"You've never met the man," Alex heard Guinness say and then he looked up.
"No! I've never met this guy and I had nothing to do with it. I'll put ten bucks down that Dellahousaye and Caine are behind this."
Guinness stared back for a few moments, then said, "I think you're right."
"Captain, about this phone," Alex began.
"Internal Affairs will be in here in a minute."
"I don't know anything about the damn phone and I sure as hell didn't tip off this Caine maniac to kill my partner and best friend. Come on, Captain!"
"IA pulled the phone records on the burner number and ran a map program to locate the calls," Guinness said. "That call that went out on this burner just before you and Lonnie left for the take down was received in close proximity to the bar, if not right inside where you confronted Caine."
"Captain, I swear to you..."
"Save it, Alex."
Two hours later, Alex walked out of the police precinct, squinting at the bright afternoon sun. The two members of the Internal Affairs team and Captain Guinness had grilled him relentlessly about the phone and the calls to whom they believed to be Lonnie Smith's and the three other police officers’ killer. In the end, they let him go, though reluctantly. There had been no identifiable fingerprints on the phone and definitely not Alex's.
Alex was still groggy from the pain meds and stunned at the discovery of this phone in his desk. It had clearly been planted there by someone, he thought, as he pulled his own phone out and called his father. He was around the corner at a diner and Alex headed in that direction.
Who is trying to set me up here? Alex thought, his anger burning a hole in his gut.
In great detail, he’d gone through the few minutes when he’d returned to the precinct on the morning Lonnie was killed and the short interval he was there before they headed out together to meet the back-up team on the Caine bust. He had tried to account for nearly every moment and action, but his memory was not totally clear on all that had gone down that day after the trauma of his partner's death and his own wounds. There was certainly some time that he could not account for that would have allowed him to make the call to Caine.
He had repeatedly asked the investigators how they could possibly think he would put his partner and the other men in danger. As usual, their responses were minimal, but it was clear they felt he had tried to tip the man off about the impending arrest to give him time to get away. For whatever reason, Caine had decided to stay and inflict considerable damage and loss of life.
Internal Affairs was also implying he was on the pad for Dellahousaye, though they had zero evidence. Where is this coming from?
He arrived at the diner and tried Hanna's number before he went inside to find his father. He knew she had an appointment down at the courthouse on the abortion case but didn't know when she expected to be done. The call went to a full voice mailbox again.
Inside, Skipper Frank was sitting in a back booth, half a tuna sandwich on a plate in front of him and half a beer in the bottle beside it. He looked up as Alex approached. "Where you been?" the old man asked.
"I'll tell you about it on the way back home. You okay to drive?" he asked, looking down at the beer.
"Just had a couple. Thought we'd be leaving sooner. You had lunch?"
"Not hungry, thanks," Alex said, sitting down across the booth. "Finish up and we'll get out of here." He took the bottle of pills from his pocket and shook out the last of the painkillers, washing it down with a sip from his father's beer. He looked up the number for his doctor and after a long wait and several discussions, was able to get the doc to renew his prescription for the drug.
Thirty minutes later after a stop at the drugstore to pick up his prescription, they were on Highway 17 on their way back up to Dugganville. Alex was in the passenger seat with the window down letting the wind whip his face and take some of the heat out of the truck cab. He couldn't stop worrying about the IA investigators thinking he was dirty with Dellahousaye. His boss, Captain Guinness, had remained quiet through most of the interview and did not come to his defense when the two IA clowns started pressing him about being on the take.
In a moment of sudden clarity, he started thinking about who else would have been in the department that morning with any opportunity to make the alleged call and plant the phone in his desk. Lonnie Smith was of course there, but he would trust Lonnie with his life and could not imagine the man being on the pad for Asa Dellahousaye or have any reason to frame him in this.
Captain Guinness was there that morning, but Alex hadn't seen him before they rushed out to arrest Caine at the bar. Then there was Nathan Beatty and his partner, Willy Mills, who was now, unfortunately, dead along with Lonnie and three uniforms who went down that day. There were probably a dozen other people on the floor that morning who could have done this, but he couldn't place anyone close enough to the case with any reason to do this.
His thoughts kept coming back to Nate Beatty. He'd known the man for over ten years and never had any issues with him or reason to believe he was dirty. He tried to piece together the events leading up to and after the shootings, then again later that day and night at the hospital. Beatty was obviously upset about the loss of their colleagues, but Alex couldn't recall any other warning signs or questionable behavior. During the arrest, Beatty had been the last to come into the kitchen from the bar area after the shootout with Caine began. He had probably saved my life, Alex thought, as Caine had fled when the man came through the door.
Skipper shouted out over the noise of the radio and rushing wind, "What the hell happened down there today?"
Alex filled his father in on the accusations and case the department was trying to build against him.
"Them sons of bitches!" Skipper yelled out. "After all you've done for them over the years and you take a damn bullet for your partner and they try to hang this on you?"
"It's a little more complicated than that, Pop."
