumper sticker that says Sex is like pizza. When it’s good it’s really good, and when it’s bad, it’s still pretty good. We parked behind it to prevent his escape and opened the gate of the chain-link fence that led to the front walkway. A light was on behind a sheer white curtain in the front window. The storm door panels clicked when Caleb pulled it back, and the draft nudged the larger door open half an inch.

Caleb wrinkled his brow and knocked on the door. “Deputy Kaiser?”

No response.

Caleb knocked again, but the house was silent.

Something wasn’t right.

Caleb knocked again, but no answer. “That’s odd.” He carefully stepped back, pushed his jacket open and reached for his gun.

I nodded and followed suit, my right hand coming up to rest on the butt of my weapon.

“I’ll go around back.” I mouthed, as I unholstered my gun, turned off the safety and rested my trigger finger along the muzzle.

Caleb pointed at me, then held his thumb and pinky next to his face. Phone. Backup.

No shit, Sherlock. But he wasn’t wrong. I quietly called it in, then went to find the back door, gun in low-ready position.

The sleeve of my wool overcoat scratched along the siding as I slid between Kaiser’s vehicle and the house. I ducked below the kitchen window, then stopped at the back corner to scan the landscape. Flurries blanketed a metal picnic table that sat between a detached two-car garage and a built-in firepit with dead logs sticking up over the grey brick. A cooler sat on top of the table with a twenty-four pack of beer beside it. Around the corner to my right was a slab patio where a covered grill sat near the edge of the grass. Over the faint sounds of Caleb’s steady voice clearing rooms, something scraped across the concrete floor of the garage. It only lasted a second, but it was enough to light up every vertebra in my spine, like the lights of a carnival strongman game.

I took slow, careful steps toward the access door on the left side of the garage. “Deputy Kaiser,” I dropped my left hand from the weapon and hovered over the brass doorknob. “Peyton PD. Come out with your hands up!”

Not a single fucking sound. My tolerance for suspense had reached its peak. I exhaled sharply. Fuck this. I turned the knob, raised my gun to shoulder level, and kicked the door open. It caught on something, and when I stepped forward to check what it was, a pair of hands locked around my right forearm. There’d been little space for a body behind the door, but Deputy Kaiser was thin, and based on his grip, deceptively strong. I corkscrewed my trigger hand and curled my arm to try to dislocate his wrist. When that didn’t work, I turned my back into his front and yanked his arm forward. Kaiser had four inches on me though, and he was able to bash my hand into the workbench. The force dislodged the gun and, to my horror, it fell to the ground.

Now it was a street fight; this asshole wasn’t getting anywhere near that gun. Legs planted wide, I tore free from his grasp, ducked a punch, and speared my shoulder into his middle. He grunted as I drove him into an orange car with its hood up. Roaring like a desperate animal, Kaiser rained punches down on my back and tried to knee me in the gut, but I stayed low and kept him pinned there until he wore himself out.

But the slick soles of my oxfords weren’t made to grip oily concrete, and my feet slipped. I managed to regain my footing, and just missed the wild punch heading for my face. Kaiser took advantage of the opening, charged forward and slammed my back into the workbench. Tools flew off the peg board behind me and something heavy and metallic bounced off my head. The edge of the table bit into my waist as I leaned and gripped the front of his jacket. My pulse thudded in my ears and my legs shook from trying to drive him back enough to punch him. I tried to extend my arms and shove him, but my right foot landed in something slick and sent me down into a half-split.

“Fuck!” I cried at the pain in my groin as I dropped down to my knee to avoid breaking my leg. Kaiser took the opening and landed a knee in my gut that knocked the wind out of me. Gasping, I turned to crawl towards the gun, but was met with another stiff kick in the kidney. The edges of my vision blurred, and I was forced down to my elbows. Motor oil had spilled from the benches shelf, and my arms were slipping in it. I brought one elbow up to protect my gut and did my best to hang on to consciousness as Kaiser kicked me again.

I was fading. Failing. Overpowered by a fucking deputy in a garage all because of my useless shoes and motor oil. He was going to knock me out. He was going to get my weapon. And he was going to kill me . I made one last, desperate reach for the gun—

“Move, and I’ll blow your fucking head off.”

