Snitch

by Rene Gutteridge

  “You did the right thing,” Jesse said. Rhyne Grello. Rhymes with Jell-O. “Is he alive?”

  She nodded. “I rode with him in the ambulance. They didn’t know what was wrong with him, but he was breathing.”

  Jesse paced in the small waiting room. He was out of the loop, but how far out? And who was in the loop? He called Dozer.

  “What happened?” Dozer said, before a hello. “Sarge said you were off the case.”

  “Dozer, listen to me. What do you know about tonight? Did Ron tell you what was going down?”

  “Down? Nothings going down. We’re just getting the shop ready. He wants everything done by tomorrow. Everyone’s here but you.”

  “I can’t explain right now, but get everyone up to the hospital. To the ER. As soon as you can.”

  “What’s going—”

  “I’ll call you back.” Jesse hung up and called Captain Gates. Her phone went to voice mail. He left a message, then looked at Brandi. “You have a wire on. Sarge was recording this. There’s got to be a tape somewhere.”

  Brandi nodded. “I think it was in the car.”

  Just then, like a storm blowing in, Nan Yeager whipped through the sliding doors. Her head snapped one way, then the other. “I need some help!” she yelled. “Where’s my husband? Where’s my husband?”

  She recognized Jesse and made a beeline for him. “Where is my husband?” she demanded.

  Just then a doctor stepped into the waiting area. “Are you Mrs. Yeager?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said desperately. “Where’s my husband? Is he okay? He’s got a heart condition. Did he tell you that? He takes pills.” She started naming them all. The doctor took her by the shoulders. “Ma’am, calm down.”

  Teary eyed, she looked up at him. “It’s his heart, isn’t it?”

  “Your husband is in surgery right now. His appendix burst.”

  Mrs. Yeager’s face went from desperation to confusion. “It’s his appendix?”

  “Yes. But we caught it early enough that the toxins didn’t get far. He’s going to feel pretty bad for a while. They’re cleaning him out now.”

  “You’re sure? Did you check his heart?”

  “His heart is fine. He probably became lightheaded from the pain and that’s what made him pass out. We’re watching his blood pressure, but he should be better soon. Hell need a few weeks to fully recover. We’ll keep you updated.” The doctor walked away, and Jesse led Mrs. Yeager into the waiting room.

  “Here,” he said, guiding her to a chair on the wall opposite from Brandi. “You need to sit down.”

  She yanked her arm away. “I need to hit something.”

  Jesse prepared to duck.

  The small square house with white siding sat on the corner of an unassuming street in an unassuming neighborhood. All the houses looked nearly identical, but she knew this particular house well. She’d stood on the corner many times, watching the man walk in front of the windows, doing whatever it was he did inside.

  But she’d never crossed the street. More than anything, she wanted to cross the street, but she never had.

  Wiping the tears off her face, Laura looked up, just in time to notice his silhouette walk through the living room.

  He’d moved to Vegas eight years ago after retiring. She always kept track of him, even though they hadn’t spoken in years. She thought he was coming to see her, to be with her. But he never called. He never tried to contact her. He just lived alone in this box of a house, twenty minutes away from his only child. Might as well have moved to another planet.

  Laura wiped away more tears. She didn’t understand this flood of emotion. Maybe she was having a nervous breakdown. Whatever it was, she couldn’t stop crying. The task force was so close to success, so close to giving her the dream of a lifetime. But she knew it could just as easily end in disaster.

  There she teetered, her future in the hands of people she hardly knew.

  And then it happened, an unexpected unraveling, a tightly wound string undone with one tug. She’d poured everything into her job. The pride that had gotten her this far was the same pride that kept her from calling her dad.

  She realized tonight, after pacing her office and begging its empty walls to hand her this victory, that all she really wanted to do was sit at her father’s feet, bury her head in his lap, cry for all the lost years, and try to reconnect with a man she didn’t know. Why had this been so hard for her?

  Laura thought of Mackenzie Hazard. The girl had a lot stacked against her. But there was a surprising peace in her eyes and a sense of joy in her words that didn’t depend on a single circumstance in her life. She didn’t have everything she wanted, but she had something more.

