Justice for Aleta

by Deanndra Hall

  The room centered around an island with two bar sinks, multiple pop-up outlets, and a barn wood countertop coated with epoxy glaze resting on black cabinets. Copper-bottom pots hung on a rack above it, with dark bronze pendant lighting suspended here and there. “My gosh, this is beautiful,” Aleta whispered.

  “I thought you might like it. That tile on the backsplash?” he said, pointing to shiny white and robin’s egg blue carved tiles. “My mom made all those. Hand-sculpted the designs after the underglaze was put on, then glazed them. Did some for Amos’s house too, if he ever gets one. Everybody comments on them.”

  “They are amazing. Jack, this is an incredible house. And you’ve lived here alone all this time?”

  “Yeah.” He leaned back against the front of the cabinets and folded his arms across his chest. “Just waiting for somebody to share it with, I guess.”

  “Found anybody?” she asked and sashayed across to him, then leaned against him and ran her finger from his chin down his chest.

  “Looks like it, unless she doesn’t want to be here.”

  “I think she does.” She leaned back and looked up at him. “I heard you turn off the security system.”

  “Yeah. State of the art. When you’re a law enforcement officer, you can’t be too careful. Crazy people you’ve arrested want to find you and beat you up or shoot you.”

  “Nobody’s actually done that, have they?” She seemed alarmed at the prospect.

  “The only one was a guy whose teenage son I’d arrested for drunken driving. He showed up out here a couple of times. I went out with my weapon, told him it wouldn’t have happened if his kid hadn’t been drunk, and that if he came out here again, I was going to have a restraining order filed against him. Never saw him again.”

  “That’s good. So, do you think they can find us out here?”

  “I’m sure if they want to, they can. Right now, I don’t think anybody’s looking for you, but when Menendez’s guys connect the dots, somebody will come sniffing around. You can bet on that.”

  “Would they want to hurt me?”

  Jack shook his head. “No. They want to know who the shooter was, and so far, they don’t have a clue. But that’s going to change, I’m sure. We have to find him before they do, or all hell will break loose. And that’s when you start to become a target for Moss.”

  “Is that his name?” Jack nodded. “So you know him?”

  “My Texas connection does. Knew him just from my verbal description.”

  “Hmmm. How will we know when the cartel finds out?”

  “He’ll let us know. He has guys on the inside.” Jack glanced around. “Want something to drink? I’ve got spring water, and soft drinks, and sweet tea, and wine, and―”

  “Beer?”

  He laughed loudly. “I think we need to slow down a little on the beer! But yes, I always have beer in the fridge. I keep bourbon, rum, and vodka too.” A sound cut through his conversation, and he turned. “Somebody’s outside. Go back to the bedroom and close and lock the door. Now.” He watched as she scampered away, then drew his weapon and moved toward the front door. When he got near, he leaned out slightly in front of the sidelight and breathed a sigh of relief. Throwing the door open, he yelled, “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I got wind of something going on and I want to know what it is. I know it concerns you,” Amos called back, slamming his truck door. “And I want to know why you haven’t told me before now.”

  “Because you’re KDCI.”

  Amos mounted the porch and stood at the doorway. “We’re not the enemy, Jack.”

  “No, but if you take over, I have no control, and I don’t want that.”

  “But if you tell me about it, maybe I can make sure that you keep some control. Fuck it, Jack, I’m your brother. If you want to keep a finger in the pie, I have to trust there’s a good reason.”

  “There is, and her name is Aleta Culp.”

  Amos stood there, mouth agape. “Aleta Culp. The woman whose husband and son―”

  “Yes. One in the same.”

  “What’s she got to do with this?”

  “Way, way too much.”

  Amos cocked a hip. “Are you going to let me come in, or do I have to knock you down and make a run for it?” Jack bowed slightly and swept his arm through the doorway. “Thanks,” Amos mumbled as he stepped inside. As soon as the door closed behind him, Jack set the alarm again and pointed to the living room. Amos sat down and looked up at Jack. “Well? Are you going to tell me or not?”

