Captain's Mission

by Debby Giusti

  Rounding his desk to give her a hug of thanks, his eyes glanced once again at the invitation list. “Mrs. Meyers, when you were at the live-fire demonstration, did you happen to see a teenage boy—”

  She held up her hand. “I couldn’t make it at the last minute. Our daughter had planned to go with me so I told her to invite one of her friends. She took a young man she’s been dating.”

  Phil stopped chewing.

  Mrs. Meyers glanced from Phil to her husband, who now stood in the doorway. “I hope that was okay. I didn’t call battalion headquarters to tell them about the change.”

  Phil stepped closer. “No, no. That was fine. Not a problem. Tell me about this young man.”

  Mrs. Meyers looked embarrassed. “She met him last year. His dad lived in the Hunter Housing Area on post. His parents are divorced so he spends most of the year up north with his mom. He came down for a few days.” Mrs. Meyers shrugged. “I thought it would be okay if he took my spot.”

  “What’s your daughter’s full name?”

  “Marie Madison, but why—”

  “And her boyfriend is Kyle Foglio?”

  Her eyes opened in surprise. “Why, yes. Do you know him?”

  Phil didn’t want to alarm Mrs. Meyers, but he doubted whether she or her husband realized their daughter might be in danger.

  “Would you mind if I talk to your daughter?” Phil asked the first sergeant. “I’d like to ask her a few questions.”

  “She’s in the car outside,” Mrs. Meyers said. The first sergeant left the office and returned with a pretty girl in tow. Marie had long brown hair and big eyes. She looked quizzically from her parents to Phil.

  He would have a talk with the first sergeant later about keeping his daughter away from Kyle, but right now, Phil needed answers. He explained briefly that Kyle could be involved in something criminal.

  “Oh, no,” Mrs. Meyers moaned.

  Phil turned to the girl. “When was the last time you saw Kyle?”

  “A couple days ago. We met in town.”

  “Did he tell you where he was staying?”

  “No, sir.” Her response had come too quickly, and the hint of pink that colored her cheeks told more than her answer.

  Phil glanced at the first sergeant, who understood the silent message Phil was trying to send.

  “Marie Madison, you tell the truth to the captain.”

  She lowered her gaze and tapped her foot against the floor. When she looked up, her eyes were wide and the color had left her cheeks. “Actually he’s been camping in the woods. At first, he stayed in an old trailer, but he said people kept stopping by to check it out. He was afraid he’d be sent back to his mother if they found him there.”

  “Did you see any cuts or scratches on his arms?”

  She nodded. “He was helping his Aunt Lola with her roosters.”

  “His aunt?”

  Madison nodded. “His mom doesn’t want him around. She’s got a job and works nights. Kyle’s always alone. When he asks her to find a new job so they can be together after school, she gets mad. When she threw him out of the house this time, he came to see Lola.”

  Whether that was true or something Kyle had made up to garner sympathy from Marie was hard to say. “Why doesn’t Kyle stay with his aunt?”

  “He doesn’t like her boyfriend.”

  “You mean her husband?”

  The girl shook her head. “No, the husband was nice to Kyle.”

  Phil’s neck tingled. “Did he mention the boyfriend’s name?”

  “Only that he was in the army.”

  “Sir,” the first sergeant stepped forward. “Does this have anything to do with Corporal Taylor’s death?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out. Did Kyle ever mention a CID agent named Kelly McQueen?”

  Marie shook her head. “No, sir.”

  “If you hear from Kyle, would you let him know I’d like to talk to him?”

  “Is he in trouble?”

  Phil didn’t want to lie to the teen. “He’ll be in more trouble if he doesn’t come forward. You let your dad know if Kyle contacts you.”

  Glancing up at the sergeant he added, “Call me if he comes around. I need to talk to him, and the local authorities will want to, as well.”

  “I don’t want him to get hurt,” Marie said.

  “Of course you don’t. The best thing is for Kyle to be truthful, just as you have been.”

