A quick conversation with Shim yielded the information that there had never been a call placed to the department about Kelly Ann leaving the hospital. If Krantz went to the hospital, it was on his own initiative. Then there was the question of how Krantz would have known.
Ray decided to visit the OB unit while in the hospital. A reedy-thin woman approaching seventy met with them in the otherwise empty family waiting room.
"I'm Mrs. Marshall. I'm the OB department director."
Ray made introductions, then said, "Tell me about Kelly Ann Vast's leaving the hospital yesterday."
The woman shook her head, causing grey curls to float around her head. "I talked to her nurse this morning. The patient asked to be taken to NICU to see her baby. It was a bit early for that, but she'd done well with the delivery and was stable in all respects. Since the unit was quiet, the staff accommodated her, taking her in to hold the infant. She asked the staff to put the baby's name—Keri Lynn—on her tag, then asked to be taken back to her room. It was not an unusual series of events at all.
"Later, the patient's parents arrived, and the three of them went back to NICU. The nurse got involved with another patient. When she went back to check Mrs. Vast, the room was empty and all her belongings were gone."
"How long did it take for the deputy to arrive after the sheriff was called?" Ray said. He knew, of course, the sheriff had not been called. He asked to get Mrs. Marshall's reaction.
"Oh, we didn't call the sheriff. Mrs. Vast has no insurance, was very stable, and wanted to be discharged later in the day. Technically, she left against medical advice—AMA—but she'd have been gone anyway in a matter of hours."
"Is that unusual?"
"Not with our poorer patients. They want to do everything they can to keep the bills low. Her baby will stay with us until she's big enough to go home in any event."
"What if the mother doesn't return?"
"I expect she will. Most do. But if she doesn't, we'll turn the baby over to relatives or to the foster system, where she might be better off anyway."
Mrs. Marshall excused herself, leaving the two men in the family room.
Ray checked the display on his cell phone, having felt it vibrate earlier. He saw a text from Sophia.
Kelly Ann's mother was here. Told me they took her. Kelly Ann doesn't want you to go there, but you can call her. Use this number. 931-844-7002.
When Ray tapped the number into the phone, a tired-sounding female voice answered.
"Is this Kelly Ann Vast?"
"Who wants to know?"
"Ray Stone. We met at your home."
"This is Kelly Ann."
"The number is different than Sophia gave me yesterday."
"My parents got me a disposable phone. I don't want Krantz to be able to find me."
"Tell me what's going on?"
"I'm so afraid. I'm afraid I'll never be able to take my baby home with me. Krantz came to my house on Saturday morning. He wanted to know where LeRoy is. Said he knew LeRoy is alive."
"What did you tell him?"
"That I didn't know."
"Is LeRoy alive?"
"Yes. He's hiding out. But I'm scared about that, too. His arm, where his hand was cut off, looks all infected. I tried to get him to go to the hospital. I told him the police would protect him. But he's afraid. Said it's the cops he's worried about."
"Did Krantz hurt you?"
"He beat me up a bit around my face and arms. When I fell on the floor, I pretended I was unconscious. He went away. Then after I cut myself, I called 9-1-1. Krantz came with the ambulance and acted all nice."
"Have you seen Krantz since you got to the hospital?"
"He came into my hospital room early Sunday morning. He started to threaten me again. Said he'd make sure I never saw my baby, but a nurse came in, and he got all polite again. Then he left."
"What happened after that?"
"I called Mama. When she and her husband came, we said goodbye to Keri Lynn and left."
"Do you think you're safe where you are?"
"I do. Even LeRoy doesn't know about Mama's friend. Mama will take a different route every time she goes to check on Keri Lynn, wander all around, like you see on TV."
***
A bored-looking sheriff's deputy guarded the door of Flocker's private room on the fifth floor of the hospital. The young, dark-haired woman raised her eyes from the book she was reading. "May I help you?"
"Deputy Poore," he said, reading her badge, "I'm Detective Stone from Plateauville PD, and this is Officer Johnson." He motioned to Johnson. "We'd like to spend some time with Mr. Flocker." Ray saw her eyes drop to the shield clipped to his belt.
