"What can you tell me about him?" she said.
"Only that down here he had the reputation for being a mean son of a bitch. Nobody was sad when he left town." Nick shuddered.
Sophia continued with general questions with the hopes of clouding Nick's memory about the questions involving Silken.
Deg ordered three Cuban coffees and grinned when the thick sweet coffee arrived in one-ounce plastic cups.
She sipped and savored the rich taste. The caffeine jolt would last until she landed late that afternoon in Nashville.
Chapter 24
Ray
Ray wanted to stay with Sophia, but if his guess was right, he'd be home by ten. Instead they shared a fast and simple dinner of rotisserie chicken and salad she had bought at Publix in Crestville on her way home from the Nashville airport.
He met Chief Mullins, Johnson, and Al Crag, a younger night-shift officer, in the conference room at the PD a bit after eight on Wednesday evening.
"What's going on, Chief?" Crag said. "Not saying I object to the overtime, mind you."
"We're hitting that meth lab on Cherry Lane. My source said it was going strong this afternoon."
"Just the four of us?" Crag frowned, shifting his weight side to side.
"No, we'll have four deputies. They'll be waiting in two unmarked cars at the turn off to Dripping Springs. The plan is the same as for the last raid, and again, we have a no-knock warrant. We'll roll in quiet, polite-like, lights off. If no one is out and about, three of us will take positions around the perimeter. Stone, backed up by the four deputies, will breach the front door." Mullins continued to review the plan. Then he picked up the landline and dialed. "Sheriff Foster, please."
While he waited, Ray ran through a mental checklist of the equipment he'd moved from his and Johnson's official rides into his Ram. The PD didn't own any unmarked vehicles, so he offered to use the Ram to help ensure an anonymous approach. He was satisfied he had everything they needed. The vests, helmets, and hazmat suits were already on the floor on the back seat, and they would take weapons, including assault rifles, to the truck on their way outside. If there were suspects to transport, they'd go to Crestville with the deputies.
Foster must have responded to the call, because Mullins appeared to be listening.
"That's right, Stretch." Mullins used Sheriff Matthew Foster's nickname. "Putting you on speaker." He punched the button. "We're ready to roll."
At six-eight, Foster had played college basketball, but by his own words, hadn't been drafted by the pros because his singular qualification was height, not skill. "I'm sending the same deputies as last time. They know the plan and the area. They should be arriving at the rendezvous point in a few minutes."
"Good," Mullins said. "Where's Krantz?"
"Off duty and out of the loop. These men have no real use for him, so be assured, there will be no notification."
"You hanging around?"
Foster laughed. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. This is a win, no matter what happens. If we make the bust, we win. If not, we know who our mole is."
Ray agreed with Foster's assessment. He'd thought the exact same thing on his drive to the PD.
Mullins broke the connection. "Let's go." He patted the Glock in the holster on his belt, grabbed a rifle from the cabinet near the door, then led the way to Ray's truck and climbed into the shotgun seat.
Johnson and Crag slid into the back, handed two vests forward for Ray and Mullins, and proceeded to put on their gear.
The ride to the corner of Cherry Lane and Dripping Springs Drive took less than fifteen minutes. Deputies in unmarked SUVs were waiting in a neighboring driveway about fifty feet from the turn. Ray stopped, and Mullins exited and approached them.
When Mullins returned to the Ram, the three-car caravan crept to within a hundred yards of the targeted address, turned off their headlights, and eased down the road and into the drive.
Ray stepped from the truck and waited for the others to exit the vehicles and get into position. He and the deputies formed a tight V, aiming at the front steps of the dilapidated mobile home. Ray extended a hand and turned the knob. It wasn't locked. "On three." Ray mouthed the words.
"One. Two. Three." Ray slammed the door open at the same time he dropped into a crouch, allowing the deputies behind him clear shots if necessary.
The house was silent.
"Spread out and search."
It took less than a minute to confirm the place was empty.
"Damn," Ray said. "I hoped for a different result."
