by Scott Pratt
“Our boss doesn’t handle disappointment well; it makes him a little angry. And so here we are.”
“I don’t have anything for you,” Jarvis said. “I’m just a poor kid from the projects. A college football player.”
“Yeah, and a damn good one. I hear you’re going to be a big star in the pros pretty soon. Maybe you’ll play for the Saints and we can hang out.”
Tommy laid his head back and cackled.
“You’ll have lots of cash, but you have some family debts to pay right up front,” he said. “I know it may come as a surprise, but you already owe people. And those debts grow in a hurry.”
“How can I pay if I don’t play? You have to let me go.”
“You can barely walk right now, and it looks like I might have broken your arm. Where do you think you’d go, limping around out in the middle of the forest with a broken arm? You just need to stay right where you are. I’m pretty sure you’ll get over this, if we don’t kill you. The boss just has to figure out how to work things. It’s complicated.”
Tommy walked to the empty refrigerator for about the fifth time. He opened the door and looked inside, as if something new would magically have appeared.
“I heard on the news that they found some white stuff and cash in your backpack on the boat,” he said. “So the cops aren’t sure what to think about you right now.”
“Cocaine?” Jarvis said. “That’s not mine. I didn’t have any money either.”
“I’m just telling you what I heard. Your friend had some coke on him, too. I guess all that was planted. Now that I think about it, maybe Gene and I did that. We enjoy throwing money and cocaine around. Always makes for a better party.”
“What about John?”
“Last I heard he was still feeling the effects of our little visit. I don’t guess he’s ever been pistol whipped like that before. We almost got carried away, which happens sometimes. He’s laid up in some Baptist hospital; he ain’t dead. Of course, that could change, too.”
Tommy looked over at his partner, who had picked up his handgun and was walking toward the back door. The look on Gene’s face said he was ready to shoot somebody.
The men walked out onto the deck, which was surrounded by the dense vegetation of the national forest.
“We have to finish this, one way or another,” Gene said. “Either we let the kid go or we get rid of him. We can’t just sit out here in the middle of the Smoky Mountains, the three of us. This is all over the news.”
Tommy shook his head. “The boss said to hang tight,” he said. “We may have other options.”
“What options? Whatever happens, people will be tracking us the rest of our lives.”
“Maybe not, if there’s a reason for the kid to stay quiet. He has to understand we could come and visit him anytime, anywhere. That’s reason enough to keep his mouth shut.”
“How the hell is he going to explain where he’s been?”
“That’s his problem. He’s a smart kid.”
“I don’t like it,” Gene said. “I don’t like it at all. We’re sitting ducks. I’d rather be a moving target.”
“Let’s be calm and think about it. The boss won’t hang us out to dry.”
“Maybe not, but his kid would. I don’t trust Paul as far as I could throw him. He got us into this. Like I said, there is no plan.”
“Just be calm,” Tommy said.
The men walked around to the black SUV in the driveway, pulled some more items out of a duffle bag and prepared to stay a while longer. It was a gray day and the light was fading fast in the valley.
“Jarvis, my friend, we’re going to stay put until we hear differently,” Tommy said. “Mean Gene here is quite the cook, and he’s going to make a grocery run so we won’t starve to death. No more Vienna sausage and crackers. You just sit tight. We’ve got this place for as long as we need it.”
Jarvis squirmed in his seat and grimaced. “Can you take these cuffs off?” he said. “My arm is really hurting.”
“Not a chance. You’re a big dude, and I’m guessing you’re angry. What I will do is let you watch TV while we’re sitting here. Maybe there’s a football game on.”
Tommy waved his gun in Jarvis’s face and laughed again.
“I hope you live to tell your kids about meeting me,” he said. “Not everybody does.”
Chapter Thirty-seven
Detective Lewis was already talking with John when Billy arrived at the hospital. Franklin Beckett was standing outside his son’s room.
“He’s much more alert this morning,” Franklin said. “I talked to him for a few minutes before the detective came.”
“How long has Lewis been in there?” Billy said.
“About fifteen minutes.”
“Any idea what John remembers?”
“No, I didn’t go there with him. We just talked about how he’s feeling. He seemed pretty emotional.”
The men took a seat in the waiting area, and after a few minutes the detective walked out. There was a steely look on his face. Billy and his father got up, but Lewis waved them off and hurried down the corridor, disappearing around the corner.
“That’s not a good sign,” Billy said. “Let me go see what I can find out.”
Before he could get to the door, the doctor called his name.
“John has made great progress over the last twenty-four hours,” he said. “We’ve upgraded his condition, and he may even be ready to go home in a few days. I haven’t mentioned that to him yet, but you can when you go in to talk to him. That should cheer him up some. He seems pretty depressed.”
John was lying in bed and staring at the ceiling as his brother slowly entered the room.
“I hear you’re getting better in a hurry,” Billy said. “They may let you out of here soon. So what do you remember about that night? Do you know what happened?”
