Fake Fan Fiction ❯ Misery ❯ High Speed ( Chapter 13 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Kita and Subu-chan 
Anime/Manga: Fake Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Action / Drama / Romance / Police | Type: Shounen-ai | Uploaded On: 01.30.2007 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.0K | Visits: 422 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Fake Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Action / Drama / Romance / Police | Type: Shounen-ai | Uploaded On: 01.30.2007 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.0K | Visits: 422 | Status: Work In Progress
Chapter Thirteen-High Speed
A/N-While Akita sleeps the sleep of the heavily medicated, *holds up bottle of Valium with a smug grin* I’ll post thirteen. To everyone who reads this, thank you. Just seeing all the visits this story has received is an ego-boost. Thank you. Mi-chan-you did find it!!!! We were waiting for that review! And Catti-dono? I’ll be watching you. I picked up her refill today and I’m hiding it from both of you. *With a forced grin* Do enjoy the fic!
And yes, we know Dee was a bastard last chapter. He was supposed to be. He got better, didn’t he? And it gave Drake the opportunity to sock him one…
While we usually try to space out the chapters-Drake&JJ/Dee/Drake&JJ/Dee/ etc.-We decided that this one was better left to Drake. He’ll be seeing most of the action for the present, so we’re going to stick with him for the moment!
Drake was seething as he drove. And the hell of it was, he knew it was his own fault. He knew he shouldn’t have been watching them from the kitchen door, but he couldn’t have stopped himself, even if he tried. They had kept their voices low, so he couldn’t make out what they were saying, especially when Ted called, but he had most definitely seen Dee draw JJ into an embrace.
Damn Dee anyway! Wouldn’t he realize that things like that just fed the fire? If he was being really nice to JJ like that, JJ would never get over him! Drake slammed a fist into the steering wheel with a string of muttered curses.
The stab of pain as the skin over his knuckles split shocked him back to his senses. What the fuck was wrong with him?! Dee was right. He was acting the jealous boyfriend bit to the hilt. JJ was not his boyfriend!!
Absently, Drake sucked on his bleeding knuckles, still fuming. The salt taste of his own blood abruptly brought to mind JJ, sucking on his own burned fingers right before he burst into tears.
Drake winced away from that thought. God, what was wrong with him these days?
Needless to say, when he finally arrived at the corner where Ted waited for him in a patrol car, his mood had not improved by one little bit. Ted took one look at his pinched expression and shook his head. “You are strung way too tight, man. Y’know what you need-?”
Drake interrupted him with an evil glare. “If you’re going to tell me I need to get laid again, stuff a sock in it!”
Ted merely shoved a hand through his red hair and blinked apathetically at him. Ironically, that only pissed Drake off all the more. “Sonuva-”
Ted was lucky that the barely closed scabs on Drake’s fisted hand chose that moment to break open. The sting of torn flesh and trickle of bright crimson distracted him from the urge to smash his friend in the face. “Ouch! Shit…!”
“What did you do to your hand?” Ted asked curiously.
“Beat the crap out of a couple of inanimate objects-including Dee…” Drake scowled as he wiped blood from his knuckles. “And then there’s this nosy-assed friend who doesn’t know enough to shut his mouth…”
Ted raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay! But, seriously, when it’s all over but the shouting, we should go knock a few back at Kellie’s place. She’d be glad to see us.”
Drake managed a real smile, his sour mood easing at the thought. “Yeah. That would be nice.”
One of the favorite watering spots for the 27th was the ‘Dis Patch Bar and Grill, (More affectionately known simply as Kellie’s) a bar run by Kellie Lindskold, a tough-as-nails former dispatcher. She had a special fondness for the crew of her former workplace, and off-duty cops comprised a major part of her clientele. Drake adored her.
While she was nothing like his own long dead mother, she had been like a mother to him since he had first wandered into her domain as a wet-behind-the-ears rookie so new the shine hadn’t even rubbed off. Kellie had taken to him at once and willing given the newbie cop advice garnered from years of police experience. And for some reason, talking to Kellie sounded like a really good idea right about now. He needed some serious advice. This whole thing with JJ was getting to him.
