Icy Betrayal: A Jack Keller Thriller

by David Keith

  “Hello?”

  “Dad, I need you to do me a favor.”

  “Sure, honey, anything.”

  “Go to the freezer and see if we have any steaks in there. I can’t remember if you and I finished up the last of them.”

  “Okay, hold on… Yeah, we’ve still got two. Want me to take them out for us tonight?”

  “Well, actually—we are going to have company tonight, so I’m afraid we won’t have enough steak for all three of us.”

  “Who’s coming over?” he asked.

  “Mick. We’ve got some work stuff to talk about,” Mia replied. “In the bowl on the counter, in the corner between the sink and fridge. Do you see the reddish bag?”

  “Sure do.”

  “There should be three or four potatoes in there. Pull out one of the potatoes, look at it closely and tell me if anything is growing out of it.”

  Fortunately, the potatoes were still good and over the next twenty minutes Mia was able to talk her dad through the preparations for Mick’s seven o’clock arrival.

  He may not have been a wizard in the kitchen, but Chuck Serrano knew a lot about igniting rocket engines anywhere NASA needed him. Aside from his work on a variety of government space programs in the 1970s and 80s, Chuck had performed some highly classified work for the military. Dr. Serrano, as he was widely known in the industry, had signed on with WellRock Technology after graduating from Cal Tech with a PhD in propulsion dynamics some forty-five years earlier.

  Chuck had been working on his doctoral thesis when he met the woman of his dreams at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena, not far from the Cal Tech campus. He’d often joke to friends that the pair had met at the Rose Bowl during his very last football game, a game at which he had suffered a career ending injury. There was a grain of truth to the story. Chuck’s “career” was a part-time job as an usher at UCLA football home games. He’d taken on a variety of odd jobs to make ends meet while finishing work on his PhD and ushering at the Rose Bowl was one of the better ones.

  His season-ending injury occurred at an UCLA-Oregon State game in late November. The Bruins were victorious that evening and within thirty minutes most of the fans had left the stadium. On a final check of his section he noticed a young woman seated alone near the entry tunnel. She appeared worried and Chuck went to offer help. He never saw the spilled beer on the aisle and down he went, slamming his shin into a concrete step. The young woman ended up helping Chuck instead. The sight of her took his pain away; Dolores Monahan was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  She was a UCLA co-ed in her senior year studying English. She never cared much for football but had come to the game at the insistence of her sorority sisters. After a last second touchdown gave UCLA the victory, there was bedlam in the stands and Dolores got separated from her friends. As the crowds cleared the stadium, she returned to her seat hoping they’d come back for her. In reality, her friends had run into a group of fraternity boys and most had already paired up and left, assuming she had done the same.

  Chuck introduced himself and after twenty minutes of conversation he convinced Dolores to allow him to drive her back to the Westwood campus. He never let on about the pain he was experiencing in his leg, but he could barely manage to put his foot to the gas pedal. A hairline fracture in his tibia ended his career as an usher, but Chuck’s new life with Dolores was just beginning.

  WellRock Technologies was a leading player in the space program during the 1970s, keeping Chuck Serrano very busy. The 1980s brought the space shuttle program, and with satellite launches and missile development, he was in demand. In the early days of his career the job required quite a bit of travel, and Chuck and Dolores enjoyed crisscrossing the country from one project to another. With the birth of their daughter Mia a few years later, the family settled in the Denver suburb of Centennial near the company’s headquarters. The crisp Colorado air suited them, and they quickly became part of the community. Dolores was very active in her church league while Chuck attended Rotary when in town. Chuck put in another fifteen years before retiring at the age of sixty-two.

  Dolores’s death was a crushing blow to Chuck Serrano. Cancer had taken her quickly, and Chuck struggled without his beloved wife. Mia would stop by as often as possible to make sure he was eating and getting along. Mostly she found him sitting around the house looking out the window or watching television.

  By the mid-2000’s, Mia had scrimped and saved enough to finally buy her own place, but when the bottom fell out of the market and the interest rate on her adjustable loan started climbing, she found herself in financial trouble. Mia went to her father and asked if he would be willing to move in with her and help with the mortgage payment. He quickly agreed and the arrangement allowed her to keep her house and gave Chuck a new purpose in life. Mia’s financial troubles ultimately turned out to be a blessing for them both.

  Chuck considered Mick and Mia to be a great couple. They reminded him of the early days with Dolores. He had hidden his disappointment when the pair broke it off but now was excited Mick would be returning, at least for dinner. Tonight he would simply stay out of the way.

  “Wow, Mia, that was terrific,” Mick said, polishing off his last bite of steak with a sip of Pinot Noir.

  “Thanks, but I have to be honest. Dad helped.”

  “Well, both of you did a great job. Let me help you clear the dishes while you brief me on the Lombard case, okay?”

  “Works for me,” said Mia.

  Mia gave Mick the latest on the investigation, including a rundown on the interviews she and Keller had conducted with Lennox and Sullivan. It was clear that she and her boss were on the same page with the case, with neither believing it was a random accident.

  “How’s it been working with Keller?” Mick asked as he dried the final dish.