John rolled over on his side and didn’t answer. More pieces of his story had been coming together in his head, but he needed to figure it all out before the investigation took some unexpected turn. He couldn’t stall the detective, or his brother, much longer.
One thing John knew is that he was lucky to be alive.
Frank Romano didn’t have much sympathy for those who failed to deliver, and John could easily have been killed right on the spot. He had heard the tales from Charles the last time he was down in Florida – anyone who dared to cross Romano was as good as dead.
And then what did that crazy addict go and do? Took a cut of the cartel’s best stuff and let it get back to the boss. All Charles was supposed to do was deliver the package.
“John, do you know what happened?” Billy said, staring intently into his brother’s eyes.
“Most of it is still pretty hazy. I remember sitting there on the boat watching the football game with Jarvis. I got up to go to the bathroom, and when I came back he was out on the dock. I stepped outside ... that’s the last thing I remember.”
“Were you guys arguing before that?”
“Not really,” John said. “He was going on about how great everything will be in the NFL, all the money and women. He was drunker than I’ve ever seen him, and I just let him go on. No big deal.”
“So you don’t know who hit you?”
“No. Everything went black after I stepped out onto the deck.”
“Well, it looks like Jarvis attacked you for some reason. And if he didn’t, who did?”
“The detective was asking me the same thing,” John said. “I just don’t know. Who would have been roaming around there in the middle of the night?”
Billy sat on the edge of his brother’s bed. “What about the cocaine? Did you get it from Jarvis?”
“Why would he give me that? He doesn’t even like me.”
“The police found some in his backpack, too. Lewis said it look
ed like the same stuff, so it appears you guys were working together on that,” Billy said. “We’re all just trying to understand this.”
“I really don’t want to talk about it any more right now. I’m getting tired.”
“This is important, John. Just remember that you have to tell them everything you know. You’re already in deep, and it’s all going to come out in the end anyway.”
John had no response.
“Okay, rest up and let’s get you out of here as soon as possible,” Billy said. “You can stay with me for awhile and get well. I can use the company.”
“Why? Where’s Rachel?”
“She decided to go to her parents for a few days. She said she’d be thinking about you.”
John rolled back over and closed his eyes. He knew his troubles had only just begun.
Chapter Thirty-eight
The Tennessee mountains were in her rear view as Rachel made her way toward Asheville, North Carolina. It was a straight shot down I-26 from there to the South Carolina coast, and in a few hours she would be standing on the sand at her parents’ home on Isle of Palms.
She didn’t want to dwell on what she was leaving behind. She was just glad to be moving on, getting away from this growing entanglement with Billy. Would she miss him? Yes, and no. Wasn’t that the way Billy had always left women feeling at the end of their relationships? Ambivalent.
“I hope you’ll change your mind. Take some time and think about it,” said the phone message playing in her ear. “I need you.”
There was never much doubt she was needed, right from the start. Billy’s business might not have even gotten off the ground without her father on board. The big house, the boat … she was tied to it all.
Living in the relative obscurity of East Tennessee was never Rachel’s idea of heaven, but she was young and free and willing to see where it all would lead. She should have known better the first time she set foot in Knoxville.
“It’s beautiful, Billy, but there’s not a whole lot to do,” she said. “I miss the big city already. If I can’t have the ocean and shrimp and grits, I want big buildings and nightlife. I like Atlanta.”
“How about smaller buildings, a big river and a great college atmosphere?” he said. “We’ll find a nice place and I’ll hook you up with some real-estate people in town that I know. You can work as much or as little as you like. You’re very good at what you do.”
She played along. “If your stuff goes as well as you think, I may not work at all. Or maybe I’ll just work for you.”
“I’m sure I can keep you busy,” he said with a devilish grin.
Before long, Rachel was the centerpiece of the Billy Beckett Enterprises entourage.
The North Carolina line was approaching as the phone rang. Rachel figured it was Billy calling again, but there was no ID number and she took it on Bluetooth.
“Hello, Miss King.” The man’s voice was deep and had a strange accent.
“Yes,” she said. “Who’s this?”
“We haven’t spoken, but I believe we’re acquainted. I sent you a little package a while back? A very expensive package.”
A chill ran up Rachel’s spine. “Package? You must have me confused with someone else.”
“I don’t think so. You remember Charles, our deliveryman, don’t you? You were in the car that day, weren’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I believe you do,” the man said. “We’re still trying to collect on that delivery, Miss King. Can I call you Rachel?”
There was a long pause as she decided whether to hang up.
“You know, this sports agent business, it’s hazardous work,” the man said. “How is your boyfriend’s brother doing anyway? I understand he had a terrible accident down at the river, right there below where you were sleeping. And you never knew a thing. That’s your story and you’re sticking to it, right?”
“I had nothing to do with what happened to John, or with Jarvis. Where is he?”
“Paul didn’t tell you?”