  The first sergeant walked his wife and daughter to their car while Phil called Officer Simpson and relayed what he had learned about Kyle and Lola Taylor.

  He also left a message for Jamison. “I’m heading back to Freemont to search for Kelly. I’ll stop at her house in case she returned home. When I find her, I’ll bring her back to post. With Kyle Foglio still on the loose, it’s too dangerous for Kelly to stay at her house tonight, even though she thinks she’s safe there.”

  The traffic to get off post had backed up and cars were inching past the main gate. Phil drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and stared ahead, his mind on what Marie had revealed.

  Kelly may have been right about Lola after all. Cockfighting was a nasty business, and the betting and rowdy gatherings spelled trouble and were against the law. Lola could be making a little extra money on the side.

  Had her husband been involved? Or her boyfriend?

  He thought back to Lola’s reticence the night of her husband’s death. If she had been expecting someone, no wonder she had hurried them out of the house.

  When Phil had gone back later, he’d seen the light-colored pickup with the unit decal on the rear bumper and had thought one of the wives was comforting the grieving widow.

  He shook his head in disgust. More than likely, Lola was being comforted by the boyfriend. Phil’s neck tingled. If the boyfriend was in the company, he had a motive for killing Corporal Taylor.

  Irritated by the traffic, Phil stretched to determine what the holdup was. His gaze fell on a pickup truck three vehicles ahead of him.

  He couldn’t see the driver because of the tinted windows, but the pickup was light beige with big tires and spiked spokes. A Ford 4x4 Dually Extended Cab with Sprewell rims, a souped-up special model, probably one of a kind, at least in this area. But what caught his eye was the unit decal on the right rear bumper. The truck was identical to the one that had visited Lola’s farmhouse the night of the live-fire mission.

  The 4x4 left post and headed north along the Freemont Road. Phil followed at a distance. He wanted to see where the truck went and who was behind the wheel. Then he’d have information Kelly would want for her investigation. Maybe then, she’d answer his call.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Kelly slipped into the sweatshirt and pulled the hood up around her head. Luckily, the baggy fleece covered the gun on her hip. The sun was low on the horizon but still shining, which gave her a reason to wear the sunglasses.

  Some of the people set up campsites while a few men cleared leaves and debris from the center area and dug a shallow pit. Lawn chairs and coolers were positioned nearby, probably in anticipation of whatever would occur later in the evening.

  The crowd was a rough mix of big burly guys in baseball caps and flannel shirts and lean, wiry dudes with weatherworn faces and narrow eyes. Kelly noted a few cages on the backside of the clearing. Each contained a gamecock.

  She spied Lola’s pickup and camper in the rear of the campsite near the wooded area. As she watched, Lola came out of the trailer and was approached by three men, all over six feet tall with wide torsos and thick necks. They were dressed in flannel shirts, jeans and work boots with baseball caps tugged low over their foreheads.

  Pulling out her phone, Kelly activated the camera and snapped pictures of the group. Once she was in range, she would send the photos to the local authorities to see if they could identify the men. She also wanted the photos of Lola Taylor as proof that Corporal Taylor’s widow was doing more than grieving for her husband.

  Lola pa
ssed a small plastic bag to the one of the men. He drew money from his wallet and shoved a wad of bills into her hands, which Kelly caught on the video setting of her phone.

  Probably the oxycodone prescribed for Mildred.

  But Kelly had to be sure.

  She sidled up to a man who poured charcoal into his portable grill. “What time’s dinner?”

  He chuckled, a flicker of interest in his gaze. “As soon as the wife arrives with the beer and burgers.”

  Subtle way to let her know he was married. Kelly nodded toward Lola and her friends. “Anything going on around here?”

  He picked up on her inference. “Angel dust, Barbies, jay smoke or coke?”

  “What about O.C.’s?”

  The guy threw a match on the coals, which ignited into a blaze. Kelly held her breath. Maybe she’d said too much.

  Finally, he stepped back from the flames, but his eyes remained on his grill. “See Lola. She’s got oxycodone. People say it’s good. Not that I’d know.”

