by ANDREA SMITH
Dalton hadn’t considered somebody who lived as simply as the Driscoll’s lived would have the need for hidden surveillance. But then again, Dalton underestimated the desperation of poverty that existed in the rural community of Briarton.
“May I ask you why?” Elroy broke the momentarily silence between them.
Dalton shrugged. “I just thought it was a shitty thing to do to somebody down on their luck through no fault of their own I guess.”
“Well, son, I will pay you back. It will take some time, but I am a man of my word. Seems to me this county needs more people like you and less people like the McCoys. Their land contract dealings are designed to fail for poor suckers like me and Ida. They feed off of people with their thirteen percent loans, late penalties, and evictions of families who’ve paid faithfully for months, even years, that have unexpected circumstances pop up beyond their control. I won’t forget what you’ve done for us.”
Elroy extended his arm out to Dalton for a strong handshake. “Can we keep this between us?” Dalton asked, shaking Elroy’s hand.
“You’ve got no worries there, son. I know the McCoys wouldn’t look favorably on you bailing us out. But please, if there’s ever something I can do for you, you will give me a holler, right?”
“Absolutely, Elroy. There’s a good chance I’ll do just that.”
Dalton knew he’d made a trusted ally with Elroy Driscoll. And with the garage’s close proximity to the East Fork Ranch during his days off, that just might come in handy at some point.
“Hey Vince, what’s up?” Dalton called out as he jumped out of his truck he’d parked at the end of the gravel drive leading up to the compound.
He had spotted Vince Hatfield out in the yard, his head under the hood of one of the two dozen cars he had on the front part of his property.
Kind of an eyesore to passersby, but there weren’t any county codes prohibiting it. Dalton figured it was a smokescreen for whatever it was Vince really had going on his land. And precisely in the metal building on the back of his property.
Vince eyed him a bit suspiciously. Dalton had never come to his property before. He knew Dalton and Harlan hung out occasionally, and he’d cautioned his son about getting too thick with a stranger in the community too quickly.
But his son thought he was an expert in dissecting a person’s psyche within minutes after meeting them. His boy had a lot to learn.
“Just changing the oil here. What can I do for you, Dalton? Harlan’s not around at the moment.”
Dalton walked the few paces to where Vince stood watching him. “I was hoping maybe I could do something for you, Vince.”
“Yeah? I’m listening.”
“Look,” Dalton started, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, “I probably need to let you know that I’ve done things in my past that well, make it necessary for me to start a new life. And being here has been the freshest start I’ve had like . . . ever. The people here have been good to me. I’ve been working for Duel McCoy out at the ranch, three days a week, but the truth is; I could use some extra cash. I’m thinking about settling here for good. Tired of drifting.”
Vince remained silent.
“Okay, so I guess what I was wondering was whether there’s anything else I could do for you to earn more money. I notice these cars here. I’m pretty handy myself. If you need me to work on them, detail them out, whatever, I’m here. Hell, to be honest, I’d like more work just to keep me busy and outta trouble.”
Vince took his ball cap off and ran a hand through his collar-length brown hair. “These cars are kind of a hobby, Dalton. I enjoy the tinkering. Don’t have plans to sell them off right away.”
“Oh,” Dalton mumbled, the disappointment evident. “Well, just thought I’d ask is all. I get it. No problem.” He turned to walk away, but stopped when he heard Vince’s voice call after him.
“Now wait a minute. Let me give it some thought. Harlan seems to think you’re an alright guy. I’m picking up hours at my job in Portsmouth now that spring is coming. Might have some odd jobs needing done. Harlan’s been tied up with some family stuff. Depends on how picky you are.”
“Lay it on me.”
“Well, weekends are when I could use some help since I’m going to be working Saturdays for the next month or two. Sunday is our day of rest and going to church. My old lady is stubborn on that. I could use you to come down in the mornings, feed the chickens, and clean out the coop. Then up yonder, I’ve got a pasture with a few goats. You could feed and water them, rake up the mess in the field, and sweep out the small barn I’ve got there. I could pay you fifty bucks a day. You up for it?”
Dalton smiled, “I’m in. Start Saturday?”
“Sounds good. I’ll have Harlan show you the ropes. Be here at seven, how’s that? You should be done by noon so it won’t fuck up your entire day.”
“Works fine for me,” Dalton replied, “Thanks, Vince.”
“Oh, and Dalton?” Vince called after him. Dalton turned and looked over at him. “Please keep this weekend gig between us. Duel McCoy might not like you working for me. We don’t always see eye to eye on things.”
“Got it.”
Dalton called Jack Reynard later that evening to push out their Saturday breakfast meeting to a late lunch.
Chapter 9
Dalton arrived at the restaurant in Ashland a few minutes before Jack. He went ahead and ordered sweet tea for the both of them. He nearly finished his by the time Jack arrived, looking tired and flustered as well.
“Almost thought you were going to be a no-show,” Dalton said as Jack slid into the booth opposite him.
