Icy Betrayal: A Jack Keller Thriller

by David Keith

  “Are you ready, Dad?”

  “Yep, let’s go.”

  The two climbed into Mia’s car and drove to the address she had found on the Internet. The business was in an industrial area just east of Denver in a row of nondescript buildings. The sign on the front of the shop was small; it was clearly a destination people sought out, rather than a place people just happened upon.

  “Good to go, Dad?”

  “Yep, I’m ready.”

  “Do you have the cash I gave you?”

  “Got it, no worries. I’ll be fine, Mia.”

  Chuck climbed out of the car and paused momentarily before he closed the door.

  He peered back in at Mia, gave her a big smile and said, “This is kind of fun.”

  Keller stopped at the Mountain Pacific Bank in Castle Springs on his lunch hour. The teller gave him $9,900 in crisp one hundred dollar bills. Under federal law, all withdrawals over ten thousand dollars must be reported to the government. The teller had handled countless transactions for $9,900 in her career and even many in which the customer had withdrawn $9,999. So many, in fact, she’d stopped wondering what sort of illegal activity was afoot. After all, she wasn’t a cop, she just worked in a bank.

  The wiretap, reluctantly authorized by Judge Green, took three days to put into place. His reluctance was evident in the restrictions that came with the tap. The order covered the home, work, and cell phones belonging to Scott Lennox and the cell and home phone for Lisa Sullivan. The judge couldn’t see the justification for a wiretap on Lisa’s work phone. That was a line at Mercy Hospital where she worked as a licensed vocational nurse and dozens of people typically used the phone during the course of the workday. The judge felt it would be too much of an intrusion on people unrelated to the case. The order limited surveillance to ten days.

  A team of six deputies was assigned the task of monitoring all calls coming and going on the five lines authorized under the wiretap order. The team would break into two groups of three, each working a twelve-hour shift. The Electronic Surveillance Unit, or “ESU” as it was known, operated from a remote undercover location a few miles from RCSO headquarters. It was tedious work, but it was their best bet to gather evidence that Sullivan and Lennox conspired to kill George Lombard for financial gain.

  Under the judge’s order, the RCSO was allowed to listen to the first thirty seconds of any and all phone calls that came in or went out on any of the five lines. If conversations weren’t related to the case, deputies were required to end their surveillance.

  Chuck was amazed at how simple the technology was to use. The small store Mia had taken him to reminded him of the old Radio Hut he often visited as a boy. One of Chuck’s many childhood hobbies was building am radios, using nothing but a soldering iron and a Radio Hut kit. Now, for less than $150, he had a fully functional satellite GPS tracking system in his hands. Free software downloaded to his computer and phone would allow him to integrate the data from the GPS device onto a map. Chuck thought back to his early days with WellRock, when the company would contract with the federal government to provide similar technology. That technology was far less efficient, yet cost millions. Times had certainly changed.

  From his workbench in the basement Chuck heard Mia come home from work. The frantic scraping of Sasha’s claws on the hardwood floor was a dead giveaway.

  “I’m down here, Mia!” he called out.

  A minute later, Mia made her way downstairs.

  “Hey, Dad, how’s it going?” Mia asked.

  “Getting the software loaded and just double checking everything to make sure it’s good to go.”

  “Okay, Mr. Rocket Scientist, show me how this thing works.”

  “It’s an interactive GPS. We control the unit and receive data through SMS, or text messages,” he said, showing her the phone. The GPS is in this unit. It gets attached to the car with this magnetic case,” Chuck said, pointing to two small black boxes on the table. “I access it by calling a number and entering the device code. The unit then sends me back the location as a text message.”

  “Wow. So you have to keep calling it?”

  “Yes, but I did a little research and was able to find a program online to automate the process. With the phone connected to the computer, I can get coordinates every fifteen seconds. Then I use simple plotting software to interpret the data, which displays here on the map,” he explained, pointing to the computer.

  “Holy cow, Dad. You rigged up all this?”

  “Yeah, it was nothing, really. Here, let me show you. Take the GPS and go outside and walk down the street a bit. Then come back.”