"Certainly. You're just in time. The physician is discharging Bubba from the hospital, then we'll haul him downtown to the jail."
"Do you happen to know if any arrangements have been made to keep him alive there? His life has been threatened twice that I'm aware of."
"Knowing Bubba—and I do—twice is a conservative estimate." Poore looked thoughtful. "Shim told me Bubba would be in general population. Said he's big enough to take care of himself"
"That's probably a stretch, even for someone who isn't on a hit list." Ray laughed, signed the log she held out for him, and went into the room.
Johnson signed and followed, then took a position against the wall on the far side of the room. He pulled out a notebook and pen.
Flocker looked like a small mountain sitting in the arm chair next to the bed, bigger than he'd looked when Ray saw him in the bed a few days earlier.
Ray reintroduced himself. "Mr. Flocker, I'm here to talk to you about the events at Vast's meth lab."
"I know who you are. I told you to call me Bubba."
Ray nodded.
"So, De-tect-ive, why would I want to talk to you, anyway?"
"I'll put in a good word with the sheriff. Maybe they'll go easy on you, or at the very least, protect you from whomever it is who wants you dead."
"How do you figure someone wants me dead?" Flocker wore a confused expression.
"Well, this is the story. The lab on your property, the one that blew up, was torched. The arson report is conclusive. There is no doubt."
"Silky, the bastard." Flocker spit out the words,
"You think Silken is behind it."
"Who else? He's behind most of what goes down around here."
"Can you prove that?"
"If I did, I'd really be a dead man."
"Perhaps, but a second attempt was made on your life here as well. Someone added a drug to your IV. It's what caused you to quit breathing. One of the ED nurses saved your fat neck."
Flocker seemed to caress his impressive double chin. "I know Sophia saved me. The nurses in ICU said that. Otherwise I wouldn't of know'd it."
"Lot you don't know, it seems." Ray paused. "Listen, Bubba, it's about time you come clean about everything. If you don't, I can't see how the sheriff can protect you long term. Once everything is out in the open, there is no reason to kill you to keep you quiet."
Flocker reached for his water and took a long drink. Then, he sat quietly, a thoughtful expression on his face. Ray decided, perhaps, Flocker wasn't as dumb as he acted.
"Have you met my mama?"
"I have. She told me you take care of her, the farm, and work in Silken's Dry Goods, too."
"Mama is a good woman. She hasn't been the same since my daddy died. She's got the cancer, too, now."
Ray nodded.
"Do you have any idea how much time I'm looking at? If I'm convicted, that is?"
"Oh, I think you will be, if you live that long. If you're cooperative, maybe it'll be less time."
"Maybe I'm better off in jail."
Ray raised a brow. "I'm thinking Silken's reach is long. Why is he pissed at you anyway?"
"The hell with it." Flocker sat up straighter. "I'm just a good old boy. Never was in much trouble until this all happened."
Ray pulled a chair over, sat, and w
aited.
"It wasn't long after I went to work for Silky that I figured out he was bringing in the fixin's for cooking meth. I didn't say anything at first, just did my job, and went on my way. But, he had more shipments come in and wanted me to work some extra. I did. I needed the money."
"Go on."
"I paid attention when I was there. I know I look big and dumb. People misjudge me. Think I'm stupid." He waited a moment. "Guess I am, huh?"
"Remains to be seen, I think."
"LeRoy came and went a bunch, took boxes of stuff with him. Sometimes LeRoy came in and made a delivery. I saw Silken pay him in cash."
"Bubba, why should I believe you? You ran a meth lab on your property. Maybe you're just trying to eliminate the competition."
Flocker laughed. "Silky isn't the competition. He owned the lab on my property."
"Explain that."
"This is how it is. Silken found out about the camper on my property, probably from LeRoy. He asked about it, then asked to buy it. Secret like. Off the books. He paid me twenty grand, and I still own the land it sits on."