Chapter Thirty-four
Asa Dellahousaye sat in a deeply cushioned white leather chair on the aft deck of his large yacht, Adrenaline, drifting offshore about five miles from Charleston. The afternoon clouds were building, but the sun was still hot. The blue surface of the ocean was blinding in the late day glare. Several gulls dipped and climbed behind the stern of the yacht, hoping for an easy meal to get tossed over.
One of the crew brought up a fresh gin and tonic on a tray and Asa D exchanged glasses with the young woman. He watched her walk back inside and as usual, admired the round curve of her ass and long tanned legs in the white shorts the crew wore. He picked up a pair of binoculars to check on a boat that was approaching from the west. It was a big fishing rig. He soon confirmed it was Caine, as scheduled. Within minutes, the crew had the two boats tied off on the calm surface of the ocean and Caine jumped over and joined his boss in another chair.
Asa ordered a drink for the man and when they were alone, said, "Nice work on the pastor this morning."
Caine just nodded back, looking vacantly out across the long stretch of water and distant land on the horizon behind the boat. A man of typically few words, he was not one to brag or boast about his work.
Asa D said, "You know we need to clean up the rest of this now, right?"
"You mean the cop I didn't finish off yet?" Caine asked, his voice low and menacing.
"Yes, we've got him on the hot seat with his department, but I don't think they're going to be able to prove anything against the man. Besides, he's seen your face twice now and that's a loose end we don't need."
"I understand, boss. I won't miss again."
The woman came back on deck with drinks for both men and told them dinner would be ready in about twenty minutes. When she was gone, Asa D said, "We have one other problem."
"What's that?"
"One of my attorneys has lost his mind and decided to threaten me with some bullshit evidence if he gets implicated in this gambling s
cheme."
"The one who's handling the bribes with the politicians?" Caine asked.
"Right. His name is Phillip Holloway."
"I know who he is."
"The dumb bastard really thinks he can threaten me."
"I'll take care of it, boss," Caine said.
"This guy is too high profile to just take off the board," Dellahousaye said. "This has to look like an accident and before you take him out, I want to know what the hell he's holding against me and where it is. Do whatever you have to."
Caine squirmed in his seat, clearly delighted he would be able to inflict a little additional pain before taking out the lawyer.
"Holloway is also very close to the Senator," Asa D said. "I want to know if he's in on this, too."
"Absolutely!"
Chapter Thirty-five
The sisters, Carolyn and Calley Barbour, sat across from Hanna at the small conference table in her office. The meeting with Judge Kraft had come to a swift halt when the older sister had barged in and insisted on talking to Hanna and Calley before the proceedings went any further. The judge had suggested they continue the next day. She had an hour open after lunch.
The two girls had remained quiet on the short walk back from the courthouse.
Hanna started, "Carolyn, please tell me what's going on here."
The two Barbour sisters exchanged looks, then Carolyn turned to Hanna. "Calley called me a couple of days ago to tell me what was happening."
"And she told you about the waiver we're seeking for parental permission on the abortion."
Carolyn seemed confused and Calley started to interrupt.
Hanna said, "She did tell you why we’re meeting with the Judge today?"
"I thought you were there to get a ruling on an underage abortion," Carolyn said. "I didn't know about the parent issue but, of course, they would have to be involved. Calley has told you about our parents, right?"
"Yes, it's the fundamental argument in the discussion with the judge."
"But she hasn't told you everything?" Carolyn asked.
"What do you mean?"
Calley jumped in. "Hanna..."
"She didn't tell you everything about our father?" Carolyn asked, obviously knowing the answer.
"Calley, what's going on here?" Hanna asked, standing to walk over behind her desk and grab the file for the case. She could see the girl was starting to cry.
Carolyn blurted out, "She didn't tell you our dear father has been having his way with both of us since we were twelve years old?"
Hanna was stunned and looked down at Calley who now had her face buried in her hands.
"I finally got out and left when I was eighteen," Carolyn said. "The bastard came into my room again on the night of my birthday for God's sake and started taking his clothes off. I'd taken a golf club from his bag in the garage, knowing he would be coming for me again. This time I had decided enough already, and I'd be able to take care of myself. I hit him across the back of the head as hard as I could with the golf club. I hoped I'd killed him with the first blow, but he was on the floor moaning and bleeding and I just couldn't bring myself to finish him off. I left and have never been back. I've been trying to get Calley out of there, but I swear they have her brainwashed or something."
Hanna couldn't believe what she was hearing and was trying to sort through the implications when Calley said, "There was no boy on the beach, Hanna."
"What are you talking about?"
"It was my father. It was always my father. I'm surprised I didn't get pregnant years ago, but he would give us pills, birth control."
Hanna was absolutely flabbergasted at what these girls had endured. "And you've never tried to report this to anyone? What about your mother?"
"She didn't want to know, or she was afraid of my father, too," Calley said. "I'm not sure."
Hanna sat back down across from the girls. "We have to report this to the police."
Carolyn said, "I've wanted to do it for years, but Calley always talked me down, told me he was leaving her alone now, everything was okay."
"But it wasn't okay?" Hanna asked.
Calley nodded, wiping at her eyes.
