The Case

by Lee Cunningham

  He had known that, eventually Shane would leave his car, and he would have a chance to place the card. He ran to Shane’s car to leave the note on the windshield. It had been raining lightly, but the card would hold up. Then, he had run down the block, away from the compound, and jumped back yard fences to get back to the doctor’s house undiscovered.

  Heath had turned to look back at the compound, just in time to see Shane jump off the balcony and into the tree. He watched as Shane vaulted the fence into the neighbor’s yard, and walked toward his car. He had seen Shane limping. He had watched Shane take the note off the car windshield. He hoped the warning would keep Shane from coming back into the compound, or making the meeting that would be scheduled the following Friday, for the sole purpose of killing Shane.

  But after Shane drove off, the guards did their patrol rounds, and Big John discovered the dogs had been drugged. He was furious, and vowed loudly to, “kill the son-of-a-bitch responsible.” Heath heard Big John say he would only kill the guy after he made him wish he had never been born. Big John had yelled at two of the guards in the house, and ordered them to post more guards outside each night to wait for the intruder, so they could capture him.

  Heath had no way of knowing Shane would likely not enter the compound again, as he didn’t know Shane had planted cameras and bugs in the compound. An hour later, Big John came out to check a noise that Heath had made with a clicker. And Heath was waiting for him. He had placed a bullet from his 22-250 into Big John’s fat head, using the same scoped and silenced rifle he had practiced with for years. It had been a gift from his own father, and the one and only thing he had never sold, or pawned, for meth. Now he knew why.

  Heath had made extremely accurate shots at various distances, and had been practicing in the desert, not far from Carson City. He had also practiced night shooting, to make sure he didn’t miss if he had to shoot someone. Not that he would miss, he thought to himself. After all, he was an excellent marksman. Rifle shooting was one of his few passions. It was one thing he was as good at as Shane…maybe even better. And Bobby and Hector had wanted him to practice, so practice he did.

  Heath drove home from his meeting with Bobby, thinking about the irony. He had been paid $40,000 to help protect his crime “family” from an intruder, who turned out to be his own big brother. And now, he was being paid to conduct counter surveillance for Big John’s murderer, who was still on the loose…and he was the shooter! He laughed nervously to himself at the weird incongruity of his situation.

  Yet he knew that if the Magadinnos ever found out, they would torture him, before they killed him. He knew if that happened, he would feel pain like he had never felt it before. He also knew he wouldn’t do well with a great deal of pain. He wasn’t as tough as Shane. But he was in too deeply now to quit. He had been needed by his big brother, maybe for the first time. And it was a life and death situation, possibly for both of them...and for Heath’s daughters.

  He recalled that after he shot Big John, Bobby had confided in Heath that the family had planned on killing the cop for some time. They had never seen him, but their informant told them he was out there, conducting the investigation. They planned to wait until they had received all the information about the investigation, and the cop’s real identity, from their informant before they kidnapped and killed him. Now, because Big John was dead, and the information had not yet been received, the family felt that time was running out, and they had no choice. They had to do damage control.

  Franky had pressured their “pocket politician,” the Undersheriff, to set Shane up for the kill. Bobby said the family had brought in a specialist, a trained sniper, an ex-Bosnian military assassin, to kill the cop and the Undersheriff. The hitman would then plant some guns and make it look like a shootout between the victims. They thought it would be the perfect cover.

  The Undersheriff was a dirty cop, anyway, Bobby had laughed, and he was holding back on information. Franky and Hector didn’t know why he wouldn’t tell them everything, and that made them both nervous. Bobby told Heath when and where the hit was planned, and told Heath not to go sightseeing in the area that day.

  But again, Heath couldn’t let his brother die. Shane had always been there for him. Heath really did love his family. So, he got to the meet location at daybreak, hours early, and waited for the sniper to show up. Once he watched the hitman get into position, it had taken Heath two more hours to crawl, undetected, to the exact location needed for him to make the shot. But then the hitman laid down, out of sight. Heath had been forced to wait for the meet to take place and the sniper to get up into shooting position again. And, he had to accomplish this without being seen by the other surveillance teams he had watched move in to place, that he knew had to be with Shane.