"Did you know what he wanted it for?"
"Of course." Flocker exhaled. "Mama needed an operation on her feet, and we didn't have the money. I thought, why not?"
"How did you end up working there?"
"At first, I ignored it. Then Silky said he'd pay me to supervise the operation. Big money. At least for me."
"You agreed?" Ray said.
"Yeah, but not right off. Then he turned up the pressure. Said there was no record of him owning the cabin, and he'd see to it that it got raided by the sheriff, who would hold me responsible."
"He had you there. Then what happened?"
"I started working the lab more and more and the store in town less and less. Mama thought I went to the store every day, but I just drove out the driveway and took the back way to the cabin."
"She didn't figure that out?"
"No, her hearin' ain't what it used to was. Used to be," Flocker said, correcting himself. "And, she doesn't walk around in the woods nomore."
"Go on."
"Then Silky told me he wanted me to blow up Vast's lab with all the workers in it, especially Vast. I refused. I'm not a killer. A meth cooker, yes, but not a killer. Silky got pissed. Said he owned me. I told him he didn't, and I wanted him off my property."
"If you didn't blow up Vast's operation, who did?"
"Like I've said all along, I don't know. I saw the blast from my place, and rode down there on my bike, circled in the back way. I didn't recognize the man who blew the lab, but I did see a vehicle speeding away."
"What did the guy look like? What can you tell me?"
"I only know he was big as me, maybe bigger."
"What kind of vehicle?"
Flocker laughed. "It was a little Chevy rent-a-car. I recognized the shape of the bumper sticker. Didn't see the plate good enough to read it. It was light colored. Maybe white, even."
"What else did you see?"
"Someone else running away from the scene. Looked like Vast or his cousin Richie. Don't know which one. Can't tell them apart if the light's not good."
"Do you know who blew up your operation?"
"Yeah, I do."
"Who?"
"Well now. Without LeRoy's output, Silky was nervous about meeting his production goals—his words. He wanted me to run my lab twenty-four-seven." Flocker laughed. "That pissed me off, and I blew the sucker up. The only problem is I didn't run fast enough and breathed in a bunch of the poison—dumb, fat bastard that I am."
Chapter 20
Sophia
When Sophia stepped out into the concourse at Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood International Airport, a frenetic level of activity slapped her. Though she's left the area less than three months earlier, she'd grown accustomed to the more relaxed, more congenial atmosphere in Middle Tennessee—exploding meth labs aside.
She wove her way around and through the crowd. A variety of languages mixed in a babble—Spanish, Haitian Creole, Bostonian, New Yorker, Canadian English, and a smattering of what she thought was Portuguese, perhaps Brazilian, surrounded her. If she stayed in the airport, she knew she'd encounter a bigger variety. Instead, she hurried to the rental car bus.
Her friend Connie Kuhn had offered to pick Sophia up and loan her a car. But, she preferred to be able to come and go as she pleased, knowing Connie had to maintain her work schedule, and if it was her car, control.
Sophia called Connie at Coral Bay Medical Center, where Sophia had worked until recently. After Connie supplied the address for the shower, Sophia embarked on her own agenda.
Deg Lewis, Ray's former partner, answered on the first ring. "Hey, sweet thing. I've been expecting your call. Ray told me you were coming to town and would probably give me a shout."
"I'm glad you haven't deleted me from your address book. Want to meet me for lunch? I just got off the plane, and I'm starved."
"Where?"
"The deli in Lakeview Plaza." The lunch date served several purposes. First, she was starving, and the location was convenient. Second, she missed having an easily available Jewish-style deli. Third, she wanted to pick Deg's brain.
When she entered the deli, she saw Deg had already commandeered a table near the back of the room. A typical detective, he sat with his back to the wall, facing the door. Ray would have grabbed the booth in the back corner, but Deg hated booths. Deg was six-six, broad-shouldered, muscle-packed, bald, black-skinned, and gentle as a new born lamb. Unless pissed off, that is.
"Hi, sweet thing," Deg said when Sophia approached the table. "How are you?"
