by Todd Morgan
“Don’t tell me he joined the Army.”
“No. He was doing something else.”
“Security? Like working for Blackwater?”
“Something like that.”
***
The gym was empty. Randy had told me—years ago—that shooting basketball alone was like meditation for him. I knew exactly what he meant, being alone, doing something physical, something you were comfortable with, gave you a chance to think, to clear your head. I didn’t pick up a ball.
I assumed the ready stance and slowly went through the twenty-seven movements, Yoshikai’s building block kata. I moved from that to the Chon-Ji, the seed form, Tae Kwon Do’s initial white belt form. You might not think punching, kicking and blocking would help you find peace, but it was perfect for me.
My father was right. I had always enjoyed fighting. Win, lose, or draw didn’t matter. It fed something inside me. Something I teased with martial arts, the form, the sparring, the competition, but nothing like an actual confrontation. The Rangers channeled it, the training, the shooting, jumping out of airplanes. War had been my opportunity to let it loose.
I had never been so in my element than when I was in Afghanistan. Here is your target, boys. Seek and destroy. And take pictures of the corpses if you have a chance so we can cross them off the list. Bullets flying, adrenaline pumping, blood flowing, it was what I was put on Earth to do. And once out, that genie did not want to go back into the bottle.
Those skills did not translate well to the civilian world. To say the least. I thought law enforcement would be the best fit. Maybe it was, but it didn’t fit well. I had gotten out of patrol as fast as I could. Too much like Iraq, but so, so, different. I wasn’t afraid of the Bottoms. I was afraid for the Bottoms. Riding a Humvee, machine gun in hand, danger was everywhere. Every piece of road debris a potential IED. Every civilian a potential suicide bomber. Every roof a sniper’s roost. You’d give the halt command twice—Halt! Halt!—and if they kept coming, you dropped them. No questions asked. Sorry, buddy, nothing personal, but I don’t want to die today. When the crazy Americans started yelling, you stopped and didn’t move. Friendly shootings plummeted and the real bombers soon stood out.
Driving the Bottoms put me back in the war zone. It wasn’t a war zone that recognized Halt! Halt! That you were seconds from death. It terrified me. Scared to death that I would be standing there with a smoking .45 after a double tap and some poor kid dead in the street. The nightmares kept me awake at night. I was on the verge of resigning when the transfer to detective came in.
Detectives had been better for me. More like collecting intelligence than patrolling a war zone. Here is your target, boys. Instead of taking pictures of a corpse, you took a mug shot. Of course, we couldn’t round up a hundred guys and interrogate them until something shook out. They got the Miranda reading and a lawyer.
The politics, though, got the better of me. Idiots abound in the military, but—for the most part—results were what mattered the most. In the field, it was all that mattered. The Indianola Sherriff’s Department didn’t work that way. Who you knew was more important than what you did. Who you pissed off more than anything else. I pissed off superior officers for my entire career as a Ranger, but they understood one thing. I got results. And aside from the not so occasional ass chewing, they left me alone. It didn’t work that way in the civilian world and my failure to adapt had been my undoing. That and an untimely remark by my lieutenant.
Not that I was terribly disappointed. My wife had just taken off with my partner and I could do without walking into the department day after day. For the first time in my life, I could do what I wanted when I wanted. How I wanted. The money, however, was terrible and the work mind numbing.
Until something happened like last night. Trey and Q had rubbed the bottle and the genie got a chance to poke his head out. Now I was trying to shove him back in. I had to.
I had a daughter to rear.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Vanessa?”
“Yeah?”
“Did I wake you up?”
“No. I was just laying here asleep.”
“Sorry. I forgot you work nights.”
“Who is this?”
“Beason. Beason Camp. We met the other day at the gym.”
“Right. Amber’s boy toy.”
“Uh, I guess.”
“What do you want, Beason Camp?”
“I need to ask you a few more questions.”
“Then you haven’t found her.”
“No. Have you heard from her?”
“No. Ask your questions. I’m drifting back to dreamland.”
“Does Amber have any connection to Louisiana?”
“Louisiana? Not that I know of. Why?”
“Some boys from there have popped up in the investigation.”
“Who?”
“Clarence Starling. Amber ever mention him?”
“No.”
“Anybody nicknamed Bird? Or Big Bird?”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“I wish. Um, one more thing and I’ll let you go back to sleep.”
“What?”
“Was she involved with any other men?”
“Are you the jealous type?”
“You better believe it, but that’s not why I’m asking. Someone told me she…played the field.”
“Steven would be my guess.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny.”
“Uh huh. You can rest easy. As far as I know, you were the only one.”
“What about before me?”
