Public Enemy

Two blocks over from the tapped-off auto yard, the squeal of car brakes rent the air as Chief McKinney skidded to a halt. He parked askew in front of the mobile field command post tent, jumped out of the driver's seat and marched inside. 

The pop-up was filled with folding tables and portable communications equipment, while nearly a dozen supervisors and dispatchers bustled about coordinating the search effort. Scanning past the busy crew, McKinney zeroed in on his man.

Waylon sat near the back, his feet up on a table, lazily scrolling his phone. Temple pulsing, McKinney pushed through the crowd to reach him. 

"I thought I said you were relieved," McKinney spat angrily as he approached. 

Waylon looked up from his phone and rolled his eyes, "The Mayor wanted me to stay on scene. Besides, I'm not the one who fired his gun. Ryan is already being debriefed with internal affairs."

McKinney knocked Waylon's feet off the table, "I' don't care who your sucking off, if I tell you you're relieved, then you get the fuck out." 

Waylon shot out of his seat and squared off with the Chief. "Say again, sir?" he sneered. 

Chase sauntered over from the other end of the tent and stood at Waylon's shoulder, both men bearing down on their superior. The other officers gathered around the crowded tables froze, watching the exchange with bated breath. 

McKinney held his ground, nostrils flaring like an angry bull, when Lieutenant Finnick entered. Seeing the tense standoff, he hurried over to the Chief and grabbed his shoulder. 

 "We need you back at headquarters boss," Finnick urged.

For a solid minute, McKinney ignored his Lieutenant, keeping his eyes locked on Waylon's. Slowly he turned to one of the Sergeants on scene.

"Get them out, now," He barked. 

The detectives let themselves be escorted out, Waylon smiling haughtily as we went. 

When they had gone, McKinney leaned, fuming between the cables and laptops on the table as his people resumed their duties. 

"Boss?" Finnick said cautiously.

"What's the status on my 'copter?" McKinney asked, ignoring Finnick's concern. 

Finnick sighed, "All the external instruments are down. The fucker knew where to hit it. The crew is getting ready to go back up, but it will be line of sight only, no infrared, lights, or cameras."

MicKinney pinched the bridge of his nose, warding off a headache, "and the victim? We get an I.D?"

Finnick pulled out a notepad from his pocket, "Javier Gonzales, sixteen, lived in a group home until he ran away about four months ago. History of B-&-E, grand theft auto, and shoplifting. He had an old school I.D on him which was good because, um..." Finnick swallowed hard, "No one would have recognized him otherwise..." 

McKinney grunted, "And no one except Ryan saw what happened?" he asked skeptically.

Tucking his notepad away, Finnick pulled out a cigarette and held it between his lips, "The body camera shows him confront the nut job in the costume standing over the kid's body before it shorted out. That's all we got." 

McKinney swore, "How long since the last sighting?" 

Finnick checked his watch, "No one has seen the guy in three hours." 

McKinney shook his head, "break it down, he's long gone." He turned and headed for the tent exit. Finnick followed.

"I wasn't just making an excuse to stop you from decking Waylon," Finnick said as he clicked his lighter, "We really do need you back at headquarters." 

McKinney rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a bottle of antacid. "Fine, you're driving." 

***

Twenty minutes later, Finnick parked out front of the nearly empty parking lot. They climbed out and entered the station, marching down quiet halls as they bypassed dark offices and conference rooms on their way to the back of the building. Once they had checked for straggling witnesses, the two pushed out the door into a secured yard and crossed a gravel lot to a set of storage sheds in the back.

The old sheds were used for evidence overflow before the new property warehouse had opened. Now empty, Finnick had found them a better use in recent months.

They approached the largest shed and Finnick knocked on the door in three slow, evenly paced intervals. It swung open revealing a small cadre inside.