“Had to take a call before I left. Manny called. A couple of the Dayton operatives got busted up in Lorain last night at the regional airport. The courier had swallowed fourteen heroin pellets, and one had ruptured inside of his intestine. He was foaming at the mouth, so his handler calls down to Mexico to find out what to do,” he said, shaking his head, “Know what the boss said? Told him to cut the courier open and retrieve the remaining drugs.”
The server arrived at their table to take their food order. “Just a salad,” for me, Dalton said, his appetite having waned at Jack’s news. Jack ordered and once the server was out of earshot, he continued.
“So, Manny’s listening to this conversation. And there was nothing he could do without blowing his cover,” Jack continued.
“So what happened?” Dalton asked.
“You don’t want to know,” Jack said. “What do you have for me?”
Dalton handed over the flash drive he’d taken from both cameras early this morning. There’d been another delivery last night.
“I haven’t had time to check these out,” he told Jack. “Hope they captured something you can use. Plane came in early this morning around one. I had to sneak back before dawn to get these.”
Jack put the flash drives in his pocket and nodded. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, got a second job on weekends feeding the animals and cleaning up their shit at the Hatfield place. Started this morning with Harlan showing me the ropes. I was there when he got another propane order delivered. Six hundred bucks. Vince paid the delivery guy in cash. No account. Cash on the barrel.”
“Have you been able to get inside yet?” Jack asked.
“Negative. Steel doors always locked. The windows on the building are barred and covered from the inside. There’s an overhead door at the far end. The building is fully plumbed. Oh, and get this, he’s got two gas driven generators out back of it. No huge electric bills to draw attention to his activities no doubt. Along with that, he’s got a couple mini-split 15 Seer heat pumps attached to the steel barn.”
“Surveillance cameras?”
“Surprisingly, no. Not on that particular building. Not unless they’re well hidden in the trees around the place. But, I think I’ve got
something. They’re allowed to burn trash in the county. Vince’s got a huge burn pile up in the pasture, behind the goat barn. There’s a stack of flattened out corrugated paper he hasn’t burned yet. I checked them out. Boxes for flexible tubing, air filters, and grow bulbs. I doubt if he’s cooking meth. Probably what we suspected all along, some kind of a grow house for a hydroponic weed operation going on inside that building. It has to be.”
“Interesting. You think it’s part of the cartel’s business?”
Dalton shook his head. “Nah, they’re into much bigger bucks. Plus, the fact you said the cartel is curious as to why Vince has a cop in his pocket confirms it. Tells me that Vince is going solo on this operation.”
“I agree,” Jack commented as the server placed his food on the table and left the check. “That’s probably a good thing for now. Don’t need the locals getting involved with a pot bust when we’ve got bigger fish to fry.”
“No shit. I’ll keep my eyes out. I’ve got to find out what the rub is between the Hatfields and McCoys. But I’m curious, why don’t the local authorities know we’re working this? Don’t you trust any of them?”
“Not right now. There’s been too much of a shake-up over the past year. Some of the deputies are, shall we say, less than stellar? Sheriff is fairly new. I think he’s trying to clean up the department, but until we know for a fact that he has, it’s too risky right now to clue them in.”
Dalton nodded. “Well, keep me posted if Manny gets anything at his end. I’ll do the same from my end.”
Chapter 10
Billy Ray Jensen had seen the two black SUV’s again in the early morning hours as he went out to his barn to tend to one of his goats that was getting ready to calf.
In the dark quietness of the night, he’d heard a vehicle approaching and when he looked out towards the road, he saw them passing by going towards the highway. This was just too strange he decided. Why didn’t he ever see those same vehicles around town during the daytime?
They were always either coming or going from the direction of the Hatfield’s land. That in itself was cause for concern. The Hatfields were well-known in the county and had been for as long as Billy Ray could remember.
The community whispered amongst themselves about how Vince supported himself and his extended family. He didn’t live a lavish life, but still, he had all those cars he tinkered with that appeared to be a hobby. With him being the only source of income, people wondered just how he was able to support everyone at the compound and invest so much money into a hobby that didn’t seem to have much of a return. .
Billy Ray had heard talk about him being involved with area cock fighting, but that combined with Vince’s job surely couldn’t bring the kind of money to support his entire family, including grown kids, their significant others and even nephews and grandkids who lived there.
If Billy Ray had to guess, he’d say Vince Hatfield was selling drugs for a living. And it bothered him that the local authorities seemed to turn a blind eye to that sort of thing here in the county where he’d been born and raised.
He made a mental note to nose around a bit. His property bordered Hatfield’s, and through his hunting and fishing, Billy Ray knew every trail and path to access the back of Hatfield’s land. It was time somebody found out what was going on.
Dalton Edwards had his ear buds in, singing along with the Marshall Tucker Band while he raked the straw up in one of the empty horse stalls. Eight of the miniatures were in the horse trailer behind Duel’s pick-up on their way to Lexington, Kentucky to see the vet down there.
“I ain’t never been with a woman long enough for my boots to get old. We’ve been together so long they both need re-soled. If I ever settle down, you’d be my kind, and it’s a good time for me to head---”
“Nice song,” a voice behind Dalton said, startling him enough that he dropped the rake and whirled around to see who had crept up on him like that.
