A Lone Wolf

by J. C. Fields

  “I kind of thought so. I was out all day as well and thought you might like to meet at our favorite place for dinner.”

  “I’d love to.” He glanced at the time again. “I can be there by seven.”

  “Great. I’ll take Uber and then we can come home together.”

  By eight-thirty, after sharing an entrée of eggplant three-cheese lasagna, they were only three-quarters of the way through a delicious bottle of Chianti. She reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope addressed to Joseph. “This arrived by FedEx just before I left the house. I had to sign for it.”

  He accepted the package, glancing at the return address. With a slight smile, he opened it and skimmed the contents. “Interesting.”

  “Am I allowed to ask what it’s about?”

  “It’s the answer to a mystery a friend of mine discovered.”

  She sipped her wine and looked over the top of the glass. “In other words, his eyes only.”

  Joseph nodded.

  Wolfe answered the call, noting the time: 9:03 p.m. “Good evening, Joseph. A little late for you, isn’t it?”

  “Not really. I have news for you on the DNA samples.”

  One eyebrow rose. “Oh, tell me.”

  “The DNA collected at the woman’s house is not the same person you found on your property.”

  “Kind of what I guessed. Any idea who he might be?”

  “Don’t know yet. I will have to run it through several DNA databases. Although I can tell you one thing.”

  Wolfe remained quiet.

  “Without comparing the two men’s DNA to a mother or father, the results are unofficial. But similarities between the two samples suggest they share one parent. The two men were half-brothers.”

  Chapter 17

  Southwest Missouri

  A fter a restless night, Wolfe stood on the back deck of the condo, his hands on the railing, his gaze on a hawk soaring over the trees on the opposite side of the cove. A noise from behind him did not divert his concentration on the bird.

  Nadia closed the sliding glass door, walked over to where he stood and placed her hand on his back. “You spoke to Joseph over twelve hours ago. You have said nothing since.”

  With a glance over at her he said, “Still trying to sort it out.”

  “Tell me. Maybe I can help.”

  “As you and I suspected, there are two men involved. The real Bobby, who we found in the woods, and the man I helped, who posed as Bobby.”

  “Joseph confirmed?”

  “Yes, he confirmed. The DNA analysis revealed they were half-brothers.”

  Nadia remained quiet, watching the hawk as well. Finally, she returned her attention to Wolfe. “That could explain why the older brother did not recognize the picture you showed him.”

  His response was a nod.

  After several moments, she said, “Where was the real Bobby all these years?”

  “That my dear, Nadia, is what I have been trying to figure out. So far, I don’t even have a hypothesis.”

  She smiled. “A hypothesis, Michael?”

  “Sorry. It’s the only word that fits.”

  “We do have a source for more information, though.”

  He looked over at her. She still followed the hawk as it caught an updraft and gained height. “What source?”

  “The older brother. Surely he would know about a younger half-brother.”

  Wolfe nodded. “Think he’d take my call?”

  She shook her head. “I believe we will have to confront him face to face.”

  “We’re not flying commercial.”

  “No, but you do have your own plane.”

  “Let me think about it. Before we go, I need a little more background on Kevin Benson.”

  The 1979 Beechcraft B55 Baron rested quietly in its own hangar on the western side of the 5101-foot-long runway that comprised the West Plains Regional Airport. It was located ten miles northeast of West Plains, which allowed Wolfe and Nadia to access it without venturing into town, a task they wished to avoid on this particular day. Wolfe leased the building but owned the plane.

  He bought the plane, sight unseen, from an estate sale in Atlanta, after returning to the United States. It was shipped to the hangar in several sections via flatbed trucks. Now fully restored with modern avionics, electronics, engines, and props, the plane flew better than when new.

  Leasing a large building at the airport allowed Wolfe to leave his Jeep inside while using the plane. After parking the SUV next to the Baron, he exited, smiled and admired it. While the cost of a functioning used 1979 Baron would have been cheaper, this aircraft possessed all the bells and whistles of a new Beechcraft while retaining the classic lines of the older model. Wolfe expressed a passion for only two things in life—Nadia and this airplane. He was about to spend more than a few hours with both.

  He turned to her. “As we discussed, there are a few security cameras between here and the flight office. None are connected to TSA so we should be good, but wear your hat just to make sure.”

  She nodded and placed a floppy hat on her head while Wolfe retrieved his Stetson Sturgis from the back seat. The couple walked toward the airport’s flight service office. Inside they were greeted by an overweight man in his mid-sixties with droopy eyes and yellow teeth. “Mornin’ Mr. Lyon.” He turned to Nadia. “Ms. Lyon. How can I help you two today?”

  Wolfe handed him a completed flight plan form. The older man accepted it, scanned the document and slid a hand into a pant pocket. “Albany, New York, with a refueling stop in Columbus, Ohio.” He looked up. “Good plan. The Baron’s all fueled up, like you requested. We’ll shut the hangar door after you take off. When do you think you’ll return?”

  “Not sure. We might have to go elsewhere after our meeting in Albany. We just don’t know at this point.”

  “Just let me know. I’ll have the door open for you when you return.”