Drake was startled from thoughts of chatting with Kellie by the crackle of the radio. “All units in the vicinity of Murray’s Pub, be advised the suspect is leaving the pub in a gray Honda Civic, tag Alpha-Charlie-4-7-7-Beta. Headed north on Miller.”
“Oops, that’s us.” Ted said as he picked up the radio and gave the “Responding” answer back. “Get in.”
Drake climbed into the patrol car as Ted started it and eased it a little further into the shadows cast by a dilapidated apartment building. They waited tensely as the Honda turned the corner and headed west.
“He’s not going to give us a reason.” Ted scowled at the car as it sedately made another turn, keeping well within the speed limit.
Drake scowled at the car as they followed at a discreet distance. “C’mon, you ass. One excuse.”
Ted spotted it before he did, as the car ahead slowed to a stop at a light. One of the brake lights flickered and blinked, barely managing to stay lit. A loose wire, no doubt, but enough cause for a routine traffic stop. Drake called it in as Ted flashed the lights. Ted’s grin was full of enjoyment as the driver looked nervously over his shoulder. “C’mon, baby, run for me.”
The driver decided to oblige. With a roar of acceleration, the tiny Honda peeled away from them. Ted’s grin widened as he hit the siren and sped in pursuit of the car. Drake yelped and clutched for the door handle as Ted cornered abruptly. Cursing under his breath as his sliced foot banged into the underside of the dash, Drake managed to grab the radio. He called the pursuit in-between hanging on for dear life and bouts of cursing Ted and the suspect both six ways from Sunday. “Dammit, Ted, this is why I fucking hate high-speed chases!”
Ted grinned ferally at him. “Gotta love the rush, man!”
Drake cursed him again and then simply held on as the little Honda led them a merry chase through the streets. “He’s making for the freeway.”
“Yeah!” If anything, Ted’s smile grew wider.
“No!” Drake threw Ted a furious scowl. “Dumbass! If this gets onto the freeway and the evening news, we’ll lose Murray’s Pub. They’ll connect this with him and say bye-bye to one of our best sting operations.”
“Damn.” Ted’s face fell, but he reached for the radio and asked for a blockade at the on-ramp nearest them. “Take all the fun out of it, why don’t you?” He grumped unhappily as he increased his speed a little.
“I knew there was something wrong with you when you told me high-speed pursuits were fun.”
Ted flashed him another grin. “I love the adrenaline high!”
A brief flash of brake lights was all the warning they got as the Civic made a suicidal turn into an oncoming lane of traffic. Ted cursed and yanked the wheel around. Drake clung to the door. “He must’ve seen the blockade!”
“Tell me something I don’t know!” Ted wrestled the patrol car back under control by sheer force of will and turned to follow the suspect, cursing loudly. Thankfully the traffic was light and before long, the idiot had gotten back into the correct lane. Sweating and swearing, Ted followed him. “He’s not gonna stop for shit until he runs out of gas!” He observed. “You’re partners with a sniper. Did enough of him rub off on you that you think you could hit one of his tires? We’re going to have to do something drastic before he drags this into the downtown area?”
Drake flinched at the mention of JJ, but resolutely reached for his sidearm. “I can try.”
“There is no try! Do or do not!”
“Shut the hell up!” Drake rolled down his window and leaned out precariously. “You are not Yoda and the Force is not with me!” He strove to steady his gun-hand as Ted made another turn after the fleeing Honda, muttering under his breath all the while. “Fucking Star Wars fanboy! This is not the damned Death star and I am not Luke frigging Skywalker!”
“Just shut up and take the damned shot!” Ted bit out. “Were going to be hitting a lot of traffic real soon and I do not want him to get away!”
