Final Plea

Seeing everyone busy at their desk, the sergeant heads towards them. She wants to get everyone together to compare notes. 

 So far, the detectives have learned that the victims have volunteered at the local shelters. They're from old money and live in Victorian-style homes in the older, established neighborhoods. 

Kirk hangs up his phone as Rachel steps up to his desk. "Sergeant, I just heard from forensics. The bullets Sharon removed from the Harris's match the gun found at our crime scene. The weapon is registered to John Harris, and the only set of prints found on the weapon belongs to him."

Rachel glances towards her partner, a perplexed look on his face. "So, you think John killed his grandparents and the perp?"

"It seems that way, Sergeant."

"Have we located the grandson?"

"Not yet, but we have an APB out on him and his car."

"What did you learn about Mr. and Mrs. Harris, Jerry?"

"They're retired school teachers, living on a small pension. They've been married for over sixty years and have one child. He and his wife died ten years ago, leaving the Harris's to care for John."

"What about their finances?"

"Their bank account is in the negative, and their house is forfeiture for back taxes."

"Do they have a life insurance policy?"

"No, and they don't have a will."

"So, money isn't the reason they were killed. What about their call logs? Did you find anything suspicious there?"

"The phone company disconnected the landline months ago and forensics didn't find a cell in the house. I'm double checking with the local companies now."

What did you find out about the home owners Jeff?

 Everyone I've talked to says the Harris's are lovely people. They used to help in the community until they both became ill. They still go to church every week and attend some of their functions depending on the weather, their health and that." 

"Wait, did you just say they used to help the community?" The sergeant questions.

"They helped with the food pantry and the soup kitchen but that was years ago."

"Just like our other victims."

"Yeah, but their charity stopped back in 2014 when Mr. Harris had a stroke."

"It's still a connection." Pointing to the board Rachel asks, "Did this Charles guy work for any of the shelters?"

"Not that I can find. Besides, this robbery isn't like the others, Sergeant. This one seems more sporadic, where the others were planned.

"Maybe this was an opportunistic burglary, spur of the moment thing."

"He was searching upstairs when he discovered the home owners shot in their bed. He panics and tries to run. Not wanting him to report it to the cops, John shoots him and flees," Jerry concludes.

"That's a plausible theory, detective."

"Not according to their neighbors. They said John left late last night claiming he was returning to school. 

So, either Sharon has the time of death wrong or John isn't our killer." 

"Jerry, I want you to go to the school and talk to John, see what he has to say."

"Copy that, Sergeant," he says, reaching for his ringing phone. Sergeant, I think you need to hear this." Putting it on speaker he says, Repeat that Kirk.

"The neighbors I just talked to claim there was a Honda parked at their house early this morning. Said he was there for about an hour, left when the sirens began."

"Could they describe the driver or the car, Kirk?"

"They didn't get a real good look, but they believe he's in his early thirties, he has a tan face and sandy blond hair. The car is a black Honda Accord, they think it's a late nineties model. I ran it through the system, but haven't come up with anything yet." Oh, and I talked to one of the managers at the local shelter. He said they have several male volunteers in their thirties. I asked if any of them worked alongside the other victims and he said it's very possible, but they don't keep a record of who works when since it's all volunteer. I asked if any of the male workers seemed in desperate need of money. He said he can't think of anyone off the top of his head but says he'll give us a list of his regulars."

"Stay on top of it, Kirk."

"I will, Sergeant. Oh, and the fingerprints they found on the window don't match Charles or anyone in the system."

"That figures. What did you find out about the material?"

"I took a sample to the uniform shop in Harrison. They said they'll look into it. I pressed them for a set time, and they said that they should know something by the end of the day."

***

The goon grabs Tommy's throat tighter as he pushes the gun into the side of his head.

"I have orders to kill you," he says.

"Why... Why does Hernandez want me dead?" Tommy anxiously questions.

"He said you turned state's evidence against him to save your ass."

"I... I'd never do that to him, not after everything he's done for me."

"The boss believes you did. He says you got jammed up so you did what you had to do to stay free."

"He should know I 'd never do that."

Pushing the gun further into the man's head, the goon says, "An inside source says you did."

Tommy pictures Jen in her grave with a small casket lying beside it. He then pictures his boys being thrown into the system. Tommy then recalls how difficult growing up in foster care was for him. How he took to the streets at the ripe age of ten. I'll be damned if that happens to them. Summonsing all of his courage from deep within, Tommy straightens his posture, and says, "If I'm such a snitch then why did I do five years for him a few years back? Hmm? Yeah, that's right the cops tried to pin everything on him, but I was the one who stepped up and took the heat. I could've easily let Hernades take the fall, but I didn't. What about the bodies I disposed of, with no questions asked? And what about all the times I helped him with his other shady dealings, smuggling drugs across the border, money laundering and kiddie porn? What about the prostitution ring he's running in Harrison? If I did turn state evidence against him, like your supposed informant claims, I'll guarantee he'd be going down for life. Pulling the gun from his jacket, Tommy t glares into the man's eyes and says So I'd advise you to knock off your bullshit and take me to the boss before you piss me off. The goon doesn't budge. Cocking his gun, Tommy says, I'm not playing, Hernades. You either call off your dog or I take him out."

The door flies open, a tall, rounded man runs outside. "No, stop. Don't shoot. I was wrong, I was wrong. Tommy didn't do it. He didn't rat me out, Lopez did," Herandez breathlessly replies.