Quest for Justice - Part 4

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I slid, as quietly as possible, another ten yards down the hill and began to circle away from the Cabin and the track down to the road. The small bushes and trees that had been left to grow in recent years gave me plenty of cover. The ‘crew’ that my half-brother had with him were making plenty of noise like you do when driving hogs into a trap. The hog they were after was me!

I heard voices calling out to me from around the cabin.
“Come out wherever you are. Make this easier for yourself! You can’t delay the inevitable.”

To my relief, they were looking in the wrong direction. I heard them stumble around the log pile and the garage where the jeep was kept. I heard two shots. I wondered if that was them disabling it just in case. It didn’t matter to me. Every second they wasted on that was another yard I was farther away from them.

Dean was more methodical than his father but was still someone I regarded as an idiot when it came to making important decisions. He did what his daddy told him to do and no more. He had never been known for showing much decisiveness in his life apart from when it came to taking great delight in fucking me when I was not even a teenager. I’d often wondered what his trophy wife would do if someone presented her with photos of him doing that very thing. He had them somewhere. He made sure that I knew that he had the evidence just to make sure I never told anyone about it.

His reputation in the very right-wing Church that his family attended would make it very hard for him to continue as a deacon. They preached celibacy outside marriage and fucking children was way out of the norm for them to ignore it.

He must have read my mind.
“I still have those photos of you being bum fucked. One of these days, they will be used against you. Come on in and get what is coming to you and I might just get rid of them!” shouted Dean.
I heard some sniggering.

I had often wondered if he’d only done that to me, or was he a real paedophile? I’d long settled on the latter point of view. I’d never told Mom about it either, which I came to regret. 'One day…' I promised myself… one day, you will get to share a cell with someone a lot bigger than you. Then we'll see how you like it. I hated it, but as I was only ten and a half, I had to accept what he'd done to me.

Another shot stopped me from any further daydreaming…
I heard Dean shout,
“You fool. That nearly took my head off…”

That was Dean alright. He was always trying to outdo his father. Either that or he'd suck up to him in the hope that his dear daddy would not notice that he was as dumb as… a dumb waiter in hotels. That man was a huge danger around guns because dear daddy had pronounced to the world at one of his political rallies that his son was the greatest shot ever and, should be competing for the USA at the Olympics when the truth was just the opposite. He or his son often proclaimed to the world that they were top experts in all sorts of things. Nothing could be further from the truth. Real experts just laughed at their preposterous claims.


Their continued actions around the Jeep and the cabin gave me time to get out of sight of the cabin and start climbing up the hill where I hoped to find the track that led to the fire watcher's post.

The sounds of the people at the cabin stopped a few minutes later. Then there was the sound of a vehicle moving away. For some reason, I looked back towards the sound, and through a gap in the trees, I saw a plume of smoke. I shook my head. I’d read the leaflets in the cabin that were put out by the fire service. They all warned about the risk of starting a fire. The wooden construction of the cabin could well start a forest fire, but those idiots wouldn't know about that sort of thing as they had flown in from my home state which was way on the other side of the continent.

“That will alert the watchers,” I muttered to myself under my breath as I shook my head in disbelief. Killing me was more important to them than stopping a potential disastrous forest fire.

Then I panicked as I thought that if they saw the smoke, wouldn’t the watchers send someone to investigate? I had to get to the track and hope that I could stop them in time. As I battled my way through the thickening trees, I regretted not going for a walk up the track to see the lay of the land. I didn’t know if the track followed the ridgeline or went through the trees all the way.

My mind was racing with all sorts of dire consequences when I stumbled on the very thing I was looking for. In the dwindling light, I saw the tyre marks of the Quad Bike. With renewed enthusiasm, I headed up the track into the gloom with almost every step I took I regretted only packing a tiny torch in my pack and not one of the head torches that had been hanging up in the cabin. Some words that Mom said to me shortly before her murder came to me. She’d say, hindsight is a wonderful thing, but you cannot dwell over not doing something unless you can travel back in time’. How right she was… again!