  “Nope. I’m going to let you read the files and then you can figure it out on your own, I’m sure.” Grabbing his laptop, he logged into the department’s files, pulled up the case, and set it down on the coffee table. “Knock yourself out.” He moved to the head of the hallway. “Babe, you can come out. It’s just my jackass brother.”

  “Wow. Nice introduction there, bro,” Amos muttered as he stared at the computer screen. Aleta appeared at the head of the hallway, and Amos caught her movement. He hopped up from his seat. “Hello. I’m Amos Fletcher, KDCI, and dickhead’s older brother.”

  “Hi. Nice to meet you.” Aleta walked straight up to him and extended her hand, and Jack smiled as Amos took it in his. “I haven’t heard much about you except how you’re KDCI and Jack doesn’t want you mucking around in his investigation.”

  Jack chuckled. “I see your reputation precedes you,” he snorted at his brother.

  “We’re not the bad guys, ma’am.”

  “That’s Aleta. Do you mind if I call you Amos?”

  Amos’s smile was a mile wide. “Nope. That’s perfectly fine. You didn’t tell me she’s beautiful and friendly. So completely opposite from you, punk.”

  “I can hold my own, shithead.”

  “Do you guys always talk to each other like this?” Aleta asked, a smirk on her face.

  “Yep. Always have, always will. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go back to perusing the information my little brother so desperately doesn’t want me to have. Got some Maker’s?”

  Jack snorted again. “Of course. And I suppose you want some?”

  “Just trying to force you to be the hospitable host Mama raised you to be. Run along and get it.”

  “Dear god,” Jack muttered as he headed to the liquor cabinet. “Just let me know if you don’t understand something and I’ll tell you some lie to completely throw you off.”

  “Ah, there’s the cooperative young man I know you are.” Amos went back to the screen and completely ignored the two of them.

  “Um, nice meeting you,” Aleta called out and turned toward the bedroom, but Amos never said a word.

  As soon as he’d delivered an on-the-rocks glass with two fingers of bourbon in it to the coffee table, Jack headed straight for the bedroom. “I’m sorry he was such an ass,” he said, watching Aleta as she found places for her things.

  “What does this mean? Are they getting involved?”

  Jack sat down hard on the edge of the bed and sighed. “Nah. He wouldn’t do that. He doesn’t want to get me in trouble. He just wants to bust my chops and know what’s going on in my life. He cares about me.”

  Aleta huffed a breath out. “Wow. If that’s how he shows you he cares about you, what does he do when he’s mad at you?”

  “You don’t wanna know.” Watching her was becoming one of his favorite pastimes. She was graceful, her movements fluid and soft. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

  There it was―that giggle. “No. But I’m hoping you tell me.”

  “Well, you are. I wish you had some idea how happy I am that you’re here. Finding space for everything?”

  She nodded and smiled. “Yeah. Plenty. It’s like you left space for me, even though you didn’t know I’d be coming.”

  Jack thought about that statement. He’d wanted to get involved with somebody, but Heather’s death had hurt too much. What had he done? He’d gotten involved with a woman somebody was sure to want to
kill. The difference? He couldn’t protect Heather from leukemia. But he could protect Aleta from these guys, or at least die trying. “I didn’t know you were coming, but I was hoping you would. I mean, come along someday.”

  “And here I am.” It was happening again. She was smiling and happy. Jack thought there was nothing more gorgeous than that smile.

  “All done,” a voice called from the front of the house.

  “Thank god. Maybe I can get rid of him now. I’ll be back.” Jack wandered up the hallway and back into the living room. “Done, huh?”

  “Yeah. You’ve got a mess here. So what’s the plan?”

  “There isn’t one. We’re waiting. When the Menendez cartel figures out that she’s alive―”

  “I get the picture. She can ID the hit man. I don’t envy you your position here, little brother.”

  Jack didn’t know what to say. He and Amos had worked together over the years, but this time, he didn’t want anybody to know anything more than they needed to. “I want to remind you, I let you look at the info as my brother, not as a KDCI agent. Do you understand?”

