by Willow Rose
“But you’re human too,” he said. “So, you understand them.”
“I don’t really understand them killing a person, but I guess I understand their pain if you know what I mean. I don’t know. Is anyone having more? I can eat the rest if no one else can.”
Josie shook her head. She had her phone under the table and was obviously not very present because of it. She thought I didn’t see it, and I pretended not to. I didn’t want us to fight. Not tonight. She had been through so much the past few months and years, even with her mother being sick and all. I could cut her some slack.
“So, Josie, any plans for the weekend?” I asked. “Josie?”
She looked up from her phone. I smiled, and she put it away, looking embarrassed. “The weekend? It’s only Thursday, Dad.”
She said it in that teenage way like I didn’t even know that it was Thursday.
“I know, and I wanted to ask you first because I wanted us to do something together this weekend.”
She made a face. “Something? Like what? Please don’t say something lame like going to the Everglades. I hate that place. Or the beach. I can’t stand all that sand. It gets everywhere.”
“It’s nothing like that,” I said. “I thought maybe we could go swim with dolphins in Key Largo. I know you’ve always wanted to do that.”
Josie’s eyes grew huge. She dropped the fork from her hand. She let out a small shriek. “Really? I thought it was too expensive? You always said it was?”
“It is, but I think we deserve it, don’t we?”
“Oh, my God, Dad. Are you being serious right now? I have dreamt about this since I was a baby.”
“I know you have,” I said. “And now, it’s time. Now, do your homework.”
Josie almost danced up the stairs to the temporary bedroom my dad had given her. I smiled and turned to look at him, sitting next to me.
“Feeling pretty good about yourself there, aren’t ya’?” he asked.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am feeling good about this. I always wanted to take Josie down there, to this rescue center where they take care of injured dolphins and where you can get in the water with them. It’s extremely expensive, but I think it’s worth it.”
My dad nodded. “And it certainly isn’t a way for you to buy her happiness because she might never see her mom again? Or a way for you to create a diversion, so you won’t have to tell her?”
“Maybe,” I said.
“Don’t you think you owe it to her to talk to her about it, at least? To tell her the truth?”
I swallowed. “How can I? I’m not about to tell her what her mom has done. It would break her heart.”
“True, but it will break her heart either way. If her mom takes the witness protection program or goes to jail, either way, she’ll be out of her life. She needs to know.”
I grabbed my plate and rose to my feet with an annoyed movement. My dad was right, as always, but I didn’t want him to be. If I wanted to take my daughter swimming with dolphins to avoid questions about her mother, then so be it. That was my issue, not his.
Chapter 40
I was feeling pretty confident and good about myself as I entered the station the next morning. Josie had been the happiest girl all morning, and I had to admit I was enjoying seeing her like this for once. Ever since the shooting incident, she had been so down and sad, and she had slept terribly at night. Most nights, I had slept with her, to be there and hold her when she had nightmares. This night was the first that she slept through without even waking up. It gave me hope that she’d get past this too. I had found her a therapist that she was going to see for the first time today since I wasn’t sure I could deal with it all by myself.
I sat down at my desk, then opened my computer, ready to finish my report on the Kate Taylor murder, but for some reason, I couldn’t find it. I searched the entire database, but it simply wasn’t there. All there was, was the old case file from Key West; none of my work was anywhere to be seen.
I was starting to sweat now, and my hands were getting clammy as I searched for the audio file from the interrogation.
It wasn’t there either.
It was gone.
Vanished.
“What in the…?”
I kept searching, going through everything, my fingers tapping the keyboard, my heart pounding in my chest, but still, nothing turned up. No results, it said. I then walked to the cabinet behind my desk to find the paper version that I always kept there.
It was gone too.
“What the…?”
I turned around to look at my desk, but I hadn’t left it there either. I searched my bag, my drawers, everywhere.
Nothing.
All that was left were the old case files. It was like I had never done any work on this case at all.
What is this? I can’t believe it?
I called down to the detention center and asked if they still had Andrew Taylor in custody.
“He was released last night,” the woman said.
Released? He hadn’t been to court yet; he couldn’t have had a judge set bail yet?
“And Joan Kendrick?”
“Also released.”
“On what grounds?”
“Case was dismissed,” she said. “Charges were dropped. That’s all it says in the papers.”
“Who signed the release form?” I asked, my voice shaking with anger and frustration. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what was going on, how this was possible. How could this have happened?
“That would be Abraham Fowler,” she said. “Major Abraham Fowler.”
Chapter 41
He was on the phone when I rang the doorbell, and as he opened the door, he finished his conversation.
“I gotta call you back. There’s something I need to deal with here,” Fowler said, then hung up. He gave me a look. I couldn’t tell if it was concern in his eyes or resentment.
“Hunter? What are you doing here?”
I pushed my way past him inside, and he closed the front door behind me. The amount of marble on the man’s floors and walls gave the place a cold feel.
“You let them go?” I asked.
