“Can’t blame her for that. Don’t worry, Sobs. I’ll take care of it.” Then Bob warned her once again to not return to San Diego.
***
JP Torn walked into Jitters Coffee Shop in La Mesa wearing his most comfortable Tony Llamas, his black Stetson cowboy hat, blue jeans, and a black T-shirt. JP was a frugal man who spent very little except for boots, cowboy hats, and guns. He hated to shop, yet he could spend hours in a gun shop just browsing—and almost that long looking at boots.
He was the only customer inside the coffee shop so it didn’t take long to get a medium, half-caff, black coffee, which he took outside to a table on the sidewalk and sipped while he waited for Bob. The sun was shining and his phone said the temperature was 72 degrees. He felt sorry for the people in the Midwest who had been hit with snowstorms and temperatures twenty or thirty degrees below zero.
It was quiet there this afternoon. A man in his twenties, who appeared to have just finished his coffee and pastry, was just leaving the sidewalk café. He rode off on his bike as Bob approached and sat down.
“This sounded important. What is it?” JP asked.
“Good afternoon to you too,” Bob said.
“Is Sabre okay?”
“Yes, she’s fine. Let me get some coffee and I’ll tell you everything I know.”
JP felt a little uneasy as he waited for Bob to return. He took a deep breath. He had tried a couple of times to reach Sabre. She hadn’t answered nor had she returned his calls. He had a short fuse when it came to protecting those he cared about.
Bob returned shortly, coffee in hand. “It’s about Sabre’s brother, Ron.”
“The one who has been missing for the last seven years?”
“Actually, that’s her only brother, but yes, that one.”
“Does she think he’s alive?”
“He is alive. She’s known that for the last couple of years, but she couldn’t say anything because he was in Witness Protection. But now he needs help. He testified against six mobsters who have all been released and now someone is after him. He doesn’t know for sure if it’s one of them, all of them, or any of them.”
“I’m listening.”
“Ron called Sabre last night and told her to pick up their mother and leave town.”
“Where is she?”
“Kingman, Arizona, with her aunt and uncle.”
“You sure she’s safe there?”
“Both Sabre and Ron seem to think so.”
“Is she going to stay there?”
Bob cocked his head and looked over his glasses. “For now, but you know it’s only a matter of time before she goes to Ron or comes back here.”
JP slapped his hand on the table and startled Bob. “Damn it! Getting that woman to listen is harder than trying to put a G-string on an alligator.”
Bob laughed in spite of the seriousness of the situation. “And how many alligators have you dressed in G-strings?”
JP just shook his head and sighed. “What can I do to help?”
“Ron wants to hire you to find out who is after him. He has lived in several different places, but his last place of residence was Hayden, Idaho. He was shot at while leaving town so that’s where he wants you to start. Apparently, there is a woman he wants you to check on there as well. I don’t know anything about her involvement, but Ron will give you names, dates, and whatever you need if you are willing to do this.”
“Of course I’m willing to do it if it’s going to help Sabre. How do I reach Ron?”
Bob looked on his cell phone for the number of the pay phone where he had spoken to Ron earlier. He took a pen out of his pocket and wrote the number on a napkin. “Here’s where you can reach him. He’s expecting a call from one of us at 4:00 this afternoon. Our time. He’s an hour later there. Oh, and Sabre has one of those ‘pay-as-you-go’ phones. You might want to consider one, too. Just to be safe….”
“Why? Does Ron think they’re watching us?”
“He doesn’t know, but he wasn’t willing to take a chance with Sabre and his mother. So he told her not to use her phone. The men he testified against are from a very powerful organization. But Ron isn’t certain that it’s them. He knows they lost a lot of power when that group went to prison and apparently the leadership was challenged by another group, as well as by illness. WITSEC keeps him apprised, but they don’t always know what’s going on either. Back then, they were very far-reaching, but now he just doesn’t know.”
“I’ll get the extra phone. I’ll feel better talking with Sabre on it anyway.”
“Okay, then. I have a flight reserved for you for tonight at 7:30 to Spokane.”
“What am I going to do with my dog?”
“I’ll pick Louie up when I take you to the airport. I’ll be at your place at 5:30. Have his things ready. You’ll pick up a rental car in Spokane and drive to your room at SpringHill Suites in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. It’s about a forty-five minute drive. I tried to get you a room at The Affordable Inn in Hayden where they used Ron for target practice, but no one answered their phone.”
“That was presumptuous of you to assume I would go.”
Bob chuckled. “Like there was any chance you would say no to Sabre.”
Chapter 8
The drive back to the cabin from Helena made Ron nervous. He continuously checked his rear view mirror to make sure he wasn’t being followed. His new pre-paid phone sat beside him on the console and was plugged into the car charger. He hadn’t wanted to go into Helena, but he needed more propane. Also, using the pay phone in Clancy was getting old and very inconvenient. He had to stand outside in the cold to make a phone call and no one could call him. According to the clerk at the store where he purchased his new pre-paid phone, someone would have to have his phone number to trace it. He wasn’t sure if that was accurate or not, but he needed to do something. He knew JP and Sabre were also using pre-paid phones. So, as long as no one took one of their phones, the three of them were less likely to be found.