  “Okay, come on Sasha, we’re going for a walk.”

  Mia grabbed the device and headed off. She returned a few minutes later, and Chuck generated the report.

  “Here’s a map of the neighborhood, and this red line here,” Chuck said pointing at the screen, “shows just exactly where you’ve been. You can obviously go much farther away than the neighborhood. I can have the map reflect the greater Denver area, or even the whole state of Colorado. There are really no limits as to where we can track him. And it’s accurate within ten feet!”

  “This is terrific, Dad. Okay, let’s talk about the next part of the plan.”

  “I’ve got that figured out, too. Keller and I have never met, so I just need to get the tracking device on his car. From there, I can monitor his every move, and if he goes anywhere near Lisa Sullivan’s home or work, we’ll know. Once it’s in place, I can follow him—”

  “Whoa, hold on there, Dad. I didn’t say anything about you following Keller. I just wanted a record of his travels that I could use to confront him with if and when the time comes.”

  “I know that, Mia. But I’ve been thinking about it. Isn’t it better if we know what he’s really up to?”

  “No, Dad,” she said, now concerned about how deep he was getting into her scheme. “I don’t think we need that much. This isn’t for court. You can track him from here, period.”

  Chuck tried to hide his disappointment. “Well, okay. I just thought…”

  “I know, Dad, and I appreciate it. But let’s figure out how to get the device on his car and see what the tracking software tells us. You’ve done an amazing job.”

  “Did you get his home address?”

  “I’ve got it upstairs. He lives up in a duplex in Castle Pines. I know he drives a black Ford F-150 truck, and I’m thinking if you go out there in the early morning you should be able to plant the thing, provided he doesn’t have a garage.”

  “I can go tomorrow morning. I’ll just get up a couple hours early.”

  “Okay, that’ll work, Dad.”

  She knew she was breaking all kinds of rules by tracking Keller and especially for getting her dad involved. But Mia also knew Jack Keller was up to something. She knew it in her bones.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Chuck tossed and turned most of the night and was staring at his alarm clock as it went off at 2:30 a.m. He dressed quickly, made himself a cup of strong, black coffee, and was soon on his way. The weather was clear but cold, and there was no snow on the ground. No snow meant no footprints.

  Castle Pines was a short ten-minute drive from the house. He thought about the plan as he entered I-25 and headed north. While he understood her concerns, Chuck was disappointed Mia had put her foot down on his plan to follow Keller. He really wouldn’t be in any danger, he reasoned. Keller wasn’t a criminal after all, he was a cop. As Chuck saw it, the worst-case scenario would be that Keller figures out he’s being followed and he confronts him. He’d have no idea he was Mia’s father, and Chuck would talk his way out of it. No harm, no foul.

  Looking down at the map on his phone, he found Keller’s duplex. Chuck caught a break; there was no garage and parked in front of the place was a black Ford F-150 truck.

  Chuck pulled the GPS from his pocket and searched the back of the truck for a flat surface that could accommodate the device. Just below the bumper he found a
good spot, and he maneuvered the GPS until he felt the magnet click tightly against the metal.

  He pulled away knowing the difficult part was over. After a short drive, Chuck pulled over to test the system. It worked perfectly. “Not bad for an old man.”

  Back in his basement, Chuck set up the cell phone and laptop on the TV tray next to his lounge chair. He reclined, proud of his accomplishment and excited to see if the red dot moved at all on the screen. Keller, however, wouldn’t be up for a few hours.

  Mia rose early and immediately went in to check on her father. His bed was empty, but she quickly found him in the basement sound asleep. She leaned over and kissed her him gently on the top of the head.

  “Oh, hi, Mia,” he replied, rubbing his eyes. “I was just checking on Keller. He’s still parked in front of his house.”

  “Yeah, I can see that. Everything went okay?”

  “Oh, yeah, like clockwork, Mia. No problem at all.”

  “Okay, that’s great, Dad. Thanks again for all your help. Now we sit tight and monitor his movements from here. That’s understood, right?”

  “Yep, I got it. Just tracking him, that’s all.”