“Or me to miss my shot and hit an innocent bystander.” Drake growled back, concentrating hard on the tires of the small car in front of them. He wished he had thought to scrub the sweat out of his eyes, but there was no more time. Already, the flow of traffic around them had increased and there were dozens of pedestrians that could get in the way of a badly aimed shot. With a silent prayer to anyone or anything that might be listening, he squeezed off a shot. The welcome sound of rubber shredding and metal scraping pavement was his reward.
“Got you, bastard!” Ted crowed triumphantly as the car slewed in a desperate bid to regain control. Horns honked all around them as other drivers tried desperately to avoid the skidding car. With a sound like a gunshot, the other rear tire gave way and the Civic spun around completely before plowing tail-first into an (thankfully unused) ATM. Ted skidded to a halt and they both piled out of the car to confront the groaning suspect. Blinking blood out of his eyes, the man raised his hands in surrender.
The interrogation room was silent except for the harsh rasp of the suspect’s (One Theodore Wilkes-Rodriguez; age twenty-two) breaths. He was having trouble breathing through the nose that had been broken in the crash. Somehow, Drake couldn’t find it in himself to feel much sympathy for him. Chances were this punk was the reason Ryo was lying in a hospital bed with a hole in his lung. Drake grinned wolfishly at Wilkes-Rodriguez, unseen by the battered man on the other side of the glass.
Forensics had gone through the car and had retrieved several small caliber sidearms, about two pounds of cocaine, and about ten grand in cash. The guns were being tested for a match with the bullet that the doctors had pulled out of Ryo’s lung. Drake couldn’t wait for the results. As it was, they had enough to put him away for several years, but not enough to charge him with attempted murder.
Drake turned as Ted came up behind him with a file folder in his hands. “Got this from the computer when we ran his prints. He has a rap sheet half a mile long. All petty stuff though. Small time breaking and entering, vandalism, and public nuisance, mostly. Think the bank robbery was his attempt to make it into the big time?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care either. But if he is the bastard who shot Ryo, I’m going to enjoy putting him away for a long, long time.” Drake scowled as he took the file and glanced over it. “Stupid shit. I really, really hope he is the one who pulled the trigger. This has been nothing but hell since then.”
Ted shot him a curious glance. “Hell?”
Drake sighed and stared hard at one page for a over a minute, before realizing that he had yet to actually process a single word printed on the page. “It’s nothing, Ted. Just…” He heaved another sigh. “Never mind. I’ve just got a lot on my mind. Forget it.”
Ted shrugged carelessly. “Whatever you say, man.”
“We gonna pull the usual shtick on this shmuck?”
Ted grinned. He loved playing up to his role in their routine. “Absolutely. I can’t wait to see him sweat!”
Drake snapped the file closed and shared a grin that was only mildly malicious with his friend. “Let’s get this over with.”
They exited the observation room and Drake unlocked the door of the interrogation room beside it. Wilkes-Rodriguez looked up as they entered, beads of sweat gleaming on his bandaged forehead and upper lip.
Ted gave Drake a surreptitious grin as he turned to close the door. If he was already sweating this early in the game, it would be a piece of cake to pry details out of him. Drake and Ted had played the good cop/bad cop routine many times before and always to good effect and fell smoothly into character. They worked better than most partners on this little scam, often prying confessions out where others had no luck. Ted’s red hair and volatile nature paired well with Drake’s more laid-back attitude and easy-going demeanor.
“Hello, Mr. Wilkes-Rodriguez.” Drake offered with a steady smile as he seated himself across the table from the man. Ted remained standing, prowling restlessly around the perimeter of the small room. The suspect’s eyes flicked nervously back and forth between Drake and Ted. Drake hid a grin. It was always a good start when he was so clearly unnerved so early in the process.
Drake kept his voice low and soothing. “My name is Detective Parker and that’s Detective Spencer over there. Would you like to tell us why you ran from what was a routine traffic stop?”
Wilkes-Rodriguez paled. “I-uh-I’ve been in trouble with the law. I was driving my brother’s car, man, and I know he’s into some shit that could get my parole revoked. I saw the lights and I-I just panicked.”