 Officer Daniel Acker stood at the door, peering over Finnicks shoulders as they entered. Set up against the furthest wall, Jack, still wearing his apron from the bar, sat at an old rusted table managing a laptop and radio. To his right, Chuck leaned back in a plastic folding chair, taking a burrito from Bullings who was passing around a fast food bag. All four men were dressed inconspicuously, with no uniforms or insignia in sight.

 McKinney and Finnick squeezed inside and shut the door behind them.

"What's the word?" McKinney asked Daniel. 

"No one from the hot list has come through the station since the incident started. We should be clean," Daniel reported. "But we know who's running the I.A interview now... It's one of theirs."

Finnick punched the wall, "well, there goes that."

"Have we found out anything about this masked guy?" McKinney asked.

Each of the men shook their heads.

"Do we believe he murdered the kid?" Chuck asked, never taking his eyes off his burrito.

Daniel chimed in, "They claim they have the baton he used to do it. Looks similar to the one from the video, so it's possible."

Finnick laughed, "If I knew you were so easily duped I would have suspended you for real Acker," he chided. "No way one of those three just stumbled onto a murder involving the guy who put down a crew of Acolytes."

Daniel frowned and plopped into a chair.

McKinney nodded in agreement, "It smells, that's for sure. We have two other reports of this..." he rolled his eyes, "Knightstick, but thieves don't meet his M.O."

"Two? I thought it was just the one?" Jack asked.

Finnick pulled out his lighter, spinning it between his fingers compulsively, "Domestic violence victim called in weeks before. Said some guy in a mask using a stick took down her thug husband, saved her and her kid from a whooping."

Chuck swallowed a mouthful of steak and tortilla, "Sounds like he's helping." 

McKinney grunted, "Whatever he's doing, the trio have their eyes on him, which means so do their employers." he looked over to Jack, "Follow up on this victim, find me a connection."

 "Might not have to look too hard. Check it out." Jack turned the screen of his laptop toward the group.

It was a press release at City Hall, the caption reading "Fallen Knight?" as the camera focused on Mayor Gambal.

"This is a sad day indeed." Gambal said to the camera, " As I feared, the continuous and hateful rhetoric online has finally encouraged one extremist to take drastic action. This vigilante has taken the life of a young man, a troubled teen, simply because of his past mistakes."

Gambal's face was exaggeratedly upset, and a single tear fell down his cheek. He held up a bloodied old wooden baton, wrapped in a clear evidence bag, while looking down at the podium as if trying to find his voice. After a dramatic pause, he continued. 

"Javier was a boy who needed our help! But this villain used the image of law and order to murder him and terrorize our community. This will not stand! Rest assured, my special task force will not rest until this monster is behind bars. We will have justice!"

The news segment came to a close, and Jack closed the laptop.

Chuck laughed darkly, "There it is..."

Jack nodded, "underage victim, with a non-violent criminal background..."

"Someone people can sympathize with," Bullings added.

Daniel's eyes widened, "you mean someone killed this kid just to frame the guy in the mask?" 

McKinney pointed at the computer, " This Knightstick is a threat to them. He has them rattled, which means things are about to get worse, and we still don't know why... Find me a goddam connection before another body drops," he barked to the room at large. 

The group sat in the weight of their daunting task as the Chief turned to leave the makeshift office.

He stepped out alone and trekked back toward the station, overwhelmed by the knowledge that the small shack was the last bastion against a rising tide of corruption.

Exhausted, McKinney dragged his feet through the building and upstairs to his office. It was too late to drive home, he thought. It was looking like another night on the lumpy couch.

As he reached his office, McKinney walked through the door and flipped on the light. He crossed to his desk and retrieved a bottle of whisky and a glass from his drawer. Pouring himself a drink he downed it in one pull, then slammed the empty glass next to his keyboard.

As he savored the burn traveling down his throat, a slight rustling stirred in the back of the room. McKinney tensed and spun around, drawing his weapon, and thumbing back the hammer.

"Show yourself!" he ordered.

The drapes shifted and Knightstick stepped out into the open, hands raised.

"I'm not here to fight Chief," he said.