  “Who are her friends?” Kelly fixed her gaze on the three men still talking to Lola.

  “The biggest guy’s Jake. He’s a mean varmint. Better to stay away from him. He and the other two big boys run the fights. Lola’s part of the operation. Her husband was as well, but from what I hear, he passed on a few days ago.”

  “She doesn’t look too upset.”

  He eyed Lola and shrugged. “You want me to introduce you?”

  She shook her head. “I think we’ve already met.”

  Hearing the crunch of tires over the dead leaves, Kelly turned as a minivan braked to a stop. A woman with bleached hair and raised brows stared at Kelly. The look on her face said Don’t Mess With My Man.

  “Appreciate your help.” Kelly turned and walked into the growing crowd of people, hoping to distance herself from the jealous wife.

  The stranger with the grill had provided enough information for Kelly to know her gut feeling was right on target. As much as she wanted to arrest Lola and her friends, doing so at this point would be foolish.

  Instead, Kelly needed to head back down the hill to Pine Gate Landing. Hopefully, the police chief would be interested in what was happening at the remote campsite.

  She cut through the trailers to where she had parked her Corolla. Opening the driver’s door, Kelly tossed her cell on the consul and started to slide onto the seat. The sound of footsteps caused her to turn. One of the boys in flannel stood next to Lola Taylor.

  “Agent McQueen, what brings you to this neck of the woods?” the not-so-grieving widow asked.

  Kelly dropped her keys and reached for her gun. Before she could withdraw her weapon, a second man put his arm around her throat.

  Kelly dug her fingernails into his flesh, needing to break his hold. She couldn’t breath.

  Lola opened her mouth and laughed, but Kelly couldn’t hear anything except the roar in her ears.

  She kicked her feet and attempted to free herself.

  The pressure around her neck increased until Lola’s face disappeared. Kelly gasped for air and everything went black.

  Phil followed the extended-cab pickup, hanging back far enough not to be seen. At least that’s what he hoped. Maybe he was crazy, but Kelly had talked about gut feelings she needed to follow, which was exactly what Phil was doing. If she wasn’t interested in talking to him, then his only recourse was to determine who had stopped by the Taylor farmhouse the night the corporal had died.

  He called Jamison and left a message, describing the truck and the road he was on. Before he hung up, Phil added, “If you see Kelly, tell her to call me.”

  When Phil disconnected, he was overcome with frustration. More than likely he was on a wild goose chase, but he’d do anything to get to the bottom of the investigation and to be able to talk to Kelly again.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Kelly moaned. Her head throbbed as she floated in and out of consciousness. Someone was talking. A male voice.

  “We’ve got to get rid of her, Lola.”

  “Later, Jake.”

  “I told you to be careful. Then that so-called boyfriend of yours killed Rick.”

  “He had the opportunity and took it, which works to our advantage. Rick found out I was selling his mother’s drugs and was ready to turn me in.”

  “So you conned that army guy into killing him?”

  She chuckled. “I mentioned the insurance and the sweet deal from the housing developer. When the stupid private handed him a rifle, he thought it was fate.”

  “Fate? More like he wants to have you to himself, Lola.”

  “Now, Jake, you’re not getting jealous, are you?”

  “You know how I feel, baby.”

  “And I’ve told you we need to bide our time.”

  “I can get rid of him, then it’ll just be you and me.”

  “First, we have to take care of the agent.”

  “No one will find her when I get finished with her.”

  Kelly blinked her eyes open. Was she dreaming or had she really heard voices?

  The muscles in her neck screamed for attention and her throat was dry as cardboard. She needed water and a good massage.

  At least she wasn’t dead. Her last thought before she’d blacked out had been about making right with the Lord. Evidently He’d given her a second chance.

  Her hands were tied in front of her, and she was lying on a bed with rumpled sheets and a flowered comforter. She glanced at knotty pine paneling in the small travel trailer and the window directly above her head.

  The voices came again. “Where’s that oxycodone?”