Ted growled and whirled to slam both palms down on the tabletop. Even Drake, who had been expecting something like that, flinched. The effect on Wilkes-Rodriguez was far more pronounced. He jumped so high that he nearly knocked his chair over. “Cut the crap, dumbass! Some of that money we pulled out of the car was from a bank heist a couple of days ago. A cop got shot. Were you the one holding the smoking gun, Teddy-boy?”
Wilkes-Rodriguez went white as a sheet. “S-s-shit, man,” he stammered. “I swear to god, I had no idea! Manny, he just lends me his car, tells me to go down to the pub and give some money to Keith. Says he bet on the wrong pony and had to pay up. I don’t know nothing about a bank robbery! Did Manny kill a cop? Oh, holy mother in heaven, did my brother kill a cop? No way! No frigging way!”
Drake cast a sidelong glance at Ted as the young man continued to babble on the razor’s edge of hysterics. His unfeigned terror was proof enough that he wasn’t involved directly with Ryo’s shooting. But he could still be counted as an accomplice.
Drake glanced down at the file he had opened on the table. “Says here, the car’s registered to one Manuel Rodriguez. That your brother?”
Gulping, Wilkes-Rodriguez nodded hard. “My half-brother, man. Dad married my mom when I was just a kid. He used to take me out with him as a lookout when he and his buddies did shit.”
Ted scowled down at the sweating, shaking youth, a sneer in his voice. “Oh, so you were playing lookout when your brother tried to off a cop? You know that make you an accessory to attempted murder, right?” Ted leaned down to scowl into Wilkes-Rodriguez’s face. “Are you an accessory, Teddy-boy?”
The kid flinched back. “No! No, I swear I didn’t know nothing, man! I just did what he told me and ran the cash down to the bar. I don’t get to drive his car very often so I was happy to do it. I didn’t know nothing about no bank robbery or a cop getting shot, I swear!”
A/N Getting closer to the end here, folks! Hope you like how things are going so far. Reviews welcome. (R-reviews? *Raises head with a yawn* Did someone say reviews?) No, Akita, dear, now just go back to sleep. *Casts an evil look toward Catti-Dono* Sorry for the wait. This is what happens when my partner doesn’t get her meds on time.
A/N-While Akita sleeps the sleep of the heavily medicated, *holds up bottle of Valium with a smug grin* I’ll post thirteen. To everyone who reads this, thank you. Just seeing all the visits this story has received is an ego-boost. Thank you. Mi-chan-you did find it!!!! We were waiting for that review! And Catti-dono? I’ll be watching you. I picked up her refill today and I’m hiding it from both of you. *With a forced grin* Do enjoy the fic!
And yes, we know Dee was a bastard last chapter. He was supposed to be. He got better, didn’t he? And it gave Drake the opportunity to sock him one…
While we usually try to space out the chapters-Drake&JJ/Dee/Drake&JJ/Dee/ etc.-We decided that this one was better left to Drake. He’ll be seeing most of the action for the present, so we’re going to stick with him for the moment!
Drake was seething as he drove. And the hell of it was, he knew it was his own fault. He knew he shouldn’t have been watching them from the kitchen door, but he couldn’t have stopped himself, even if he tried. They had kept their voices low, so he couldn’t make out what they were saying, especially when Ted called, but he had most definitely seen Dee draw JJ into an embrace.
Damn Dee anyway! Wouldn’t he realize that things like that just fed the fire? If he was being really nice to JJ like that, JJ would never get over him! Drake slammed a fist into the steering wheel with a string of muttered curses.
The stab of pain as the skin over his knuckles split shocked him back to his senses. What the fuck was wrong with him?! Dee was right. He was acting the jealous boyfriend bit to the hilt. JJ was not his boyfriend!!
Absently, Drake sucked on his bleeding knuckles, still fuming. The salt taste of his own blood abruptly brought to mind JJ, sucking on his own burned fingers right before he burst into tears.
Drake winced away from that thought. God, what was wrong with him these days?