Dumbstruck, McKinney took stock of the odd stranger in his old attire. He kept his sights trained on the man, finger resting on the trigger as he rallied his senses. "Pretty dumb for a murderer to wander into a police station," he said, his expression hard.

Knightstick shrugged, unafraid, "yeah it would be."

The two eyed each other. Slowly, McKinney lowered the hammer on his revolver, raising the barrel to high port.

"You owe me a new helicopter," he said, holstering his weapon.

"I only took out the cameras," Knightstick retorted.

McKinney poured himself another drink, "I charge interest. Why are you risking this?" 

Knightstick dropped his arms, "because we are after the same people. Time we started acting like it." 

McKinney sat in his high-backed leather chair with a groan, "Are we now? And who would that be?" 

"Dirty cops, and bikers, all under some kind of cartel." Knightstick said. 

"Ok, and I need you for this, why?" the Chief asked.

"Because they have the wool over your eyes. The girl, Annabell, she's alive."

McKinney raised an eyebrow and his mustache twitched, "What? Ridiculous, we checked DNA-"

but even as he spoke the Chief heistated. He thought over the procedure. Who handled the evidence? The body? His face fell and his sense of isolation intensified, "alright...you have my attention." 

"Call off the dogs, let me do my work. I can help end this and find the girl." 

McKinney scoffed, "You're off your rocker. Look, the search tonight is over, but you are officially public enemy number one pal. If City Council ever thought I was soft on you, they would dump me, and Gambal's puppet Enzo would take over. Then what?"

Knightstick crossed to the front of the Chief's desk. "Thought you might say that." He said as he pulled out a cell phone and dropped it on the surface. "Fine, hunt me, just tip me off when you do it."

McKinney snorted and picked up the burner, "yeah right, and what would I get for helping you?"

The masked man folded his arms and rolled back his shoulders. "What's your wish list?"

The Chief laughed out loud, but the stranger never blinked. McKinney's smile faltered, "You're serious?"

Knightstick nodded.

McKinney swore under his breath and stroked his mustache, looking about his office nervously. After a pause, he looked at Knightstick sideways.

"If  I could get it... I'd need intel. Specifically, evidence about whatever scheme the Trio and mayor are tied to, hard proof pointing to who's paying them, and what for."

"Give me their location and It's done."

McKinney rocked back in his chair, surprised, "Just like that hu?"

The stranger's eyes narrowed, framed between the brim of his derby hat and the hem of his mask. Slowly, he put his fists on the Chief's desk and leaned forward.

"I just ghosted your entire force, blinded your bird, and got the drop on you in your home turf..."

McKinney gulped. The guy was scary, but he needed to save face. He stood up and started pacing behind his desk, taking another swig of whiskey to give himself a moment. He turned back to the stranger, clearly torn.

"You are a goddamn loose cannon, a dangerous variable," he said gruffly, "I should be taking you off the board." He emptied his glass and set it down. 

Knightstick pushed off the desk and crossed his arms again, remaining silent. McKinney looked him up and down, trying and failing to read the stranger. He swore under his breath.

"I swear to God if you aren't one of the good guys... if you burn me on this, I will hunt you down and end you myself."

Knightstick tilted his head, "I'm good enough," he offered.

McKinney sighed and rubbed his tired eyes, "The trio holds up inside Thunder River Casino. Don't know which room. Every undercover I've placed there either came up empty or didn't return at all."

Knightstick nodded and walked to the window without another word.

"I don't need another body, you hear me?" McKinney shouted to his retreating back, trying to hide the panic in his voice. "Anyone dies, I will bring the world down on your head." 

Knightstick slid the window open, stepped up onto the sill, and then glanced over his shoulder at McKinney.

"I'll be in touch."

With that, he dropped off the ledge, letting himself free-fall five stories.

"Shit!" McKinney ran up to the window and stuck his head out, but found no trace of the stranger. He closed the window in disbelief, returned to his desk and traded his modest serving glass for the rest of the bottle.

What kind of devil's deal had he just made...