Games of Guilt: A Crime Thriller (Hidden Guilt Book 3 of 3)

by Terry Keys

  I turned into his driveway. I was hoping he wouldn’t come out, because Edmund was only about five foot eight. In other words, half a foot shorter than me. Which would allow them to tell who left on the bike a whole lot easier. I planned on suiting up in the garage and leaving on the bike. Mullinski’s FBI cronies would still be there waiting for me to leave in my truck. The thought of it made me laugh. I wondered how long they’d sit there before they realized I had escaped them? Even if somehow they managed to pick up on my switcheroo, the 1500cc engine in Edmund’s Busa would be enough for me to lose them. Either way, I’d disappear.

  I knocked and waited. I could hear his three pit bulls charging to the door to greet me.

  The door flew open. “Get in here, holmes!”

  “Good to see you, brother,” I said.

  We exchanged a few lines, and I offered him a gig in our undercover unit again. Which again he turned down. I went into the garage and suited up. Luckily for me, his eighteen-year-old son was close to my size, so the pants and jacket fit me well. I buckled down the helmet, and Edmund opened the garage and went inside. I backed down the driveway and zoomed past the FBI truck. I honked as I sped by for good measure.

  I told Edmund to text me when the truck left, just for my own amusement.

  Despite the circumstances, it felt good to ride again—really good. If Miranda found out I’d been back on a bike, I wouldn’t have to wait for one of my suspects to outsmart me. I’d been warned many times that if she caught me on a bike again, she’d rip my arms off, and I believed she would.

  I pulled up to Fingers’ house and rang the bell. I lifted the face guard on the helmet so he could see it was me, and he buzzed me through. I parked the bike in the garage just to be safe.

  “Didn’t know you rode,” Fingers said, smiling.

  “I used to.”

  “Why the bike?”

  I grinned. “Had to lose a tail.”

  “But aren’t you a—?”

  I put my hand up. “I am a cop, yes. Don’t ask.”

  Fingers shrugged.

  I texted DeLuca and told her to call me. I needed an update on Azteca Gases and my buddy Harry over at the ATF.

  “Found out our guy Caleb’s been driving a brown minivan. May make your job a little easier.”

  “Well, that would’ve been nice to know,” Fingers retorted.

  “I just told you,” I said with a smile. “You found any stores that sell those seeds?”

  “Actually, I found three. Stretched out the search radius to twenty miles. You were right; not many places sell those. Started with the closest store. Almost through two weeks of video and still no Caleb or Marci.”

  “How difficult would it be to show me how to use this program of yours? You can set me up on one of your fifty computers, and we could knock out the last few stores.”

  “Simple enough—even for you. Creating it was the tough part.”

  I’d been at Fingers’ lab about twenty minutes when Edmund called me.

  “My friends gone?” I asked.

  “Yup. They paid me a visit. Not a very friendly one either. Asked to speak with you.”

  “What’d you tell them?”

  “I told them a friend called and asked to borrow the bike and I let him. Boy were they pissed.”

  “Good! Thanks again. I’ll be sure to bring her back in one piece.”

  Fingers got me set up and searching. Even though I knew about the brown minivan, it was possible that Caleb had visited the store in another vehicle or that maybe even Marci had gone. Finding this car and getting these plates was key. Once I had it, we could use his software to tie it back to an address. Then maybe my team and I could march over and corner Caleb and end this.

  Fingers and I were an hour in and still nothing. Then my phone buzzed. Hill. No big surprise. I knew Mullinski wouldn’t take my slap in the face like a man.

  “Porter here.”

  “Porter, it’s Chief Hill. What’s your twenty?”

  “What’s up? You need something, Chief?” I knew I was playing a dangerous game now.

  He was slow to respond. “Yeah. I wanted to let you know that Marci Wingup is dead.”

  The news caught me off guard. I stood up and backed away from the computer.

  “What happened?”

  “Someone slid her some pills and she took them. Suicide, no doubt.”

  “They must have had some martyr pact,” I said.

  “You want to tell me where you are now?”