I looked up toward that voice. When the fog cleared, Kaiser was perfectly still, and Caleb had the muzzle of his gun against the back of his skull.

“Face-down on the ground,” Caleb’s tone was forceful and clear, “Hands behind your head.”

Kaiser dropped to the concrete; fingers locked behind his neck.

I stayed on my side until my breath came back, then pressed onto my hands and knees. I coughed, groaned, coughed again, then was able to crawl to the workbench and pull myself to my feet.

“You okay?” Caleb asked, his gun still trained on Kaiser’s head.

Words weren’t possible yet, but I managed a small nod.

A commanding shout came from outside. “Police!”

“In here,” Caleb called.

And in rushed the calvary; Soren and Randall, with guns at high-ready.

“Cuff him,” Caleb ordered. “I’m going to call the chief.” He turned on the safety and holstered his gun. His worried eyes swept over me. “Can you walk? Do you need help?”

“I can walk.” I croaked, and stubbornly hobbled away from the bench. Each step got harder as I got out to the patio, and I had to stop to catch my breath again.

“Whoa there.” Caleb grabbed my elbow and guided me to the picnic table as Soren and Randall dragged Kaiser to their car. “We should get you to the hospital.”

“I’m fine. Just need a minute.”

“Adam…”

“No!” I snapped.

Caleb’s lips thinned into a grim line, and he stared at me like I was a puzzle he couldn’t solve.

“I’m not fighting you on this.” He pulled out his phone. “The chief can make the call.”

“I’m alright.” I grabbed Calebs hand, realized what I was doing, then jerked my hand away. “I just got winded. Little sore.”

Caleb said nothing, just backed away with his phone to his ear.

Then with a sinking heart, the truth hit me: I wasn’t a puzzle he couldn’t figure out. I was one he was tired of figuring out.

Under strict orders, I went to the hospital for a thorough inspection. Caleb stayed in the waiting room while I bounced from triage, to radiology, and was finally examined by a doctor an hour later. At last, I was pronounced free from broken bones and internal bleeding, and I was cleared to go back to work—provided I take it easy.

On the ride to the station, Caleb kept his eyes on the road, but I noticed the slight shake in his hands.

“You good?” I asked.

“Fine.”

“You sure?”

Caleb’s only answer was a long sigh that faded into uncomfortable silence. He wasn’t in the mood to talk, and honestly, neither was I. Exhausted, I closed my eyes for what I thought was two minutes, until Caleb’s hand gently shook my shoulder.

“We’re here.” He pulled the keys from the ignition. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah” I undid my safety belt and got out of the car with a wince. In the windows reflection, I stopped to finger comb my hair back into place.

“Shouldn’t you get changed first?” Caleb held the station door open and cocked a brow.

“No.” I examined the oil stains on my slacks. “Let him see what he did; it’ll scare the shit out of him. Let’s get this over with.”

We stopped by the bullpen for our notes, then filed into the interrogation room. The air was stale, and much like the rest of the department, full of dust that didn’t have enough room to circulate. Kaiser sat in a jumpsuit with cuffs around his hands that were linked to a hoop in the metal table. Two suited gentlemen sat next to him. One had dark hair in a side part wearing a sheriff’s department jacket complete with an embroidered star on the front and sleeves. The other wore a light grey suit with platinum blonde hair in a textured crop. Both men stood as we walked into the room.

“Detectives,” Blondie offered his hand. “I’m attorney Drake Giles. Union Rep Frost called me in to represent Deputy Kaiser.”

I played nice long enough to complete the round of handshakes, then took a seat directly across from Kaiser, who wouldn’t meet my eyes. “So, is everyone here? Or do we need to call a priest too?”

That got Kaiser’s attention enough for him to mutter something under his breath.

Giles tapped Kaiser’s upper arm. “We’re all here.”

“Great.” I rested my forearms on the table. “I’ll let my partner list what your client is facing since he almost kicked my lungs in.”