Needless to say, when he finally arrived at the corner where Ted waited for him in a patrol car, his mood had not improved by one little bit. Ted took one look at his pinched expression and shook his head. “You are strung way too tight, man. Y’know what you need-?”
Drake interrupted him with an evil glare. “If you’re going to tell me I need to get laid again, stuff a sock in it!”
Ted merely shoved a hand through his red hair and blinked apathetically at him. Ironically, that only pissed Drake off all the more. “Sonuva-”
Ted was lucky that the barely closed scabs on Drake’s fisted hand chose that moment to break open. The sting of torn flesh and trickle of bright crimson distracted him from the urge to smash his friend in the face. “Ouch! Shit…!”
“What did you do to your hand?” Ted asked curiously.
“Beat the crap out of a couple of inanimate objects-including Dee…” Drake scowled as he wiped blood from his knuckles. “And then there’s this nosy-assed friend who doesn’t know enough to shut his mouth…”
Ted raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay! But, seriously, when it’s all over but the shouting, we should go knock a few back at Kellie’s place. She’d be glad to see us.”
Drake managed a real smile, his sour mood easing at the thought. “Yeah. That would be nice.”
One of the favorite watering spots for the 27th was the ‘Dis Patch Bar and Grill, (More affectionately known simply as Kellie’s) a bar run by Kellie Lindskold, a tough-as-nails former dispatcher. She had a special fondness for the crew of her former workplace, and off-duty cops comprised a major part of her clientele. Drake adored her.
While she was nothing like his own long dead mother, she had been like a mother to him since he had first wandered into her domain as a wet-behind-the-ears rookie so new the shine hadn’t even rubbed off. Kellie had taken to him at once and willing given the newbie cop advice garnered from years of police experience. And for some reason, talking to Kellie sounded like a really good idea right about now. He needed some serious advice. This whole thing with JJ was getting to him.
Drake was startled from thoughts of chatting with Kellie by the crackle of the radio. “All units in the vicinity of Murray’s Pub, be advised the suspect is leaving the pub in a gray Honda Civic, tag Alpha-Charlie-4-7-7-Beta. Headed north on Miller.”
“Oops, that’s us.” Ted said as he picked up the radio and gave the “Responding” answer back. “Get in.”
Drake climbed into the patrol car as Ted started it and eased it a little further into the shadows cast by a dilapidated apartment building. They waited tensely as the Honda turned the corner and headed west.
“He’s not going to give us a reason.” Ted scowled at the car as it sedately made another turn, keeping well within the speed limit.
Drake scowled at the car as they followed at a discreet distance. “C’mon, you ass. One excuse.”
Ted spotted it before he did, as the car ahead slowed to a stop at a light. One of the brake lights flickered and blinked, barely managing to stay lit. A loose wire, no doubt, but enough cause for a routine traffic stop. Drake called it in as Ted flashed the lights. Ted’s grin was full of enjoyment as the driver looked nervously over his shoulder. “C’mon, baby, run for me.”
The driver decided to oblige. With a roar of acceleration, the tiny Honda peeled away from them. Ted’s grin widened as he hit the siren and sped in pursuit of the car. Drake yelped and clutched for the door handle as Ted cornered abruptly. Cursing under his breath as his sliced foot banged into the underside of the dash, Drake managed to grab the radio. He called the pursuit in-between hanging on for dear life and bouts of cursing Ted and the suspect both six ways from Sunday. “Dammit, Ted, this is why I fucking hate high-speed chases!”
Ted grinned ferally at him. “Gotta love the rush, man!”
Drake cursed him again and then simply held on as the little Honda led them a merry chase through the streets. “He’s making for the freeway.”
“Yeah!” If anything, Ted’s smile grew wider.
“No!” Drake threw Ted a furious scowl. “Dumbass! If this gets onto the freeway and the evening news, we’ll lose Murray’s Pub. They’ll connect this with him and say bye-bye to one of our best sting operations.”