  Amos threw up his hands and stood. “Yeah. I get it. And in this particular instance, I think your instinct to let no more people than necessary know what’s going on is probably spot-on.”

  “Good. Thanks. Your opinion means a lot to me.”

  “And yours to me. If you don’t want anybody else to know, you have a good reason. So are you guarding her, or are you … guarding her?”

  “I think that beating-around-the-bush question is asking if we’re together. The answer is yes.”

  Amos smiled. “It’s about time. I’ve watched you mope around here and I have to say, you need somebody. I know you miss Heather. We all do. She was a part of our family too. But it’s time you found happiness. And for the love of god,” Amos said, pointing above the fireplace, “take that thing down. It gives me the creeps every time I come over here.”

  Jack had to laugh. “Yeah, I apologized to Aleta for it. It’s coming down.”

  “Good. I’m leaving. Let me out, wouldja?”

  “Sure.” When they reached the door, Amos did something very uncharacteristic of him. Turning, he opened his arms and hugged Jack. It startled the younger Fletcher so badly that at first he didn’t return the hug. But when he came to himself, he hugged Amos back. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. If you need me, you know where to find me. And I come with a posse,” Amos said, a twinkle in his eye. “Just say the word.”

  “Will do. See ya.” He turned off the alarm system and let Amos out, then stood in the doorway and watched as his older brother climbed into his truck and rolled away. With the door closed, Jack punched in the code and set the alarm.

  And now they’d wait.

  Jack had only been on the phone for a minute or two, but he could see Aleta pacing in the dining room by the big French doors. “Yeah, I think she’s getting stir crazy.”

  “Just hang in there. If I hear anything, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “I know. Thanks, Dax. It means a lot to me.”

  “You’re welcome. If that were Mack, I’d wish somebody would help me out.”

  “Then remember―I owe you,” Jack promised.

  “Don’t worry. I keep up with my markers! But know this: If anyone shows up there, we’re hoping it’ll be one of my undercovers. He won’t hurt you, but he can’t keep anyone else from doing so, so be very, very careful.”

  “I got it.”

  “Later, Kentucky.”

  The phone went silent and Jack laid it on the shiny countertop. “Sugar, you’re going to wear a hole in the floor.”

  “I can’t help it. Can’t I just go outside? There’s nobody out there.”

  “We don’t know that for sure.”

  “Just out the back door? Please?” He could tell she was suffering, and he hated it.

  What could it hurt? he wondered, then decided. “Let’s walk down to the barn. I need to check on my bike anyway.” His Harley had always been kept in the barn, covered in a tarp. From time to time he went out and started it.

  “You have a bike?”

  “Yeah. Come on. I’ll show you.” Grabbing the keys from the key board by the back door, Jack took Aleta’s hand, punched in the code for the alarm system, and stepped outside. The barn was only about two hundred yards away, and there were trees everywhere. It wasn’t like they were out in the wide open.

  The barn door creaked as he opened it, and he stepped into the darkness. “Come on, babe.”

  “There aren’t mice out here, are there?”

  “Nah. We’ve got some old barn cats around here. They keep the rodents down.” Almost as if cued, a big yellow and white cat stepped out of the shadows and mewed. “See? She’s keeping watch.”

  “Hey, kitty! You’re pretty, aren’t you?” Aleta tried to creep toward the cat, but as soon as she got within five feet of it, the animal spun and disappeared into the shadows again.

  “They’re not really tame. Just here for the mousing.” He threw the tarp back from his bike. Yeah, it looked fine. Key in the ignition, he climbed aboard it, held the throttle in, and kicked it.

  It started right up, and the engine loped loudly. “It’s pretty, but it’s really, really loud,” Aleta shouted over the din, her fingers in her ears.

  “Yeah, it is,” Jack agreed.

  “What?” she yelled back.

  “I said yes! It’s pretty loud!” he shouted back.

  “Uh-huh!”

