by Diane Kelly
Great. Now I was the one with a babysitter.
chapter eleven
Friday Night Lights
Eddie rode out to Palo Pinto with me Friday afternoon. We’d taken my government-issued fleet car, a white sedan with no bells, whistles, or personality.
“Talk about Hicksville,” Eddie said as we rolled through what little passed for a town out here. The city boy was definitely out of his element.
Eddie and I had partnered on many cases since I’d begun working for the IRS last spring. Though we shared neither gender, political views, nor skin color, we did share a mutual respect. When I’d asked him to accompany me, he’d readily agreed. His twin girls were having a sleepover tonight and he’d been looking for an excuse to stay away from his house.
“Ten preteen girls?” he said. “The shoot-out in the truck yard was less scary.”
Eddie, Nick, and a new agent named William Dorsey had taken fire recently and took cover on top of the cab of an eighteen-wheeler. I’d climbed a tree and, with my expert marksman skills, kept the bad guys at bay until Dallas SWAT could take them down and round them up. My heroism and sharpshooting skills seemed to have been forgotten in the wake of my getting all goggle-eyed over Brazos. What I needed now was a chance to redeem myself.
When we reached Mineral Wells, I pulled into a 7-Eleven parking lot and texted Katie from my cell. Heads-up. I’m coming in undercover with partner. Remember, u never saw me B4.
Her response came seconds later. Ok.
We continued on, pulling into the PPE headquarters and parking next to Burkett’s Yukon. There were only two other cars in the lot, Katie’s Kia and a red Prius. Eddie and I grabbed our briefcases and headed inside.
A sixtyish woman with wispy brown hair sat at the receptionist desk, sorting through the day’s mail. In recognition of the upcoming holiday, the front of her desk was decorated with pink heart cutouts and the candy dish on the corner of her desktop was filled with conversation hearts. On the credenza behind her desk sat a small aquarium, the filter giving off a barely audible hum. Inside were two goldfish, one of whom swam to the glass and hovered in the water, moving its tiny fins as it seemed to eye us. Behind the woman were two doors, one opened, one closed. The open door led to Katie’s workspace, a tiny office lined with filing cabinets. She glanced up as we walked in, but quickly turned her attention back to the mountain of paperwork in front of her.
“Hello,” I greeted the receptionist, reaching over to her dish to snag a yellow candy heart that read BE MINE. “I’m Sara Galloway.” The name had become my go-to alias, similar enough to my own to be memorable, but different enough to be distinguishable. I gestured to Eddie. “My associate, Teddy Martin. We’d like to speak to Mr. Burkett, please.”
I popped the candy into my mouth as the receptionist picked up her phone and pushed the intercom button. “Mr. Burkett, there’s a Sara Galloway and Teddy Martin here to see you.” She listened for a moment before putting a hand over the mouthpiece. “What company are you with?”
“Um…” I said the first thing that popped into my mind. “Bits, Bolts, and Beyond.”
The woman’s brows formed a confused V. “Haven’t heard of that company before.”
“We’re a start-up,” I replied.
Eddie discreetly cut his eyes my way and shook his head. Yeah, maybe I should’ve thought this through better on the way over.
The woman removed her hand from the phone. “She says they’re with Bits, Bolts, and Beyond.” She listened for a couple more seconds, then returned her receiver to the cradle and gestured to the closed door behind her. “Y’all can go on in.”
“Thanks.” I went to the door with Eddie following along behind me.
After a quick rap on the door, I opened it to find an office nicely appointed with oversized leather and walnut furniture. Mr. Burkett stood behind his desk. Though his face bore the same craggy wrinkles from the Internet images, it also bore a pleasant smile. He was dressed in a gray business suit that looked well made, if slightly out-of-date.
Eddie and I introduced ourselves under our aliases and offered our hands. After shakes were exchanged, Burkett motioned for us to take a seat in the leather wing chairs facing his desk.
He plopped down in his high-backed chair and folded his hands over his belly. “What can I do you for?”
“We’re sales reps for a new metal fabrication company,” I said. “We plan to corner the market on drill bits.”