“Damn.” Ted’s face fell, but he reached for the radio and asked for a blockade at the on-ramp nearest them. “Take all the fun out of it, why don’t you?” He grumped unhappily as he increased his speed a little.
“I knew there was something wrong with you when you told me high-speed pursuits were fun.”
Ted flashed him another grin. “I love the adrenaline high!”
A brief flash of brake lights was all the warning they got as the Civic made a suicidal turn into an oncoming lane of traffic. Ted cursed and yanked the wheel around. Drake clung to the door. “He must’ve seen the blockade!”
“Tell me something I don’t know!” Ted wrestled the patrol car back under control by sheer force of will and turned to follow the suspect, cursing loudly. Thankfully the traffic was light and before long, the idiot had gotten back into the correct lane. Sweating and swearing, Ted followed him. “He’s not gonna stop for shit until he runs out of gas!” He observed. “You’re partners with a sniper. Did enough of him rub off on you that you think you could hit one of his tires? We’re going to have to do something drastic before he drags this into the downtown area?”
Drake flinched at the mention of JJ, but resolutely reached for his sidearm. “I can try.”
“There is no try! Do or do not!”
“Shut the hell up!” Drake rolled down his window and leaned out precariously. “You are not Yoda and the Force is not with me!” He strove to steady his gun-hand as Ted made another turn after the fleeing Honda, muttering under his breath all the while. “Fucking Star Wars fanboy! This is not the damned Death star and I am not Luke frigging Skywalker!”
“Just shut up and take the damned shot!” Ted bit out. “Were going to be hitting a lot of traffic real soon and I do not want him to get away!”
“Or me to miss my shot and hit an innocent bystander.” Drake growled back, concentrating hard on the tires of the small car in front of them. He wished he had thought to scrub the sweat out of his eyes, but there was no more time. Already, the flow of traffic around them had increased and there were dozens of pedestrians that could get in the way of a badly aimed shot. With a silent prayer to anyone or anything that might be listening, he squeezed off a shot. The welcome sound of rubber shredding and metal scraping pavement was his reward.
“Got you, bastard!” Ted crowed triumphantly as the car slewed in a desperate bid to regain control. Horns honked all around them as other drivers tried desperately to avoid the skidding car. With a sound like a gunshot, the other rear tire gave way and the Civic spun around completely before plowing tail-first into an (thankfully unused) ATM. Ted skidded to a halt and they both piled out of the car to confront the groaning suspect. Blinking blood out of his eyes, the man raised his hands in surrender.
The interrogation room was silent except for the harsh rasp of the suspect’s (One Theodore Wilkes-Rodriguez; age twenty-two) breaths. He was having trouble breathing through the nose that had been broken in the crash. Somehow, Drake couldn’t find it in himself to feel much sympathy for him. Chances were this punk was the reason Ryo was lying in a hospital bed with a hole in his lung. Drake grinned wolfishly at Wilkes-Rodriguez, unseen by the battered man on the other side of the glass.
Forensics had gone through the car and had retrieved several small caliber sidearms, about two pounds of cocaine, and about ten grand in cash. The guns were being tested for a match with the bullet that the doctors had pulled out of Ryo’s lung. Drake couldn’t wait for the results. As it was, they had enough to put him away for several years, but not enough to charge him with attempted murder.
Drake turned as Ted came up behind him with a file folder in his hands. “Got this from the computer when we ran his prints. He has a rap sheet half a mile long. All petty stuff though. Small time breaking and entering, vandalism, and public nuisance, mostly. Think the bank robbery was his attempt to make it into the big time?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care either. But if he is the bastard who shot Ryo, I’m going to enjoy putting him away for a long, long time.” Drake scowled as he took the file and glanced over it. “Stupid shit. I really, really hope he is the one who pulled the trigger. This has been nothing but hell since then.”
Ted shot him a curious glance. “Hell?”
Drake sighed and stared hard at one page for a over a minute, before realizing that he had yet to actually process a single word printed on the page. “It’s nothing, Ted. Just…” He heaved another sigh. “Never mind. I’ve just got a lot on my mind. Forget it.”