  Wolfe smiled and shook the man’s hand. “I appreciate it, Danny.”

  As they were walking back, Nadia chuckled. “Why is he always so glad to see you, Michael?”

  “Every time I’m here, I tip him a hundred-dollar bill.”

  “I didn’t see you give it to him.”

  “It was clipped to the back page of the flight plan.” He smiled. “Didn’t you see him put his hand in his pocket?”

  She chuckled as they entered the hangar.

  Albany, NY

  As they suspected, Kevin Benson did not return their calls nor did he allow his assistant to schedule an appointment. Wolfe’s solution was simple. They parked the rental car several spaces from Benson’s ten-year-old Mercedes C180 and quietly waited.

  The wait only took an hour.

  Benson kept his head down as he approached his car, fumbling with the key fob to unlock the doors. He opened the back door and tossed his briefcase onto the rear passenger seat. As the attorney started to close it, Wolfe approached from his blind side and shoved the man into the car. He scrambled in after him as Nadia got behind the wheel. Wolfe found the fob, now loose on the floor and handed it to her. She started the car and backed out. All of this took less than ten seconds to accomplish. No one outside the vehicle noticed.

  Benson, still in a prone position on the back floor-board, regained his dignity and managed to sit across from Wolfe, his back against the opposite door. Now with an ashen face, he blinked rapidly. Finally, he found his voice. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “You won’t take my calls or make an appointment.” Wolfe stared at the attorney.

  “I have nothing else to say to you.”

  “Ah…” Wolfe gave Benson a hard smile. “Nothing to say or nothing you want to say?”

  The initial shock of the abduction started to wear off as the lawyer frowned. “I will sue you for kidnapping and bodily harm.”

  Wolfe gave the man a hard stare. “No, you won’t.”

  “Wait and see.”

  “I don’t have to wait, counselor. I know a l
ot about you and your so-called legal practice. You’re an ambulance chaser. Not a very good one I might add, since you can barely afford the rent on your office and are frequently late paying your assistant. There’s never been a Kendrick in the law firm of Kendrick and Benson, just Benson. What do you tell clients on the occasion they ask to see Mr. Kendrick?”

  Benson stared at Wolfe, ignoring the question.

  “Kind of what I thought.” He paused for a heartbeat. “You’re divorced with two kids you haven’t seen or spoken to for five years. You’re constantly late with your child support payments and your ex-wife threatens you with legal action until you pay. The New York State Bar Association has investigated your practice numerous times, but can’t quite seem to find enough evidence to disbar you. Need I go on?”

  “What do you want?”

  “Where has your brother been the last few years?”

  The attorney shot a look at Wolfe and then stared at the floor. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure, you do. You knew the moment I showed you the picture of the man I thought was your brother that it wasn’t him. Now, I will ask nicely. Where is he?”

  Turning to stare at Wolfe, the man frowned. “This is harassment.”

  Wolfe sighed and extracted his Walther PPK from his ankle holster. “Answer the question, Kevin.”

  With wide eyes, the attorney stared at the small pistol. “What are you going to do with that?”

  “It was itching my ankle. Where’s your brother?”

  Still staring at the gun, Benson started to tremble. “Are you going to use it?”

  With the Walther in Wolfe’s right hand, he pointed it halfway toward the attorney. “Maybe, if I don’t start getting answers.” He paused to glare at the lawyer. “I will ask nicely only one more time. Where has your brother been?”

  The attorney’s eyes remained fixed on the weapon. “A federal prison in South Carolina.”

  Returning the PPK to its original position away from Benson, Wolfe tilted his head and frowned. “Why didn’t you say that when I here last time?”

  Benson just shook his head.

  “Why is he in prison?”

  Finally looking at Wolfe, Benson swallowed hard. “I’m not proud of it.”

  “I don’t give a damn if you’re proud of it or not. Why is he in prison?”

  “Drug smuggling and manslaughter.”

  “When was he released?”

  “As far as I know, he hasn’t been. There’s still fifteen years left on his twenty-year sentence. Why?”

  This gave Wolfe pause. He stared at the attorney for several moments. “Because when they analyzed the DNA from the body we found, it was your brother. Did you have a half-brother?”

  Benson blinked several times and slowly nodded.

  “Care to tell me about it?” Wolfe put the PPK back in its holster.

  “Another embarrassing episode of my family. My father had an affair while my mother was pregnant with Bobby. They were born several weeks apart. He continued to have affairs with other women while Bobby and I grew up. My father didn’t die, Mr. Lyon. Before I started college, he left us and we never saw him again. Likewise, my mother didn’t die from a mental breakdown. She died from a broken heart.”

  Wolfe crossed his arms. “It happens.”

  Benson took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yes, it happens. Though seldom is the scorned woman forced to raise her husband’s bastard son.”

  “What was the half-brother’s name?”

  “Martin.”

  “Did you and Bobby get along with Martin?”

  “No one got along in our little slice of hell, Mr. Lyon. My mother treated us all the same. She had a hard time being in the same room with us. She told us constantly we reminded her of our father’s betrayal.”

  Not taking his eyes off Benson, Wolfe remained quiet for a dozen seconds. “Head back to the attorney’s office.”