  “Well . . . to be honest, not really. But I will on one condition.”

  “Wilcrest ever tell you that you were hard to supervise?”

  “Every day.”

  “What’s the condition?”

  “I don’t want Mullinski and his goons coming here.”

  “I can fend them off for another few hours or so. I would hardly call the FBI goons, though.”

  “I’m at Fingers’. If everyone leaves us alone, I might know where this kid is by day’s end. It’s only a matter of time now. The media know about Marci?”

  “Yes. Headline story everywhere.”

  “Great. Means Mr. Caleb will be nice and amped up when I finally track him down.”

  I disconnected with Hill and got back on the video surveillance. One hour, two hours, three hours went by and still nothing. You couldn’t go too fast, because you risked missing what probably would have been a quick stop.

  And then I saw a brown minivan pull in, and a person matching Caleb’s description headed into the store. We spent the next twenty minutes zooming in from different angles to get confirmation. We finally got the right camera and zoom setting to make out the license plate. Now we needed to track the van to their hideout.

  Chapter 52

  Caleb read the article again. Tears flooded his eyes. Marci was gone. He’d known this day was coming. No matter how many times Caleb read the story, the shock value was the same. The pain was the same too. Marci had taught him so much, even now in death. She’d taught him one last lesson—always keep your promises. That was exactly what he intended to do. He did his best to focus on the good times he’d had with Marci, but he couldn’t help but wonder how agonizing her final moments must have been.

  He’d promised David Porter that he’d never forget the name Caleb Crease. Caleb knew his work wasn’t done. Porter didn’t know what terror was—not yet.

  Slamming the laptop shut, Caleb leapt from his chair and picked up his backpack. He removed every item, one by one, and laid it on the table. It was all there, everything he needed to terrorize some unlucky soul tonight.

  He carefully returned everything to the backpack except the minivan keys and headed out. Time for a new vehicle. He walked nearly a mile before reaching an apartment complex, its massive parking lot almost full. It was nine p.m., all but ensuring the theft wouldn’t be reported til morning. He found an unlocked, nineties-model, single cab F-150, climbed inside, and got it running.

  As he drove down the Beltway 8 feeder road and headed for Interstate 45, his mind wandered back to Marci. His eyes began to water. Losing a loved one is always difficult. No matter how sudden or how much time we have to prepare for it. Pain was something Caleb had grown accustomed to. His entire life had been full of pain. And now everyone he loved was dead.

  Twenty minutes later, Caleb took the FM 517 exit and turned left. He pulled up Google Maps on his phone. He knew there was a bayou nearby, the perfect place to hide a body. He drove another minute and saw a sign for the bayou, but there were a million lights. What the hell is this? As he drove past, he saw a sign that read Festival of Lights. Luckily the sign also said it closed at ten, and that wouldn’t be long. Caleb drove another minute and found what he was looking for. His eyes lit up. There it was—an old supermarket, one that wouldn’t have security cameras lining the parking lot. Caleb circled the tiny lot once, checking everywhere he knew cameras might be, but found nothing. He wondered if this was how lions felt, sauntering around the savannah in search
of their next meal, their prey within striking distance.

  Caleb parked out far into the parking lot. The black truck would blend in well. He took a pair of night vision binoculars from his bag and scanned the lot. He knew exactly what he was looking for.

  He focused the binoculars on the far right corner of the lot and watched as a short, stocky brunette climbed out of an SUV, phone to one ear and what appeared to be a list in the other hand. He zoomed in on the back window. Little League sports decals. Perfect. Caleb knew this mother would be missed in a few hours, and that was just what he wanted.

  He looked across the street and noticed something he’d overlooked before—Amegy Bank. A bank meant cameras. Lots of cameras. Looking through his binoculars again, Caleb checked to see if any were aimed across the parking lot in his direction. He didn’t see anything that scared him off, so he turned his attention back to the storefront.

  Caleb waited impatiently for the woman to return to her car. With Dickinson Bayou less than a mile away, dumping her body would be a piece of cake. And with that holiday lights festival going on, it was all but guaranteed that her body would be found quickly.

