Keep (A Gentry Novella) (Gentry Generations Book 3)

by Cora Brent

  Chase Gentry would probably be home unless he was teaching summer school. We hadn’t spoken since my wedding, unless you count the brief condolences he offered at Hale’s funeral. Chase had been my friend and mentor long before I met Cami. He was the kind of teacher that kids remembered when they became adults and got to thinking about the people who’d helped steer them toward the right path. I’d seen him with his own boys many times and admired the relationship they had, the kind I wished I’d had with my own father.

  I stared at his name for a moment then slowly put the phone back in my pocket. I was sure I owed him a call, if for no other reason than to break the ice and reassure him that I didn’t bear any grudge against Derek. I truly didn’t want Chase’s son to go to prison. That wouldn’t bring Hale back. And I was concerned that young Thomas had stopped coming to the field. But the fact remained that I had a few things of my own to sort out before I could do any good elsewhere.

  First and foremost, I had to figure out who the hell my brother had been.

  With that in mind I snatched my keys, locked up and drove straight to Hale’s apartment. Cami had called the landlord already and was told the apartment was paid up through the end of the month so I’d put off the task of figuring out what to do with Hale’s belongings.

  Typically Hale preferred to visit me at my place so I’d only been to his south Phoenix apartment once though he’d lived there for over a year. The building was within sight of the interstate, a small brick complex with faded turquoise accents. It looked like it hadn’t been updated in forty years. The office was little more than a closet with an unoccupied desk strewn with potato chip crumbs and a tarnished silver bell. A television echoed from somewhere, one of the Star Wars movies from the sound of it. I rang the bell and waited for someone to materialize.

  After a series of slow shuffles accompanied by grunts and a single fart blast, a squat figure in the shape of a man appeared and limped over to the desk. A few strands of greasy hair were combed across his pink scalp and his features resembled a half melted clay doll but when he spoke his voice was clear and cheerful.

  “Yes sir, can I help you?”

  “I hope so. You might have spoken to my wife a few days ago. I’m Dalton Tremaine. My brother was-“

  “Hale,” he finished with a sad nod, the cheer gone from his voice. “So you’re Hale’s brother. The baseball player, right?”

  “Used to be.”

  The man clucked to himself. “I was damn sorry to hear about what happened. Hale was a character. Always made me laugh whenever he stopped by. After I got my knee replaced six months back I couldn’t get around so good. Hale would come by with groceries twice a week and I never even asked him to. He just did it because he was that kind of guy.” He extended a hand. “I’m Phil by the way.”

  I shook his hand and didn’t even mind the sweaty palm. “Good to meet you.”

  Phil opened the top drawer of the messy desk and it sounded like he was sorting through a pile of nails. They weren’t nails though. They were keys. He found the one he wanted and held it up.

  “I suppose you want to get inside his place?”

  “I would, if that’s all right.”

  “I don’t see why not. You were the only family he ever talked about and I’m guessing the cops already found or didn’t find whatever they were looking for.”

  “The cops? They searched Hale’s apartment already?”

  “Yeah, I wasn’t here. My cousin’s kid works the desk part time and he’s about as sharp as cotton. Day before yesterday he mentions he found some dude trying to work the lock on Hale’s place. Man says he’s an undercover cop and my cousin’s damn kid goes and gets him the key. So I ask him, did you see a badge or a warrant or anything and he just looked at me like I was talking Russian and shrugged.”

  He tossed me the key. “You feel free to go take a look. They fucked everything up pretty good. Furniture’s pretty well ruined but that would have stayed with the building anyway. Take your time and let me know if I can help you carry anything out.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Number two oh eight, right?”

  Phil nodded and lowered himself into the desk chair, which looked inadequate for the task. “You got it.”

  I thanked Phil again and headed for the stairs up to Hale’s apartment while thinking about what the man had said. I was bothered, partly by the idea that someone who may or may not have been a cop had already searched my brother’s apartment, but mostly because of the way Phil had described Hale. How could a man extend such kindness to his disabled landlord one day and participate in condemning young women to a life of miserable violence the next? It was enough to chill the blood, the concept that anyone might be so duplicitous.

  No, it couldn’t be true. And somewhere there had to be proof. I just had to find it.

  Indeed Hale’s place had been ransacked. He didn’t have a habit of acquiring and keeping possessions in the first place, preferring a nomadic existence for much of his adult life. But his clothes had been dumped out of the drawers, the bed sheets pulled off, the brown sofa cushions ripped open. All in all, it looked like a few wolverines had been set loose inside to have a tempter tantrum. There were a few papers on the floor beside the bedroom dresser and I crouched down to examine them. There was nothing noteworthy, some bank statement pages that didn’t include critical information, a menu from a local Mexican restaurant and a Circle K receipt for a bottle of tequila.

  A sudden chill traveled up my spine. It was probably just a side effect of being here, like a piece of my soul sensed Hale looking over my shoulder.

  Something under the dresser caught my eye and I pulled the object out. It wouldn’t have captured the interest of anyone who’d been here searching for money or drugs or incriminating evidence. It was just an old picture cased on one of those cheap metallic frames that are sold in drugstores for ninety nine cents.

