Shattered (Michael Bennett #14)(21)

The temperature had dipped, and I zipped up my light windbreaker. I wasn’t sure there was a reason to confront Jeremy Pugh or anyone from The Burning Land. I had to keep telling myself I only wanted to help the investigation. No matter how much I’d like to punch Jeremy Pugh right in the face, I’d have to wait.

I had to glance at the map once to see exactly where The Burning Land would be positioned on the wide-open fields. Ten minutes later, I was watching the hulking Jeremy Pugh, surrounded by the group’s other members. They looked like children next to him. I could make out a couple of signs among the half dozen protesters. One said, NO POLITICAL PARTIES. The other said, BOTH PARTIES ARE THE SAME. It seemed redundant, but I wasn’t going to mention it.

Next to the area where The Burning Land was putting on their show, the Wounded Warrior Project had a couple of information tables. They were collecting money and informing anyone who wanted to listen about the organization. I wanted to listen. As I drew closer, I wondered if anyone from The Burning Land would recognize me out of context. I doubted it.

Before anyone noticed me at the table, I slipped a twenty into the WWP’s donation jar. A young man wearing jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt with a tan leather glove on his left hand stepped up to me. We chatted for a moment, and he told me he was a volunteer who had recently been discharged from the army.

The lean young man, who was a little over six feet tall, still had the short-cropped hair of an Army Ranger. He told me about some of his assignments and training.

I said, “The Wounded Warriors are doing great work.”

The young Ranger said, “Thanks. It has a much more personal meaning to me.”

I stared at him, but he must’ve been used to questioning looks. He didn’t say a word as he raised his left arm and pulled his sleeve up his forearm. It was a metal prosthetic with pistons in a titanium case.

The young man smiled. “I wear the glove even when it’s warm. The prosthetic hasn’t been completely tuned to give me function in two fingers. It also tends to freak out kids.”

“Can I ask how you lost it?”

“Sniper near Bagram Air Base. Took it off from the elbow down. My brother calls me the Terminator because I’m learning to use the arm in a hundred different ways.” The young man cocked his head and looked at me. “What about you? Were you ever in the service?”

“No. I joined the NYPD more than twenty years ago.”

“That’s cool. Anyone who’s doing something in public service deserves credit. Especially cops.”

I enjoyed talking to the young man as people walked past without even glancing at the table. I could also look over at The Burning Land members. There weren’t many of them right now.

I took a risk and said to the young Ranger, “Have you talked to any of the people next to you?”

“The Burning Land? Only for a second when we got here. The big asshole in the Tennessee Titans shirt told us we had to move over because they were expecting more than 200 people to protest. We’ve outnumbered them all day. You looking at them for a crime?”

“Sort of. Really only the big dude. I had a dustup with him, and I don’t want any of them to see me.”

The Ranger smiled. “The army always helps the police.” He turned and walked away from me, grabbing a folding table as he walked. Then he got right next to The Burning Land and started to set up the table.

I couldn’t keep from smiling when I realized what he was doing. It was a simple passive-aggressive provocation. And I liked it.

I saw Jeremy Pugh rush over to the young man setting up the table. Pugh shoved him and said, “I told you to stay over there.”

The Ranger smiled and said, “You also said you’d have 200 people. I guess I just don’t know when to believe you.”

“You can believe I’ll kick your ass if you don’t move that table.”

The Ranger said, “I’ll move it when your extra 195 people show up.”

Pugh stepped toward the table, and the Ranger gave him a halfhearted push. I knew this was his plan. I wanted to see what was going to happen. I was also ready to intervene because I didn’t want this Ranger to get in any trouble.

Before I could move, Pugh threw a wild right-handed haymaker.

The Ranger calmly raised his left arm to block it. And he smiled.

Pugh’s wrist caught the titanium under the young Ranger’s sleeve. It sounded almost like a muted gong. The sound was so unusual that everyone looked in that direction.

Pugh grabbed his wrist and held it to his belly, as if he could squeeze the pain away. It didn’t work. Pugh sputtered a few curses before he stared at the Ranger. After a few moments of trying to intimidate him, Pugh stomped away.

The Ranger gave me a broad smile and a wink.

I put my last ten-dollar bill in the jar.





Chapter 27



I enjoyed my walk back to the hotel to get my rental car. The sky was clear. I felt sunshine on my face. I had leads to follow. And I’d achieved a small measure of revenge. I chuckled every time I thought about Jeremy Pugh’s wrist. And the Ranger had been just so casual in the way he’d blocked that punch. Clearly he knew that by never punching Jeremy Pugh himself, he had committed no crime.

By early afternoon, I’d driven past the address for Donald Minshew three times. I hadn’t seen any cars in the driveway or anyone in the front yard. This part of the Capitol Hill neighborhood was beautiful, and the Minshew town house was no exception. It was three stories tall, with wide balconies on the second and third floors. The front yard was awash with imported flowers and colorful plants. I noticed tulips and some kind of tall tropical-looking flower. They must have installed a heater system. The flowers looked healthy now, but I didn’t think many of them would make it through the winter. That was what I’d call conspicuous consumption. Texas style.