“You knowingly obstructed a murder investigation, threatened a key witness, and assaulted my partner.” Caleb opened his folder and slid the photo we’d gotten from Harry Newson across the table. “You also match the description of one of the intruders who broke into Jordan Hawes’ house and stole more evidence,”

I pulled the sheet with Jordan’s statement out of my folder. “And last but not least, you killed Keola Antu.”

“No!” Kaiser shook his head and jerked at his restraints. The cuffs clanked on the table, and he shifted side to side on the bench. “I didn’t fucking kill anyone!”

“Then why are you covering your tracks?” I barked, furious. “Where’s the laptop? Where’s the box you stole from Jordan’s house? Why should I believe a fucking word you say after you tried to kill me?”

“Gentlemen,” Giles held out his hands. “Back up. What proof do you have of all this?”

“Want to take a look at my ribs?” I started to stand, but Caleb put his hand on my arm.

“Take a look for yourself.” Caleb slid his entire folder over to Giles then sat back with his arms crossed.

Giles pulled glasses from his suit pocket and examined each statement and photo, before handing it to the union rep. With each page, Frost’s face grew harder, and by the time he tossed the last document to Caleb, I thought smoke might come out of his ears.

“There’s a lot here.” Giles adjusted his glasses, “but it isn’t everything.” He clasped his hands and laid them on the table, “What’s the motive?”

“Keola Antu had dirt on the sheriff’s department,” Caleb leaned in a little, “and Kaiser didn’t want it getting out. So he killed him, and the rest explains itself.”

“I didn’t kill—”

“Given that the victim is the son of the county sheriff,” I cut Kaiser off and looked down at my watch, “I’m sure they’d expedite the prosecution.”

“I didn’t kill anyone!” Kaiser raised his back end out of his seat, his face so white I feared he might faint. “I fucking swear!”

“Brett, stop talking for a second.” Giles rested his hand on the small of Kaiser’s back. “I’m sure you can explain. And, in exchange for your honesty, the Detectives are willing to bargain?”

“And give me protection.” Kaiser chimed in with a desperate tone. “They’ll kill me if you don’t.” He picked at the cuticles with his fingers, and the lines of his forehead were deep as canyons.

“Give us a second.” I nudged Caleb with my elbow, and we walked out to the hall. “Call and see if they’ll drop the burglary if he explains how he got involved in this and give us proof.”

“What about assaulting you?” Caleb touched his ribs.

“I’ll drop it.” I said. “This is our first big break.”

“If you’re sure,” Caleb pulled out his phone as I followed him out to the hall.

I leaned my forehead against the cool, cement-block wall. My body was stiff and sore, my mind had been fighting to stay calm since I woke up this morning, and I didn’t have enough strength to fight both battles at once.

“DA is on board,” Caleb said. “Let’s pitch it.”

“Good news.” I said as I shut the door behind us. “We’ll drop the assault charges, and if you tell us everything, you’ll only be facing tampering with evidence and obstruction.”

Caleb slid his phone across the table, and Kaiser studied the emailed agreement. Nothing on his face moved as he read over the details.

“It’s a good deal, Deputy.” Giles looked over it next, then took his glasses off. “Where should we start?”

“Where’s the laptop?” I demanded.

Kaiser’s neck muscles ticked, and his head sank into his shoulders. “Brass has it. He knows a guy that can hack into anything.”

Caleb encouraged him on with a single nod.

“I guess they were looking for some photos, but they weren’t on the laptop, so they sent me to the house to poke around. Jordan got weird, so I ducked out and let Brass know we’d have to break in and make it look like a robbery.”

“Let’s back up.” I said. “Who’s in these photos?”

“The fucking sheriff!” The words popped from Kaiser like they’d been tossed from a slingshot. “Why do you think he wanted Brass and Myers on the case?”

“What’s the Sheriff doing in these photos?” Caleb asked.

Kaiser closed his eyes and said nothing.

“Detectives are tearing your house down to the studs,” I said in a cryptic tone. “Either tell us now, or we find out and I will press those charges for assaulting an officer.”