  “I don’t have any friends there.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “That’s different. You’re my brother.”

  “Yeah, I’m your brother. That’s why I’ll punch anyone who messes with you, Dalton. Now quit dragging your feet. We’ll be late.”

  We’d just moved to a new neighborhood and I was starting second grade. Hale would be at the same school but worlds away with the big kids. Our mother snapped this picture in the front yard before we walked the three blocks to our new school. We wore new sneakers and wide smiles, probably under our mother’s orders, and Hale’s arm was draped over my thin shoulders. We’d scuffle on occasion like all brothers did but at age seven I wanted to be just like him.

  That long ago morning when two little boys stood grinning in the front yard on the first day of school was unreachable now. I remembered this picture but I never had a copy of my own. Today it wound up being the only thing I took from Hale’s apartment. I told Phil I’d arrange for the rest of Hale’s possessions to be boxed up and donated to charity. He gave me another sweaty handshake and repeated his sorrow over Hale’s death.

  I was hoping to get a call back from Andy but I still hadn’t heard anything so I opted to go to work and try to have a normal day, assuming there were no repeat visits from John Jones or any of his unnamed associates.

  Being on the field always got my head back in order. I decided to leave the tedium of being at my desk and helped out the coaching staff instead. The kids were all eager to show me what they could do and I heaped praise on them, gently pointing out a few adjustments on batting stances and clapping the loudest when they produced results. When I saw a kid’s face light up in awe as he admired a homerun ball go sailing over the fences I could almost forget there was anything wrong in the world.

  Almost.

  “Good night, Dalton,” said Alma as I passed her in the hallway en route to my office. She was fishing her keys out of her purse and stopped. “Oh, there was a package for you.”

  “A package?”

  “Yup. It actually arrived hours ago but I didn’t wan
t to disturb you while you were coaching so I just accepted it from the delivery guy and left it on your desk.”

  “Thanks, Alma. Have a good one.”

  “You too.”

  The square box looked ordinary and sat in the middle of my desk. I didn’t regard it with any wariness until I saw there was no return address label. And evidently no postage either. Whoever had delivered it worked for someone other than the post office.

  I picked the thing up and shook it gently. The contents were light and didn’t feel dangerous. Still, I proceeded with caution as I used a scissors to slice through the packaging tape.

  Inside were about a thousand of those Styrofoam packing peanuts, a loose collection of fake Monopoly money and a newspaper. None of it made any sense to me until I picked up the paper and saw it was the Sun Republic, the newspaper Cami worked for. And the page was folded on a short article she had written about illegal gambling rings being busted at the university.

  There was no explicit threat but whoever had sent this wanted me to understand they knew exactly where to find my wife. I remembered the way John Jones had touched Cami’s picture and grinned. This wasn’t just a prank. It was a warning.

  My heart was in my throat as I snatched my phone. It felt like a year passed before she answered on the third ring.

  “Hey,” Cami said in a breathless voice. “I was just about to call you. I need to go into a press conference in a few minutes. One of the light rail trains derailed by the ballpark and two pedestrians are in critical condition so my team is working late to get the story ready. I probably won’t be home before ten.”

  “Where are you?” I demanded.

  “I’m standing right outside a conference room at the Marriot.”

  “And there’s people around?”

  “Of course. I just told you there’s about to be a press conference so there are cops and reporters all over the place.”

  “Okay.” I exhaled with relief. “Don’t go anywhere alone. Even if you just need to go to the restroom, get security to escort you.”

  “Dalton.” She was concerned now. “Why? What’s going on?”

  I filled her in on the details of the mystery package.

  “I haven’t counted the fake money yet,” I added, “but I’m guessing it adds up to the forty thousand Hale supposedly owed.”

  “Shit,” she said. “I should come home.”

  “You’re probably safer downtown in a sea of police than anywhere else right now.”

  “And what about you?”

  I tossed one of the spilled peanuts back into the box and tried to make a bad joke. “I’m a little hungry but other than that I’m fine.”

  “Dalton, you need to take this seriously.”

  “Trust me, I am taking it seriously.”

  There was a surge of noise on Cami’s end, the babble of many voices.

  “Damn it, the press conference is starting,” she said.

  My phone buzzed. I glanced at it long enough to see Andy had finally responded with a text asking me to meet him.

  “Go to the press conference,” I told Cami. “I’m not sure what to make of this yet. Just promise me you’ll stay around people at all times tonight, just in case.”

  “Dalton, I don’t like this.”

  “I don’t like it either. Promise me, Cami.”

  “All right,” she agreed. “But only if you make me a promise too.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Promise you won’t go anywhere alone until we get this figured out.”

  “Fine. I’ll catch up with Alma and ask her to protect me.”

  “Dalton!”

  “I’m not kidding. The purse she lugs around must weigh twenty pounds and could do some serious damage to a pair of kneecaps.”

  “Promise me,” she insisted.

  “I promise. Look, Andy just texted. He wants to meet.”

  “Don’t go alone.”

  “He’s my friend and he’s a cop, Cami.”

