High Noon in Sandbridge

Chapter 3-2

There was a skinny woman wearing a black leather jacket and smoking a cigarette with her boots up on Mace’s kitchen table. Andy was already fumbling out his phone to call 911 when Billie ran straight into the kitchen and threw her arms around the woman with a plaintive, “Aunt Dani!”

Billie burst into tears and let the woman pick her up and snuggle her inside the jacket.

“You’re the brother, then,” the woman said, gesturing with her cigarette. “Detective Hammond. You can call me Danielle.”

“You’d be the best friend the nurse at the hospital mentioned then,” Andy said, pushing his phone back into his pocket. “How much do you—” He glanced at Billie, still sobbing, and sighed. “My condolences.”

Danielle Hammond had long black hair and pale skin that made her look more closely related to Billie than Scooter was. Andy wondered idly if Danielle had a brother or cousin or something who was Billie’s father. Or, hell, maybe Hammond was trans and had sired the girl herself. Though if that were the case, Andy didn’t know where Billie would have gotten those brilliant green eyes; Hammond’s were brown.

“Thanks,” Hammond said. “I’ve had a key here for just about ever. Mace is responsible for some of the neater stitches I’ve had this last decade or so. And she’s cheaper than the doc in a box. I’m gonna miss her.” She ruffled Billie’s hair. “I brought some apples for the spuds, do you want to give them a snack while I talk shop with your uncles, huh?”

Billie took the apple slices that Hammond offered her, but she pouted and sniffed. “You’re gonna talk about me, aren’t you?” she accused.

Andy tried not to grin.

“And your mom some,” Hammond said. “You don’t want to hear about that, baby girl. Not till you’re much older.”

“Fine,” Billie sniffed, and shuffled out of the room.

They waited a few seconds, and then Hammond said, “I ain’t kidding, Billie, go on!”

Billie’s huff of exasperation from behind the door was easily audible, as were her stomping feet.

“The Chief, she thinks I’m doing work on a robbery case downtown,” Hammond said. She pulled out a file and tossed it on the table. “S’why my car’s not out front. Now, I guess I need to know…you want justice for your sister, or you just want to take the squirt and go home?”

“Revenge isn’t justice,” Scooter said. He snagged one of the kitchen chairs and sat down.

“Sometimes that’s all we get,” Hammond shot back. “Now, this is the thing. This guy, he’s small. Worthless, really, except that he killed a nurse who was trying to help him. He doesn’t know much, but his lawyer will convince him to give up a few names, do two, three years max. He’ll leave town after eighteen months and we’ll never see him again. In the meanwhile, we might—might—be able to take down one drug dealer. One. Who probably, again, will cop a plea, give us some names. War on drugs is endless. Pointless. People die and no one f*****g cares.”

Andy couldn’t quite pull a complete breath, his gaze flicking between Hammond and Scooter. “The alternative?” he asked, hoarse.

“I don’t want a war on drugs, I want this guy to pay for costing me the only friend I’ve never been able to sarcasm away,” Hammond said. “He’ll have some sob story, they always do. How he got on drugs, how he’s sad and scared, and I do not give a f**k. Everybody hurts. Everybody’s in pain. He doesn’t get to take his s**t out on other people.”

She sat back in her chair for a minute, breathing hard. “f**k. I told myself I would stay calm.”

Scooter just looked at her. “What is it you think we can do about it?”

“You have money,” she said. “Use it. Don’t let them offer him a goddamn plea deal. It’s a sure conviction. Our prosecuting attorney is running for state congress. A conviction would look good. Show voters that we value our nurses, our support staff. Give him a f*****g donation for his campaign and make a suggestion. The system never works in the favor of the little guy. Your sister, she might not mean much to a lot of people, but she f*****g meant something to me.”

It was very doable. Easy. State congressmen always needed donations, much more than their national counterparts. And the guy was, if Hammond could be believed, small potatoes, not worth holding back for his connection to higher-ups who hurt more people in worse ways. Andy leaned over Scooter’s shoulder and picked up the file, flipping through it and only half-seeing it.

“Isn’t he in a mental hospital right now?”

“Yeah,” Hammond said. “Doesn’t matter. Almost no jury ever goes for ‘innocent because he’s a f*****g junkie’ as a plea.”

Andy nodded slowly. “Even if your prosecutor calls for voluntary manslaughter and lets them whittle him down to involuntary plus drug charges…he’s still going away for a long time.” He looked at Scooter. “We can make that happen,” he said. “Wouldn’t even have to stick around. If that’s what you want.”

“She was trying to help him,” Scooter said, voice breaking. “And he killed her. For no reason. Yes. Yes, I want that. Put him away, lock him up and f*****g forget about him.” Scooter covered his face with one hand and roughly wiped his cheeks.

Andy nodded and pulled Scooter against him, his hand rubbing small circles against Scooter’s back. He looked at Hammond. “Get me the prosecuting attorney’s name, and the name of his campaign manager, if you have it. Important to do these things through the right channels.”

Hammond reached into her jacket and pulled out a business card, flipping it onto the table. “And…Mace told me you all have a rental house up near where you live. Email me about the possibility of renting the house and I’ll send you what you need. Hope I don’t scare you too much, because I ain’t lettin’ you drag that kid six hours away where she’s got no one without coming up to visit sometimes.”

Andy picked up the card and tucked it into his pocket. “I’m sure she’ll be grateful. It’s not our house; we’re just the managers. But we’ll make some space for you in the schedule. I’ll let you know.”

Hammond got to her feet. “For what it’s worth, Mace was grateful. She probably didn’t say it. Hell, she doesn’t—didn’t. Didn’t even say s**t like that to me. But I know her. I gotta run. That robbery’s not gonna solve itself.”

Andy offered his hand. “Thanks. When you’re done with that, or ready for a break…Come back. We’ll need some help settling things, and it would be good if it was someone who knew her…better.”

Hammond made a clicking sound with her tongue and double-finger gunned Andy. She ran one hand over Scooter’s shoulder and ended with a pat on the back. “She was one of the best people I ever met. I mean that.”

And she was out the door.

Scooter rolled his tongue around his mouth for a second. “Is…was that the right decision, Andy?”

“I think so,” Andy said. “It’s not revenge, it’s…keeping someone else from having to suffer this.” He sighed. “We can sleep on it if you want.”

“I don’t think I’ll change my mind,” Scooter said slowly. “Just…” He turned to look up at Andy. “Want to make sure you’re…not going to see me differently. That I ain’t losing your respect.”

“Oh, honey.” Andy kissed Scooter’s forehead. “No, not for wanting justice done. This is…Plea bargaining is a tradition in the system, but it’s still a bargain. If we don’t want to take the deal, it’s not a deal.” He shrugged. “We normally wouldn’t get a say in that, but. If he doesn’t know anything that’s worth your sister’s life, then he shouldn’t be able to buy it.”

Scooter sniffled and wiped his cheeks again. “Using our powers for good, right, baby?”

“Absolutely.” He pulled Scooter close again, running his fingers through Scooter’s hair. “Love you. No matter what.”