  Heath had chosen an exit path to get back to his truck before anyone else could detect him. He knew no one could beat him to his truck, once he made the shot. It was parked on another highway, up on the mountain overlooking the little valley he had used on entry. He figured Shane would bring some backup, but he didn’t expect two rifle teams. Heath had to reposition himself slightly to be out of their visual range, so they couldn’t recognize him or photograph him after he shot, and before he turned to run away. And he had to watch these teams to make sure they were with Shane. Even with all his precautions, it screwed his plan up enough that he couldn’t prevent being seen as he escaped.

  Heath had made the shot just in time, when the hitman popped up, but before he acquired his target…and at a distance of almost 775 yards. Heath immediately took off running uphill, and escaped, as planned, without being stopped. He knew the two rifle teams had seen him as he ran, but he also knew he posed no threat to anyone, and that they were busy tracking Shane, the Undersheriff and the downed sniper. He doubted they would shoot him for saving Shane.

  Heath had now spoiled Hector and Franky’s plans twice. He knew he couldn’t keep this up for long, without being discovered. He just wanted to leave now, and go back to Sacramento. But now he couldn’t leave. He had to stay, watch, and listen, and protect his brother. Shane had not heeded his warning, and had kept the meeting. So, Heath knew he would be out there again tonight, and the next night, sitting in the doctor’s house, watching and waiting, and hoping it would all be over soon.

  He just didn’t know how to end it. He still couldn’t tell Shane anything, especially now that he had killed two men. But he also knew he couldn’t stop, not until Shane left the assignment and was safely gone from this mess. He had to think of a plan to end it, and soon.

  Heath arrived back at his motel, glad the meeting with Bobby was over. He hadn’t slept much, and he was so tired he felt drugged. He crawled back into bed. Maybe he could get some sleep before nightfall…he hoped. Maybe he could figure out a way to get out of this alive. But now he had killed two people…two murderers.

  Oddly, Heath felt the world was a better, safer place without either of these killers alive. Maybe he was doing the right thing for a change. Maybe he really could be “the man” someday, the good man, like his brother. He felt a strange peace come over him. He wondered if it was the same peace someone would have felt had they killed Adolf Hitler, before he started a war, killing millions of soldiers, and then exterminated millions of innocent civilians.

  Under the covers, Heath finally started to get drowsy. He pulled the covers all the way over his head, feeling his own breath bounce off the sheet and back into his face. The breath was warm, and, in a strange way, he was comforted, just like he had been when he was a kid.

  When Heath was young, Shane always tucked him in at night, and if Heath was scared, his big brother would tell him to pull the covers up over his head, and feel his own breath. Shane said that way, nothing bad could see him, and in the morning, everything would be okay. Heath had fallen asleep then…and he fell asleep now. As he drifted into a hazy fog, his dad said, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”

  “What should
I do now, dad?” Heath pleaded, obviously distressed.

  “Do the right thing, son. You’ll always know in your heart what the right thing to do is…always.” His father placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled at him. He smiled back. Heath loved his dad. He closed his eyes tighter and drifted into a deeper sleep. He would do the right thing. He was strong enough now.

  12

  “In the end it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.

  (Abraham Lincoln)

  Shane was excited, as he ran down the trail from the lake toward the valley of the river. Somehow, he knew, this time, he had to get to camp earlier than he had before, during the first days of the trip. There would be no aerospace tower leaping today. Heath was following him at a respectable distance, and much slower pace. They would take no unnecessary risks now.

  His mom’s anti-swelling and pain relief cocktail, combined with Shane’s all-night care of Heath’s ankle, had worked. The swelling and pain had been diminished. Shane had wrapped Heath’s ankle a dozen times, in a towel he soaked in ice cold river water. Heath was feeling much better, although he still complained that he was stiff. The left ankle appeared normal, save a slight bruising around the ankle ball.