  “Okay, I’m going to get some coffee, then run off to work. I’ve got an early meeting with the assistant DA on some traffic cases. I may run errands after work, so I might be a little late coming home. Do you need anything?”

  “No, I’m good, Mia. I think I’ll just hang out here this morning. I may go on a hike later today if the weather holds.”

  “Okay, Dad, thanks again. Have fun and be careful.”

  As Mia headed off, Chuck stared at the laptop. The red dot hadn’t moved, but it was still early and Keller most likely hadn’t left for work. As he was considering rebooting the devices to be sure everything was in working order, Sasha interrupted. Seeking some attention and a warm bed, she hopped up into Chuck’s lap and nuzzled up to him. Chuck glanced at his watch, then looked back at the computer screen.

  “Whoa, Sasha, we’ve got liftoff,” Chuck said. The dog didn’t seem the least bit interested. The red dot began moving, slowly at first, then at a much faster clip. He reached over to the computer and expanded the map view. He watched as Keller entered I-25 and headed south, exiting at Avenue F in Castle Springs. A few minutes later, the red dot came to a stop and Chuck reached forward to zoom in on the location.

  Sasha, frustrated at the lack of attention, jumped down from the chair and headed up the stairs to find a more suitable spot. “Hmm, that’s just a half mile from here,” Chuck said softly to himself. He opened a new tab in the browser to check the address. It was St. Joseph’s Catholic Church.

  Chuck searched the church website and saw that daily Mass was celebrated at 7:30. Chuck glanced at his watch. What harm would it do if he stopped by the church? Chuck quickly ran up the stairs, grabbed his jacket and his car keys, and was out the door before he could talk himself out of it.

  St. Joseph’s was a relatively new church in Castle Springs, but the parish itself had been there since the 1960s. The area had grown over the decades, and the new building was able to accommodate the hundreds of families that attended services on weekends. Morning masses weren’t so crowded. There were only a dozen or so cars in the lot when Chuck pulled up and Keller’s truck was among them.

  Chuck parked on the opposite side of the lot, where he had a good line of sight. Mass let out at 8:05, but the black truck remained. By 8:15 just two vehicles were in the lot: Keller’s and one other. Chuck started to worry he was more exposed than he should be. But just as he was considering a move, two men appeared and headed in his direction. One wore a dark wool trench coat, the other a ski jacket. Chuck slumped down in the front seat.

  Peering over the dashboard, Chuck could see the man with the trench coat was older. He had no idea what Keller looked like, but it didn’t take long to figure it out. As the younger man turned, Chuck saw the priest collar. Their conversation was animated and the men were arguing.

  The pair parted without a handshake and Keller climbed into his truck. Chuck ignored his daughter’s orders and followed behind. He reasoned that Keller was probably headed back to the I-25, and that happened to be Chuck’s way home. But Keller didn’t go straight to the I-25, he stopped at Mountain Pacific Bank. Unable to resist, Chuck turned into the lot as well and found a parking spot as far from Keller as possible.

  What was Keller up to at the bank? Why was he arguing with a priest? He realized there could be very reasonable explanations, but how could he be sure?

  Keller came out the door just as Chuck was coming around the corner. Suddenly he was eye to eye with the investigator. Chuck gave a quick nod in Keller’s direction as the two passed one other. Not wanting to generate suspicion, he continued into the bank. Chuck walked over to the new accounts area and took a seat. His heart was racing.

  “Can I help you, sir?” asked the young man. “Are you interested in opening an account?”

  “Oh, no, thank you. I’m fine. Just waiting for someone. Thanks, though.”

  Chuck figured he’d had enough excitement for one day. He’d track Jack Keller from the safety of his basement, at least for now.

  TWENTY-TWO

  “Sergeant Rainey, Captain McCallister calling. What, if anything, is happening with our wiretap operation? I need some good news.”

  “I wish I had some good news for you. Lennox is busy selling ice. Lisa Sullivan got a reminder from her dentist that she’s due for her annual cleaning, otherwise there’s zip on her. Sorry, I know it’s not what you’re after, Captain.”