“I doubt it. I can’t say for sure. I will tell you that she was actively considering it. Before you. She was looking to see what was out there. Sick of Steven’s shit, Amber wanted to have some fun, some excitement in her life. She was flirting with a doctor or two, but you’re the only one she actually…did anything with. You’re the lucky one, Beason Camp.”
“Yeah. That’s me. The lucky one.”
***
The bell dinged as I pushed into the shop. Mary, sitting in her chair, met me with wide eyes. “I haven’t heard from her.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“I’m not sure what else I can tell you.”
“I’m not here to talk to you.”
Those wide eyes went to the other chair. “I’m going to grab a coffee.”
No response. The bell jingled as she went out.
I sat in one of the waiting chairs. A long, tense, minute passed. Hannah kept the magazine between her face and mine. Another minute.
The magazine dropped, only enough for me to see her eyes. “What do you want?”
Must be the new universal greeting. “Sign says walk-ins welcomed.”
“False advertisement.” The magazine went back up.
I sat.
The magazine dropped to her lap. Hannah said, “You’re not going to leave.”
“Not until I get a haircut.”
She reluctantly rose, shaking out the plastic curtain. I took her place in the chair and she wrapped the curtain around my throat. A little tighter than was needed. “How do you want it cut?”
“Just a trim. No need to mess with perfection.”
She grunted, making a few experimental passes with a comb. “I’m not a miracle worker.”
“Of course, you are.”
The teeth dug into my scalp. The scissors snipped and the hair began to fall un-gently to the floor.
“Hannah, I understand why you’re angry with me.”
Snip.
“I wasn’t using you to help me on my case. I could have done that with a phone call.”
Snip.
“I know I did you wrong when I started seeing Stella.”
Snip. And a deep pull into my scalp.
“Until I had Sarah, you were the best thing that ever happened in my life.”
Snip.
“I’m sorry, Hannah. I hope you can forgive me.”
The curtain was yanked away,
the scissors and comb dropping into their jars. Hannah finally spoke.
“That’s twenty dollars.”
***
“Why are you wearing a hat?”
“Huh?” I reached up to remove the Auburn baseball cap, then pulled it back down. “I just am. How are things with Cynthia?”
Melvin resumed his pacing, despair once again filling his face. “Not good.”
“No?”
“We went out to dinner last night.”
“That’s a start. How did that go?”
“Not good,” he said again. He could really cover the ground in my office. “She called me a bunch of ugly words.”
“Can’t say I’m in shock.”
“What?” He stopped pacing, full of outrage. “Why?”
“Melvin, you were cheating on her.”
“That’s all in the past.” He waved a hand, as if he could simply dismiss his unfaithfulness. “She ended up throwing a glass of wine in my face and storming out.”
“A little of that is to be expected.”
“I told her I was sorry.”
“It’s going to take more than that.”
“I told her a thousand times.”
“Keep at it.” I picked up my double cheeseburger and took a big bite. The fries had grown cold. “It’s not going to be easy.”
“I told her I had a lawyer—like you told me to.”
“How did she take that?”
“She said she is going to take me to the cleaners.”
“Uh huh.”
“How can you sit there and eat when I’m in the biggest crisis of my life?”
“Because I’m hungry, Melvin. I heard Cynthia was slowing things down.”
“Really?” He grabbed the lifeline like a drowning man. “What does that mean?”
“It means she is having second thoughts.”
“Thank God.” He held his hands out to the sky. “I still have a shot.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s over,” I quickly added. “You have to keep apologizing, promise you’ll change, that you’ll do whatever it takes. Keep pushing counseling.”
“Sure,” he said. “Anything.”
I pointed a ketchup draped finger at him. “And never, never, mention that you know she is slowing the divorce.”
His face twisted in confusion. “Why not? It’s something we can build on.”
“Because, Melvin,” I explained, “if word got out that I was slipping information to the other side, I’ll never work in this town again.”
“Oh, right.” The metal stairs outside creaked. “Looks like you got customers.”
“No.” I slid back the top drawer of my desk. “I don’t think so.”
Starling came through the door first, Fletcher easing in behind him. Starling’s overcoat was open, his broad face angry. Providence’s coat was zipped up, his hands staying away from his pockets. The right side of his parka dropped a tad lower than the left. If his hand went into that pocket, things were going to get ugly in the sock factory.
“Afternoon, Bird. Derrick.”
Fletcher nodded.
Starling shot a look at Melvin and shook his head. For his part, Melvin did not wither. Starling said, “You haven’t found the girl.”
“No.”
“Why aren’t you out looking for her now?”
“I’m eating lunch.”
“You need to find her.”
“Yes.”
“If we have to come back, we won’t be so nice.”
“No.”
“Find her.”
“Okay.”
Starling snorted and pushed back through the door. Fletcher shrugged before following.
“What do those two bozos want?”
“Evidently, they want me to find the girl.”
“Evidently,” Melvin said. “Gimme some of those fries.”