  Shane had worked with Heath, after breakfast, stretching his ankle. And he made sure the supportive wrap he had fashioned from an old T-shirt, was firmly in place. While the two brothers worked on Heath’s ankle, their dad got the fishing gear ready for the hike. The group always fished at the same lake on the first Thursday of each annual trek. It was a two-hour hike to the lake, perched high up in a mountain valley, well above the valley of the river camp.

  Patrick Beckett had watched his sons carefully during the trip. He marveled at how Shane took care of Heath, and, even as a father, he rarely interfered, allowing the bond between the brothers to build. He knew that someday Heath would need Shane, and he wanted both of his sons to know they could depend on each other. Patrick hoped and prayed that Heath would return the love and commitment to Shane, but he worried about Heath’s character. He never stopped hoping, and he prayed that his fears about Heath, were misplaced.

  Heath was young, and Patrick, and his wife, Annie, routinely prayed together each night for both boys to be safe, and to always be there for each other. For Patrick and Annie, family meant everything. They believed that family is forever, and family grows with time, as close friends become family, and are referred to as such. And they believed that no family member should ever be forgotten, used or abused.

  They taught their sons that those close to you should be cared for, nurtured and loved. It was the Beckett way, and Patrick could see it in Shane every single day. Sometimes, he felt there was a glimmer of hope for Heath, too. So, he raised his boys as best he could, and he hoped, and he prayed.

  When the group reached the lake, they had fished in the mid to late morning hours, and then swam in the cold lake water, as the summer sun began to get hot and high, before noon. Then they had eaten their lunch, and relaxed…napping, hiking or fishing again. By 4:00 in the afternoon, the group was on their way back down to camp, with their fish cleaned and ready to be cooked over an open fire. Everyone anticipated the coming dinner of fresh trout, fire roasted potatoes, baked beans and canned fruit.

  All the adults were looking forward to an early meal, a game of cards under campfire and star light, and a “bump” of the scotch Shane had carried to camp in his backpack. Everyone had left to hike back at the same time, except Heath, Hunter and Shane. Heath and Hunter had wanted to swim longer, so Shane remained at the lake to take care of the younger boys. But today, he only delayed an extra half hour for the swim, because today, he was making sure he got a seat next to his dad at the campfire.

  Shane had overheard a conversation between his dad and Hunter’s dad, Kent Murray, while they had all fished at the lake. Shane had been just out of site, sitting behind a boulder on the lake shore. Kent said he was working a case that had begun with information received from a mutual friend of theirs in law enforcement, who was working with a confidential informant, a high-ranking government official.

  The case involved corruption, government contracts, and narcotics trafficking, with a strange twist. Kent had a theory that people in key government positions had set themselves up to take over narcotics trafficking, and cut out the cartels, for two important reasons. He believed the money they made would not only make them rich, but would eventually give them enough control to accomplish their goal…something they referred to as a “primary objective.”

  Shane hadn’t heard the whole conversation, and he didn’t understand it all. Normally, a conversation like this wouldn’t have been a big deal to him. But, Kent had warned Patrick, that the Attorney General’s task force he was overseeing was focusing on many of the same people as the DEA investigation, and there was bound to be some “blowback.”

  Shane remembered that word, “blowback.” He needed to know what the word meant, because Kent told his father that no one was safe from the people involved. Kent had said these people were capable of murder. He said the DEA had recently been ordered to stand down from the investigation. The order had come from the very top of their command structure. Kent said he now feared for Patrick and his family. So today, Shane was going to get his seat at the fire, and make sure his dad told him what it all meant, who these people were, and what he could do to help protect his family.