There was a deep anger and disgust burning in Hanna. She tried hard to keep her composure. Finally, she said, "I know someone at the police department. Let me talk to him tonight." She could see panic in Calley Barbour's eyes. "I won't do anything until I talk to you tomorrow. We need to meet in the morning, before we have to go back over to see Judge Kraft.
Appointments and calls backed up through the afternoon and Hanna wasn't able to leave the office until after seven. She ran up to her apartment to change clothes. She had planned to get up to Dugganville earlier, but as usual, work continued to take precedence. She was still fuming about Calley and Carolyn Barbour's father. What a monster! Hiding behind his self-righteous pulpit.
She needed to talk to Alex about how this would all go down if the girls agreed to bring charges against their father. Certainly, it would help with Calley's case for an abortion. Incest was on the top of the list for reasons to grant the waiver of parental approval. The Reverend Warren Barbour would be taking a hard fall.
Thoughts of Sam crept back in. She'd managed to keep their discussion over lunch at bay through the afternoon as she had been consumed with the Barbours and then ten other issues at the office. Sam wants to move to Charleston! He wants to ‘give it another chance’!
She couldn't think clearly with all that was racing through her mind. How many years had she been thinking about Sam Collins since he had left her in their junior year in college? How many times had she secretly thought about what it would be like if he were ever to come back to her? And now, here he was, and it was scaring the crap out of her. And what about Alex? She didn't even know Sam after all these years!
She was ten minutes out of Charleston when her phone buzzed. It was Judge Louise Kraft. "Hanna, what in hell's going on?"
Hanna tried not to panic and blurt out all she had just learned. "Judge, I'm sorry, but there are some new developments. I'm looking into it and I'll be able to fill you in tomorrow when we get back together."
"I sense there's more to this than our young Ms. Barbour is telling us," the judge said. It wasn't a question.
Hanna hesitated a moment, then replied, "That would be correct. Again, I'll have an update for you by tomorrow afternoon.
They ended the call and Hanna threw the phone down on the seat beside her.
Chapter Thirty-six
Skipper Frank signaled for Gilly to bring two more beers. Alex hadn't finished the second sitting in front of him at the bar. He knew he shouldn't be drinking on top of another Vicodin he'd just taken an hour ago. The investigation against him by the Charleston Police Department had him totally flustered and frankly, a little afraid if any other trumped-up evidence would suddenly surface tying him to Asa Dellahousaye and the killer, Caine.
He looked up when he heard his father yell out, "Gilly, turn that damn thing off!" The television screen above the bar was set to a network news station and his old Army comrade, Sergeant Adam Groves, was on the air again talking about the ill-fated mission in Afghanistan they had both survived. The local papers and broadcast stations had also picked up the story and it was all over the news.
The man was up close in the studio, dressed in a suit, sitting next to the news anchor. Alex heard him say, "Lieutenant Frank totally freaked out on us when the attack began. We shouldn't have been there to begin with. We were pinned down with rounds coming in from everywhere. Several of our guys had already gone down. The rest of us had to take control of the situation or we would have all been killed out there."
The newsman asked, "So what do you know about this latest police shooting incident in Charleston?"
"Only that Alex Frank was in the middle of a shit storm again... sorry, can you bleep that? He got his team in the middle of a mass casualty event and four men died. Somehow, he man
aged to survive again. From what I'm hearing on the news, he didn’t back-up his partner and the man died. I'm not at all surprised."
The newsman turned to the camera, "We're talking about the fatal shooting in Charleston of ..." Gilly finally came over and grabbed the remote to turn the sound down and change the station.
Alex felt his blood burning hot and his head felt dizzy. He reached for the second beer and finished it in one swallow. He sensed his father's hand on his arm.
"Don't pay no attention to that bastard."
Alex tried to block images racing through his brain of that day in Afghanistan and as soon as those went away, the chaos in the Charleston bar kitchen echoed in his brain. He could still smell the cordite in the air from the gunfire. He could still see his friend Lonnie's blood on his hands when he finally got to him and realized he was already gone.
Was Grove right? How many men have I gotten killed? How many times have I asked myself that question?
He was well into the third beer when he felt a hand on his shoulder. When he turned to see who it was, he almost fell of the barstool, the drugs and the beers quickly taking effect. He saw the face of Amelia Richards looking back at him.
She reached out to help him catch his balance and they fell into each other. She helped him back onto his stool and sat beside him. "You okay, Alex?"
Her Italian accent again seemed out of place. He forced his eyes to focus and saw her tanned face looking back at him with a concerned stare. Her hair was pulled up in random swirls on top of her head and she was wearing a thin-strapped yellow sun dress that showed off her well-toned shoulders and arms. Alex steadied himself on the high stool, one hand on the bar to make sure he didn't tip over again.
"Alex?"
"What are you doing here?"
"I've tried to call you. I found something I need to talk to you about," she said. Over the loud noise in the bar, they were almost shouting to be able to hear each other. "Can we go in the back for a moment?"
DEATH ON THE NEW MOON (A Troubled Waters Suspense Thriller Book 6) Page 14