Readjustment (Restitution #2)

18

Adam Dawson

Every muscle in my body ached.

After an hour of sleep on the couch, I nearly crawled to the shower. It was too hard to stand, so I sat on the floor and used the detachable shower head to clean away the night before. The pain in my ribs and my head made it nearly impossible to put on my Armani suit, but I pushed through and got out the door before seven.

The sky remained dark which was kind to my eyes as I drove. Maybe it was Perry granting me mercy. I wanted to believe that wasn’t just a dream, that it really was my brother urging me to listen to the voice inside me and stop making excuses. The idea of him watching over me brought me comfort and a strength I hadn’t had in a long, long time.

Between the Tylenol and Starbucks drink, I felt human as I pulled into work. In the bullpen, I grabbed Caleb’s “World’s Okayest Detective cup”, scrubbed it out in the breakroom, and made his coffee with enough of his favorite creamer to make Wilfred Brimley roll over in his grave. It wouldn’t fix anything, but it was a start. Even if he never forgave me, he still deserved to know I cared.

Back at my desk, I nursed a breakfast bar and drank some water. Today would be hell, but I was determined to change what I could and make peace with what I couldn’t. I was tired of watching everything in my life fall into a black hole because of this self-serving narrative. It was day one of my redemption tour, and exhausted as I was, I was going to fight like hell.

I was brushing the crumbs off my notes when Caleb walked in. His eyes were bloodshot, and his skin was faded and slightly grey. There was no hint of emotion as he picked up his coffee, took a sip, and booted up his computer like I wasn’t even there.

“Hey,” I shuffled my notes back into a manilla folder and turned to face him. “Can we, uh, talk for a minute?”

“Is it about the case?”

“No.”

“Then no.”

“Just one minute—”

Caleb turned sharply in his chair and glared at me. “If you want to keep doing the things that are killing you, then outside of this job, you may as well be dead to me.”

“I know you’re angry, but I—”

“I said no!” He clenched his eyes. “One more word and I’ll drive back home and tell Josh everything.”

“Josh is gone,” I said weakly. “He went back to Chicago last night.”

His lips parted, closed, then drew tight. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”

That one landed like a blow to the gut. “No.”

“You got yourself into this mess, Adam.”

“I realize that. I just—”

And then it hit me. Nothing I say is going to make it right, so why was I talking?

“You’re right,” I grabbed another folder. “Let’s get to work.”

Caleb muttered something under his breath and turned back to his computer.

“Straus. Dawson.” Chief Branson poked his head into the bullpen. “Meet me in my office.”

We followed him down the hall and into the cramped space.

“Sheriff Antu was detained last night in Hawaii.” He slid over a report. “U.S. Marshall’s transported him back this morning, and State Troopers brought him in. Do you have a plan?”

“Yes sir,” I said, without looking over at Caleb.

“Good,” Chief said. “I’ll be watching.”

We returned the pen to lock our guns in our desk, retrieved the evidence, and our notes.

“You ready?” I asked Caleb.

He gave me a black look and walked away.

Sheriff Sione Antu was cuffed to the bench in the dingy, brick walled chamber. Janitorial had used the wrong floor solution, and my steps created a crackle as I walked to the table. I motioned to the guard standing in the back corner before I sat down.

“You can take off the cuffs.” I ordered. “Please wait outside.”

“About time.” Sheriff Antu said gruffly. He was an imposing figure, especially dressed in black. Broad shoulders, a hint of a flabby stomach, and legs solid as the pillars of Rome. His black hair was long and curly up top with the sides trimmed into a fresh fade.

“Sheriff.” Caleb sat down and set his satchel on the table. “I assume you understand why you’re here?”

“Let’s get to it, Detectives.” Antu’s voice was gruff. “So I can go home.”

“Well, that’s not happening.” I pulled out the call logs we’d received. “You’ve been doing a lot of talking to Detective Brass. Deputy Kaiser said you’ve got him in a hell of a bind. He was ready to kill me to get out of it.”

Antu scoffed and crossed his arms. “That weasel will say anything to get out of trouble. And of course I’m talking to Brass. It’s about my fucking son.”

Caleb took the photos from the evidence bag. The first one was Antu outside Chester Kursch’s trailer holding a black bag. Two more photos of the sheriff in street clothes, talking to Kursch on his front porch. Another one with an unidentified man joining them. “Care to explain what these are about?”

“This is why I’m under arrest?” His lip snarled and showed off a silver cap on one of his upper bicuspids. “This ain’t shit, boys.”

“There’s more,” Caleb said sharply. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”

Red splotches spread across his cheeks. “I’ve been working on a sting operation.” He pushed the photos towards us. “Didn’t know it was illegal to do my job.”

“We have a sworn affidavit from Deputy Kaiser that says you demanded he break into your son’s home and retrieve these.” I met his eye, and he looked away. “That part of your job, Sheriff?”

Antu’s jaw dropped, but he recovered with a stern, tight-lipped glare. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Cut the shit.” I pulled out the affidavit, along with a timeline showing how the calls lined up with the break in, and the laptop disappearing. “Kaiser told us everything. Turned on you faster than flipping a coin.”