I used the light from the torch sparingly, but it kept me on the track until I saw lights ahead. That must be the base of the fire watchers or at least I hoped it was.

I came to the edge of the clearing. In the lights that were on, I could see the lattice of a tower disappearing into the darkness. That confirmed it I was in the right place.

After a few steps, I stopped dead. I had to work out what to say but my deliberations were cut short when a door in one of the buildings opened and Cory stepped out.

“Cory!” I called.
He stopped dead in his tracks.
“It is Tiffany.”

I stepped forward into the light.

“We saw your cabin. There is a crew on its way there right now.”

“Stop them. You must stop them. The cabin was set on fire deliberately. The people who did it are armed with at least one rifle. I heard a vehicle but they could still be around. Those hillbillies love to take pot shots at strangers.”

He took one step towards me and then stopped.
"Come with me. We must warn them and the local PD."

I couldn’t disagree with that.

He went a few yards and opened a door into another building. The lights inside were already on. I could see that it was some sort of control room.

I followed him inside and shut the door behind me. For half a second, I wondered if I was walking into a trap. Watching far too many ‘Police Drama’ shows on TV as a kid didn't help, but there was no one there.

"Ok, Tiffany, why don't you tell me what happened at the cabin."

I swallowed hard before answering.
"I was watching the sunset, and as I turned to go inside, a bullet hit the door frame. I went inside and put the bear barrier on the door. I was about to get out via the fire exit when the business end of an axe appeared in the door. That was the last straw so I made a hasty exit right then."

“That’s good. Anything else?”

"As I was circling around the property to reach the trail that leads up here, I heard a voice call out, ‘get the bitch. I want her alive’. The problem is that the voice belongs to my half-brother.”

“I bet that hurt?”

“No. He’s a crook just like my father, but one of those with what little brain they have is in his dick.”

“Who is your father?”

“It might be better that you don't know, but I will say that he is a very well-known public figure in his part of the country but not around here.”

"Gotcha. I'll try to get the fire crew on the radio. We aren't on high alert after the rain last week, so we should be in time to stop them. One of the team is up the tower watching for the fire to spread. So far it seems that it hasn't."

He picked up the radio and made the call. The team was about to head up the dirt road to the cabin. Then he called the police. The bad news was that there were no units in the area, but two patrol cars were on their way. I was unable to help with the type of vehicle that the visitors to the cabin used.

“I’d better make myself scarce. Those people don’t mess about. They might come here looking for me. If you don’t know where I am, then you can’t tell any lies.”

“Is it that bad?”

"Worse, I'm afraid."

“The police will want a statement from you in the morning,” said Cory.

I smiled.
“I’ll be back here in the morning,”
I replied but intending to do nothing of the sort.

Cory, to his credit, didn't try to press me.

I left him listening for updates on the radio.


I walked down the dirt road that led from the main road to the base for almost half a mile. There was some sporadic moonlight to help me find my way. Once I was out of sight of the base and the observation tower, I ducked into the trees. After one hundred steps I stopped and took off my pack, and sat down with my back to a tree trunk. This would have to do for the next five or six hours, and I had to hope that there were no bears in the area.

To say that I slept would be technically correct but in reality, I was just dozing. I kept one ear open for the sounds of anything that might be a bear but also for the sounds of emergency vehicles going along the road in the valley below. While I hoped to hear them but I knew that a few million trees in full foliage are great sound suppressors.

Dawn came and went without being disturbed, so I gathered my things up and headed down the side of the hill. I kept well away from the track to the Fire Watchers base, or so I thought. At one point, the track did a bit of a switchback, and there was no way to avoid it. I ran along the road, around the hairpin bend and didn't stop until I was safely in the cover of the trees.

