Just One More Chance: Baytown Boys Series

by Maryann Jordan

  The two women entered the small, messy office where Oliver worked. Opening the top desk drawer, Aubrey placed the check inside before closing it shut. Turning back around, she smiled and said, “Okay, safe and sound.”

  As they walked back through the workroom, Jillian said, “I assume Oliver pays you for the pieces that you create that are sent to the galleries? I was just told to pay him, so that’s what I did.”

  “Oh, no worries,” Aubrey said, sitting down at her wheel once more and lifting a measure of clay onto the wheel. “Right now, Oliver only sells his work to the galleries in other states. My work is still at the intern stage, so we keep mine local. He can work out the difference from the list.”

  Smiling, Jillian nodded. “Well, then, I’ll be heading back to town. Please tell him I came by and make sure he finds the check.” With a wave goodbye, she stepped out of the workshop, her sandals crunching down the driveway back to her car. Thinking of the cute art intern, she wondered if perhaps Oliver had a perfect date right under his nose. Maybe a nudge in that direction would not be bad!

  *

  The couple walked to the end of the town pier and watched the sun drop in the sky. The pier stretched out into the bay with the town beach on one side and the harbor bordering on the other. The fishermen had left for the day, leaving just a few people wandering along the wooden planks, ready to view the sunset.

  Grant stood behind Jillian, his long arms stretched to the rail on either side of her, his front plastered to her back. She leaned her head against his chest and breathed in the salty air. They had talked about their day, his investigations, and her trip to the workshop.

  “I’m proud of you, babe,” he admitted. “You’re really making a success of the Coffee Shop & Galleria.”

  Grinning, she said nothing as she appreciated the panorama in front of them. “Will you ever get tired of this view?” she asked. “I think I could see it every night and find it just as special each and every time.”

  “I always loved the sunsets here, but gotta admit that sharing them with you makes them even more memorable,” he replied, kissing the top of her head. They continued to stand in silence for a few minutes watching the sky turn from various shades of blue to hues of pink and orange.

  “I used to think about the sunsets…when I was in Afghanistan,” Grant said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’d watch them there and think about them here.” Jillian said nothing, allowing his thoughts to flow freely. “I thought about you and wondered if you remembered.”

  The distant noise of families on the beach enjoying the sunset, along with the call of a few gulls, were the only sounds for a few minutes. The memory jolted Jillian from her happy place, sending her back in time.

  I can’t believe you leave for boot camp tomorrow,” I cried into Grant’s shirt as we stood on the pier watching the sun slowly disappear. “I’ll just die without you, I know I will.”

  “Come on, baby,” he said gently, lifting my chin with his fingers. “You’ve got to finish high school and when I come home, you’ll be old enough for us to get married.”

  Blinking back the tears, I stared up into his face. I loved the way his brown hair curled around his ears and the thought of the Army clipping it all off caused my tears to threaten once more. Swallowing deeply, I knew I had to be strong for him. Sniffing loudly, I said, “You better come back to me.”

  “I’ll be with Mitch and Philip. We’ll be fine. And they can be my groomsmen when we get married.”

  At that thought, a smile slipped onto my face, knowing he spoke of every dream I had ever had about him.

  “Look!” he said suddenly, pointing out to the bay. “Just think of this. Every evening as the sun sets, I’ll look at it from where I am and think of you standing here looking at it too.”

  It didn’t matter that we would be on opposite sides of the world, in different time zones…I thought that was the most romantic thing he could have said to me. Taking a shuddering breath, I nodded, my eyes filling with tears again. “Okay…we’ll always look at the sunset together…no matter where we are.”

  “I remembered,” Jillian finally said, her voice cracking. So many sunsets had come and gone since that night many years ago. My God, was I ever that young and naïve?

  The wind off the bay blew her hair about her face where it escaped her braid and she shivered slightly. Grant pulled her tighter, now wrapping his arms around her, providing more shelter.

  “I talked to the counselor again the other day…I realized that I’ve made great strides in dealing with Julie’s death, especially after talking to you, but that I hadn’t really faced Philip’s death yet.”