“Bolts, too,” Eddie added. “And … uh … beyond.”
Burkett chuckled. “Nothing wrong with ambition.”
“We’d like the opportunity to work up a bid for your drill bit needs.” I prayed it sounded like we knew what we were talking about and that Burkett wouldn’t realize we were just making things up as we went along.
Eddie chimed in. “We might be able to save you some money.”
Burkett dipped his head. “I like the sound of that.”
“If you could provide us with the prices you pay to your current suppliers,” I said, “we’ll see about beating them.”
Burkett cocked his head. “Tell you what. You want my business? Fix me up a price sheet with your best quantity discounts and we’ll take it from there.”
Rats. He wasn’t biting. I’d hoped he’d give us some specifics so we could tell whether he really was using the cash to buy bits.
I leaned forward in my seat. “How will we know what price to beat if we don’t have your current cost information?”
“You won’t,” he replied, the smile seeming more shrewd now than pleasant. “And maybe you’ll go even lower than you would if I gave you the information.”
I forced a smile. “You’re a tough negotiator, Mr. Burkett.”
He raised his palms to indicate the cushy office around him. “That’s how I got here, hon.” With that, he stood, letting us know in no uncertain terms that our unscheduled meeting was over.
We thanked him for his time, shook hands good-bye, and headed back out to my G-ride. It was after five now and much colder than it had been earlier. Dusk was setting in and the outdoor floodlights had come on. Two of the three Dobermans paced along the fence surrounding the warehouse, watching me and Eddie with wary eyes, steam snorting from their nostrils as if they were some type of canine dragon. The third guard dog lay in front of his doghouse in their daytime pen, presumably on a coffee break.
“What did your gut tell you?” Eddie asked once we were seated in the car.
I reached back to grab the strap of the seat belt and clicked it into place. “My gut’s being silent.” Well, other than the gurgling caused by the latte I’d downed on the drive over.
On one hand, Burkett hadn’t been forthcoming with the information we’d requested. On the other hand, who could blame him for keeping his proprietary information private? He hadn’t been overly friendly, but he had been polite and professional. Perhaps he was exactly what he appeared to be—a savvy businessman and nothing more.
I started the engine. “What’s your take on him?”
Eddie lifted a shoulder. “Honestly? I’m not getting any strange vibes. I’d bet he’s using the cash for drill bits.”
Eddie was probably right. He had years of experience as a special agent and good instincts, as well. Still, I wasn’t entirely ready to throw in the towel just yet. Call me overzealous, but I felt like I owed it to Katie and Doug not to give up until I was one hundred percent sure Burkett wasn’t involved in any shenanigans. After all, they’d put their jobs on the line to contact me, put their livelihoods at risk.
Though my gut wasn’t saying much, it did tell me the $7,500 in cash Katie had withdrawn from the bank earlier today and placed in PPE’s safe wouldn’t likely remain there overnight. It wasn’t a good idea to leave such big sums of cash on-site at any workplace and, as a seasoned businessman, Burkett would know that.
“As long as we’ve driven all this way,” I told Eddie, “let’s hang around for a while, follow him when he leaves. Maybe we
’ll learn something.”
“Yeah,” Eddie said. “Like maybe we’ll learn just how boring it can be to sit in a car out here in the middle of nowhere.”
“You want me to drive you back to Dallas for the slumber party, then?”
“Heck, no! I’d rather be bored than listen to all that squealing and shrieking.”
To use up some time, we drove back into town and stopped for a quick, early dinner at a small Chinese restaurant on the main road. The food was surprisingly good, if a bit on the spicy side.
On the walk back to the car, I cracked open my fortune cookie, shoved the dry bits into my mouth, and consulted the white paper slip.
“Things will soon heat up.”
Eddie glanced over at me.
“What do you think that means?” I asked him.
He shrugged. “Maybe there will be some developments in one of your cases. Or maybe you’ll get some kind of skin rash.”
Once we were seated in the car again, Eddie cracked open his own cookie. His fortune was identical to mine. “Things will soon heat up.” Looked like someone in quality control at the fortune cookie factory needed a swift kick in the pants. Really, mix ’em up a little!