It took me nearly an hour to reach the main road. There wasn’t a vehicle in sight in either direction. Without too much thought, I turned north and hopefully in the direction of Spokane.

I’d gone almost a mile before the first vehicle came by. It came from the direction of Spokane and didn’t even slow down as it passed me. It was then that I regretted not taking the opportunity to bind my chest before hitting the road. A brief check of my pack revealed that I’d left the binding behind. So much for that great idea of being prepared for everything. I’d have to be Tiffany until I found somewhere that could supply me with the elastic bandage that I needed.

I was beginning to enjoy the walk when I heard a vehicle come up behind me. This one slowed down to match my pace for about 20 steps. Then a brief 'whoop' of its siren told me that it was a Police car. There was nowhere to run, and besides, those guys have guns, and I didn't. Somewhere in the night, I'd put the rifle from the cabin down, and had forgotten to pick it up again. At least not having an obvious weapon might stop them from being too trigger happy. I stopped and turned to face the car.

There were two officers inside. The one in the passenger seat opened the door. I could see some lettering on it. “Washington State Patrol”. At least they were not some local police who might not see a black person from one week to the next.

“Where do you think you are going?” he said as he stood by the side of the cruiser. He kept on hand resting on his sidearm.

“Spokane. I’m going to Spokane,” I said trying to sound confident.

“Were you the person who was at the cabin that went up in flames last night?”

“I was. I didn’t start the fire. I was too busy trying to get away from the people who were trying to kill me.”

“That, miss… Is a hard story to swallow.”

My hopes were dashed at being allowed to leave.

“Am I under arrest Officer?”

“No, but you are a person of interest. We have orders to bring you in for questioning.”

“Ok. I won’t give you any trouble,” I replied as I slipped my pack off my back.

That was not the right thing to do. The officer got a lot more on edge.

“I can hardly travel in your vehicle with this thing on my back, now can I?”

My impeccable logic didn’t wash with him. His face remained expressionless.

I held the pack at arms-length and slowly moved towards the driver’s side of the cruiser. When I reached it, I leaned over the hood and spread my legs. I knew the process only too well.

“I can see that you know the rules,” said the officer as he slowly came around to my side of the vehicle. I looked at his partner who was still in the car. I saw that they had their pistol drawn and pointing right at me.

“Are you carrying anything you should not be carrying or anything sharp?” he asked.

“No officer, I am not carrying anything like that on my person.”

The officer patted me down and then searched my bag. That was an illegal search, but he would probably get away with it by saying that he suspected that I was carrying drugs or a weapon in it.

The only weapon in the bag was a small penknife that the Judge had given me. That was at the bottom of the pack. He found it and slipped it into his pocket. That told me that I’d be lucky to see that again.

Then he got his cuffs and put them on me. I had hardly shown myself to be a threat, but he could say that I was a threat, and that would be the end of it. I also knew that with a lot of Police, anyone of my colour is fair game and that if I said anything out of place, I could be tasered or worse, shot. Being handcuffed was no reason in their eyes to go easy on me.


Spokane was a welcome sight, but I'd much rather have preferred to have reached it under my own steam rather than in handcuffs and in the back of a Police Cruiser.

I was taken into the State Police HQ for something called ‘Area 4’ and marched up to a high desk.

A bored-looking Sergeant behind the desk looked up. Firstly, at me and then at the two officers that had picked me up on the road.

“Sarge, Lieutenant Jackson wants to interview this suspect.”

“Just to interview?”

“That’s what the call we received said. We were to bring her in for questioning.”

“Ok. I’ll call him.”

The desk sergeant made a call and spoke briefly to someone called Jacko. I guessed that was slang for Jackson.

“He will be down in a couple of minutes,” said the Sergeant.

There had been no move to remove the handcuffs, and there was no sign of my backpack.

“Officer, where is my backpack? You put it in the trunk of your cruiser.”

“That will be impounded as evidence,” said the one who had driven the cruiser.