  He let it run for a bit, then shut it off and pocketed the key. Putting a tarp over a hot engine wouldn’t be smart, so he let it cool for a few minutes while he showed Aleta things in the barn that had belonged to family members. “This was my great-grandfather’s plow.” He pointed to the old contraption, its seat rusted and wheels bent. “It’s a wreck, but I can’t get rid of it.” Turning toward Aleta, he smiled. “I suppose we should go back inside now.”

  “But this is fun! I mean, most people wouldn’t think so, but it seems that way to me.”

  “Still, inside. We’ve been out as long as we can be.” Taking her hand, he headed back to the house, absentmindedly pulling his phone from his pocket. He hit the home button and his heart almost stopped.

  Three calls. From Dax. And a text message. It was only two letters: UC.

  “Come on. We’ve got to get inside now.” Jack took off at a run, almost dragging Aleta behind him, and hit the back porch full stride. When he threw the door open, he knew.

  Someone was in the house.

  Spinning to look at her, he held his finger up to his lips and pointed to the laundry room. In there. Now. Stay there, he mouthed, and he waited until she was in the room and he’d heard the lock engage with a click. Pulling his newly-returned Glock, he made his way silently through the house. The dining room was clear, but when he slid into the living room, he’d barely cleared the door when he felt something against his neck.

  “Don’t move. Now, slowly, put the gun down,” the voice ordered. In a practiced downward motion, Jack moved to lay the gun on the floor, then kicked it away himself. “Good.”

  Every instinct went into overdrive. “What do you want?”

  “I understand you now have someone who knows what a particular person looks like. We thought she was dead, but she’s not. We’ve been tracking her for the last few days, and we know she’s here. I need to talk to her,” the man growled in Jack’s right ear.

  “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  “You don’t get to say what you want, trooper. Just give me the woman.”

  “I thought you wanted to know about the particular person,” Jack said, using the gunman’s own terminology.

  “That’s what I said.”

  “What if I had a picture you could take with you?”

  The guy let out a sinister chuckle. “Then I’d say I really don’t need to talk to her. Don’t double-cross me. From this point on, there’s no room for error, trooper.”
/>   “From this point on, if you get him first, you save me a lot of grief. It’s in my top desk drawer.”

  “Walk. Slowly. Don’t try anything,” the guy warned. As he inched across the room, Jack scanned the front windows. Sure enough, there was someone on the front porch. His gunman had a lookout. Great―just fucking great. When they reached the desk, the man bumped the side of Jack’s neck with the gun’s barrel. “Where is it?”

  “Right here.” Jack’s hands were up in the air, but he slowly reached down and pulled the drawer open with his fingertips. “It’s right there. That folded piece of paper.”

  “Get it, but no funny stuff.”

  Jack reached for it, pulled it out, and held it in his raised hands. The man snatched it and unfolded it. “That’s him. Blake Moss. They call him―”

  “That fucker. Poser. I know him. He’s …” The man stopped suddenly. “On the floor. Face down. Don’t move.” Jack was confused. The guy was doing something on the surface of the desk, but he couldn’t tell what. In seconds, the movement stopped and he leaned down toward Jack. “Count to fifty before you move.” Then he leaned even closer and whispered something curious: “Burn it after I’m gone.” Jack listened as the thug’s footsteps receded, the front door opened and closed, and the sound of a vehicle filled the air. Fuck, they turned up while I had the bike running! He wouldn’t make that mistake again, that was damn sure.

  Everything went silent, but Jack lay there for another two minutes, just to be certain. When he was positive they were gone, he climbed up out of the floor and was planning to head for the laundry room, but he glanced at the surface of the desk. What he saw stopped him in his tracks. It was a piece of paper with two letters scrawled on it.

  UC

  “Fuck me,” Jack mumbled as he ran to the laundry room. “Babe, unlock the door. It’s me. I’m alone. It’s safe. Come on out.”

  Aleta’s face appeared in the crack of the opening when the door swung back. “Jack?”

  “Sugar, it’s okay. They’re gone.”

  “Who was that? I could hear them talking to you, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying.” Her hands were trembling on the doorknob, and he knew she was terrified.