Coup De Grâce (Code 11-KPD SWAT 7)

“Oh, Micahel! I didn’t know you and Nikki were together. How are you?” My mother asked, her Spanish accent getting a little thicker with affection now that she wasn’t yelling at her daughter.

“I’m okay, Lolita. Now was it a man or a woman who called?” He asked again, a little less polite this time.

My mother didn’t notice, or if she did, she didn’t care that he was being short with her.

“It was a man. He said he was the doctor, believe it or not. I couldn’t believe it when I spoke with him, but he seemed to be a really nice man,” Lolita chattered.

That’s when things started to make sense.

This wasn’t about any bills at all.

This was about a killer.

A killer who’d just put his sights on me.Chapter 19What do we want? Coffee. When do we want it? Right the fuck now.

-Coffee Cup

Michael

“Got a warrant to search his place yet?” I asked Luke.

Luke shook his head. “Not yet. Judge Maddox is out of town, and we had to go to Bender. He’s not our team’s biggest fan since the last warrant that was served was the one where that old lady broke her hip.”

I winced.

That had been a complete clusterfuck and a half.

We’d served an arrest warrant on a kid who’d been selling drugs out of his home, and we’d served it flawlessly, arresting the boy within seconds of breaching his home.

Then the old woman had come out using her walker, and promptly tripped over her grandson who’d been lying on the floor in the middle of the living room, breaking her hip and arm in the process.

It’d been horrible, and I’d felt horrible, but in our defense, we had told her to stay where she was until we could get the boy out.

She hadn’t listened, and now we were still hearing about it three months later.

My eyes moved from Luke to the corner of the command room where Memphis and Nikki were on a computer looking at baby shit, of all things.

I smiled slightly, but it just as quickly fell from my face as I thought about how bad this all could’ve gone without my knowledge.

All because I was trying to protect myself.

Well, look where that got me.

My woman in trouble.

My child in danger.

Me in danger because I was fucking around.

Not to mention all of my colleagues and their wives.

I didn’t deserve to live sometimes.

I was a failure at life.

Then I shut those thoughts down, realizing them for what they were.

I’d forgotten my meds.

Shit!

“I need to go run by my place. I forgot to take my meds,” I told Luke. “I’ll be back in about ten minutes.”

Luke nodded.

“Got it,” he replied, keeping his eyes on his phone.

I got up, walking out without saying a thing to anyone else.

They were all pretty mad at me.

As they should be.

I was no good.

Fuck!

Stop!

By the time I’d arrived at my house, I’d gone through quite a bit of self doubt before I got to my meds.

I had the bottle in my hand and had just popped the pill when I realized that I wasn’t alone.

Rookie mistake.

Turning stiffly, I found myself faced with a man in all black.

“Where’s the wife?” He snarled.

That’s when I thanked my lucky stars that I hadn’t told Nikki where I was going, and hadn’t asked her to go with me like I’d contemplated.

Thank Christ!

The gun pointed at my head didn’t instill any fear in my heart like the thought of the gun pointed at Nikki’s head.

I’d had this feeling before. The thought that I was going to die.

Nineteen times.

Each of those times I remembered with picture perfect clarity.

And I was sure, if I made it out of this alive, that this time would be no different.

“Call her,” he ordered.

“Fuck you. I’m not calling her,” I told him, crossing my arms across my chest.

I knew if I could stall him, Luke would figure something went wrong.

I wouldn’t have left and stayed home with the chance of that warrant coming in.

John, our computer expert, had already traced the calls to Lolita’s phone, and come up with the Women’s Center.

There were six people on duty at the Women’s Center at the time of the call, and only two of them were men. And one of them had been in the room with a patient for the entire time it took to place the call. So we’d done our research. And had come up with one man.

We’d applied for the arrest warrant for Stan Jones, M.D.

And I had a feeling that was who this man was in front of me.

“So, Stan. What are you going to do to me?” I asked, crossing my arms across my chest.

Stan froze.

“How do you know my name?” He asked stiffly, re-gripping the Glock in his hand.

I shrugged. “You fucked up.”

Simple words, but they really pissed him off.

“I did not fuck up!” he snarled. “I did everything right!”

See, serial killers had a certain way they did things.

They didn’t deviate.

Which was why I knew he wouldn’t shoot me until my ‘wife’ was here.

“What do you have against cops?” I asked calmly.

Stan’s eyes narrowed.

He had a hoody on, and it was covering his head, but since he was facing me, I could still get a pretty good indication of what he looked like.

About five foot ten, hundred and eighty five pounds. Brown or really dark green eyes. Brown hair. Tan skin. Small hands with no wedding band.

Black pants. Black lace up boots. Black hoody.

“You don’t need to know why. Just suffice it to say that this earth should be rid of you and every one of your kind,” Stan hissed.

My brows rose. “Really?”

He sneered. “Really.”

I laughed.

“Got it. How about I take a guess?” I asked.

I recalled the notes in the case.

The details of each doctor.

Stan’s page listed him as widowed.

Also listed him as not having any living children.

“Did we kill your wife?” I asked.

It was heartless, yes, but it was effective.

“Don’t you say her name!” He bellowed.

I refrained from saying that I ‘didn’t say her name at all.’

Bingo.

“Did a cop take your kid, too? Or did your kid take his own life because your wife died?” I continued cruelly.