  Laura stared at the warm orange light coming from the house, and without looking down, she stepped off the curb. And then she took another step. And another.

  She reached his front door, and with all her strength, raised her hand and knocked.

  Around three in the morning, Jesse, Mack, and Dozer stood outside the hospital room and watched Mrs. Yeager at her husband’s bedside. Wiz walked up, balancing four cups of coffee. “Any change?” Wiz asked, passing out the cups.

  “Nothing,” Dozer whispered. “But that is one angry woman. I mean, the man’s unconscious, and she’s still yelling at him because it was his appendix and not his heart?”

  “She’s upset. She almost lost her husband,” Mack said. “I don’t think it’s about his appendix or his heart. She didn’t know he was doing actual undercover work.”

  “None of us did. What did this Brandi chick tell you?” Wiz asked.

  “Just that she was supposed to get as much information as possible about Rhyne Grello,” Jesse replied.

  “I know who he is,” said Mack. “LVPD has been trying to find him for months. He’s a drug dealer. Not big-time, but big enough.” Mack looked at their curious faces. “What? I read the department memos.”

  “Capps is in it with him,” Jesse said.

  “But what are they up to?” Wiz asked.

  “We have to find out,” Jesse said. “He told Brandi not to call him. He gave her his cell phone and said he would be back, that he would call her if there was trouble.”

  “We’ve got the number. Why don’t we trace it? Maybe we’ll get an address.” Wiz said.

  “I have a feeling it’ll be a bogus address. Remember, he got rid of one phone already to cover his trail.”

  “And we have no idea where Rhyne Grello is.”

  “We can be sure that Mason knows,” Jesse said, rubbing his temples. “They’re leaving tomorrow morning. We’ve got to follow them, but how do we find them?”

  Mrs. Yeager was standing in the doorway, mascara smudged a good half inch under each eye. Her cold stare stopped at each of them. “Why are you still here?” she asked. “Please leave. Just leave us be.”

  “Ma’am, is there anything we can do?” Mack asked, stepping toward her.

  “This job sucked everything out of him. I told him not to do it, and he did. He lied to me, and now look what it has cost him. A useless organ. But an organ nevertheless.” She glanced back at him, and more tears rolled down her face. “I spent most of my life keeping myself from worrying about what would happen to him, to us, if he didn’t come home. These years, these are the years we’re supposed to take road trips and enjoy our grandchildren.” She wiped the tears off her cheeks.

  “I’m sure he had a good reason for what he did,” Mack said.

  “Well, I hope it was worth that,” she said, pointing to his bed. She was silent for a moment. Monitors beeped in the background. “Just go now. Go.” She turned and went back to his bedside. Dozer and Wiz walked away. Jesse started to follow, but when he glanced back, Mack was still standing at the door, watching.

  “Mack, come on. Let’s go.”

  Mack shook her head. She looked at Jesse. “You guys go. Try to figure this thing out. I’m going to stay.”

  “She said to go.”

&nbs
p; “She needs someone. She’s upset.”

  “Mack, we could use you. There’s a lot to do. Don’t you want to be in the middle of this?”

  “Yeah. I do. I really do.” She paused and stared back at the sergeant and his wife. “But you guys can handle it. I’m going to stay here. This is where I’m supposed to be right now.”

  “I’ll never figure you out, Mack. But I’m not going to argue about it now.”

  Jesse thought about what kind of prayer he would pray if he were going to pray one.

  Dozer had fallen asleep on the couch after taking Brandi back to the motel. Wiz was still working the computers, trying to find leads on Capps or Grello. They needed that recording, but he still hadn’t found out which company towed Sergeant Yeager’s car. Brandi had said Mason mentioned another man’s name, but she couldn’t remember it … or what it rhymed with. And Jesse still couldn’t get in touch with Captain Gates.