“I feel cheated.” Eddie tossed the slip into the car’s ashtray. An instant later, he put a hand to his mouth to stifle a peppery burp, then banged a fist on his chest. “What do you know?” he said. “The cookie was right. I can feel the heartburn already.”
After the feed store down the road from PPE closed up for the evening, I pulled into the gravel lot at the rear, parked facing the PPE headquarters, and retrieved a pair of field glasses from under my seat. Eddie had brought his binoculars, too. Unfortunately, neither pair had night-vision capabilities so visibility was limited in areas that were not illuminated.
As we watched, we saw both the receptionist and Katie leave the office. We continued to sit there until seven o’clock, occasionally turning the engine on and running the heater to warm up the car when it became too cold to bear.
“I don’t know which is worse.” Eddie hugged himself in an attempt to keep warm. “The boredom or the fact that I can no longer feel my balls.”
“Wimp.” Easy for me to say. I was wearing the beautiful cobalt-blue coat Nick had bought me for Christmas and had also wrapped myself in the car’s reflective window screen, which radiated my body heat back at me. I’d offered to share it with Eddie but he’d told me I looked ridiculous. What the heck did I care? There was nobody to try to impress out here unless you counted the goats or the Dobermans.
Eddie shook his head. “I’m getting frostbite here. That fortune cookie was way off.”
Movement at PPE caught my attention and I put my field glasses to my eyes. In the glow of the floodlights, Burkett could be seen exiting the office, tucking a large envelope under his arm, and turning back to lock up the building.
“Looks like he might be taking the cash somewhere,” I told Eddie, who was also watching through his binoculars.
“Think he’s taking it home?” Eddie said. “For safekeeping?”
“Maybe. Or maybe he’s taking it to his second family. Maybe he has a secret son or daughter who needs an organ transplant.”
“And what? He’s taking them money to buy a heart or a lung on the black market?”
“Yeah. Or maybe a kidney.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “You watch too much crap TV.”
As we spied, Burkett climbed into his Yukon, started the engine, and pulled out of the parking lot, heading in our direction. To avoid being spotted, Eddie and I ducked down in our seats as Burkett drove up the road toward the feed store. Once he’d passed us, I gave him a ten-second lead then reached out to start my engine.
Keeping his sights on Burkett’s car through the back window, Eddie put his hand on mine, stopping me. “He’s slowing down.”
I turned to take a look. Bright red brake lights illuminated the road behind the SUV as Burkett pulled over.
Eddie put his binoculars to his eyes again. “What is he doing?”
“Is he stopping at the historical marker?” I raised my glasses to my eyes again, too. Sure enough, Burkett climbed out of his car, leaving the door open. With the interior light adding illumination, we could get a better visual. “Why would he stop there?”
“Maybe he’s going to take a leak,” Eddie suggested. “Old guys like him have to pee twenty or thirty times a day.”
“That’s not his penis in his hand,” I pointed out. “It’s the envelope.”
As we watched, Burkett set the envelope down at the base of the marker. When he was done, he climbed back into his car. He flashed his bright headlights three times in quick succession.
“What’s that all about?” I asked. “You think it’s some kind of signal?”
Before Eddie could respond, Burkett made a U-turn and headed back in our direction. We ducked down once again as he drove by. When we sat back up, we saw headlights coming up the road from beyond the marker. The car slowed to a stop at the marker. Unlike Burkett, this driver cut his headlights and closed his door after climbing out. Though it was impossible to tell given the darkness, it was a good guess that he’d stopped to pick up the envelope.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Eddie said. “I’m getting weird vibes now.”
“Me, too.” Burkett appeared to be up to something. The only question now was what.
A moment later, the car’s headlights came on again. The car pulled a U-turn, too, shining its beams on the curious crowd of goats at the nearby pasture fence before heading back in the opposite direction.
“Let’s roll.” I started the engine, cranked the heater on full blast, and pulled onto the highway to follow the car. I drove slowly, leaving my headlights off for a minute so as not to alert the driver that he or she was being followed. When I felt it was safe, I switched on the headlights and sped up, catching up to the car when it stopped at an intersection.
