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“We need to find out why this drug dealer is going after Rain Robinson,” was the only thing that concerned her. And when the shooting extended to Jackie and her operation, Bautista felt vindicated.
“You two were first on the scene?” Bautista asked when she reached the first responders and then she asked them to describe the scene in as much detail as they could recall. “Who did you talk to?”
When the officers pointed to Darla Knight, the club’s manager, Bautista turned and looked at Dickerson and Scott. “No Ed Weather?”
“I thought that was strange that neither he or Darius were here,” Scott said.
“Did you talk to her?” Bautista asked.
“I did speak with her,” Scott began. “And she said that she didn’t see anything. Said she was hiding under a table and was just overjoyed to be alive.”
“You ask her where Ed Weather and Darius were?”
“I did. Hadn’t seen them all night, was the load of crap she fed me. Ed and Darius were here all right. My bet is that they’re the ones who fought off and killed these guys,” Scott said, but he was wrong. Both Ed Weather and Darius Wilkerson were dead before Black, Rain and Jackie came out of the office.
“Make finding them your top priority.”
The three Detectives turned quickly to see that Lieutenant Sanchez was standing behind them.
“Yes, Lieutenant,” Scott said.
Sanchez turned to Bautista and Dickerson. “I think it’s beyond time that you two talk to Derek Mobley, don’t you, Detectives?”
“Yes, Lieutenant,” Bautista said.
“Yes, Lieutenant,” Dickerson said, and wished the Lieutenant would make it an order, so Bautista doesn’t run off to question Rain about it, he thought and shook his head. Dickerson believed all along that they should be talking to Mobley and putting pressure on him to give up the shooters. But Bautista was the lead on the case, so they did things her way.
“And take a couple of units with you for back up, Bautista and that’s an order,” Sanchez added.
“Yes, Lieutenant,” Bautista said and walked away.
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Dickerson said knowing that Bautista would have gone without backup if he hadn’t made it an order.
When the Detectives arrived at Mobley’s last known address with two marked cars, there was a group of six men standing in front of the building. When the men scattered, the uniformed officers exited their vehicles.
“Police, freeze!”
And since that never works, the uniformed officers began to give chase.
“Let them go! That’s not what we’re here for!” Bautista shouted, but that was when one of the men turned and fired at the officers and they returned fire.
“Hold your fire!” she began yelling. Bautista and Dickerson drew their weapons and took cover behind a car. “Hold your fire!”
When the shooting stopped four men, three of them unarmed, lay dead in the streets.
“This is not good,” Dickerson said to Bautista as they stood over the bodies. “Not good at all.”
“Come on,” Bautista said and quickly turned toward the building. The Detectives went to the apartment where Mobley was last known to have lived. Dickerson knocked on the door and both Detectives drew their weapons.
“Police!”
There was a long silence with no answer, so Bautista banged on the door. “Police! Open up right now!”
“Just a minute. I’m coming,” they heard a frail voice say, and they lowered their weapons a little. When the door opened, the Detectives quickly holstered their weapons at the site of an older lady with a walker.
“We’re sorry to bother you, ma’am,” Dickerson began. “But we’re looking for Derek Mobley. Is he here?”
“Derek is dead,” the woman informed the Detectives.