Fowler let out a deep sigh. “So, that’s what this is about. I should have known. Please…Hunter, sit.”
“Oh, I prefer to stand,” I said.
“You’re mad. I can’t blame you. But you know how it is, Hunter.”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t. Not this one. We did everything correctly. We had a warrant when we went in. We Mirandised them properly. We had a full recorded confession. He admitted to conspiring to kill his wife. His new wife admitted to actually killing her. We had them both. Now, I hear that you let them go. Why?”
Fowler threw out his arms. “Because I couldn’t let you take them down. At least not him. He’s too important.”
A frown emerged between my eyes. “Important? Because he’s the Miami-Dade County State Attorney?”
Fowler’s eyes met mine, and the dime finally dropped. I took a step backward, startled.
“You have got to be kidding me. You let him go because you needed him? Because he’s part of it too? The trafficking ring. I should have known. A guy like him is very good to have on hand. He knows what’s going on, but you pay him to look the other way. The very same person who is supposed to be trying to combat trafficking is on your payroll. Clever. You run that whole darn operation, don’t you? I didn’t want to believe you did; I didn’t want to see it, but of course, you do. It makes a lot of sense. Now, you can’t risk him being in custody since he might reveal what he knows. Maybe he’ll even try and make a deal. Am I right?”
Fowler’s expression changed. His eyes were angry now.
“Am I right?” I asked again, slamming my fist onto his kitchen counter. “At least be honest with me.”
“Yes, you’re right,” Fowler said with a snort.
“I can’t believe you,” I said. “Those…young children, those families who were being tr
ansported…you did that? You made money off that?”
“It was good money, okay? More than that, it was millions. Man, Hunter, you have no idea how much money it was. And you could have been in on it if you hadn’t been…well, you. Besides, we did them a favor. They wanted to come here; they wanted to come. We made that possible. If it hadn’t been us, it would’ve been someone else. That’s the way the world goes. It used to be drug trafficking that was the most lucrative around here, but this is where the money is. So, there will always be someone doing it, taking that money. Might as well be us. Don’t you see?”
“You broke the law. Human trafficking is a serious offense, and you know this. You subjected those poor people to great danger. And what about the girls that were kidnapped, the ones Camille lured in, huh? What happened to them? Did they end up on the street somewhere, drugged out of their minds, and raped by hundreds of men? Did you ever stop to think about them?”
Fowler stared at me, his fists clenched. He was looking for something that could justify his actions, but not finding it.
“These people…your people tried to kill my family,” I said.
“You kept getting in my way, Hunter. I tried to warn you. I tried to get you off our backs, but you kept coming back. The others wanted to get rid of you long ago, but I kept telling them you were harmless. I protected you, Hunter. People are pissed at you, and I can’t hold them back anymore. I love you like a brother, Harry, but I’m afraid it ends here. I’m not letting you ruin what I spent years building up. I’m sorry you had to find yourself in the middle of all this, but it’s pure business. You can’t stop it now.”
I looked down at him, the man I had known since we were both in our early twenties. I thought I knew him. I thought we were on the same side.
A smile spread from the corner of my lip.
“I’m sorry; I’m afraid I already have,” I said.
“What?”
“No, wait…I’m not sorry,” I added. With a swift movement, I pulled up my shirt so he could see the wire I was wearing.
Fowler went pale, his eyes blank.
“W-what?”
“Say hello to Agent Jackson from the FBI. He has been listening in for quite some time now, waiting for you finally to confess. Remember that microphone that you told me you had found in your office? Thinking it would lead me somehow to whoever put it up, I went to Al. She traced it for me, and the digital footprint led her directly to your computer. You made up that story about your office being bugged because you knew I suspected you when they found Josie, and you were the only one who knew where she was. But by giving me that tale about the microphone, you believed you had lied your way out of it. But the thing is, there’s always a footprint, and Al found it. So, I went to Agent Jackson and told him my suspicion. Ever since, he’s been listening in on all my conversations, especially with you. Camille then later confirmed our suspicion when she started naming names. Now, if we use the recordings from today, from right now, along with her testimony and the video my neighbor Jean recorded of you driving the car during that drive-by shooting, I think we have evidence enough to put you away for quite some time, don’t you think?”
Fowler stared up at me. He didn’t even blink and barely breathed.
“I can’t believe you did that. I can’t believe you’d do that to me. We were friends, Hunter. We were like family.”
“I can’t believe any of the stuff you’ve done, so I guess we’re even,” I said. “Now, I’m afraid I have to put you under arrest.”
Fowler pulled out his gun and pointed it at me. I lifted my hands. Sweat was springing to his forehead.
“I can’t let you do that, Hunter. Don’t move! Don’t come anywhere near me, or I will kill you.”
“Whoa,” I said and stepped back. “What do you think you’re doing with that? The FBI is waiting right outside. They came here with me when I told them I was coming to see you. You wanna kill me and add murder to the list of crimes? You don’t want to do that, Fowler. Don’t be a fool.”