“He’s a fucking addict!” The veins in Antu’s neck strained. “Ya can’t trust a fucking word he says. He’s pissed I suspended him again for turning off his body cam! He’s the one threatening me!”

“Did you think we’d arrest you over just pictures?” With a smug smile, I took out the USB with the recordings.

Antu’s eyes widened enough to see blood vessels at the corners.

Caleb plugged it into his laptop, pressed play and Keola’s voice filled the space.

I know you’re working with them.

You don’t know shit.

Oh, I’ve got proof. We’re ready to go public.

God damn it, Key! Listen to—

You’ll never fucking see it coming.

Neither will you when you end up fucking dead! Stay the fuck out of this!

Antu covered his eyes. “Stop.” He said weakly.

In my peripheral, Caleb’s face darkened with contempt as another call played.

“Please stop,” Antu murmured. “Jesus Christ, I can’t think.”

I gave Caleb a curt nod, and he hit Stop.

“What did Keola need to stay out of?” I asked.

Antu leaned back and stared at his hands.

“Want us to keep playing?” I glanced at Caleb, and he hovered his finger over the play button.

More silence.

“Suit yourself.” Caleb pressed Play again, and Antu was forced to listen to the argument unfold.

Inch by Inch, Antu’s body turned to wood. Brows to lips. Neck to chest. His knuckles turned as white as the overhead light. He blew a harsh breath through his nose but said nothing.

“Okay, let’s try this one.” Caleb said. “Why were you looking for Milo Davonte?”

“No idea who you’re talking about,” Antu said

I pulled the second affidavit out of Kaiser’s folder and set it before the sheriff. “Really?”

“Let me fill you in.” Caleb retrieved Milo’s folder from his bag and opened it so Antu could read its contents. “Davonte’s car was found a mile from Keola’s body. He’s also a suspected associate of the Riverside Prophets and is currently in the hospital under guard because someone nearly beat him to death.”

Antu shook his head slowly, eyes fixed on a spot on the wall behind us. His jaw twitched, but his face remained impassive.

“You’re really going to play hardball?” I tented my hands in front of me. “Maybe we should arrest you for murder then.”

The lift of his brows was the only indication the words had gotten through to him. “On what grounds?”

“You were photographed multiple times with Chester Kursch, a known leader of the Prophets.” I counted off on my fingers. “You hand-picked colleagues that’d run interference, and you orchestrated evidence.” I set my hand down. “And it’s pretty clear from the evidence that Keola knew you had something to hide.”

“Those calls with Keola?” Caleb sat back and crossed his arms. “They didn’t sound friendly.”

Antu’s face lost a bit of its color.

“He was going to expose you and whoever you’re working with,” Caleb continued, his voice razor-sharp, “so you killed your own son and played the poor, heartbroken father.”

Antu stared down at his hands. His lips curved into a smirk, followed by a slow, sardonic laugh. “If I killed him, do you think I’d be stupid enough to come back here?” With every word his voice grew more belligerent. “You think I’m that fucking stupid, you fucking faggo—.”

“You’re back because of Kursch.” I slammed my hand down on the pictures. “You don’t just walk away from working with a gang. You play the game, or you die. Or in your case, kill your own son to stay alive.”

“I didn’t kill him!” Antu surged to his feet.

“Sit the fuck down!” I pointed at the bench.

“Who the fuck do you think—”

“I said sit down!” I stood and matched the sheriff’s posture. “I’ll cuff your ass myself, Antu.”

Antu snarled his lip, but he sat down.

“What about Milo?” Caleb picked up the conversation like we never stopped. “Did you try to kill him too?,”

“I told you; I don’t fucking know the guy!” Antu’s words had a frantic cadence.

“You’re lying!” I pointed at Kaiser’s statement. “You ordered Kaiser to check local motels to find him. Even looked under his girlfriend’s name. Sure as fuck sounds like you know him.”

“I helped find his location, and that’s it. I didn’t hurt him, and I didn’t kill my son.” Antu’s face grew scarlet. “I was trying to save him!”

Caleb and I sat back and waited for Antu’s shaky breaths to even out.

“Do you have any idea how much I’ve struggled?” Antu said. “How hard it was to raise two boys after their mom ran out when they were toddlers? The sacrifices I made. The spit and piss and shit and bullets I’ve taken to get elected to this job, so I’d make enough to get them through college?”

“Save the sad stories for the jury,” I said. “Right now, you need to tell us who would kill your boy to keep it hidden.”

“Oh no; I’m not that fucking dumb.” Antu’s lips flattened into a hard line. “I’ll talk, but not until the DA offers me a deal.”

“We have enough to press charges as it stands.” Caleb leaned forward. “So, you’ve got to give us something to get that conversation started.”

Antu paused, then let out a long exhale. “Let’s just say the Prophets are the least of your worries.”

“It goes higher.” I said.

Antus’ silence was the answer.