"What about the penknife that your colleague put in his pocket? He searched my pack without due cause. If I am to be charged with a crime, shouldn't that be evidence as well?"

The Sergeant behind the desk laughed.
“She knows the law, Robbie.”

Neither of the two officers moved an inch. One of them had been holding my arm all the time, tightened his grip.

“Robbie, go and get the backpack and I’ll have the penknife,” said the Sergeant as he held out his hand.

My pack was retrieved, and the penknife made an appearance on the desk.

“Where was this found?” asked the Sergeant.

“At the bottom of her pack.”

He shook his head.
"She was right. You didn't have probable cause for a search. You know the rules, so why did you do it?”

The sergeant put the knife back into the pack and gave me a brief smile.

At least this lot of law enforcement seemed to be a little less corrupt than the last lot down in Oregon.

Everyone’s attention was suddenly diverted towards a corridor on my left. A loud voice shouted, ‘don’t you know who I am?’. That was followed by ‘Just wait until my father hears about this! You won’t be able to get a job cleaning bathrooms after my lawyers have finished with you!”

I froze dead. That was the voice of my half-brother.

I turned away from the voice. If he was here already, who knows what lies he had already told them about me. The last thing I wanted was to come face to face with him. The last time that had happened, I ended up in hospital with a bill of well over a thousand bucks which I still owed or rather, the estate of my mother owed as I was only twelve at the time. He'd walked away from the incident even though there had been plenty of witnesses around who could if they had wanted, say that he attacked me. As he is built more like a linebacker than a scrawny nobody like me, he got away with it as he had always done.

Just then a man who was aged about fifty and wearing an ill-fitting suit appeared out of a lift. He came over to the counter and greeted the Sergeant.

"Hi, Sarge. I gather that you have someone for me?"

“That’s her over there,” said the Sergeant pointing at me.

“Why is she in cuffs?”

“We were told to bring her in for questioning about the cabin fire,” said the officer who was still gripping my arm in a grip like a vice.

"Release her right away, and I'll take her upstairs."

The two patrol officers exchanged glances. They seemed unsure.

“Do what the Lieutenant says,” said the Sergeant.

Reluctantly, they complied, and my hands were released.

“Please come with me Tiffany,” said the Lieutenant.

I stepped forward and remembered my backpack.
“My backpack is with the Sergeant.”

The Lieutenant smiled. The Sergeant handed it to him.

“There is a small penknife in there,” warned one of the patrol officers.

“I think I can manage from here,” said the Lieutenant, with a good deal of confidence.

The Lieutenant led me to the lift. He pressed ‘4’ and the door shut.

“Thank you for coming in today,” he said.

“I really didn’t have much choice in the matter.”

“Those two should listen to their radio a bit closer. They were told to escort you and not to arrest you.”

I sighed.
"Lieutenant, I have learned over the years that when most officers see that I'm black or at least not pure white, they automatically assume that I'm a clear and present danger to them. I've gotten used to possibly being shot at every time I encounter a cop. No disrespect to you, but that's the way it is."

He smiled back at me.
"I do know some of what you have to go through. I'm part Native American."

His skin was a good bit darker than most white people, so I guessed that might be the case.

The lift stopped, and so did our conversation.

"Please come this way, I have a room set up for us."

I was prepared for an interview room with a large pane of one-way glass and at least one CCTV camera on the wall. What I wasn't prepared for was it clearly to be a meeting room. I could not see any cameras and the walls were all glass panels that I could see through. That sent a clear message to me, and that was a good one for a change.

“Please take a seat. Can I get you some coffee?”

"Thanks, Lieutenant, but I've not really eaten for close on a day, so even a half stale donut would go down well with some tea."

He laughed.
"I can provide the tea, but something to eat will have to wait a bit.”

“Tea would be fine. No cream and no sugar.”

He went off to find something to drink. I looked around. It seemed that I was in the middle of an office full of detectives. A good dozen and a half of them were busy going about their business and ignoring me.