Mullins walked in the front door.
"Looks like they cleared out," Ray said.
"They left the door open." Mullins raised a brow. "Guess there's a message in that. Stone and Johnson, suit up in your hazmat gear and have a look around."
"Yes, sir," Ray said.
The smell of an active meth lab filled the building, but, no raw materials were found. The operation appeared to have packed up and moved.
"Then, let's seal it. We'll get decontamination people out here tomorrow. One of the sheriff's deputies will stand guard for the night." Mullins turned and left.
***
Ray found Sophia asleep on the sofa with Mischief in her lap. She wasn't working the next day—good schedule planning on her part—so he poured a couple of glasses of Chianti, then woke her.
"Oh, sweetheart, I must have drifted off." She rubbed an eye.
Ray smiled. She looked as if she'd passed out three hours earlier.
"What time is it?"
"Midnight." He handed her the wine.
"Wake me up to put me to sleep. Just like the hospital." She sipped. "Good. I'll take Mischief out, then join you."
He reached for the dog and put her on the floor. "I'll take her."
When he returned from the short walk, Sophia met him at the door with a glass in each hand. She looked more awake, had combed her hair, and wore a soft pale-pink nightgown that clung to her curves.
He took his wine. "You look delicious." He kissed her. "First a snack. Then dessert."
"You hungry?"
"Ah, yeah."
"I mean for food."
"That too. What do you have in mind?"
"Chicken sandwich and chips. I picked up those big Kaiser rolls you like."
"Bring it on, but be quick about it." He nuzzled her neck.
Sophia pushed him away, then went to the kitchen and made the snack. She set it on the table in front of his chair, refilled the wine glasses, and sat, then reached over and stole a chip. "How was the raid?"
"Failed, as expected. Ope was on duty in dispatch as planned. He's the only possible leak."
"Krantz?"
"The sheriff made sure he was out of the loop."
"Now what happens?"
"Tomorrow, we'll be on Ope like bat shit on a rock in a Tennessee cave." Ray took a bite out of the sandwich. "Good."
Sophia laughed. "Where'd you get that one?"
"Made it up on the fly." Ray grinned, then wiped at his goatee with a napkin. "Tell me about your trip—not the shower part, the poking around in my case part."
"How do you know I poked?"
"Because you're you and I'm me. We have history. See?"
"Have more wine, dear. You're rhyming."
He laughed. "In all seriousness, what did you do?"
"I called Deg, who escorted me to Miami to talk to a meth-head associate of an undercover cop. We were supposed to meet with the cop, but that fell through."
"Now everyone in Miami knows you're poking around." His temper flared for the moment. He'd agreed to her paying attention and reporting to him, but he hadn't agreed to her sticking her nose into trouble.
"Calm down. We claimed I was a reporter looking for a story on the connection between Tennessee's meth problem and the situation in Miami. The guy wanted to be sure he wasn't mentioned by name in the article."
"And Deg?"
"A big, tough, cop-looking escort, helping me out, and keep
ing me safe."
"You got that right. I thanked him this afternoon. He said you could give me a full report."
"You knew we went to Miami."
"Yup. Made sure Deg was available to take you."
"You son of a bitch." She grinned. "Guess I deserve it."
"Yup. Deg didn't have a lot of time to talk and wants me to call him back."
"He has a bunch of questions about the problem here, most of which I couldn't answer, so be prepared to spend a few minutes. Anyway . . ." Sophia relayed what she'd learned. "Oh, I have a recording, too."
"Good. I'll listen to it tomorrow. Can you send it to my phone, please, so I can share it with the chief? Did the guy know he was being recorded?"
"Yup. I recorded that on my phone, too."
"Were you armed when you went to Miami?"
"Armed with Deg—who was carrying."
"Three weapons, at least, if I know him. But why weren't you?"
"Ray, I couldn't take my Sig on the airplane."
"True." He grinned, taking another bite of his snack. "I'll give you a pass on that."
"Big of you."
"What else did you learn?"