  Jillian twisted around in his arms so her hands came up to rest on his chest as her gaze sought his. “Did it help?”

  His eyes roamed over her upturned face and he lifted one of his hands to caress her check. “Yeah, it did.” Sighing heavily, he gazed over her head to the ever-changing sky. “I didn’t get to come home for the funeral. It was surreal and, even almost six years later, I find myself expecting him to meet us over at Mitch’s for beer and crabs.”

  “I sometimes wonder if that’s why Katelyn hasn’t moved on,” Jillian confessed. “I want her to be happy. I want her to find someone else, but,” she shrugged slightly, “I don’t know.”

  He dropped his eyes back to her, his brow furrowed. “Does she talk about him much?”

  Shaking her head, she replied, “Not really, but I know she thinks of him. I know she still puts flowers on his gravesite, along with his parents.”

  Tucking her into his side, they began to walk back down the pier. “I’d like for her to have what we have…what Mitch and Tori have,” she added.

  “I think she will…eventually,” Grant said. “Maybe when she least expects it.”

  Chapter 24

  The station parking lot was full as Grant pulled around back to park. Alighting from his vehicle, he nodded toward Chief Hannah Freeman as she drove up in her Easton Police cruiser. They entered together, greeted by Mildred, and walked into the already crowded conference room. Extra chairs had been placed around the table and against the wall. Colt was already there, plus the north county of Accawmacke’s Sheriff, Liam Sullivan. The three visitors made themselves at home as Mildred bustled in with pastries and coffee, before heading back out to keep an eye on the reception.

  Mitch began, “You all know that once a month, the heads of the local law enforcement agencies get together informally to discuss cases that involve each other, as well as ways we can support all of us on the Eastern Shore. Colt, Hannah, Liam, Wyatt, Dylan, and me got together yesterday and Colt, Hannah, and Liam wanted to meet with you all today.”

  Grant and the other officers nodded in acknowledgement. He knew Wyatt Newman and Dylan Hunt were the police chiefs of two towns on the northern end of the Eastern Shore, so assumed what was being discussed must be of particular interest to those officers in the southern tip.

  Hannah began, “It’s no secret that Easton’s taken a big hit, literally and figuratively, making national news with a prisoner gunned down on the steps of the courthouse and the killer getting away.”

  She hid her anger well behind her consummate professionalism, but Grant noted the tic in her jaw as she spoke. “It’s bad enough that our area is the new drug running highway, to avoid the D.C. area, but now they’re setting up shops right here.”

  Her eyes cut over to Liam, handing the floor over to him.

  The tall, lanky lawman rubbed his hand over his face before leaning in, placing his forearms on the table. “The meth lab we busted up was small. It produced some, but wasn’t a big contender. The FBI has informed me that they suspect meth is still being produced in this area and not just being transported through here. I’ve got my deputies, as well as Wyatt and Dylan’s officers, with their ears to the ground, but there’s no talk of another lab in my county.”

  “So that leaves mine,” Colt provided, heaving a sigh.

  “And your cou
nty surrounds our two towns,” Mitch added with a head jerk toward Hannah.

  “So we’re all in this together,” Hannah agreed. She looked over at Mitch and his officers before saying, “Your town is bigger than mine. Honest to God, with Easton having only a little over two hundred residents, I know each and every one of them. I don’t think it’s there.”

  “So most likely we’re looking at us?” Ginny asked. “Our town’s bigger, with over a thousand residents, but I don’t know of a crack house or a meth lab around.”

  Colt shook his head. “Fuckin’ hell.” He looked at Grant and said, “I took a look at the residence you followed Jermaine Hubbard to. Had no probable cause to search, but we’ve done several drive-bys. I don’t think it’s what we’re looking for. Granted, it’s got a couple of guys that are probably using, but not making. But, my county is big and rural. There’re a lot of places someone could hide what they’re doing.”