After almost ten minutes, the Lieutenant came back carrying a small tray with two disposable cups on it. Under one arm was a laptop. He came inside the room and shut the door behind him.

He put the tea down in front of me. The steam coming off the black liquid told me that the contents were hot, so I resisted trying it out.

He sat down and opened up the laptop. He spent almost a minute doing something, but I was content to wait, after all, I didn't have a plane to catch or anything else for that matter.

When he'd finished, he looked at me and smiled.
"I expect that you are wondering why you are sitting there?"

I managed a small smile in return.
"That thought has been going through my mind for some time, but at least I'm not pounding the road on my own or locked up in a jail cell, but honestly, I have no idea.”

“I understand that you heard about the death of Judge Phillips?”

I nodded.
“One of the fire watchers came and told me yesterday.”

“His death has, as we say, put the cat amongst the pigeons.”

“Has my half-brother being here as well, got anything to do with it? I heard his whiney voice downstairs. He was threatening everyone who came near him.

The Lieutenant laughed.
"He along with three others were picked up earlier today about 10 miles down the road to Oregon. We had a tip-off that they were carrying some illegal guns. I guess that came from you… The arresting officers found a variety of weapons on them and in their SUV. All of them had their serial numbers removed. Our firearms people are doing some ballistic tests on them at the moment. Those results will be shared with the FBI because those four are all from out of state. None of them will be going anywhere but our cells for a while. Most of the people up in the hills have guns for self-defence, but AR-15s with silencers and extended magazines are beyond the pale even for 2nd Amendment ‘nut cases’ as were the three live grenades that were rolling around in the trunk of the SUV. They could have gone off at any time. Just the charges relating to the grenades should see lengthy jail sentences for them all. The DA is not a happy bunny with that lot. To have a crew of hitmen fly into Bend by private jet, and then possibly be involved with the death of the Judge, and now the attack on you and burning down the cabin is not what we want in our community. He’ll throw the book at them if the politicians don’t get in the way.”

That made me very happy.

"But… Tiffany, as you are currently calling yourself, events have been moving on a long way from here thanks in part to the Judge.”

“How do you know all this?”

“The FBI Field Office in Seattle received a call late last night. They called us when they found out that where you were. They were involved because the people suspected of being involved in the death of Judge Francis had been seen crossing into Washington State. That fact alone makes it a Federal case. Then we received an update from the Bend Police and... well we don't want their sort in our part of the world.

"I see, but I'm still confused. The cops in Bend were not exactly welcoming when I passed through last week. Two days later I was arrested for vagrancy and that’s when I met the Judge.”

“I can only go by what I was told and what I have dug up since coming on duty today. The suspicious death of a judge makes everyone in law enforcement take notice. Between you and me, a bit of corruption while bad is a misdemeanour compared to a crime like murder.”

I let him continue.

“The Feds sent me some information about you. I was going to head down to the cabin when we received reports of the fire and the apprehension of those responsible. We are holding them pending the arrival of either the FBI or extradition warrants from Oregon. They have first dibs on them because of the suspicious death. I have two officers out at the cabin looking for evidence as we speak. Shortly before you arrived, I received a call from them indicating that they had found some spent shell cases and other things. If those match the bullet that they retrieved from the remains of the door frame then… If your story can help then I’d be glad to take a formal statement from you.”

My hopes of justice rose but only briefly.

“That means I’d have to testify and with a price on my head, it would be like walking out to face the lions at the Coliseum in Rome.”

He smiled at me.
“We hope that it won’t come to that. But… the case will remain on file just in case. When I received notification that you had been picked up, I called the FBI in Seattle. They are sending someone here to take you into protective custody. Things have been moving along quite rapidly since the Judge was killed.”

I sat silent. I was still very confused. I had no idea how the FBI had gotten involved so quickly and why?