He shook his head. He looked confused. “Stay where you are. Down on your knees and stay there.”
I did as he told me. He then asked me to bend my head down, and I heard his footsteps move across the marble tiles, then a door slide open. A second later, I heard an engine start.
No!
The front door burst open, and Agent Jackson stepped inside, flanked by two others in full uniform.
“You’re too late,” I said and rose to my feet. “He took the boat in the back.”
Chapter 42
She hadn’t left. The suitcase was still in the living room by the door, ready for whenever she was. But so far, she hadn’t been ready. Jean wasn’t sure she’d ever be. But then, what was she supposed to do with herself?
She had called in sick at the hospital. The flu, she had said. That would give her at least a week before they began asking questions. That week had passed now, and she still hadn’t gone back there. She hadn’t left either. Jean had simply stayed in her house, while wondering what she was going to do, not coming up with any solution.
Harry had told her he wanted her, that he was done with Camille. It was everything she ever wanted. But was it enough? Was it too late?
Jean held her coffee cup tightly between her hands while staring at the red suitcase. On the kitchen counter, her phone was vibrating, lighting up. She reached over and grabbed it, then looked at the display. It was her sister again.
Anna had called non-stop every day since Jean was supposed to go up there and never made it. Jean had sent her a text, telling her she was having second thoughts, that she needed time, but apparently, Anna wanted to hear it from her in person or at least talk to her. Jean didn’t want to talk to her since she knew just how persuasive her sister could be, and how she’d end up convincing her to go anyway. And she wasn’t ready. Jean needed time to think. Think about her life, her future.
What did she want?
Jean felt her eyes fill again. She had been crying so much this past week; it was amazing there was any tears left. The phone went dead again at least for a few seconds before it lit up once more. Her sister always tried twice. In case Jean had been too far from the phone on the first try and not made it in time. Anna liked giving people second chances.
Darkness was settling upon her small street outside now as the day was about to end—yet another day where she had done absolutely nothing and made no decision. She had received an email the day before from a nursing home in Savannah. They wanted to see her for an interview next week. There was a number she was supposed to call and say if she’d be able to make it. Jean hadn’t called that number yet.
Now, it was too late. At least for today. She’d call tomorrow. Probably.
Jean took her phone in her hand, then found Harry’s number and stared at it. She called it, thinking she needed to talk to him; she had to know what his plans were. But he didn’t pick up, as usual, and she heard his voicemail begin, then hung up.
Jean walked to the sink and put her coffee cup in it, then looked at Harry’s house next door. They hadn’t been there all week, and the technicians had been working over there every day, their many cars blocking the street. Except for today. Today, Harry’s house had been completely quiet. Jean wondered if they were finally finished. She had no idea this type of work took this long. On TV, they always made it look like it took a few hours, and then they had the case all figured out. But it was the same with series taking place in ERs. It always seemed so simple, yet being a nurse required so much more from you. Sometimes, you were holding the hand of someone about to die; other times, you were assisting in childbirth. It was all aspects of life. And she loved that. She loved not knowing what the day would bring when she got there. It was going to be very different, working at a nursing home, where the patients were all the same till they passed away.
It’ll be steady. Steady is good for you right now.
That’s what her sister would say, at least.
Jean s
ighed. She had hoped that Harry would move back soon, but she couldn’t blame him if he never wanted to. The house was a mess after what happened. The porch and the wood on the outside were completely destroyed; several windows were shattered too. It looked like something out of a war movie.
He’s never coming back, is he? Nothing will ever be like it was.
No, he needs to move on too, just like you.
Jean looked at the suitcase again, then decided it was time to go. She didn’t have to wait until the next morning. She could drive all night and make it there early. Determined finally to do it, she grabbed her phone, and was about to call her sister back, then put the phone in her pocket, when suddenly she heard a noise coming from the back. She walked closer to the door as the screen door slammed shut.
“Hello?”
The feeling of the cold gun against her temple made her shiver. She turned to look at the man holding the gun, then gasped. She knew those eyes staring down at her from the many barbecues at Harry’s house, even though he looked different, stirred up, frightened even.
“F-Fowler?”
“That’s right, my dear. I need you to come with me.”
“W-why?” Jean asked. She spoke while fiddling with the phone in her pocket, frantically tapping the display, hoping to call someone, any number. As Fowler pulled her arm, forcefully, her hand slipped out of the pocket again.
“Because you matter to him. He cares about you.”
Chapter 43
I felt devastated. I had failed. I should have known Fowler would try to run. I thought he was smarter than that, knowing that most criminals that ran ended up in the morgue. But apparently not. Apparently, he thought he could be the one to break the statistics.
The fool.
I had no idea where he was, where he had run to. We had searched the canals behind his house that led to the river for hours and hours. We had the marine patrol alerted, searching all the waterways; the FBI had put a helicopter in the air and dogs on the ground. And yet we still hadn’t found him. We thought we had, on several occasions, when stopping a boat similar to his, but it wasn’t him.