  “No kidding,” Mick said. The wiretap order was only good for another three days. “Well, I need something, Brett, and I need it soon. I don’t want this case to slip away.”

  “I feel your pain, Captain, but I can only tell you what they say. I can’t make ‘em say it, you know? If it was up to me, I’d call them both myself for you.”

  “Yeah, I know. This one’s a pain in my ass.”

  “If anything breaks, you’ll be the first one I call, day or night.”

  “All right, Brett, thanks. And tell your guys I really appreciate the efforts with this one. I know it’s like watching paint drying down there. What you guys do for these taps would send me off the deep end.”

  “Will do, Cap.”

  Mick dialed Mark Archer in RCSO Media Relations.

  “Hey Mark, it’s Mick. Can you come over to my office?’

  “Sure, I can be there in ten.”

  Lieutenant Archer was the spokesperson for the department and liason to the media. Essentially, Archer was the ‘front man’ for the RCSO. He was the face and the voice of the department, maybe more so than the sheriff himself. The rule of thumb in law enforcement was if there was good news, the sheriff did the interviews. If it was bad news, which was more often the case, it would be Archer.

  It was a thankless job, but Archer managed to do it without making many enemies. He had been the RCSO spokesperson for more than a decade and had handled reporters on cases ranging from the routine to the downright sensational. Mick knew Archer had solid relationships with reporters from Colorado Springs to Denver.

  One of the perks of the spokesperson position was reporting directly to the sheriff. Archer didn’t have to go through an undersheriff or captain; if he needed something he simply walked into Connelly’s office and asked for it. His number one rule was to keep the sheriff personally informed. He never wanted Connelly to open the newspaper or turn on the TV and see something about the RCSO that he didn’t already know. Connelly hated surprises and Archer did his best to make sure there weren’t any.

  Archer was well aware Sheriff Connelly was about to retire. He also knew Mick McCallister was on the short list of candidates with a decent chance of being elected.

  The captain had also called Mia to the office. She arrived before Archer and immediately sensed his frustration.

  “Have a seat, Mia.”

  “Uh oh.”

  “I just spoke with Brett
Rainey in ESU.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing. Beyond nothing, and we’re seven days into this tap. Three days left and then we’re out of time.”

  Mark Archer knocked as he stuck his head in. “Captain? You rang?”

  “Come on in, Mark. You know Investigator Serrano.”

  “Sure, hey, Mia.”

  “Hi, Mark. How’s the training going?” she asked. Mark Archer was a triathlete. Tall and lanky, he spent evenings and weekends training and it showed. His dark hair and good looks made him appear far younger than his fifty-two years.

  “All good, thanks.”

  Mick jumped in. “Mark, do you remember a fatal TC we had a few weeks back—out on Highway 46?”

  “No, don’t think I did a press release on that one.”

  “Have a seat, and you might want to take some notes. We thought initially that it was an accident, but the evidence points to something else, and we’re shifting gears.”

  “Like what?” Archer asked, intrigued.

  “Our victim was a 56-year-old guy named George Lombard, a Castle Springs resident and part owner of an ice company here in town. Initially, it appeared Mr. Lombard had been hunting and was struck and killed by a car traveling on a remote section of Highway 46. Inspector Serrano was the first investigator on scene. The deeper we dug, the more it began looking like a homicide—with insurance money as the motive. So now Keller and Serrano are running the investigation together.”

  “What’s the policy worth?”

  “Two million to his business partner,” Mia told him.

  Mick continued as Archer took notes. “That business partner is a guy named Scott Lennox. Together they owned Lennox Ice Company. We think he orchestrated the accident for the insurance payout. The theory goes that Mr. Lennox, who is married, is having an affair with a young woman named Lisa Sullivan. The same Lisa Sullivan that reported she struck our victim on Highway 46.”

  “Damn, the media will eat this one up,” Archer predicted.

  “Like white on rice, but we’ve gotta make the case,” McCallister cautioned. “What we’ve done is set up a wiretap on both. If we can get them conspiring on tape and then break one or the other in interrogation, we’ll be good.”