  They were stuck trying to pull a rabbit out of a hat. “I’m going to get some air,” Jesse said to Wiz. Jesse stepped onto the small porch and sat down on the bottom step. The cool night air felt good, but pain pulsed through his temples, throbbing to the point he had to close his eyes. He rested his forehead against his knuckles and tried to wrestle a solution from his thoughts. There had to be a way to find Capps or Grello before they took off to Mexico.

  In the darkness of early morning, with nothing to hang on to but prayer and a couple of Advil, Jesse hoped for the best. No … he prayed for it.

  “You planning to throw a party?”

  Jesse looked up. Standing above him in the darkness was the perfect cure for tranquility … Ruth Butler.

  “Mrs. Butler, with all due respect, I’m not causing any trouble, I’m not making loud noises. I’m just sitting here. There isn’t some sort of code against that in the neighbor association, is there?”

  “Well, it’s an ungodly hour, and by definition you are loitering, but I’ve been watching you and you look like you could use some cheering up.” She pulled a sack of cookies from behind her back. “Maybe this will help.”

  Jesse tried a polite smile and took the bag. “Thanks.”

  “Where’s that good-looking fellow?” she asked, peering past Jesse, trying to get a glimpse into the house.

  “Dozer?”

  “The one with the cane.”

  “Right. Well, he had to have his appendix removed.”

  “Oh no.” She pulled her housecoat closed. “How terrible. Once they start removing organs from your body, it’s all downhill from there. Is he going to be okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No wonder you’re upset.”

  Jesse offered his most tolerant smile. “There’s just a lot going on right now. I need some time to think. That’s why I came out here where it was quiet. So I could think.”

  Ruth chuckled. “Oh, honey, you’re out of luck there. In about three and a half minutes, our neighbor Mr. Warren will start his truck and let it warm up for a good fifteen minutes. You’ve never heard a car make so much noise just sitting in a driveway. It’s why I get up at four instead of four thirty now. I hated waking up to that racket. I asked him why he doesn’t get another car. He says he can’t afford it, and I believe him, to tell you the truth. The poor man can’t afford clothes that fit. I offered him one of my husband’s belts, but he never took me up on the offer. I think he used to play football. He’s got a lot of football jerseys.”

  Jesse’s eyelids became heavy as Ruth droned on.

  “Anyhow,” she continued, like the stars were an attentive audience hanging on her every word, “I told him that he should think about getting a mechanic to look at it. He told me he doesn’t have time. So I suggested he talk to Mr. Grello, see if he could come over and—”

  “What did you say?”

  “He told me he didn’t have time for a mechanic—”

  “After that. You said Grello. Rhyne Grello?”

  “Yes. That’s him. He gave me some phony-baloney name when he first moved in. But I peeked at his mail one afternoon. He used to mess with cars in his driveway, sometimes at all hours of the night. I thought he might be able to take a look at Mr. Warren’s truck to fix it, but I haven’t seen him out much lately—”

  “How do you know Rhyne Grello?”

  “I make it my business to know everyone’s business. That’s why the association has stayed in existence—”

  Jesse stood up. “Mrs. Butler, stop for a second. Just stop. How do you know Rhyne Grello?”

  Ruth looked genuinely perplexed but pointed down the street. “Because he lives at eleven twenty-two. Three houses over on your side of the street.”

  Nan pulled a chair up to Ron’s bedside and laid her head down next to him. She counted his breaths. Watched the monitors. Willed him to keep breathing. To breathe steady and strong.

  She heard someone come into the room. It was one of Ron’s officers, the girl. “Mrs. Yeager?”

  Nan sat up, keeping her hand on Ron’s. “Yes?”

  “I wanted to see if you needed anything.”

  “What was your name?”

  “Mack. Mack Hazard.”

  Nan ran her fingers through messy hair. “No, we’re fine.”

  Mack came a little closer. “I’ve been in the chapel praying for you and for Ron. I know this is a difficult situation.”

  Difficult situation? Try a difficult three decades.

  “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. My parents died in an accident.” Mack looked at Ron, then back at Nan. “You still have him. He’s a strong man. He’ll be fine.”

  “I appreciate your prayers. But I need to be alone.”