  “You promised.”

  “Okay,” I relented. “I won’t go alone.”

  She sighed. “I love you.”

  “Love you too,” I said in return and waited until I heard the connection click off on her end.

  Andy was probably waiting for my response. I was too keyed up to text back and forth right now so I dialed him directly.

  “Dalton,” he said. “Did you get my message?”

  “I got it.”

  “I’m sorry I took so long to get back to you. It’s been a hell of a long day.”

  “Andy, things have escalated.” My fists clenched. “They’re threatening my wife.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I told him about the package but before I was finished he cut me off.

  “Dumb stunt. Don’t even worry about it.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  Andy actually sounded smug. “Because these people have got much bigger fucking problems now.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  Andy lowered his voice. “Look, I’m at the station and can’t give out too many details right now but the guy who showed up at your place the other day is named Frank Bruno. He’s being arrested outside one of his tanning salons as we speak. You can rest assured all his associates will be following him.”

  I allowed the new development to sink in. “Is that why you wanted to meet?”

  “No. At least that’s not the whole reason.”

  “Does the rest of the reason have something to do with Hale?”

  “Yes.” My old friend paused. We used to play ball together in college. He was a fine player but his heart was never in baseball. He’d always dreamed of being a police officer. “Dalton, there’s some information about Hale you need to hear. I wanted to meet because I think you deserve to hear it in person.”

  That didn’t sound good.

  “Oh,” I said, feeling sick and suddenly unsure whether I really wanted to hear Andy’s news in person or any other way.

  “Can you meet me at Baseline Diner in an hour?”

  I cleared my throat. “Yeah, I can do that.”

  After Andy hung up I drummed my fingers on my desk. I could hear the echoes from the batting cages as the last players got in a few more swings before closing. On my desk was the small faded photo I’d retrieved from Hale’s apartment earlier. I’d been afraid to leave it in my car all day in the heat so I brought it in here and left it beside Cami’s picture.

  The kids in the old photo beamed at me, never guessing what the years ahead would bring. I set the picture back on the desk and checked my watch. Baseline Diner was only a twenty minute drive so there was plenty of time before I had to meet Andy.

  Except I’d made a promise to Cami that I wouldn’t go alone. I didn’t believe there was any danger, certainly not from Andy, but a man should never break a promise to his wife. There was a small problem there. I had no shortage of friends but when I ran through a mental inventory I couldn’t think of one I’d call in a situation like this.

  “Hey buddy, would you mind standing by me while I get a rundown of my brother’s criminal activities and figure out whether I need to worry about some gangsters?”

  Yeah, no names came to mind for a chore like that. Except one. He didn’t sound surprised to hear from me.

  “Remember when you said all I had to do was ask if I needed you?” I said.

  “I remember.”

  “Well, I’m asking.”

  Curtis didn’t hesitate. “Tell me where to be and I’ll be there.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Curtis

  I poked my head into Cord’s office. “You need me for anything else tonight?”

  He looked up from the sketch he’d been working on. “Damn, is it really after six already?”

  “Unless all the clocks are lying.”

  He tossed his charcoal pencil on the desk and stretched with a wince. “Lost track of time.”

  Cord was forever an artist at heart and whenever his crea
tive instincts took over the rest of the world kind of faded away.

  “So it’s all right if I take off?” I pressed.

  “Sure. Did I tell you Deck’s planning to be back on Monday?”

  “Yeah. I’ve missed his ugly mug. Seriously though, I’m really happy Izzy’s home and doing well.”

  “As are we all.” Cord picked up his pencil again and twirled it between his fingers. “You and Cassie have plans tonight?”

  “No, she’s got a class this evening. And Breck’s hanging out with some friends.” I paused. “I need to ask you, do you think it would be weird if I stopped by Chase’s house?”

  “Why would it be weird?”

  “I know they’re going through some serious shit right now. But they’ve always been so good to Brecken. I thought maybe I could talk to Derek, tell him I know what it’s like to fuck up in life.”

  Cord nodded thoughtfully. “I think that would be a good thing to do.”

  After a moment he noticed that I hadn’t moved from the door. “Is there something else you wanted to say, Curtis?”

  There was. The same thing that had been bothering me since the accident.

  “You might have heard this already but I caught Derek hiding out and drinking at the wedding. I could have stopped the accident from happening if I’d followed up to make sure he didn’t get behind the wheel.”

  Cord stopped twirling his pencil. “My nephew’s not a child. I love Derek and I constantly pray that he won’t have to go to prison but he’s got to live with the consequences of his choices.”

  “I know. But I feel responsible somehow anyway.”

  Cord was already shaking his head. “Don’t beat yourself up. Because if you’re responsible then we all are.” He gave me a hard look. “We can’t always save people from themselves no matter how hard we try. You know that.”

  I got the feeling he was talking about Tristan. Cord knew the whole story. He was telling me I needed to quit blaming myself for the path Tristan had chosen.

  “I do know that,” I said. “But nothing will ever stop us from trying, will it?”

  Cord gave me a sympathetic smile. “No, I don’t suppose it will ever stop us from trying.”