"Good. Lovin' Tennessee."
"To each, her own. How's the man?"
"Up to his eyeballs in meth lab explosions, but liking the area—I think. Have you talked to him?"
"A couple of days ago."
"When you do again, please leave most of this conversation out of it."
"We will see."
"Fair enough."
"You're messing in where you don't belong again."
"Maybe a little. Things are different there. I'm working in the ED in the main hospital that serves the county, of which Plateauville is a part. As such, I'm encountering Ray's victims and suspects, sometimes before he does. We've reached a truce of sorts. I can contribute, as long as I carry when he tells me to and stay safe in the process."
Deg raised a questioning brow.
"I think the difference is, there is no way for me to stay deaf, dumb, and blind. And, his resources are slim. He has a young patrol officer assigned to work with him on occasion, and a loose alliance with a sheriff's investigator."
"He called me about Shim. I worked with Shim some years back. He's a good man. Honest. Solid skills. I told Ray as much."
A waitress dressed in black slacks and a white blouse approached the table.
"Good to know." Sophia waved away the menu offered by the waitress. "I'll have the Reuben. Iced tea."
"Same for me." After the waitress left the table, Deg said, "So, what is it you want to poke your nose into?"
"I have the notion—maybe Ray does, too—that there's a direct South Florida connection to the meth problem in Tennessee. One of my coworkers knows a guy at Jackson Memorial who knows a guy named Krantz who's involved with drug sales. Silken, the local drug lord in Plateauville—masquerading as an upstanding businessman—has a South Florida history. I just want to head down to Miami and ask a few questions. Maybe help out while I'm here."
Deg glanced to his left, then leaned away from the table to allow the waitress to set down the sandwiches and drinks. He reached for a packet of sweetener and added it to his tea.
"A new skill I learned in Tennessee is to ask for unsweet tea wherever tea is sold." Sophia laughed. "The first week I was there, I discovered that the default value is sweet—with a capital S. You could almost stand a straw in the stuff."
"My wife likes it that way. She actually boils up the water and adds both sugar a
nd honey to it while it's still hot and brewing. Says it's better that way, never grainy."
"Of course, your wife weighs one hundred pounds in her skivvies. She can use the calories."
Deg laughed. "True enough. If I let you go to Miami and poke at the drug culture, Ray will swoop down and take it out on me, especially if you get hurt."
"I'm not planning on wearing a sign that says I'm investigating the meth trade."
"I know that, sweet thing, but you have a way of pulling the trouble your way." Deg ate a few bites of his sandwich.
"This is really good. Can't get a good Reuben in Plateauville." She finished off the first half, stared at the second portion, then picked it up. "I have to eat this all. Who knows when I'll get another."
After a few minutes of quiet eating, Deg pushed his empty plate next to Sophia's. "How about I pick you up on Thursday morning and go to Miami with you? I have a narc friend who works the precinct closest to Jackson and deals, mostly, with meth. He can tell you the names of the players. Then if there's a connection, you can have Ray contact him for the details."
"That'll work. Ray will be pleased that at least I poked into his case safely."
"I'll bet." Deg sipped his tea and rolled his huge, dark-brown eyes.
Chapter 21
Ray
On Tuesday morning, Ray finished updating Chief Mullins on his Monday meeting with Charles "Bubba" Flocker.
"You believe he blew his own place?" Mullins raised a questioning brow.
"I do." Ray leaned forward a bit in the chair. "First, it's too damn stupid to not be true. Second, Flocker appears to be a reasonably honorable man."
Mullins raised the brow higher this time.
"He takes care of his sick mother, farms, and works part-time for Silken. I think his meth lab involvement was a convenient opportunity to earn money, then Silken sucked him in. His response was to blow up his structure and settle the matter."
"I'm surprised he didn't start a forest fire in the process."
"Could have, I suppose. He called 9-1-1, then started pumping water on the mess. Luckily, he has a generator-powered well and pump close by."
"He probably put that in so the lab had running water."
Imperfect Escape Page 12