"That's pretty much it. But it sounds like your friend Silky is a bona fide bad dude. The source, for lack of a better word, Nick's his name, told us about several guys busted up on Silky's orders and at least three forever missing. Said he didn't know for sure what happened, but the word on the street was the guys stole from Silky, and Silky ordered the hits."
"Now all we have to do is figure out how to get him off the streets of Plateauville, Tennessee."
"Do you think he's responsible for Vast's lab blowing up?"
"And, a lot of other things as well. We're thinking that Krantz has been his conduit of evil—being family and all—but we don't know for sure. It could just be Krantz is an asshole and Silken is the asshole's uncle. It has to be tied together in a neat little package."
"Won't the people in town be up in arms—one of their own and all?"
"I don't think so. The Silkens, both of them, have done everything reasonable to fit themselves into local society, but they're still outsiders when it matters. Also, there's a powerful undercurrent in the town that wants the meth trade dealt with, so the chief believes there will be support."
"Some relatives of high-placed locals are bound to be caught up in the mess when Silken goes down."
"There is that, and they won't be happy."
"But, good Southern values will win out."
"Here's hoping." He took the last bite of the sandwich and upended his wine. "Good to the last drop." Then he cleared his dishes to the sink.
"I'll get them in the morning." Sophia slid into his arms, then worked her hands under his shirt. "Take this off."
"Here?"
"No," she pointed to the bedroom door, "there. I'll settle Mischief."
He wrapped her in a hug, then kissed her, this time with a measure of heat. "Hurry up, now. I'll jump in the shower. Want to join me?"
"I . . . Oh, what the heck, a second shower is good."
Ray headed toward the bedroom, tugging off his shirt and holster along the way.
"Crate up, Mischief," she said. "Here's a treat for you, little girl." Sophia closed the crate door and followed Ray to the shower.
Chapter 25
Ray
Ray's first stop Thursday morning was at the Plateau Cafe, where, as he had hoped, the table of five flagged him over.
As he passed the counter, Elma May lifted a coffee cup and nodded in his direction. Ray responded with a smile and nod of his own. "In a to-go cup." He spied a plate filled with pastry under a domed-glass cover. "And one of those caramel rolls to go with it, please." He'd sampled a pastry before. It had been homemade and delicious.
Ray greeted the men, grabbed the empty chair facing the front window and Silken's store across the street. He joined in the casual conversation, waiting to see if anyone would broach the subject of the failed raid.
Mayor Archie Bib was first to acknowledge the dead possum sitting in the middle of the table. "We hear y'all tried another raid that flopped."
"We did, but we got some information out of the deal."
"Such as?" Bib said.
"I'm sorry, Archie, I really can't discuss an ongoing investigation."
"Why not? Everyone in town is talking about it, probably at this very moment."
"That's a good thing. We asked the guys to chat it up, hoping the information in its varying forms reaches the right ears. However, that doesn't apply to everything we learned. I'm sure the chief will be happy to give you more in private." He cast his eyes around the table. "Sorry, gentlemen."
"Ah," Bib said.
The men nodded, and a couple muttered. One said, "Hadn't thought of that."
Elma May delivered Ray's coffee and paper-wrapped pastry.
John Johnson leaned forward. "Now that you mention it, I thought it was odd Jimmy called when he finished his shift last night and wanted to talk about the raid. He's usually secretive about what goes on, especially when it involves the sheriff."
"Good to know." Ray took a sip of his coffee, then snapped a plastic lid on the cup. "In any event, we'd appreciate it if you'd discuss the failed raid aspect around town and add a little self-righteous disappointment to your comments."
After the five men agreed, Ray left and headed to the department. While at the table, he'd seen no activity at Silken's store and not even a drive by from Deputy Sheriff Krantz. Maybe Krantz had smartened up and was staying clear of his uncle, Ray thought.
Ray's cell rang as he pulled into the lot. "Stone."
"Hey, Stone. Shim, here. I heard your raid was a bust."