  Another thirty minutes went by before the woman emerged with a basket full of groceries.

  Game time.

  Caleb pulled a ski mask onto his head but left it up. No need to scare her right off the bat. He pulled his truck behind hers. He took a deep breath.

  Caleb smiled, doing his best not to give off any creeper vibes and lose her. He needed to gain her trust to lessen his chances of losing out.

  “Excuse me, ma’am. I’m so sorry to bother you, but I’ve gotten myself lost. I’ve just been going back and forth for at least an hour now. Looks like you got a lot of groceries there must have a lot of kids at home? How about I help you with them and you can help me with directions?”

  The woman looked up at Caleb.

  Caleb pointed to the Little League stickers and gestured at the groceries. “Kids. . . the stickers on your window,” he said, laughing. “I’ve got three kids of my own, so I understand.”

  “Yeah, kids. They take all of my money and eat all my food,” she said. “I’m Yvette.” She reached out to shake his hand.

  Caleb took her hand in his. “Name’s Kip, but my friends call me Kid due to the baby face.”

  “So like I said, I’m lost. I went to school with a guy who lives here in town. Trying to get to his house, but I keep getting turned around. It’s like I’ve been going in circles. I swear I’ve passed this place five times already.”

  “You tried calling him?” she asked, looking around.

  Caleb noticed that she still had her guard up a little. “Just found out poor guy has cancer, so I’m trying to do a surprise visit. Don’t want to call him and ask how to get unlost. Want to take him a little cash—you know, for the holidays and all. Plus my phone is dead so no GPS.”

  “I’m sorry about your friend.”

  They both loaded groceries into Yvette’s SUV. He knew at this point anyone who’d been watching before would be minding their own business now. Nothing to see here. Just a guy helping a gal with some groceries.

  “Looks like we’ve gotten them all loaded up,” Caleb said as she slammed the SUV’s rear door. Caleb knew she’d completely lowered her guard now. The fish was on the hook, and he was just reeling it in. But this fish didn’t even know she’d been hooked.

  “Yes, thank you so much. Now it’s my turn to help. You want to show me the address to your friend’s place? Dickinson is a pretty small town. I’ve lived here my whole life. I know all the nooks and crannies. I’m sure we can get you to your buddy’s house.”

  “Yeah, sure. Thank you. It’s written on a piece of paper there on the seat. Let me get it.”

  “What kind of cancer does he have, by the way?”

  Caleb hesitated. “Uhh. . . throat cancer, I think.”

  The woman had a puzzled look on her face. Caleb could tell that his delayed answer had been problematic.

  “I just read about it on Facebook yesterday. I didn’t get to dig into it too much.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  This was the moment of truth. They stared at each other. Caleb did his best to keep his wry smile from turning into an even more sinister one. He opened the door to the passenger side and gestured to the piece of paper on the center console.

  “There,” he said, pointing to the paper.

  Yvette smiled. She clutched her purse and slowly stepped toward the truck. Caleb looked around. Not a soul in sight. His heart raced this was it.

  Yvette stopped at the truck door and looked around.

  Caleb watched as she leaned in and reached for the paper with the address. She rested her elbows on the seat and squinted her eyes. She held the paper under the light of her phone. Caleb eased the taser out of his pocket and hit Yvette in the side with it. Now he needed to get out of this parking lot as quickly as he could.

  Chapter 53

  Caleb covered her entire face with a dark cloth. He made sure she couldn’t see anything. Her hands and feet were bound. Even if she struggled against the restraints it would be no use.

  Caleb drove fast, but not too fast. He didn’t need to get pulled over. He was sure by now Houston and surrounding city law enforcement had his face front and center on the Most Wanted list. He drove with a sense of urgency, following his map to what appeared to be a desolate stretch along Dickinson Bayou.

  He still didn’t know what he was going to do to Yvette, but it would be bad. . . and it would be memorable.