  “You can’t mix pills, Jake. You’ve had enough.”

  “Come on, baby.”

  From the sounds in the next room, Lola and Jake would be occupied for a while.

  Easing off the bed, Kelly stood. Her head pounded, and her blood pressure took a dive. She leaned against the wall until her equilibrium stabilized.

  The window was open, letting in fresh air that helped to clear her foggy head. If she could get outside, she’d be able to escape.

  Kelly pushed both hands against the screen until it jiggled free and fell noisily to the ground. She held her breath. Lola’s playful laughter sent a wave of relief coursing through Kelly.

  She crawled onto the bed and glanced outside into the night. Drop and roll might work. If only her hands were free. Kelly lifted one leg and then the other, holding on to the upper window casing for support as she shimmied her trunk through the narrow opening.

  “Augh!” She landed on her bad leg, which crumpled beneath her. Her hands hit the hard Georgia clay, and she gasped as pain jarred her to the core.

  Rising from the dirt, Kelly steadied herself against the side of the trailer, unsure if her leg would hold. Gingerly, she took one step and then another.

  A sharp piece of metal scraped her hand. Looking down, she saw the siding had pulled away from the edge of the trailer.

  A sense of triumph swept over her. Someone’s fender bender would provide a way to cut the rope that held her bound. Kelly rubbed the hemp back and forth over the sharp edge until it split in two, freeing her hands. Massaging her wrists, she heard a swell of voices and peered around the corner of the trailer, surprised by the number of people who had gathered around the makeshift pit.

  Some stood, while others lounged in folding chairs. Amber bottles were passed from mouth to mouth, and a growing pile of discarded beer cans littered the ground. The bright lights from a few pickups illuminated the pit area where two gamecocks flew at each other. Their sharp talons and the knife gaffs attached to their legs drew blood. The crowd egged the cocks on with their hoots and catcalls. Money exchanged hands as bets were placed on which bird would survive the fight to the death.

  Pulling the hood of the sweatshirt around her face, Kelly wove her way around the back of the onlookers. She had dropped her car keys on the floorboard of her Corolla when she had reached for her gun earlier. If she could find the keys, she’d be able
to drive to Pine Gate Landing and notify the authorities.

  Before she cleared the throng of people, a hand clamped down on her arm.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  She turned, recognizing the voice.

  “Kyle Foglio, I knew you were involved.”

  The souped-up pickup turned onto a side road that wove in front of a gas station and then headed into a densely forested, hilly area. Phil was beginning to think the guy had spotted him and was setting him up for an ambush.

  Ready to turn around, Phil changed his mind when the pickup pulled into a clearing where trucks and travel trailers circled a campsite. The center of the area was lit by the headlights of a number of vehicles and revealed a crowd of people who concentrated their attention on the center of the ring.

  Phil’s stomach dropped. From the raucous sounds of the crowd, he had a hunch it involved gamecocks and illegal betting.

  The beige pickup came to a stop. Phil parked farther back in a thickly wooded area and watched from afar as the driver stepped from the truck, still in uniform, just as Phil was.

  Reaching into his glove compartment, he pulled out his binoculars, raised them to his eyes and whistled. “How about that?”

  As he watched, Staff Sergeant Greg Gates—Private Stanley’s squad leader—met up with a woman on the steps of a distant trailer. Phil adjusted the oculars until Lola Taylor came into view. From the way Gates draped his arm around her shoulder, more than just friendship was involved.

  Phil focused on the crowd to see if he recognized anyone else. A cold chill swept over him. A young kid with tattoos and a number of piercings stood in the midst of the throng. Kyle Foglio?

  In his hands, he held a gun aimed at Kelly.

  Kelly tried to jerk her arm free from Kyle’s hold, but he had brandished her own Sig Sauer and shoved it into her side.

  “Did Lola give you my gun? You’ve been working with her, haven’t you, Kyle?”

  “She’s helping me.”

  “Helping you get into trouble that could send you to jail for life. Did Lola tell you to break into my garage?”