***
“Where are you?”
“Please, tell me you’re not in my driveway again.”
“No, Beason. I’m at the hospital, actually working a double.”
“I can certainly testify to your bedside manner.”
“Couchside anyway.”
“What can I do for you, Madison?”
“Our last conversation didn’t go so well.”
“You think?”
“Shut up and listen for a minute.”
“Okay.”
“I had fun the other night. You and I had a chemistry that I haven’t shared with anybody in a long time.”
“Chemistry?”
“Shut up. I…think we should spend more time together.”
“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why not? Because of Amber?”
“That is part of it.”
“Beason, you’re an idiot. You know that?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Even if Amber comes back, do you really think you have a future together?”
“No.”
“Maybe you’re not as stupid as I thought.”
“Thanks.”
“Amber is teaching Steven a lesson. As soon as she thinks he has been punished enough, she’ll be back and have him eating out of her hand. She was only using you.”
“I think I made out alright.”
“Better than with me?”
“Comparable.”
“Amber is insane. She has only cared about one person for her entire life. Herself. Look at all the baggage she carries around. You could never be happy with her.”
“I’ve got my own baggage.”
“No shit. That’s where I come in—Tada!—baggage free.”
“I don’t know.”
“All I’m asking is that you don’t close that door. Let’s see how everything plays out.”
“I can do that.”
“Good.”
“Madison?”
“What?”
“Have you heard from Amber?”
“Uh…no.”
***
“Why are you wearing a hat?”
“What’s wrong with my hat?”
“Nothing. Just in all the years I’ve known you, I can’t remember you ever wearing a hat.” Randy was leaning against the hood of his department issued vehicle, a Chevy Tahoe. A pretty sweet looking ride. Things had changed since I left. “That’s a nice looking office you got there.”
“You should see the inside.” I popped the door to the Jeep and dropped my computer in the passenger seat. “What do you want?”
“Can’t a guy stop by and see his friend?”
“Sure.” I grinned. “As soon as you find one.”
He laughed. The day had turned beautiful, fifty degrees, clear blue sky, a breeze playing in the leafless trees. Randy’s face turned serious. “I’ve got to admit, Beason, you’ve got me worried.”
“Worried? About what?”
“Jeremiah. You come in asking questions about an old enemy and it makes me wonder what is going on. I didn’t want to get into it with Larry there. I know half of what you tell me is bullshit, but one hundred per cent of what you say to him is.”
“Larry is a prick.”
“At least we can agree on that.”
I did a slow once over of the parking lot, the woods beside it. Big Bird and Providence didn’t want trouble in front of Sarah, nor in front of Melvin, so I had to believe they would think twice of coming after me in front of a cop. Randy, though, didn’t much look like police in his jeans and golf shirt, driving the undercover sled. Aside from the Glock on his hip. Prepare for what the enemy can do, not what you think he will do.
“So,” Randy said, “what’s going on?”
“Adrian and Stella.”
Randy made a face. “What about them?”
“I’m looking for them.”
“Why?”
“My daughter asked me to.”
“Oh.”
“And I haven’t found them yet.”
“What’s that have to do with Jeremiah?
”
“You ever hear about Adrian and Jeremiah?”
Randy nodded. “I remember they had some trouble.”
“Trouble ain’t the half of it. Adrian tried to beat the hell out of him in the back of our car.”
“You broke it up, right?”
“Right.”
Randy thought about it. “You think Jeremiah had something to do with Adrian’s disappearance?”
“Maybe.”
“And he took out Stella to get at you?”
I shook my head. “I doubt he knew who she was. She turned into collateral damage.”
“Huh.” Randy kicked a rock, mulling it over. “I don’t see it. We had video from the banks. Adrian went into his—alone—and cashed it out. An hour later, Stella went to hers—alone—and did the same. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but they left on purpose.”
“What if Jeremiah grabbed them on their way out of town?”
“Be a hell of coincidence.”
“Yeah.”
“You got anything to back up this story?”
“No. Only that I can’t find them. Not a trace of either one of them. Stella walked out of that bank and fell off the face of the earth.”
Randy reached into his jeans and came out with a pack of gum. He unwrapped a piece, popped it into his mouth and replaced the pack. He didn’t offer me one. “I still don’t see it.”
“You’re probably right.”
“One more question, Beason.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“What’s the deal with the hat?”
***
“Hello.”
“Hey. How is my little brother?”
“Not too bad, big sister.”
“Haha.”
“Erin isn’t here. I think she’s out with another boy.”
“Duh. If I wanted to talk to her, I would’ve called her cell.”
“Oh.”
“How’s my daughter doing?”
“Fine. She comes home drunk every night and there’s always a new guy at the breakfast table.”
“That’s my girl. How about my niece?”
“She’s too young for all that.”