  Then the noise started. She must be awake now, Caleb thought. It sounded like the bitch was going to kick a hole right through the side of the truck. She screamed and yelled. At first Caleb tried to drown her out with the radio, but that was no use.

  He turned the radio down.

  “Shut up!” he yelled back to her. “Shut the hell up!” Caleb banged on the back window knowing she’d be able to hear it back in the bed of the truck.

  For a few seconds Yvette was quite. Then she started yelling again.

  Caleb was growing more and more aggravated. He reached down and turned the radio back up as loud as it could go.

  “Smart move. But yelling isn’t going to help you now!” Caleb taunted, laughing.

  He passed a squad car sitting in the median with a radar gun. Caleb looked down to make sure he wasn’t speeding. Forty in a forty.

  Caleb looked in his rearview mirror. The cop had turned onto the highway few cars back. Must have gotten someone for speeding, Caleb thought.

  He watched the cop dodge in and out of cars until he was right behind him. Had he run the license plate? No way this piece of shit had already been reported stolen.

  Then he noticed a set of red and whites light up. What the hell? He wasn’t even speeding.

  Caleb turned off the highway onto a back road about a mile past Hwy 646, a semi wooded area. Semi wooded for a traffic stop, anyway. No street lights. No houses. No businesses. He turned the truck off to try and ease the mind of the officer from the beginning.

  He opened a window into the back where Yvette was. He waived his gun at her.

  “You see this? Do you? One sound and I shoot him then you,” he said.

  Caleb watched from the rearview mirror as the officer approached. He’d already rolled the window down. Surely the cop had called the stop in, so killing him would just bring more heat than Caleb needed or wanted right now. He knew he’d have every cop in this Podunk town looking for him within minutes.

  “How are you doing tonight, sir?” the officer said as he approached the truck.

  “I’m doing well, sir. Is everything okay? I thought I was going the speed limit.”

  Caleb noticed the cop was looking far too suspiciously around the cab of the truck. What the hell is this guy’s problem? Caleb wondered.

  “Sir, can you give me your license, proof of registration, and insurance?”

  “No problem, sir. Can you tell me why you stopped me? Did I do
something wrong?”

  Caleb knew something was up. Maybe the truck had already been reported stolen. He couldn’t be sure, but something had this guy wired up already.

  “Sir can you step out of the vehicle?”

  Caleb climbed down from the truck. The cop slammed the door shut behind him.

  “I’ll need you to face the vehicle and place both hands on the roof.” Caleb hesitated.

  “Sir, do you have something in the back of your truck? When you passed me I noticed the camper window pushing open.”

  Caleb froze. The stupid little tramp must have been kicking the damn window. He thought for a moment longer.

  “Yes, sir, I do. I have my dog Ranger in back. Would you care to see him? He likes to try and poke his head out.” Caleb smiled.

  “For a second there you had me scared. I wasn’t sure what I’d done wrong. You guys have a tough job. I appreciate the work you do.”

  Caleb could see the angst slowly leaving the officer.

  “My dad has been an officer for almost twenty years now.”

  “Really? What department does he work for? Maybe I’ve heard of him.”

  “Oh, probably not. He’s just a beat cop. I mean, nothing wrong with that. But that’s what he enjoys, being hands-on with the public.”

  “Would you like to see my dog?” Caleb hoped he’d say no and just walk the hell away.

  “Sure. I’m a huge dog lover,” the officer said.

  Caleb walked over to the door and pointed inside. “Tailgate is locked. Gotta grab the keys.”

  The cop had already started walking toward the back of the truck.

  Caleb reached under the seat for his Glock. As he slammed the door shut, Yvette screamed at the top of her lungs.

  “Help me!”

  Before the officer could pull his service weapon, Caleb had already fired multiple rounds into his torso.

  Caleb banged on the camper window. “This is your fault! I told you what would happen! Stupid, stupid, stupid. He’s dead, and it’s all your fault! You’re gonna die too, ya know!” He banged again on the camper window.

  “Shit!” Caleb screamed. He knew this stop had been called in and there was surely GPS in the cop’s car.