As we hit the floor, DeAndré fired again. The side of Dexter’s head exploded and the pain in my shoulder was sucked into the vacuum in my soul. Suddenly, all the fight was out of me and I lay there on the floor, unable to move. Dexter was dead. I had failed again.
Merrill kicked the gun out of DeAndré’s hand and it bounced across the floor. He then rushed forward and grabbed it.
Merrill said, “How’s the arm?”
I shook my head. “I can’t feel anything.”
He glanced over at Dexter’s body and shook his head. “He was dead before we got here.”
We would never know-I would never know if I had done something differently, just one little thing, if the outcome would have been different and Dexter would have been spared.
After helping me to my feet, Merrill handed me the two guns. A violent wave of nausea swept over me as I realized I was holding the instrument of Dexter’s death in my hand and I dropped both guns on the pew.
Merrill then grabbed DeAndré and jerked him up.
“We got unfinished business,” he said. “Show me whatcha got, dog.”
DeAndré lunged for him before he even finished saying it.
Grabbing Merrill by the throat with both hands, DeAndré did exactly what Merrill wanted him to do- leave himself open to body shots.
With the hand speed of a fast light heavyweight, Merrill threw a barrage of punches into DeAndré’s abdomen. Unaware that Merrill was attempting to burst one of the condoms, DeAndré saw it as a challenge to keep choking him. As he did, Merrill continued to drive uppercuts into his gut, drilling them with such frequency and force that by the time he finally let go, DeAndré was coughing up blood.
Dad and Daniels ran up, Edward Stone on their heels.
“You all right?” Dad asked.
I shook my head and nodded toward Dexter.
“What the hell’s going on here?” Stone asked when he saw Merrill using his nephew as a heavy bag.
“If he’s still alive when Merrill gets finished, I’m arresting him,” Dad said.
“What’s the charge?” he asked.
“Narcotics possession with intent,” he said. “Bringing a firearm into a state prison facility, and murder.”
“
“And I’m sure NOPD’ll have a lot of other charges to add before it’s over,” I said.
“He sure as hell didn’t do that,” Stone said. He looked at Daniels who nodded, then looked at me. “Is this your doing? Have you been
“Your nephew brought one of them in and killed Dexter Freeman with it,” I said.
“He did no such thing,” he said. “And he’s obviously not in possession of drugs, let alone trying to distribute them.”
As if on cue, Merrill drove one final punch into DeAndré’s gut and he doubled over, falling to his knees and beginning to vomit.
Among the contents emptying from his stomach were three condoms filled with what looked to be small crack rocks.
Stone’s eyes grew nearly to the size of his glasses as he saw them.
“Looks like one of those has a hole in it,” Merrill said. “Get enough straight in your blood stream and you’ll save the taxpayers some money.” He smiled broadly. “Not to mention how poetic it’d be.”
“Inspector,” Stone said to Daniels. “Secure this crime scene. The rest of you get the hell out of here.”
“But-” I began.
“NOW,” he shouted. “Get the hell out of my institution right now.”
“Come on, Son,” Dad said. “We need to get you to a hospital anyway.”
CHAPTER 52
Three days later, I stopped by Anna’s office to get some information.
“How are you?” she asked.
“The pain in my shoulder is manageable.”
She frowned and gave me an understanding look, but didn’t say anything, which I appreciated.
Vividly expressing her duality, Anna’s office was both hard and soft, tough and tender. Like the other institutional offices, pale painted cinder block and tile floor conducted cold and enhanced echoes. However, Anna’s warmth radiated from her large collection of porcelain, painted and cloth angels, and it was the soothing sounds of soft rock that echoed through the small room when her laughter did not.
“Can you tell me what kind of time Cedric Porter has left?” I asked.
“Sure,” she said, immediately typing his name into her computer. “Why?”
“Because he killed his daughter,” I said. “And I want to make sure he’ll be around for a very long time.”
She stopped typing. “He killed Nicole?”
I nodded.
“Can you prove it?”
I shook my head. “That’s why I want to make sure he’ll be around for a while.”
“I’ll check,” she said. “But wait, he works outside the-”
“Not anymore,” I said. “I had his gate pass pulled a week ago.”
As she typed in information and clicked through the screens, she said, “What makes you think he did it?”
“Her face was very badly beaten, which usually indicates the killer knew the victim,” I said. “Parents are the most likely suspects, which is why so many people thought it was the Caldwells. It was a parent-just not either of them.”
She shook her head as she thought about it, lines of pain drawn across her face.
“Plus the body had been staged.”
“Been what?”
I told her.
“But after staging it to look like a sexual murder,” I said, “he undermined his own production by turning her over to cover her. I knew it had to be someone who knew her well, and of course Bobby Earl and Bunny knew her very well, but it really looked to be an impulsive act. Bobby Earl or Bunny could have done it impulsively, but they were more likely to have planned it, and if they had, they’d’ve had a much better alibi and not been anywhere near her at the time.”
“How’d he get into your office?”
“I think Bunny let him in,” I said. “I think they prearranged a visit between Nicole and her real father because he demanded it-probably blackmailed her. Bunny goes to the inner door that leads to the chapel and calls Coel over so he won’t see Porter slip in the outer one from the hallway.”
“That’s right,” she said. “Coel had a blind spot of about ten seconds each way-walking to the door and then walking back to his post. But when did he kill her? Was Bunny in there?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so,” I said. “I think he did it shortly after Bunny went back on stage.”
“But Bobby Earl went in there.”
“Yeah,” I said. “And he thought Nicole was in the bathroom, but really Porter and Nicole were. Daniels said they found blood in the bathroom.”
“The sick son of a bitch,” she said.
“No one else had a motive,” I said. “And it wasn’t a sexual crime. It was pure rage. She said something or did something, or Bunny did, to set him off.”
“You really think he’s capable of doing that to his own daughter?”
I nodded. “He really loved Bunny,” I said. “When she had him transferred out of the chapel at Lake Butler and began her relationship with Bobby Earl, he was devastated. He’s been on a downward spiral ever since.”
“What about evidence?” she asked. “What do you have?”