The car was a basic black Toyota Corolla with a student parking sticker for Lamar High School on the back window. It was too dark for us to tell much about the person at the wheel, but judging from the height the driver appeared to be male.
“I’ve got the plate number,” Eddie said, jotting the number down on a napkin I’d left in the car.
While I continued to follow the driver at a safe distance, Eddie ran the license plate on his tablet. He looked up when he had the data. “The car belongs to a Gregory Michelson in Arlington.”
He ran Michelson’s name through the driver’s license records next. “The address on his license matches the one on the vehicle registration.”
Rather than raise Michelson’s suspicions that he was being followed, I took a right turn down a country road. Meanwhile, Eddie searched the man’s name on the Internet.
“He’s listed as a member of the building committee for the Seventh Day Adventist Church,” Eddie said, reading from his screen. “He’s a runner, too. He placed twenty-third in the Dallas marathon last year.”
“Not bad.”
“I’m finding a LinkedIn profile, too. It says Michelson’s a respiratory therapist at HealthSouth Rehabilitation Hospital.” Eddie looked up from his tablet. “What’s this dude doing way out here in the boondocks? And why would Burkett be giving him cash?”
My gut was talking now. Loud and clear. “You said Michelson works at a hospital, right? He’s getting that kidney for Burkett’s secret son. He’s planning to steal it from a coma patient.” Okay, so my gut was talking smack. I couldn’t help it if my gut was a smart-ass.
Another eye roll. “Get real, Tara.”
“Okay. How’s this for real? Michelson potentially has access to drugs such as painkillers. Maybe a doctor’s prescription pad, too.”
Eddie raised a brow. “You think Burkett’s paying the guy for Vicodin or oxycodone?”
“Well, I don’t think he’s paying for Band-Aids, bedpans, or Jell-O.”
“So?” Eddie said. “What’s next?”
“What�
�s next is I approach this from the back end. Put some eyes on Michelson.”
But what would those eyes see?
chapter twelve
Thin Mints Is an Oxymoron
When I returned home Friday night, I was tempted to go down to Nick’s place. The light in his living room was on so I knew he was home, but I was still angry at him for ratting me out to Lu. Instead I stayed at my place and watched a double feature of romantic comedies on Netflix. Then I logged onto Facebook and changed my status to show that I was in a relationship with Poo-Poo Head. That would show Nick. If he ever logged onto Facebook, that is.
After a good night’s sleep, I woke early, feeling more forgiving today. After all, I wasn’t entirely sure what Nick had told Lu. Chances were she’d read between the lines and figured out why I hadn’t done a better job nailing Brazos down. Dating a coworker, mixing business with pleasure, came with this type of potential pitfall. One of the things I admired about Nick was his strong work ethic. No sense in me punishing Nick for doing his job, right?
I took a quick shower, threw on a pair of yoga pants, a sweatshirt, and sneakers, and drove to the bakery around the corner to pick up some lattes and cronuts, the new half-donut, half-croissant craze. Frankly, I was still waiting for someone to make sconuts—a half scone, half donut. Or maybe a waffnut—half waffle, half donut. Really, what could be more yummy than a donut covered in maple syrup?
I let myself into Nick’s place with my key. The place was still dark and quiet. I shut the door behind me and tiptoed upstairs.
Nick lay facedown in his bed, his head turned to the side, his arms arched over his head like a ballerina with arms in fifth position. Trust me, though, this bad boy was no ballerina. The covers were bunched down around his waist, his muscular, naked back exposed. I fought the urge to cover his body with my own. Doing so would only lead to a morning of lovemaking and, as much as I’d enjoy getting busy with Nick, I had work to do. In fact, that’s why I was here. To see if Nick might be willing to keep me company as I spied on Michelson. Stakeouts were incredibly boring regardless, but doing one alone was like being put in solitary confinement. Besides, I needed someone for backup so I could take the occasional pee break. I was a dedicated agent, but not dedicated enough to wear an adult diaper.