  Nadia nodded and started looking for a place to turn around.

  He then returned his attention to the attorney. “I’ll need his social security number.”

  “I don’t have it.”

  “Figure it out, counselor.”

  “I can’t. I don’t know it.”

  Wolfe reached over and grabbed the man, one-handed, by the front of his now sweat-soaked shirt and growled. “I am really tired of your unhelpfulness. My ankle’s itching again.”

  Wide-eyed, Benson recited the number without hesitation.

  “Did you get that, Nadia?”

  She nodded as she maneuvered the Mercedes through traffic.

  After releasing the attorney, he stared hard at the man. “It would be a wise idea for you to forget this car ride.”

  The attorney said nothing as he stared straight ahead.

  “I’m not a cop, Kevin. I don’t play by cop rules. Just keep that in mind if you decide to discuss our little meeting with anyone.”

  “You don’t scare me.”

  Wolfe placed his hand by his ankle. “You should probably rethink that statement.”

  “If you’re not a cop, who are you?”

  “I can and will become your worst nightmare.”

  He stared wide-eyed at Wolfe for several seconds before he returned his attention to the floor and nodded.

  “What are you thinking?” Nadia asked on the drive back to the airport.

  “Being raised alongside Bobby and Kevin explains how Martin slipped into the role of Bobby with ease. For some reason, Martin needed to disappear. Since Bobby was in prison, it was the perfect opportunity for him to take on his brother’s identity and vanish into the middle of the country. The fact they are similar in appearance didn’t hurt either.”

  “If Bobby was incarcerated, how did he get out and how did he find his half-brother?”

  “Don’t know. Maybe we should start at the prison.”

  Chapter 18

  Edgefield County, South Carolina

  Two Days Later

  A fter establishing their identities as Michael and Nadia Lyon, Michael worked for Joseph over the next six months tracking individuals no one else could find. During this period, Nadia taught French at the local high school in Branson but grew bored with it rather quickly. Now, two years later, they both worked for Joseph using US Marshal nom de guerres.

  Their US Marshal badges gave them legitimacy when pursuing fugitives or terrorists and opened doors normally closed to everyday citizens. These identifications were not to be used for arrests—they were only to be used for gaining information or access to information. Both Nadia and Wolfe protected these IDs with care and never violated their stated purpose. They considered this visit a search for information.

  At 2:46 p.m., they were escorted into the office of Captain Darwin Rodriguez, the person in charge of Correction Officers at Federal Correction Institute Edgefield. The man stood stiffly as they entered the room.

  Wolfe introduced himself and Nadia. “I appreciate you taking the time to meet with us, Captain Rodriguez.” They showed their IDs. “I am Patrick Ryan, US Marshal and this is my partner, US Marshal Holly Harper.”

  Captain Rodriguez stood several inches shorter than Wolfe and fifty pounds heavier. With close-cropped white hair, thinning on top and a permanent scowl, he studied them over half-readers positioned halfway down his nose. The captain displayed all the signs of wanting to be anywhere instead of his office talking to them.

  The captain examined the IDs and, without comment, handed them back to Wolfe and Nadia. “What can I do for the US Marshal Service today?” There was a note of suspicion in his voice.

  Noting the attitude, Wolfe proceeded. “We are inquiring about the early release of an FCI inmate. His name was Robert Benson, incarcerated at FCI Edgefield on felony drug and manslaughter charges on June 11, 2012, with a sentence of twenty years.” Wolfe paused as he tilted his head. “We can’t find any court decision permitting an early release.”

  “You said was, Deputy Ryan. Is this indi
vidual deceased?”

  Wolfe nodded.

  Rodriguez turned to a computer screen and started typing, “How’s the last name spelled?”

  “B-E-N-S-O-N.”

  He continued to type and after several moments stopped, studied the screen and returned his attention back to Wolfe. “He was released into the custody of a Department of Justice attorney named Kendra Burges on January third of this year.”

  Nadia spoke next. “You said Kendra Burges?”

  The captain nodded.

  She looked at Wolfe.

  Rodriguez frowned. “What happened to Benson?”

  Wolfe answered, “Hunting accident.” He paused. “Captain Rodriguez, can we see the paperwork given to this institution authorizing his release?”

  “I don’t see why not.” He picked up his desk phone handset, punched in a few numbers and waited. “Cheryl, can you bring the file on Benson, Robert to me?” He listened. “Yes, thank you.” He returned the handset to its cradle. “If he’s dead, why is the Marshal service spending taxpayer’s dollars talking to me?”

  Wolfe recognized the start of blame deflection from the captain. In a harsher tone than before, he said, “There are no records of the DOJ or the Bureau of Prisons authorizing his early release, Captain. When his body was identified, alarm bells went off. Thus, the reason we are here—to find out why he wasn’t still in custody.”

  Sitting back in his chair, Rodriquez took off the glasses. He stared at Wolfe as he wiped them with the end of his tie. “Deputy Ryan, all I can tell you is we received the proper paperwork to release Benson into the custody of the attorney for the Department of Justice.”

  “Did you confirm her identity?”