Haunted (Michael Bennett 10)

“She did more and more. She got it from Dell Streeter. I thought he was taking care of my mom. When she got really bad, he let us live at his house. After a while, she realized he was bad for both of us. She said he was the reason she was hooked. When she died, he didn’t want me around at all.”

Sandy and I listened as this train wreck unfolded. I still had a hard time understanding how things could go so wrong for people.

Sadie said, “I heard about two guys who used a bad batch of mud at Dell’s house. They both died, and instead of involving the police, Dell and his buddies just buried them in the field. I guess that’s what they did with me, too.”

I let her sit there for a minute to make sure there was nothing else she wanted to tell us. Then I got down on my knee in front of her so we could look at each other eye to eye.

I said, “Would you be willing to make a statement? Maybe testify in court later, if you had to?”

She thought about it, then nodded. “Yeah. I can do that to someone who tried to bury me alive.”

I said, “I’ll keep you safe.”

She smiled and said, “No one can keep me safe after I do this. Dell Streeter knows everyone. But I’ll do it anyway.”

Chapter 64

The Penobscot County district attorney didn’t seem thrilled with the idea of using a disabled teenager and former drug user as the sole witness in what could turn out to be the biggest case in the county’s history. The pudgy assistant district attorney, with a perpetual sweat forming on his forehead, virtually ignored my presence during the meeting.

He kept adding things to Sandy’s arrest warrant and throwing up unnecessary roadblocks.

Finally we had what we needed. We headed straight to Streeter’s compound, where a couple of county sheriff’s deputies met us. This was the se

cond arrest in a row that I was looking forward to. The last arrest I made was the asshole who had Brian selling drugs for him. I recognized the connections between the cases—drugs, young people, dealers with no conscience. It may have been swaying my judgment, but at this point I didn’t care.

We rolled into the front yard and hustled up to the porch before anyone knew we were there. Just as Sandy started to pound on the front door, it opened. One of Streeter’s goons stared at us, slack-jawed. It was the guy who had punched me in the head.

I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him through the door onto the porch. I saw the gun stuck in the small of his back and jerked it out with my right hand. He balled his hand into a fist and lined up on my face.

I raised my knee and struck him in the thigh. The jolt to his system made him drop his hands and bend over. Then I drove the same knee directly into his face. He sprawled onto the porch, and I looked at the uniformed sheriff’s deputy with us. The young deputy just nodded, understanding he was supposed to watch the man on the ground.

Now we fanned out into the house quickly with our guns drawn.

Sandy covered one side of the wide living room and I the other. I was looking down the hallway when another goon came out, clearly not expecting to see anyone in the house.

He started to call out when I stuck the gun right in his face.

I whispered, “On the ground—now.” I pushed the barrel of my pistol against his temple, and he got the message. I patted him down quickly when he was on the ground, but he had no weapons.

Then I heard Sandy shout, “Police—don’t move.”

When I looked up from the man on the ground, Sandy had her pistol pointed down the other hallway.

I stepped closer with my gun raised. Dell Streeter was standing in the other hallway. He was in jeans but had no shirt or shoes on.

Sandy said, “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

Streeter forced a smile and showed us that his hands were empty. “I hope you have a good reason for burglarizing my house and threatening me with guns. I guess we call that home invasion.”

Sandy said, “Walk toward me slowly.”

I saw Streeter’s eyes dart back and forth. He had to be wondering where his bodyguards were.

When he was in the living room, Sandy shoved him to the ground. I covered him while she holstered her pistol and jerked his left hand behind his back. She slipped the handcuffs from her belt and had him secured in a couple of seconds.

From the ground, Streeter griped, “Those cuffs are awful tight.”

Sandy didn’t answer as she jerked him to his feet. She said, “Dell Streeter, you’re under arrest.”