Ron called JP for the second time that day to give him his number. JP had landed in Spokane, picked up the Jeep Bob had reserved for him, and was on his way to his hotel.
“So, how important is Gina Basham to you?” JP asked.
“I care enough that I considered bringing her with me. And I care enough to not put her through a life on the run.”
“And how does she feel about you?”
“I think she feels the same, but I can’t be sure. I never asked her to come with me. Nor did I tell her who I really am. It’s hard to have a relationship when it’s built on lies.”
“How and when did you two meet?”
“I met her about three months ago at Templin’s Hotel in Post Falls where I was working.”
“Was she a guest?”
“She wasn’t staying there as she initially led me to believe. She was new in town and went there for lunch. After we talked a little bit, she told me she wasn’t really a guest, but she didn’t know anyone in town and thought having lunch there would be something to do. It’s a beautiful resort. Since I was fairly new in town too, we started hanging out together. Before long we were dating. I didn’t mean to start a relationship with anyone. My life has been so unstable with all the moves.”
“Where all have you lived?”
“The first five years I lived in Wyoming. When they let me go see Sabre in the hospital, it was on the condition that I leave Wyoming and start over. I hated to start over in a new place, but it was worth it to see my sister and mother, even though it was only for a few hours. The last two years I’ve lived in four different places with four different identities. Each time I tell myself, ‘I’ll be a better me, I won’t procrastinate, or I won’t be so messy, or I’ll be on time and not get distracted by whatever fascinates me.’ But I haven’t changed much. Buck, Derek, Steve, Jerome, Ron…they’re all the same guy. But to answer your question: I lived in Wyoming, Iowa, Florida, northern California, and Idaho.”
“I’m sure it
has been difficult.”
“Can you give me a description of Gina?”
“She’s beautiful. I think she’s about five-foot-seven. She has dark, wavy hair, and a killer smile. In the winter she always wears a navy blue pea coat and a red, wool scarf.”
JP asked a few more questions. Ron answered them the best he could. He hoped he was doing the right thing involving JP. Bob trusted him and so did Sabre. Besides, he had no other choice if he wanted to check on Gina.
He hung up and called Sabre. He only spoke to her for a few minutes. He gave her his new number, spoke to his mother briefly, reminded them both that he loved them, and hung up.
Ron passed through Clancy and started up the mountain. About the time he reached the gravel road, he noticed he had lost reception. The signal came and went a few times, but for the last mile or so he had no bars. So much for anyone being able to reach him.
The cabin was dark, just as he had left it, and there was no indication that anyone had been there. As a precaution, Ron walked to the door with his flashlight lit and knocked just in case Tuper, or whoever owned it now, had returned. No one answered. He went inside. Nothing had been disturbed. After lighting the propane lantern and the fire, he warmed up his hot-water bottle and sat down with his blanket in front of the stove. He read for a while from a book he had brought with him—a steampunk novel titled Thomas Riley by Nick Valentino. He wasn’t even sure what steampunk was, but a friend from work really liked the book and had given it to him. There were no books, magazines, or any reading material to be found in the cabin. That’s partly what made him think Tuper still owned the cabin. He knew from his previous trips that there never had been any reading material. Ron had a hunch that Tuper couldn’t read or write.
About an hour later, Ron stood up and stoked the fire. He filled the stove with wood so it would burn most of the night, re-heated his hot-water bottle, turned off the lantern, and attempted to go to sleep. He lay there for a long time trying to figure out what he should do next. If it weren’t for his family, he would just stay here until everything settled down. He was counting on JP to turn up something that would give him his life back, maybe even a life with Gina. Finally, he fell asleep in the chair.
***
The tip of the gun barrel felt hard and cold against the side of his head. Ron opened his eyes and shifted them to the right without moving his head. The bit of moonlight that streamed through the window exposed a large, dark figure standing over him. Ron gulped. He had no gun, not that he would use it if he did. Nothing to defend himself. He suddenly thought how foolish he was to not have any kind of weapon by his side. It could be a knife or a bat, or he could have bought some pepper spray…anything. Ron moved just slightly, trying to see the figure better.
“Don’t move,” the voice said.
“Tuper?” Ron asked.
“Who are you?”
“It’s me, Ron Brown. I used to come spend time with you in the summer…about ten years ago.”
“That skinny kid who didn’t have the sense to carry a gun in bear country?”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“You got a gun now?”
Ron said, “No.”
“Haven’t learned much, have you?” Tuper lowered his gun and turned on the propane light.
Ron chuckled. “I guess not. And you haven’t changed much either.”
“Don’t expect to. Don’t bother to try.” He set his rifle down and leaned it against the wall. Then he loaded more wood into the stove and sat down at the table. “What are you doing here in this godforsaken place in the dead of winter?”
“The truth?”
“Unless you think a lie will work better.”
Ron had thought up several stories to tell Tuper if he showed up, but he decided he’d probably see through them anyway. Besides, Tuper might be able to help if he knew what was really going on, and the guy was never one to judge others. Tuper’s philosophy was that everyone should live their lives the way that suited them best.