Kaiser blew a breath towards the ceiling and closed his eyes. “The pictures show the sheriff outside of Chester Kursch’s trailer. I don’t think they show shit, but there was one of those recording USB things in there too.”

“Wait,” I held up a finger, “who’s Kursch?”

“He’s a suspected leader in the Riverbank Prophets,” Caleb said. “So, what’s on the recordings?”

“I don’t know, man.” Kaiser laid his hands open.

I lifted my brows, and the edges of my eyelids twitched.

“I was supposed to give the stuff to Sheriff Antu when he flies in tomorrow. I swear,” Kaiser said. “I was just doing what I was told.”

Caleb rested his fingers against his chin. “If you didn’t kill Keola, why are you involved at all?”

“The sheriff has me by the balls, man.” His eyes fell to his cuffs. “He caught me taking opiates from evidence one night. He said he’d cover for me if I’d handle some business for him. I don’t want to deal with this shit anymore. I’m tired of this, and no matter what I do, I’ll probably end up dead.”

“What business?” Caleb asked.

“He asked me to help move some pills for Kursch. Sheriff brought them in as evidence.” Kaiser bent enough to brush off his cheeks then sat up. “I only did it a few times. I thought maybe he was playing the long game on a bust but…now shit’s crazy.”

“Where was Sheriff Antu getting them?” I asked.

“I never wanted to find out. I’m an addict, but I’m not that stupid.”

“I thought the Prophets ran meth,” Caleb said. “When did they get into opiates?”

“I don’t know.” Kaiser said. “You’d have to ask the sheriff. Or Kursch. But he’s on the run.”

“Where’s the evidence?” I asked.

“It’s in my kitchen. I cut a hole in the back of a cabinet. The drywall’s being held up by some cups.” Kaiser’s frown lines deepened. “I’m so fucking screwed.”

A rap at the door made us all jump.

“Excuse us.” I said as I stood up and followed Caleb out the door. Dunn held up an evidence bag with a thin black box inside.

“You’ll wanna see this.” He handed it over to Caleb. “Fucking assholes…” Dunn shook his head as he turned away.

We headed for Brass’s office and locked the door. Caleb slid on Nitrile gloves, pulled the lid back, and took out the photos. We carefully laid them out flat, and to Kaiser’s credit, they were exactly what he’d alluded to. Each one had a date on the back and showed the sheriff either in his vehicle, or on the porch of Chester Kursch’s house Kaiser had been right—all these could do was cast suspicion. It was the audio recordings that we needed.

Caleb plugged it into the laptop and surveyed the folder with audio files labeled by date. He picked the most recent one and hit “Play.”

Based on the quality, these must have been lifted from phone calls.

The sheriff spoke about gauging the temperature in the gang to prepare for potential turf wars. But Keola didn’t bite. He kept pressing, stating that he and his friends had evidence his dad was doing something and threatened go public when Sheriff Antu snapped in the last call. His voice was a growl as he told Keola to stop playing these games. These people were dangerous, and this runs deeper than he knows. He’d have nowhere to hide if the gang found out he was snooping. It cut off after Sheriff Antu said he’d done the ‘fucking best I could for you, but it was never enough’.

A chill swept over my skin.

“Jesus.” Caleb muttered under his breath. “What did we stumble on, Adam?”

“We need to talk to Branson.”

Caleb stared down at the table as I placed the evidence back in the bags. “Let’s finish with Kaiser and get him booked.”

Back in the interrogation room, Kaiser sat with his head in his cuffed hands. He didn’t bother looking up as we sat down.

“Anything else to add?” I asked.

Kaiser sucked in an uneasy breath and shook his head.

I tried again. “Nothing about the Prophets working with someone else?”

He raised his head, and his jaw twitched.

“Deputy,” Caleb shifted forward in his seat, “we’ll find out either way, but if you tick off the DA…”

“Fine,” Kaiser’s knee bounced, “I don’t know if it’s related, but a few days ago Antu had me help track down some drug dealer. I checked with every motel and hotel in the area for someone staying in his or his girlfriend’s name. And I was told to call the sheriff directly if they showed up.”

“This guy have a name?” I asked.

“Milo Davonte.”