  The hike back down the trail was faster than the hike up. Still, Shane, Hunter and Heath wouldn’t arrive back until 6:00, and, by then, the view of the sun would be blocked from the valley by the high mountains that surrounded and protected it. A hot, crackling fire would be burning in the large fire pit, and people would already be positioning for seats, depending on the direction of the smoke from the campfire.

  Shane wanted to get there in plenty of time to ask his questions today, so he pressed Heath and Hunter to move faster, as he turned frequently to check their progress, and call back to them. Hunter was right next to Heath, and would help him if his ankle bothered him too much going over some rough terrain. Heath was a tough, wiry, kid.

  Shane knew if Heath worked at it, he could do anything, but he lacked the motivation, the will, and the drive. Hunter didn’t lack any of these things, and he shared a common interest with Shane...he was always to be there to help Heath. And Hunter enjoyed Heath as a friend.

  Almost every day Shane tried to motivate Heath, using stories, history or a life lesson, that demonstrated how much people could accomplish, if they just had the will and commitment…and conversely, how they would likely fail, if they lacked either will, or commitment. Depending on the situation, Heath might lack one or the other, but often pushed himself to please Shane. Today was one of those days. Shane was sure they were going to make it in time.

  By 5:45, the trio had made it to the rock outcropping overlooking the valley of the river. They looked down through the forest into a winding river canyon, guarded by steep, hard-rock walls, that seemed to confine the rushing river, as it continuously pushed back and struggled to be free. In some places, the river was narrow and deep, it’s water rushing fast to get through the small opening. In other spots, the river slowed as the canyon widened, making it possible to walk through it, from side to side, and even float and swim in its lazy, cool pools.

  The camp was set up at the largest and widest pool, a spectacular spot with a large, permanent fire pit. The accompanying tables and chairs, made from logs and planks, had been cut and pieced together by campers from seasons gone by. Each year when they arrived, their group discovered a new addition, left by people they had never met. Unknowingly, all the campers from all the seasons past, had worked collectively, through decades of past springs, summers and falls, to add amenities to a campsite they might never see again. It had become an unwritten tradition to improve the site, and keep it clean.

  As he stood looking down on the sight, waiting for the two younger boys to catch up, Shane suddenly realized that th
ere was no government or organization working here, to supervise a collective group of people to accomplish anything. Yet, people had triumphed, year after year, for generations, working together to improve their special place, without as much as a committee meeting. He was amazed that it could even be possible, when these same people struggled and argued at home, and made little improvement in their collective full-time community lives.

  Heath and Hunter caught up, and Shane pressed on, down the mountain, to the big pool, where they crossed the river’s wide, lazy, shallow spot to their campsite. Half way across, Heath yelled out and pointed to a water snake swimming in the pool between them. Shane just laughed and said, “Buck up, man, it’s only a water snake!”

  Hunter placed a hand on Heath’s shoulder, and spoke something to him that Shane couldn’t hear. Heath rushed ahead, after the snake crossed in front of him, to be closer to his older brother. Hunter ‘stood guard’ between the snake and Heath. When Heath caught up to Shane, he put his hand on Shane’s shoulder, seeming to gain some confidence. He then waited for his friend.

  Arriving at camp, Shane found three of the men already seated at the fire pit. The fire had just been lit, and a lazy drift of smoke worked its way upward and then nowhere, seemingly disinterested in the freedom of direction allowed by the lack of a breeze. Shane asked Hunter and Heath to get cleaned up for dinner. Shane had already bathed in the lake, while Heath and Hunter swam, and he was ready to make his move when his dad returned from their tent.

  Shane walked to the fire, listening to a friendly argument that had erupted over whose fish was heavier. It seemed that length didn’t matter, as only heavier weight was needed to win the bet between these friends. Shane heard his dad walking up behind him, laughing at the group. He said, “Believe it or not, two of you are tied at 2 pounds 7 ounces. Hard to believe, since one fish is 2 inches longer than the other, but I put them on the fish scale twice. Looks like you two big winners have to split the $12 pool today!”