“I’m hiding out.”
“Figured that. Who you hiding from—the good guys or the bad guys? Or can’t you tell the difference?”
“Some pretty bad guys.” Ron told him the story, starting with his move to Dallas. He explained about his involvement with the mob and the feds. How he had to testify and ended up in Witness Protection and all the moves during the last few years.
“Why did you have to keep moving?”
Ron jumped when he heard a noise at the door. Tuper stood up. “That’s just Ringo.” He opened the door and a blond mutt dashed in, shaking snow everywhere as he trotted to inspect the visitor.
Ron petted him on the head and scratched behind his ears. “Hi, Ringo.”
Tuper sat back down, and Ringo nestled at his feet. “So, why’d you have to move?”
“I lived in Wyoming for nearly five years when they let me go see my sister in the hospital, but it was with the understanding that I would relocate. I had a temporary stop in Iowa for a few weeks until they sent me to Florida. That was supposed to be permanent, or as permanent as life can be in the Program. However, someone broke into my house and tore it up so they moved me to northern California. The third time, WITSEC, the Witness Protection Program, received word that someone had discovered me. That’s when they moved me to Hayden, Idaho. I was there about eight months. I had just started to relax and enjoy the area when I discovered someone had been in my house.”
“And you don’t know who.”
“Not for sure, but I expect it was the same guy who shot at me later that night.
Chapter 9
The SpringHill Suites in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, had only been open a few months. JP’s room was spacious and comfortable. The hotel’s amenities included a workout room, a pool, and a complimentary full breakfast. They also had a happy hour soup bar Monday through Thursday.
JP arose several hours before the sun did. He really couldn’t do much investigating before daylight. It was too dark to look for bullet holes and no one was up yet to question, so he spent his time researching on his computer.
Before he left San Diego, JP had spoken to his friend Ernie, a San Diego sheriff who was his partner when JP was with the Sheriff’s Department. Ernie had agreed to compile as much information as he could on the six mobsters Ron had testified against. That would give JP a good place to start his investigation. Fifty-eight-year-old Dan Upton, Paul Kaplan, 42, Lance Dawes, 41, Gilbert Vose, 39, James Ruby, 37, and the youngest of the six, thirty-one-year-old Kirk Gillich, all served time because of Ron’s testimony against them.
JP had access to several databases that provided him information, but he usually started with a simple Google search. Facebook and Twitter provided a wealth of information as well. He was always amazed at the personal and private things people disclosed to total strangers, as if no one else could see what they wrote in a public forum. None of these men had social media accounts, at least not under their legal names.
According to Ron, all six of the men had been released from prison within the last two years. The U.S. Marshals always gave him notice when one of them was released. The most recent was Lance Dawes who was liberated just two weeks ago, making him the prime suspect as the shooter. He had served a longer sentence than the others, which was most likely due to his extensive record. Dawes had spent more time in custody than out. He had convictions for fraud, numerous drug offenses, and several solicitation charges, but he had not been convicted of any violent crimes. His younger days revealed two counts of male prostitution. A warrant was recently ordered for his arrest for a probation violation. He hadn’t checked in with his probation officer upon his release. He left no forwarding address and could be anywhere.
JP closed his computer, strapped on his shoulder holster, dropped in his HK P2000 pistol, and walked to the lobby to get a cup of coffee and some breakfast. He took a plate, helped himself to some scrambled eggs and two pieces of link sausage, and filled a Styrofoam cup with coffee. The break
fast area was busier than JP expected. The long table closest to the food and most of the small tables were filled with adolescents who appeared to be on some kind of school excursion. He found an empty seat on a tall stool at a scimitar-shaped bar. A thirty-something man in a business suit was seated across from him. JP picked up a newspaper lying on the counter.
“I hope this hotel is safe,” the man said.
“What do you mean?” JP asked.
“Look, in the paper there.” The man pointed to an article about a local shooting. “I’ve been coming to Coeur d’Alene for six years. As far as I know, the crime rate is pretty low around here—compared to the big cities, of course.” He paused. “I live in L.A. so we expect random shootings there.”
JP started to read the article, but the man kept talking.
“Someone was shot in front of The Affordable Inn just a few miles from here.”
“Really?” He had JP’s attention now. “What happened?”
“There weren’t a lot of details in the paper. I don’t think they know that much. Gunshots were reported around 2:00 in the morning. The cops came and found a man with a bullet hole right through his forehead. I don’t know if they even know who he was because his name wasn’t in the paper. Maybe they just haven’t released it yet so they can notify the next of kin first. At least that’s the way it works on television.”
JP glanced at his watch. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to be somewhere.” He picked up the newspaper and turned to the businessman. “Do you mind?” he asked, holding up the paper.
“No, I’ve already read it.”
JP took his plate, scraped off what was left of his breakfast into the trash, and carried his coffee back to his room, sipping it as he went. Once back at the room, he called the newspaper to see if they had a name of the deceased. They didn’t give him one.
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