“Paul?” Rachel said. “How do you know Paul?”
“Let’s just say he’s an old friend, and I know he’s very fond of you. You spoke with him that night, didn’t you? And the next day, too.”
Rachel was speechless.
“Let’s be honest,” the man said. “You don’t care about the football player, and the only reason you care about your boyfriend’s brother is that he’s been feeding you the white stuff. You know, sometimes it makes you unreasonable. Makes you a little crazy. Have you noticed that?”
“What do you want?”
“I just want to make sure that you put your past behind you. Forget Billy. Don’t go back to Knoxville.”
Rachel clicked off the call. Her hands were trembling on the steering wheel and she struggled to stay in her lane.
Her mind flashed back to that day in Florida, stopping at that dump of a bar outside Autumn. John went in and a couple of rough characters peered out at her from the door. They weren’t there ten minutes, but things hadn’t been the same since. It was all a terrible mistake.
And now Paul? Had he been using her all along?
She mashed the gas and headed south.
Chapter Thirty-nine
It was obvious that Sonny Bradley never knew what hit him.
Authorities recovered the agent’s bullet-riddled body from a shallow ditch that runs behind an industrial park out on the western edge of New Orleans. A man had called police after coming across the scene while walking his dog that morning. There wasn’t much of an attempt to conceal the murder.
In fact, one of the investigating officers told Mark Fletcher that whoever killed Bradley wanted everybody to know he was dead. Billy was about to find out.
“I’ve got some news,” the private investigator said by phone. “You don’t have to worry about your New Orleans friend signing Jarvis Thompson. He won’t be signing anybody else.”
“Sonny Bradley? What happened?”
“Looks like he lost the big man’s support. He’s dead. Shot to pieces and dumped, mafia-style. Now we have to wonder why.”
Billy shifted uneasily in his office chair.
“This is getting more bizarre by the hour,” he said. “What else?”
“Here’s what’s really interesting,” Fletcher said. “Bradley had one of your business cards in his pocket.”
“One of my cards? I haven’t even seen the guy in years. Just the one conversation on the phone.”
“I’m guessing that was another little message from Romano. He seems to be taking a serious interest in you. Why is that?”
“I don’t know. I was just going about my business until all this craziness started happening. I’m no threat to him, I don’t think. Other than Jarvis, I don’t know who I have lined up that Sonny Bradley was going all out to recruit.”
“I’d be surprised now if Romano isn’t behind Jarvis’s disappearance,” Fletcher said, “but I’m not sure how killing Bradley would help his cause. Unless his cause is just to hurt you.”
“Why would Bradley being dead hurt me? Seems like just the opposite. Now there’s a bunch of players who need new agents.”
“Romano obviously didn’t care about that,” Fletcher said. “Maybe there’s just one player he really cares about.”
“Then what good would it do to kidnap Jarvis? This whole thing is only going to knock down his value as a player, if we find him and get him back on the field. Most NFL teams are going to be reluctant to spend a high draft pick on a guy who has been through a sketchy ordeal like this. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Well, we still don’t know what the motivation might be for any of it. But I’ll keep digging. I’m guessing the New Orleans cops will be calling you soon about that business card. You’re connected, whether yo
u like it or not.”
“I’ll be expecting it, but there’s not much I can tell them. I don’t know what’s going on,” Billy said. “It’s about time I found out.”
Chapter fourty
The local news played on the television in his hospital room, and John listened intently. The story was changing fast.
UT had suspended wide receiver Jarvis Thompson, who remained missing and was presumably on the run. According to an anonymous source, the player attacked the sports agent’s brother in a dispute over drugs. Further, the cocaine found on the boat might be linked to Thompson’s family, which had an extensive criminal history in Florida. The agent’s brother was improving rapidly and had been moved out of intensive care.
John, in fact, was well enough to sit in a chair. And he was thinking more clearly now, putting more pieces of his story together since his interview with Detective Lewis.
There was a knock at the door, and Billy leaned into the hospital room. The look of disillusionment on his face – like he didn’t know who had done the real damage, his protégé or his brother – was unmistakable.
“John, I just heard the news in the car,” he said. “Tell me what’s going on. I thought you said you didn’t remember getting into it with Jarvis. And the cocaine? It all came from him? That can’t be true.”
John turned his head away, avoiding Billy’s steely glare. His voice cracked with emotion.
“It started coming back to me this morning,” he said. “I remembered that we were arguing, like we always seem to do, and it got out of hand. I didn’t want to be the one to bring him down. I know you have a lot riding on him.”
“I don’t believe it,” Billy said. “I think I’d know if Jarvis was involved in something like this. I’ve spent a lot of time with him.”
“Billy, I’m sorry ... I apologize for my role in it. We just started doing a few lines on the boat and were drinking, and one thing led to another. Once he started talking about what a big star he’s going to be in the NFL and all that, I just didn’t want to hear it.”