"Yup, just like we all figured it would be. We're on to step two in a few minutes."
"I'd love to watch." Shim chuckled.
Ray laughed. "Have you seen your good buddy Krantz this morning?"
"Actually, I did. He was in here a few minutes ago. That's why I called. He's hopping mad you excluded him from the raid team, since he lives in the area and all."
"Lives—but no longer works—here."
"That sticks in his gullet, too. He claims he has to leave home an hour early to begin his shift," Shim said, then chuckled.
"The son of a bitch should have thought of that earlier. By the way, I suspect Krantz watched the raid from a distance. I overheard him yapping on his cell about you and the deputies finding an open door."
"Truer words. Gotta go." Shim disconnected, which had Ray wondering what was happening in the big town and why Shim had called.
Ray stepped into the squad room, saw Ope at his dispatch station, and raised a hand in greeting.
"Good to see you, Stone." Ope pushed a button and answered a call.
Ray wondered if it was real or a play-acted excuse to avoid conversation. He would know soon enough. Relief had been scheduled for Ope without his knowledge. When the lady arrived, the interrogation of Ope would begin.
***
Hearing a tap on his office doorjamb, Ray quit keying the failed raid report into the system.
The chief stepped inside and pulled the door closed, leaving his hand on the knob. "The relief dispatcher will be here in five minutes or so, I expect. I think we'll talk to Ope in the conference room—start off friendly-like. I take no pleasure in what we have to do." Mullins studied his hands for a moment.
"Neither do I. It's always tough when it's an officer—"
"Former officer. But I take your meaning. You take the lead."
"Can do." Ray took a deep breath, exhaled, saved the report on his computer, and stood. He'd been involved with questioning police officers in the past and dreaded repeating the experience.
Mullins opened the door and stepped out.
Ray followed. He looked toward the dispatch desk in the corner of the squad when Ted Ope said, "Netty, what are you doing here? You're not due until five this afternoon."
"The chief asked me to come in and relieve y
ou for a spell."
Ope's expression changed from one of wide-eyed curiosity to the pinched face of fear. He removed his headset, neatly coiled the cords, and put it in the desk drawer that served as his locker. Standing, he reached for his walker, which was folded and leaning against the desk, slowly opened it, then walked to the chief.
"Ted," Chief Mullins said.
"I'm assuming we need to talk."
"In the conference room. Stone and I will join you shortly."
"It's like that, is it?" Ope's voice was soft, almost childlike.
"Afraid so."
Through the open door, Ray and the chief watched Ope as he settled in a comfortable chair, then folded his walker and set it aside.
"We may as well get this over with." Ray led the way into the room. "Ted, can I bring you a cup of coffee before we get started?"
"Cream and one sugar." Ope scowled. "What's this all about?"
"All in good time, my friend." Ray left and returned with three cups of coffee. He'd taken his time. He placed Ope's coffee on the table in front of him, handed a cup to the chief, who'd selected a chair near the end of the table, then sat directly opposite Ope. Ray took a minute to settle, put a file with notes on the table next to his coffee, then removed a digital recorder from his shirt pocket, and placed it in front of Ted.
"Stone, are you ready yet?" Ope's voice was streaked with tension.
Ray switched on the recorder and recited the date, time, and location. "Detective Ray Stone and Chief Marvin Mullins interviewing Ted Ope on the matter of obstruction of justice in the failed meth lab raid on One Cherry Lane last night."
"That's ridiculous," Ope growled. "How the hell did you get that idea?"
"Back off, Ope. I'm not finished. You have the right to remain silent." Ray continued with the revised Miranda. He knew it from memory, but he read from a card, wanting to be sure each word was correct. "Do you wish to call an attorney or shall we continue?"
"Ask your damn questions. I have nothing to hide."
"We have cause to believe you alerted the people operating the meth lab at One Cherry Lane about the raid planned for last evening. Why'd you do that, Ted?"
"I didn't, and you can't prove I did. I wouldn't do a thing like that."
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