A Necessary Evil(46)
“None taken.”
“…wants to take care of this sick asshole for us, then why do we have to be in such a hurry to stop him? It’s like nature, man.”
“Nature?” Kurt looked at Lonnie, confused.
“Yeah, nature. The circle of life and all that. The predator stalks the prey. The prey becomes the predator. You know what I’m talking about.”
“No, Lonnie. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
All of a sudden, Kurt felt a warming sensation course through his veins.
The Percocet must be working its magic.
“Forget the circle of life. Just listen to what I’m telling you. If Franklin Cartwright wants to deal with this bastard his own way, why should we stop him? We don’t have to give him our blessing. Just, maybe, take our time finding him. That’s all I’m saying.”
Kurt, now feeling a lot better, found himself actually considering Lonnie’s theory. What if they did turn their backs and let Frankie do his thing? Would it be so bad? After all, Collin McAllister had caused unimaginable grief for six families, and there would have been seven victims if Frankie hadn’t tracked him down to that underground bunker and stopped him in the nick of time. Maybe the world would be a better place if he let Frankie do what he wanted and eliminated one more criminal from this earth. It would save the taxpayers time and money, and no one would likely even look for him.
Wait. What the hell am I thinking?
No way was he about to turn his back and let Frankie, once again, commit cold-blooded murder. And he had to call a spade a spade. That what it would be—cold blooded murder. It would be one thing if Frankie had caught Julian McAllister in the act of killing Addie and shot him in a fit of rage, but that wasn’t what he’d done. Though he never learned the exact details, he knew Frankie had stalked Julian for nearly a year before he’d kidnapped him from his gym and held him for hours, maybe even days, doing God only knew what to him before putting a bullet in his head and disposing of his body somewhere so well-hidden, no one ever found a trace of him. It would be the same with the son if Kurt let history repeat itself. Cold-blooded murder. Not on his watch.
“No way, man,” he finally told Lonnie. He was feeling good now, but no matter how good he felt, he knew he couldn’t stand by and let Frankie do whatever he wanted. “Like I said, we’re police. It’s our job to catch murderers, and if at all possible, prevent them.”
Lonnie hung his head and nodded, as if he’d known what Kurt’s answer would be all along. “Yeah, I kind of figured you’d say that.”
Kurt continued. “No matter what Collin McAllister has done, no matter what he deserves, we can’t stand by and let someone like Franklin Cartwright decide someone’s fate. He already…”
He was about to let it slip about Julian, but caught himself.
Damn, Percocet is a hell of a drug.
He straightened his shoulders and continued, hoping Lonnie didn’t ask any questions. “He already thinks he can do whatever he wants because he has money and influence in this town. I’m not about to stand by and let him continue to run this town. Especially not commit murder. Now, that’s the end of it.”
“I hear ya, Whiskey. You’re right.” Lonnie said, though he looked a bit disappointed.
“We’re going to search every property he has in his name. He had to take him somewhere he owns. He couldn’t carry out his plans, whatever they are, in a public place. Unfortunately, Frankie owns half the city, so it’s going to be like finding a very tiny needle in a very large haystack.”
“Where do we start?” Lonnie rolled his chair back toward his own desk and opened his computer screen. “You lead the way.”
Kurt smiled as he turned to his own computer and pulled up a search screen. He was doing the right thing. It wasn’t the easy thing, to be sure. But it was definitely the right thing. “You start with the rural properties outside the city limits, but within the county. He won’t have gone far. I’ll start with the commercial sites. If I were Frankie, I’d probably hide Collin somewhere industrial, like a warehouse, or an abandoned property of some kind.”
“Sounds good,” Lonnie said as he typed away at his keyboard. After a few seconds of silence, he raised his head. “Hey, Whiskey?”
“Yes, Lonnie?” Kurt tried not to sound irritated, but he knew he wasn’t hiding it well.
“How’s that pill working out for you? Feeling any better?”
Kurt sighed. “Yes. I feel a lot better. Thanks, Lonnie.”
“No problem. I’ve got a whole bottleful from my knee surgery last summer. I keep them for special occasions. But if you need another, let me know. I’ve got you covered.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll need any more.” But as soon as the words came out of Kurt’s mouth, he knew he was lying, both to Lonnie and to himself. He felt too good, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t even feel the pain in his back. Now he understood how and why people became addicted to the stuff. But what the hell. He was retiring soon. What was the harm in feeling good for once in his life? He’d worked too long and too hard to deny himself the warm, euphoric pleasure that was now washing over him. He deserved it.
And there was another perk to the tiny blue pill. Suddenly, he had the energy he needed to focus on the task at hand. It was an amazing feeling. He smiled as he opened a new search page and entered “Franklin Cartwright” into the “property owner” field. After clicking SUBMIT, he watched as the department’s slower than molasses internet searched for results. A few seconds later, the results appeared on the blue screen before him. According to the Property Valuation Administrator, Franklin Cartwright owned exactly four residential properties and twelve commercial properties within the city limits. In an instant, his good mood turned sour.