Ryker (Hope City #6) - Kris Michaels
Chapter 1
The vibration of his cell phone against the nightstand catapulted Captain Ryker Terrell from sleep. He narrowed his gaze at his digital display. Son of a bitch. Fifteen minutes of sleep. Maybe.
“What? What’s wrong?” The soft, sleepy question came from the tangle of sheets beside him.
“Nothing, it’s work. Go back to sleep.” He grabbed the phone and slid his finger across the face.
“Terrell.”
"Cap, this is Brody. We have a situation. Shit, actually, we have one hell of a mess. You might want to come out here.”
He slid from the bed and watched as she reached for his pillow and hugged it close. Fuck, he did not want to leave. Instead of settling back down into bed with her, he snatched his service weapon, badge, jeans, and shirt and slipped from the room, closing the door quietly. “Our people involved?”
“No sir, but the crime scene involves a case we’re working.”
That went without saying if his sergeant was waking his ass up at two in the morning. “What’s the address?”
“798 Hyatt Place, Maple Hills.”
“En route.” He tugged on his clothes before he grabbed his service weapon and clipped it onto his belt then hooked his badge to the opposite side. With a swipe, he picked up the keys to his sedan and let himself out, locking the door behind him.
He cruised through the nearly deserted streets of Hope City and drove up to... a hell of a mess. His sergeant had pegged the situation, all right. Fire trucks and police vehicles lined the street.
“Well, hell.” He parked and scanned the scorched vista. Visions of the debacle of a bust almost three months ago flashed through his mind. Another stately house gutted by fire. He exited the car and headed toward the crime scene tape. Brody King noticed him and slapped the arm of his brother, Brock. They moved away from the small gathering of police and firemen.
“Captain.” Brody acknowledged him as he approached.
“Brody.” He responded to his sergeant and then glanced at Brock King. The homicide detective and he saw eye to eye as they were the same height, but he had a good forty pounds of muscle on the guy. “What do we have?” He nodded his head toward the shell of a structure beyond.
Brock motioned to what remained of the house. “Three dead bodies. It wouldn’t surprise me if the brass forms an interdepartmental task force on this one. Homicide, suspected arson, and drugs. There was about a kilo of heroin found scattered throughout the kitchen, which was the only area the fire didn’t gut.”
Ryker crossed his arms over his chest and stared a hole into the decimated home. “IDs on the bodies?”
Brock shook his head. “No sir, the ME will have to use dental records for that. They’re not recognizable. The fire made sure of that. The ME is on the way, I’ve done what I could until they process the bodies.”
Brody kicked the ground and cleared his throat. “Cap, the house belongs to Paul Desoto.”
He turned his gaze to his sergeant. “Damn lucky for that son of a bitch he’s in jail.”
Brody sighed. “No sir, he’s not. When I got the call and Brock told me who owned the house, I called the Cascade just to make sure. The jailor on duty looked it up. He told me Desoto had a court appearance yesterday morning, the judge reversed his decision on no bail, and he was free by noon. I didn’t get the notification. The jailor insisted—according to the paperwork—they made the notifications.”
Ryker slid a pissed off glare to the house. “Who got the call?” If one of his people had failed to up-channel that shit, heads would roll.
“Colonel Fenton.”
“Fuck.” That asswipe Fenton.
“Yeah, after the bust with Clare Edelman, Fenton was acting JDET commander.” Because he’d relieved you of duty wasn’t said, but Ryker got the message, loud and clear. Brody shrugged. “This mess isn’t on us.”
“Bullshit. If I knew Desoto was out, I’d have had eyes on him. This,” he motioned to the home left in rubble, “is on all of us because HCPD failed.”
Brock shoved his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. “Sir, from what Sean McBride was saying, the fire started at the back of the house. By the time someone—our people included—noticed it from the street, the men would have already been dead. You can’t take this on, sir. Someone wanted the people in that house dead.”
“McBride has the arson?”
“Yes sir.” Brock nodded.
Ryker blinked and asked, “Wait, why are you working in