“They’re just pawns in the game.” I continued.

“You might say that,” Antu said. “And if you think I’m the only person caught up in this, you’re crazy.” He laid his hands flat. “I told Keola in those calls that he wouldn’t be able to hide if someone found out he was snooping. And you won’t either. My advice? Quit while you’re ahead.”

“Little late for that,” I said. “But while we’re back on that subject… Kaiser said you blackmailed him into helping you run drugs. Is that what Keola had figured out? Or did he know more?”

Antu leaned back with a slight shake of his head. With eyes narrowed, he surveyed us for a moment then said. “You know what? I’m done doing your fucking job for you. You want more, I want a deal.” He crossed his arms. “Besides, you should be figuring out who killed my son. Fuck, it was probably this Milo guy. He sounds like a shit starter.”

Caleb paused in the middle of gathering his notes. “What does that mean?”

“Fuck off, detectives,” Antu said.

Caleb opened the door, signaled to the guard, and I followed him into the hallway.

“Fuck!” I slammed the side of my fist into the wall.

“My thoughts exactly.” Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose.

I raked my hands through my hair and took a few deep breaths as we headed towards the bullpen. “Keola knew about a lot more than his dad.”

“Definitely.” Caleb nodded.

“What if he had dirt on Milo, and some other cockroach in that park?”

“It’d give him motive to kill Keola,” Caleb said, “but who went after him? I mean, unless the hit wasn’t sanctioned, or the gang is mad about the unwanted media attention. If they were already looking for him, it explains the beating.”

It would probably take forensics along with shaking down every gang member in the county to find answers. But if the sheriff was right, there were thousands of moving pieces in this game. I tossed my jacket over my desk chair and was about to loosen my tie when Caleb’s phone rang.

“We’ll be right there,” he said.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Caleb said. “We have a guest.”

I followed him out to the lobby where Jessica Houston perched in a lobby chair, trembling with fear.

“Ms. Houston.” Caleb said. “Is there something we can help you with?”

Jessica swallowed. “I need to talk.”

“Come on back.” Caleb motioned for her to follow, and we took her through the admin bay to the interview room.

At the second set of doors, I swiped my keycard, turned right, and held the door open for them to enter.

Tears slid down her cheeks before she sat down. Her hair looked unwashed, and a few strands fell over her face. “I can’t do this anymore.” Her voice was more subdued than normal. “I don’t want to die.”

“We won’t let that happen.” I slid the box of tissues toward her. “Is Milo okay?”

“He’s gonna make it but,” she stopped and blew her nose. The sound echoed in the small room. “When he came out of surgery last night, he was like… really high. Really out of it. And he wouldn’t stop talking.” She dabbed her eyes with her crumpled tissue. “He’s really not a bad guy. You don’t know him like I do.”

“Hey,” Caleb said calm and low, “take a few breaths. I’m sure if you explain it to us, we’ll understand.”

At his kind words, Jessica fell apart. Her sobs made her whole body shake, but she eventually gathered herself enough to sit up again.

“Okay.” She blew out a long breath through pursed lips. “Okay. I can do this. Please don’t get pissed at me. I need you to promise you’ll still protect me like you said you would.”

“We will,” I said. “You help us, and we’ll help you. Just tell us what’s going on.”

“I lied to you guys when you came to our trailer.” She stared at a dark, knotted part of the wooden table. “I knew why Milo was missing. He’s uh,” she paused and took a breath, “part of a gang and he’d been skimming money so we could leave town. He didn’t think he’d get caught, but he did, and he said he needed to lie low for a while.”

“He was hiding from them.” Caleb said.

Jessica nodded. “He said it would only be until he got something set up with his family in Tennessee. He said he’d call me as soon as it was safe but…”

“Someone found him.” I said.

“Yeah he, uh…” she pushed her fingers over her eyes, “he called me one night and said they found him, but it was going to be okay. If he took care of this problem, they said they’d forgive him. He begged me not to hate him if I found out what he’d done.”

“So, he didn’t say what?” I asked.

“No. I was too afraid to ask.” Her breaths grew shallow, “I told him I’d forgive him—just come home. But the night everything happened, someone tried to kill him, anyway. Guys he’d never worked with before. Someone tried to stop me in the hospital parking lot the other day, so now I have to have security take me to my car. I’m so scared and…” She covered her face with her hands. “You were right. This isn’t going to get better. I didn’t know what to do and… I’m so sorry.”

“You’re doing the right thing now.” I said with all the empathy I could muster. “What day did Milo call you? And what night was he supposed to come home?”

“Monday.” She pulled out her phone and tapped on the screen. “The day before you guys came over. See—” She held up the screen and showed us an incoming call from an unknown number.

“I tried calling the number back, but it was disconnected. He was supposed to come home that night.”

Caleb and I exchanged a glance. Monday night lined up with Keola’s murder, and that missing link—the motive—finally fell into place.

Jessica’s eyes shifted between us. “I uh, I think I need to call a lawyer.”

“Yeah,” Caleb said. “Do that.”