“Jesus Christ, Grant, don’t be sneakin’ up on a body like that!”
Grant was leaning against a stack of baled straw, chewing on a toothpick and grinning like a fool. “Sorry, Dalton, but hey man, you’ve got a great voice there. Makes me wonder why you’re here and not somewhere like, oh say . . . Nashville?”
“Right,” Dalton replied, picking up the rake, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“What’re you doing here today anyway? Friday isn’t your day to work.”
“Somebody called off. Duel called me early this morning and asked me to fill in since he had to make a trip to Lexington.”
“Figures,” Grant scoffed. “Wiley Willy. About as dependable as snow in July. I saw the trailer’s gone. Daddy must be off to the vet.”
“Yep,” Dalton answered, continuing to rake. “That’s what he said. Are the ponies sick or something?”
“Falabella Miniatures, Dalton. Not ponies, Falabella Miniatures. There’s a difference.”
Dalton stopped and rested his chin against the handle of the rake. “Excuse me, Grant. I stand corrected. Are the Falabella Miniatures sick or something?”
Grant shook his head. “Nope, just a check-up with their vet in Lexington. They are delicate creatures to some extent. Daddy wants to make sure they stay good and healthy.”
“Seems like Lexington is a long haul for a check-up with a vet. No local veterinarian around to do that?”
“Wouldn’t trust these locals to look after a pet rat. Daddy insists on using the finest of equine veterinarians. And Lexington has the best. So, how do you like it here in hillbilly country, Dalton? Seems like a strange place for anybody to settle unless they didn’t have to, you know?”
Dalton shrugged and resumed raking. “One place is as good as another,” he replied. “It just depends on your outlook I guess. I kinda like these parts. People are nice. The countryside is beautiful, and I can stay on the down low.”
“And that’s important to you?”
“It is. I have my reasons.”
“Anything around here capture your interest so far?” Grant asked, studying Dalton as he continued raking.
Dalton wasn’t sure what Grant was getting at with the last question, but he needed to react as if it was totally innocuous. “Well, I think I’d like to try out the fishing down here. Used to fish a lot up around Lake Erie when I was a kid.”
“That so?”
“Yep. Any recommendations on the best spots for fishing?”
Grant was thoughtful for a moment. “There’s a pay lake in Sunfish. Loaded with trout and Big Mouth Bass. If you’re looking to bank fish, Briar Lake is your best bet. Bass and Bluegill, and if you’re lucky you might even catch some Northern Pike since the Scioto River feeds into it.”
“Sounds just what I’m looking for. Isn’t that just down the road from Hatfield’s place?”
“It is,” Grant replied. “This time of year, dusk is the best time to go out. Some folks night fish, but those would be the die-hards.”
“Thanks for the info, Grant. I better get back to it unless there’s something specific you needed me to do?”
“Nope. Just checking on things in the barns. Make sure the stalls all have fresh straw. The horses are a bit jumpy after a trip to the vet. Daddy sometimes has to give them some medication so they rest.”
“Got it,” Dalton replied.
“Good luck with your fishing, dude.”
After he left, Dalton was pretty damn sure Grant had been on a fishing expedition of his own.
Chapter 11
“That all ya need, Dalton?” Ella Johnson asked sweetly as she bagged up his bait and hooks, and placed it in the crate with the rest of the fishing gear he’d purchased from Johnson’s Fish and Tackle, the local store for fisherman in the county.
“I think that’ll do it, Ella,” Dalton answered pulling out a wad of bills to pay.
“How you likin’
our little town so far?” she asked, placing the bills in their proper slots in the register drawer, and counting out his change.
“I like it fine, M’am,” Dalton replied.
“It’s a shame you’re not seeing anyone around here. I think you’d make a great catch for one of the local gals. Hey, we have a church social the fourth Saturday each month. It’s from seven to eleven at the First Unity Church on Wilson Street. Now the hall is right behind the church, can’t miss it. Why don’t you come?”
Ella Johnson was the sweet, plump, motherly type. He’d seen her around town a few times. Dalton knew she meant well, but he wasn’t about to get roped in to a “fix up” that would further complicate his life and his mission.
“I’m really not on the market for a gal right now, Ella.” The words were out of his mouth before he gave it more than two seconds thought.
Did he really say that? Dalton Edwards, the semi manwhore, not interested in chicks? He’d had his share of one-nighters, and even a couple short-term relationships. He never thought he’d say those words let alone think them. But that was how it had to be until he figured what the hell was going on in this county. He didn’t need a sexual liaison clouding his thoughts or judgments. The secrets lay deep; and the people were closed-mouth with each other it seemed. He was still a newcomer. He didn’t need complications.
Her eyes widened a bit, and she blushed.
“Oh, oh . . . I’m sorry--I mean, I understand. I sure didn’t mean to be so pushy with you Dalton. My lord, sometimes I’m just too much of a busy-body for my own good. I hope you don’t think I’m prying into your personal life. Nothing worse than a nosey busy-body, right?”