  “Your pastor went to get you something from the cafeteria.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “I know,” Mack said gently. “I didn’t eat for days after my parents died. Everybody kept trying to shove food down me, like it would somehow fill up my heart instead of my stomach.”

  “I’m willing to bet Kyle brings ham.”

  Mack laughed. “That’s a good possibility.”

  A groan escaped from Ron, and Nan pulled herself closer to his bed. “Ron?” Nan looked at Mack. “Go get a nurse.”

  Mack rushed out of the room. Ron looked like he was trying to open his eyes. “Ron? What’s wrong?”

  He turned his head, looking at Nan. She tried to calm herself as he squeezed her hand. She placed her other hand on his head. He felt warm. Mack returned with the nurse, who checked him over, while Nan stepped aside. “Mr. Yeager? Can you hear me? Are you in any pain?”

  Ron didn’t respond, but his eyes were open. Nan felt Mack’s strong hand on her shoulder. The nurse checked the monitors, listened to his heart, and checked his IVs. She turned to them. “Everything looks good. I’ll page the doctor, but he’s doing fine. Keep him calm and still. I’ll be right back.”

  Nan returned to his bedside, and a small smile crept onto Ron’s face. “Hi,” she said, squeezing his hand. “You’re going to be fine. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  He nodded a little, but then noticed Mack. He blinked like he was processing something, and then he mumbled, “Mack … come …”

  Nan said, “You need to rest. Don’t talk.”

  “Mack … ,” he said again and tried to lift his head a little.

  “Please, Ron, don’t move.” Nan turned to Mack. “Come here. See? She’s here. Everything’s fine. Now stop talk—”

  “Mack,” he whispered. Mack looked at Nan, then leaned in. “Mack …”

  “I’m here, Sarge.”

  “Listen to me.” His voice was barely audible. “Mason is in with Grello. And Grello is …” He coughed.

  “Sarge, we know. Capps and Grello are working together.”

  “With … Vincent … Ayala …”

  Mack repeated him. “Vincent Ayala.”

  “Tell Jesse … Tell him …” Ron paused and looked at the ceiling. At first Nan thought he was in pain, but she realized he was searching fo
r the words to speak. “I want him to do this. Tell him Grello’s … making a run to … Mexico for Ayala. Tell him to be careful.” Nan felt relief as Ron’s gaze returned to hers. He gave her a wan smile, then closed his eyes and went to sleep.

  Nan let out an anxious breath and looked at Mack. “I guess you better go find him.”

  Mack raced out of the room. Nan lowered her head back onto the bed, closed her eyes, and prayed his gall bladder would hold up.

  Chapter 39

  Dozer was chosen to watch Grello’s house for any activity, which he could do by standing on the front porch of the safe house. Jesse ordered Wiz to make some coffee for Ruth, as that seemed to be the appropriate thing to do for an unpredictable old woman who was sitting in the living room in her housecoat. Her suspicious glare combed anything that moved. Wiz, trying to be helpful, came in with a platter of cookies. “Would you like a cookie?” he asked.

  “I brought those over here, you idiot,” she snapped.

  Wiz offered Jesse an apologetic shrug as he retreated to the kitchen. “Sorry. I thought Mack made them.” Ruth looked at Jesse again. “You’re telling me that the fugitive you’ve been looking for all this time practically lives next door to you?”

  “It’s complicated, ma’am,” Jesse said. “Rhyne Grello is very good at hiding.”

  “Hiding in plain sight, apparently,” Ruth said. “Where’s that coffee?”

  Wiz hustled out carrying a plastic cup and a bent metal spoon, offering it to Ruth like it was fine china. Ruth took one sip and, with an exaggerated grimace, set it down. “Somebody needs to teach you how to make coffee.”

  “Mrs. Butler,” Jesse said, pulling her attention away from the dirty socks on the floor, “how long has Grello lived there?”

  “Maybe a year. Not a very nice fellow, but he knows who’s in charge around here. And ever since July 22, he keeps his lawn tidy too.”

  “What happened on July 22?”

  “He had a little visit from the head of the homeowners’ association.”