  “He’s been fine. I’m definitely learning from him. He’s an odd guy, but I think a lot of great investigators are like that.”

  “Not sure if you know this, but I’m the one who did his background check before he came on board with us.”

  “Really? I didn’t know.”

  Mia topped off their glasses with the last wine from the bottle and suggested they move to the living room. The large picture window offered a view of the snow as it began to fall. The pair sat closely on the sofa facing the window.

  “So the sheriff sent me to St. Louis so I could meet some of Keller’s old co-workers, you know, off the record stuff. I learned a lot and not all of it good.”

  “Like…?” Mia caught herself. She didn’t want to put Mick on the spot. What they were talking about was highly confidential, and she immediately regretted asking him the question. Fortunately, Mick didn’t seem to mind.

  “He had a pretty spotty personal life—a couple of divorces. He had a teenage son that died in a car crash, maybe a year or two before he retired. The toxicology report showed the kid had been drinking and was way over the limit. Keller took it hard, as you might expect, but there was another component to it. His buddies told me Keller blamed himself for his son’s death because he himself was an alcoholic. The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree kind of thing. Everybody I talked to back there told me Keller was a serious, big-time drinker. But they said it never got in the way of his work, so the PD overlooked it for the most part. But eventually the brass got tired of his antics and he left the department.”

  “Did he get canned?”

  “Technically, he retired, but it wasn’t exactly voluntary. He started hitting the bottle again really hard after his son’s death. Then Keller had his own accident. I never got any of the details, but off the record, the higher ups in St. Louis gave me the impression Keller covered it up. The brass didn’t want a big scandal so they agreed to sweep the incident under the carpet, provided he retired. And so he did.”

  “So how did we end up with him?”

  “Once he retired, he spent a year or two getting sober, down in Mexico somewhere as I recall, and he managed to put his lif
e back together. But after being retired for that year or two he got bored and applied at RCSO. We needed someone like that in our homicide unit, so we, the sheriff really, took a chance on him and offered him the job.”

  “Wow, I had no idea. What a lot to go through. Gotta give him credit for getting his life back together.”

  They sipped wine and watched the snow starting to pile up outside. “There was something else I wanted to tell you,” Mick said.

  “Hmm, that sounds a bit ominous.”

  “No, no, it’s nothing bad. As you probably know, Sheriff Connelly is planning to retire at the end of his term.”

  “And?”

  “And I’m thinking about running for sheriff. I’m not one hundred percent sure yet, but it’s something I am seriously considering, and I wanted you to hear it from me, not someone else. Word leaks out prematurely sometimes, and I just thought I’d give you a heads up.”

  “Wow. Sheriff McCallister. I like the sound of that,” Mia replied, smiling impishly.

  “Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It’s still a ways off, but I am putting some feelers out… kind of testing the waters.”

  “And what kind of response are you getting?”

  “Surprisingly positive, actually.”

  “I would expect nothing less, Mick. You’d be a phenomenal sheriff, and you have my complete support.”

  “Well, I really appreciate that—it means a lot to me.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

  “Not yet, I still need to make a final decision. But once that happens I will need to put together a campaign team, and I’d really be honored if you’d be a part of it. And if your dad would be interested, I’d like to have him be a part of the effort as well.”

  “Of course, Mick! My God—Dad will be thrilled!”

  “Please keep this to yourself for now—I don’t need word leaking out prematurely.”

  “I won’t say a word, Mick. No matter your decision, I’m so proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Mia. I better get going, it’s already past eleven, and it looks like the weather is going to be a challenge tonight.”

  Mia didn’t want Mick to leave, but knew it was best.

  They stood and walked to the door together.

  “I had a great time tonight, Mia. Thank you for dinner.”

  “You’re welcome. I enjoyed cooking for you. It was like old times.”

  Mick started to speak but instead held out his arms. She instinctively moved to him. She felt safe and warm. They embraced for nearly a minute until Mick leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips.

  “Goodnight, Mia.”

  “Goodnight, Sheriff.”

  Mia heard Mick’s car pull away and realized how much she had missed him in her life. This, she believed, could be a new start. Decisions would have to be made and sacrifices might follow. For now though, Mia Serrano just enjoyed having Mick McCallister back in her life.

  Mia wrapped herself in a warm blanket and watched the snow fall from the warmth of the sofa. Exhausted, she drifted off to sleep.

  Tonight there would be no nightmares.

  TWELVE

  Mornings were generally quiet at the Super Discount Mart in Castle Springs, and on this particular morning the overnight snowfall had kept even the most dedicated bargain shoppers at home. Keller parked his F-150 truck and walked across the freshly plowed lot. There was no greeter inside and few staff to help him, but he quickly found the electronics section.

  Pre-paid phones, also commonly known as burner phones, are marketed to lower income customers and those with bad credit. Most of the phones allow users to place calls and send texts, with some even allowing internet access. Burner phones also provided criminals with untraceable phone numbers, allowing for secret calls and texts. They were a big headache for law enforcement, as Keller knew all too well.

  He grabbed two burner phones, each pre-loaded with 480 minutes of talk and text time. He paid in cash, walked outside, climbed into his truck, and headed north up I-25 toward the I-70 interchange.