“Here, let me show you what I know…” he said as he opened his laptop.
“We have time as the FBI Agent will not be here for more than an hour.”

[to be continued]

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Comments

Sad that this is so believable...

I'm another Brit and I've been to USA quite a few times over the last 40 years and intended to go again after I retire. Not any more unless things change a lot.

I know the story is fiction, but with corrupt politicians and police it is all too credible for anyone not white, cis, hetero and christian (and preferably rich and male) it just doesn't feel any more safe than UAE, which is tragic as many - perhaps most - Americans are decent fair and kind people. Just too many nuts, and they have guns.

I've not personally experienced violence in the USA, just a few religious nuts lecturing me about how their god disapproves of how I live _my_ life, but the last time I went was 2016 and things there have gone steadily downhill since then for our kind. I just don't understand why they think it affects them.

Anyway, rant over! This is yet another wonderful story from Samantha and I have every hope that, at least in this fictional tale, Tiffany's Quest for Justice will succeed and the bad guys will get their comeuppance.

Alison

This does not sound good for Tiffany

Held, waiting for the FBI, if I were her I'd be looking to escape. Glad to hear of the mess her half-brother is in though. Great story.

>>> Kay

Fast Paced

BarbieLee's picture

Samantha, I'm not sure where in your life this one came in. It's like a sprint in trying to explain a story when I remember your story on the narrow boat was so laid back I could sleep between paragraphs. It was as if the story was told by the actor himself. Easy living, no rush in life. Writer's lives are woven into their stories and I can almost tell what is going on when reading one. Right now you have me confused. Your passion is showing though on this one but I have to wonder?
Okay, the story is excellent as usual per your writing skills, to transport your readers into the tale along with your actors and actresses. And if I wasn't sweating bullets with your actor, I'd be on tranquilizers.
Hugs Sam, better than well done.
Barb
When life hands you lemons it's time for lemonade.

Oklahoma born and raised cowgirl

Wow

Thanks for the comment Barbie. I started this last Christmas. I was suffering from a heavy cold and cough and could not take all the [cough][cough] fake jollity on TV. I'd followed the political shenanigans that are still going on in the USA since before the 2020 Election. It all got me thinking... 'could I write a tale that showed a lot of this stuff?' This is the end result. I have to say, the research alone was inspiring. At the end, I'll give credit to some excellent sources.
Thanks again,
Samantha
PS
Yes, it is very fast-paced when compared to 'On the cut'.

So far, this is shaping up nicely, but

That last sentence sent alarm bells off in my head. (mis)Remembering back earlier in the story, there was a blurb about the Bad Man (TM) having his hands in the feds pie. Possibly a tainted FBI agent, perhaps? Wondering what dark and devious turn this action-packed thrill-ride of a roller coaster story will take next. Do please continue, I am so very much on tenterhooks here. If this takes too terribly long, I fear I might fain swoon
Great story so far /hugs
Diana

They Want Her Dead

joannebarbarella's picture

Tiffany is right to be terrified about her future prospects. I think one of the problems in the USA is the division between local law enforcement and federal law enforcement, and it can go either way.

Thanks for the comments

on this piece. They are much appreciated.
The story is complete apart from some pre-Big Closet editing. As I read it now, some 9-10 months after writing the story, there are some real-life events that I could have waved a magic wand over and included in the story but I'll resist any major changes. That's a fact of life when you are writing about a story that takes so much from current events.
Thanks again
Samantha

Really enjoying this . . .

Emma Anne Tate's picture

Hi Samantha! I decided not to “cheat” by reading this on your site — I like the interaction with the BC community. :) I’m really enjoying the drama. Love it!

Emma

The judge...

RachelMnM's picture

The gift that keeps on giving? I certainly hope so in the next chapter... But the brother, politicians - corrupt one's at best, all that's got me worried a bit about Tiffany... She needs a break!

XOXOXO

Rachel M. Moore...