by S. Stiles

Sonny Crockett leaned quietly in the shadows of the house, gun fisted in one hand and pointed skyward. His partner, Ricardo Tubbs, was next to him, gun also drawn and ready to use.

“Well,” Rico whispered, “It’s now or never.”

Sonny took a deep breath. The house they were currently leaning against belonged to one Gorge Constanza, leading man in a recent explosion of nearly pure heroin being released onto the streets of Miami. He was a powerful man and he was said to have connection with La Casa Nostra, although it had never been proven.

At the moment, half of the Miami PD and a dozen Vice officers were posed, waiting for Sonny’s command. It hadn’t been easy getting to this point in the game. Countless hours of footwork by more than one undercover officer had given the what they needed, and the loss of two of those officers gave them reason to win the game.

Sonny nodded and brought his other hand up, a small walkie-talkie resting in his palm. “Everybody go!”

The next few minutes were chaotic as always. The area suddenly exploded with police cars and officers, SWAT members, and plain clothes wearing their badges around their necks. Sonny moved forward with the wave, aware that Rico was right behind him.

The front door slammed open and they swarmed in, screaming at those standing in the house to get down and hug the floor. Confusion swept through the occupants and they all went down, no one drawing their weapons.

Sonny moved through the first floor with the others, eyes scanning around him constantly. There weren’t many people to home today and the assault took less than five minutes.

“We’re secure.” A uniform told Sonny.

“Where’s Constanza?”

“Upstairs. He was in the tub.”

Sonny smirked. “Good. We got the search warrant. Keep him covered ’till we finish the search.”

The uniform nodded and moved away. Sonny leathered his gun and looked around for Rico. His partner was talking to their boss, Martin Castillo. Deciding to do a little searching himself, Sonny moved into the den. Several officers were already rifling through it, so he just looked in one what they were finding.

“Beautiful.” He murmured as he glanced at some of the stuff. It wasn’t much, but is was enough to help put Constanza away.

He left the den and found a set of stairs leading to the basement. No one had gotten that far in the search so he went down himself. He wasn’t sure what he had expected to see, but it sure wasn’t what he did see. His trained eyes took in everything in a fraction of a second and he whispered, “Dear God.”

One half of the basement had been made into a rec room, typical of the high priced scum Sonny dealt with on a day to day basis. The other half, however, was almost bare. There was a decent stereo system on one wall and a 27″ television on another, but that was it save for a small bed. And at the
moment, on that bed, two eyes regarded him with a terror the likes of which Sonny had never seen. Two tortured brown eyes belonging to a boy that appeared to be 15 or 16 years old watched him carefully. A boy whose face was cut and bruised and whose chest and back were covered with bloody welts.

Sonny immediately went to him, kneeling down by the bed as the boy backed away from him. “It’s okay.” He said quietly, holding out a hand to him, “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m Detective Sonny Crockett of Miami Vice. What’s your name?”

The boy said nothing, eyeing the hand as if it were going to bite him, or hit him. Sonny felt white hot rage shoot through him as he drew his hand away. “Who did this to you?”

Again, the boy was silent.

“Hey, partner.” he heard Rico coming down the stairs, “what’s going…. on?”

Sonny turned and stood up, his anger flashing in his eyes. “I don’t know. But I’m gonna find out.”

Sonny walked away from the boy, heading towards the stairs, but Rico grabbed him by the arm.

“I know that look, partner. Be cool.”

Sonny studied his partner intensely a moment. Their friendship went deep and he could see the concern in his eyes at this particular moment in time, but he shook himself away and went upstairs. Rico followed with a deep, knowing sigh.

Sonny grabbed the first uniform he saw. “Nobody goes down there.” He said, pointing to the basement stairs.

The uniform pointed and took up a post without question. Sonny found another uniform and questioned, “Where’s Constanza?”

The uniform pointed and Sonny followed the line until he seen Constanza with Castillo and a couple of men he only vaguely recognized. He walked over to them, ignoring Rico, who was right on his heels. He stopped only inches from the dealer, almost nose to nose with him. His eyes pinned Constanza to
the wall behind him as he demanded, “Who’s the boy?”

Constanza smirked at him and Sonny had him by the shirt front before anybody saw it coming. “Who is he?” He shouted.

Rico pulled him away as Castillo stepped between them, the silent warning in his eyes unmistakable.

“My son.” Constanza replied finally, making a big show out of straightening his shirt.

Sonny was taken aback for a moment by the statement. There had been nothing of Constanza having a son in any of the reports. And then another thought hit him and the rage surged through him once more. “You did that to him, didn’t you?”

The confusion on the faces of the other two men were obvious but Sonny had completely tuned out their presence. His eyes held steady with Constanza’s, the laughter and arrogance in the dealer’s eyes doing nothing to stave his temper.

“What if I did?”

Sonny lunged at him as Rico grabbed him and Castillo quietly demanded, “Get him out of here, Tubbs.”

Rico nodded, pulling his friend back towards the entrance to the basement. When he got him far enough away, he turned on him.

“Look, partner, that’s not a very wise thing for you to be doin’ right now. Constanza is going down and the last thing that we need is for him to claim harassment or police brutality. So just chill.”

Sonny took a deep breath and Rico seen him starting to gain control of his rage. He understood his partner was angry, but he also understood how important this was. “Look, go take care of the boy. I’ll radio in that we need an ambulance. Okay?”

Sonny heard the gentleness in Rico’s tone and knew he was right. “Do that.” He said, and walked back down the stairs.

The boy hadn’t moved an inch. His gaze fell to Sonny, the terror as strong as ever.

“Hey, kid.” Sonny said, keeping his voice as gentle as he could. “It’s okay. I want to help you.” He was moving steadily closer to the boy, but the boy was moving steadily away. Eventually, the boy was against the wall and could go no further. Sonny continued towards him, speaking to him the whole
time.

Eventually, he was in front of the boy but he didn’t reach out to him again. Instead, he took in the boy’s injuries with his eyes. He didn’t see any resemblance between the boy and Constanza. They didn’t even seem to be the same nationality. The boy looked about as American as Constanza looked
South American.

“You know, it would be much easier if you told me your name.”

The boy was staring at him, his eyes constantly shifting over Sonny without actually connecting gazes. But he didn’t seem as afraid as before. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Colt.”

Sonny nodded smiling at him. “Colt. That’s good. You can call me Sonny. Now listen carefully, Colt. In a few minutes they’re going to come and take you to the hospital. A doctor will check you over and make sure that there’s no damage inside. Do you understand?”

Colt didn’t reply one way or the other. He simply continued his shuffling stare. Sonny sighed inwardly. He hoped the boy did understand. He was frightened enough as it was.