  Jack Keller was driving toward his past at 60 miles per hour.

  THIRTEEN

  Mia’s phone buzzed. “Taking 2day off. Talk 2morrow.” The text was from Keller.

  Frustrated at first, Mia instead took advantage of the break from Keller to break down Lisa Sullivan’s story. Most importantly, the sister she claimed to have in Big Pine. If there was no sister, as Mia suspected, why was Sullivan on Highway 46 that morning? Her investigation had to be low profile. If Sullivan was culpable, Serrano didn’t want her to know someone might be on to her.

  She started searching. If Sullivan’s sister was married, she’d likely have a different surname. Standard Internet searches led nowhere, Sullivan or no Sullivan. Facebook made it easier to search maiden names, but she came up empty there, too. She searched the crime database for women 25-40 and found no decent leads for anyone near Big Pine. She even searched marriage records in all regional counties. Nothing.

  Mia’s eyes ached from the glare of the computer screen. It was time for plan B.

  An hour later, Inspector Mia Serrano pulled into Big Pine. She drove along the main drag trying to come up with a plan. Finally, she passed by the Big Pine Post Office. Bingo. The post office was the center of every small town, she thought. She parked, went inside, and took a place in line.

  “Next.”

  Mia looked up and saw the postal clerk looking in her direction.

  “Hi, just a book of stamps, please.”

  “You want the new ones with the Olympic torch on it?”

  “Sure, that would be fine.”

  As the clerk reached into the drawer to get the stamps, Mia started up a conversation.

  “It’s been a long time since I was in Big Pine—I see the town still looks the same.”

  The clerk eyed her cautiously before answering.

  “You from around here?”

  “No, but I had a very good friend from Big Pine, and I used to visit her a lot. Her name is Lisa Sullivan, but I’m afraid I’ve lost track of her.”

  “Sullivan, you say? How long ago was this?”

  “Oh, it was a few years back. She had a sister who lived here as well, although her name escapes me right now.”

  “Well, I pride myself on knowing pretty much every person who lives here in Big Pine, and I know there ain’t no Sullivans living here now. Now there was one Sullivan, going back maybe twenty years or so, but it was an old grouch by the name of Eddie Sullivan, and he lived alone. No way did he have any daughters. If he had any, they would have likely killed him at some point. What a piece of work that guy was.”

  “Well, maybe I’ve got my facts mixed up. So what do I owe you for the stamps?” She had come up empty on the sister, but salvaged postage for Christmas cards.

  FOURTEEN

  With the breakfast rush over, the parking lot of the Mountain Cafe, some forty miles west of Denver, was nearly deserted. A few minutes early, Keller sat in his truck and thought about his situation. He was starting down a dangerous path and once he started there would be no going back, but he was determined to set things right.

  Keller climbed out of his truck and headed inside the café, picking a booth in the back for maximum privacy. He sat down with his back to the wall allowing for a full view of the place. He took out his cell phone and checked for any messages. There were none.

  “What can I get you, hon?” the waitress asked, approaching the table and armed with a pot of coffee.

  “I’m expecting someone, but I wouldn’t mind a Diet Coke.”

  “Comin’ right up,” she replied as she turned and walked back towards the bar.

  Keller reached into his coat pocket and took out an old tape recorder. He didn’t like or trust the new digital recorders most deputies used. As an investigator, Jack made a habit of recording nearly every interview he conducted. He wasn’t sure what would come of this meeting but having an audio recording of whatever was said would
be something of an insurance policy for him. He only hoped he would never need it.

  “Here you go, partner.”

  Keller sipped his drink and took a deep breath. He waited, nervously checking his watch.

  The sunlight streaming through the café from a large window near the entrance made it difficult for him to see her at first. A few seconds later, a very angry Lisa Sullivan approached the booth.

  “Why the hell did you drag me all the way out here?” she said angrily. “I’ve told you people a hundred times, it was an accident.”

  “Look, just calm down,” Keller urged.

  “You want something to drink?” asked the waitress.

  “Iced tea, please.”

  Lisa turned her attention back to the matter at hand.

  “Where’s your partner?”

  “It’s just me today.”

  Lisa Sullivan tried to piece together what was happening. Her eyes narrowed.

  “Wait a minute, I get it. You lure me out to the middle of nowhere. You’re one of those pervert cops that take advantage—”

  Keller interrupted, “No, I’m not a pervert. Look, I know this is difficult for you, but you need to understand that I am here to help you.”

  “Why would you help me? It seems like all you and your partner do is harass me. In fact, I’m thinking about filing a complaint against you with the department. This whole thing has been a nightmare—I keep telling you it was an accident, but you people don’t get that. And then you call me and say you need to talk with me again? I’m going to ask you one more time, and then I’m going to start screaming. What do you want?”

  The look on the young woman’s face told Keller she meant it.

  “Lisa, sit down. I need for you to listen to me very carefully. The picture on your refrigerator in your apartment… the one of you and your mother when you were three years old…”

  Lisa reluctantly took a seat in the booth.

  “You mean the one my dad took.”

  “Yes, that one… I took that picture.”