Ted shrugged carelessly. “Whatever you say, man.”
“We gonna pull the usual shtick on this shmuck?”
Ted grinned. He loved playing up to his role in their routine. “Absolutely. I can’t wait to see him sweat!”
Drake snapped the file closed and shared a grin that was only mildly malicious with his friend. “Let’s get this over with.”
They exited the observation room and Drake unlocked the door of the interrogation room beside it. Wilkes-Rodriguez looked up as they entered, beads of sweat gleaming on his bandaged forehead and upper lip.
Ted gave Drake a surreptitious grin as he turned to close the door. If he was already sweating this early in the game, it would be a piece of cake to pry details out of him. Drake and Ted had played the good cop/bad cop routine many times before and always to good effect and fell smoothly into character. They worked better than most partners on this little scam, often prying confessions out where others had no luck. Ted’s red hair and volatile nature paired well with Drake’s more laid-back attitude and easy-going demeanor.
“Hello, Mr. Wilkes-Rodriguez.” Drake offered with a steady smile as he seated himself across the table from the man. Ted remained standing, prowling restlessly around the perimeter of the small room. The suspect’s eyes flicked nervously back and forth between Drake and Ted. Drake hid a grin. It was always a good start when he was so clearly unnerved so early in the process.
Drake kept his voice low and soothing. “My name is Detective Parker and that’s Detective Spencer over there. Would you like to tell us why you ran from what was a routine traffic stop?”
Wilkes-Rodriguez paled. “I-uh-I’ve been in trouble with the law. I was driving my brother’s car, man, and I know he’s into some shit that could get my parole revoked. I saw the lights and I-I just panicked.”
Ted growled and whirled to slam both palms down on the tabletop. Even Drake, who had been expecting something like that, flinched. The effect on Wilkes-Rodriguez was far more pronounced. He jumped so high that he nearly knocked his chair over. “Cut the crap, dumbass! Some of that money we pulled out of the car was from a bank heist a couple of days ago. A cop got shot. Were you the one holding the smoking gun, Teddy-boy?”
Wilkes-Rodriguez went white as a sheet. “S-s-shit, man,” he stammered. “I swear to god, I had no idea! Manny, he just lends me his car, tells me to go down to the pub and give some money to Keith. Says he bet on the wrong pony and had to pay up. I don’t know nothing about a bank robbery! Did Manny kill a cop? Oh, holy mother in heaven, did my brother kill a cop? No way! No frigging way!”
Drake cast a sidelong glance at Ted as the young man continued to babble on the razor’s edge of hysterics. His unfeigned terror was proof enough that he wasn’t involved directly with Ryo’s shooting. But he could still be counted as an accomplice.
Drake glanced down at the file he had opened on the table. “Says here, the car’s registered to one Manuel Rodriguez. That your brother?”
Gulping, Wilkes-Rodriguez nodded hard. “My half-brother, man. Dad married my mom when I was just a kid. He used to take me out with him as a lookout when he and his buddies did shit.”
Ted scowled down at the sweating, shaking youth, a sneer in his voice. “Oh, so you were playing lookout when your brother tried to off a cop? You know that make you an accessory to attempted murder, right?” Ted leaned down to scowl into Wilkes-Rodriguez’s face. “Are you an accessory, Teddy-boy?”
The kid flinched back. “No! No, I swear I didn’t know nothing, man! I just did what he told me and ran the cash down to the bar. I don’t get to drive his car very often so I was happy to do it. I didn’t know nothing about no bank robbery or a cop getting shot, I swear!”
A/N Getting closer to the end here, folks! Hope you like how things are going so far. Reviews welcome. (R-reviews? *Raises head with a yawn* Did someone say reviews?) No, Akita, dear, now just go back to sleep. *Casts an evil look toward Catti-Dono* Sorry for the wait. This is what happens when my partner doesn’t get her meds on time.