  “I thought meth labs would have a lot of traffic…not necessarily easy to find, but with enough users and buyers going in and out,” Sam queried.

  “Not if it’s a place to make large quantity to send out…not to deal from the home.” Mitch explained. “We were saying how it was the poor man’s cocaine and how that fit our area, but meth has now replaced cocaine as the drug of choice in upscale nightclubs as well. So there are labs now that mass produce to send out.”

  Burt huffed in frustration. “So we could be looking at anywhere? But how do they get their raw materials?”

  “Just when our government cracked down on Ephedrine, gangs started getting it from overseas labs,” Liam replied.

  Mitch added, “I’ve been studying this and reached back to some of my friends in the FBI. The major traffickers are operating from Mexico and are easily recruiting U.S. street gangs to carry and distribute both raw materials and the final product.”

  “Jesus, we need a fuckin’ gang task force,” Colt growled. “The other counties in Virginia have them, but on our shoestring budget, I’m doing the best I can.”

  A somber cloud settled over the group as they continued to brainstorm the investigation. Finally, Grant stood from the table. “Maybe it’s time for me to have a conversation with Jermaine,” he surmised, looking over toward Mitch for his opinion.

  Nodding, Mitch added, “Take Burt with you when you do.”

  *

  Pulling the cruiser up beside the new model, all black Charger parked outside the Hubbard house, Grant ran the license plates. How the hell does a high school drop-out with no job, buy a new car? Suspecting the answer to that question, he and Burt stepped out of their vehicle.

  Mrs. Hubbard answered the door again, her gaze shifting nervously. “Howdy, officers.”

  Grant noted her posture, observing how she stood in the doorway not inviting them inside. “Good morning, Mrs. Hubbard. I’d like to talk to Jermaine and notice his car is parked out front.”

  Fear flashed through her eyes as she licked her lips, nodding slowly. “He’s…well, he’s back in his old room, sleeping. Don’t know when he got in last night…he’s been gone for a couple of weeks.”

  “Can we come in? We just want to ask him some questions.”

  She hesitated, eyes darting between the two officers standing on her front stoop. Almost in resignation, she nodded, slowly stepping back, allowing Grant and Burt to enter. Once inside, Grant confirmed what he had suspected with his earlier visit—the trailer was clean and furnished nicely. He followed her directions, indicating Jermaine was in the second bedroom on the left and, with a sharp rap on the door, he and Burt entered.

  Face down on the bed, Jermaine lay, passed out cold. Waking him with difficulty, the young man rolled over, his red eyes opening as his slack-jaw grin landed on them. Grant and Burt shared a look before Grant said, “Jermaine Hubbard? I’m Officer Wilder and this is Officer Tobber. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “Sure, man,” Jermaine slurred.

  “Looks like you did some hard partying last night, son,” Burt stated, his gaze darting around the room.

  “Yeah, it was…um…just some buddies. You know how it is.” Jermaine managed to sit up, leaning his back against the headboard, rubbing his hand over his face.

  Grant stepped over to the dresser, noticing white powder and a few opened capsules, along with several empty beer bottles. “Looks like we can see how it is right here.”

  “Aw, man,” Jermaine said. “You ain’t got no cause to come up in here and bust my ass.”

  Grant and Burt recognized his lethargy, assuming, with the evidence in the room, Jermaine was crashing after his high.

  “We’re gonna have to take you in, Jermaine,” Grant said, as Burt began collecting the evidence.

  “Hell, naw,” the younger man said, surging off the bed in a staggering attempt to throw a punch.

  Quickly deflecting, Grant had him face down on the bed with his arms secured behind his back. “Let’s not add assaulting an officer into the mix, okay?” Handcuffing him, Grant read him his rights as Burt placed the evidence in a bag.

  “Fuck you, man. Dad’s gonna shittin’ kill me.”

  Walking out, Sheila eyed the trio, her lips pursed and a hard look in her eye. “Knew you were trouble,” she said, staring at her stepson. “When you bragged about being eighteen and could do what you wanted, I told you that you’d better never bring nothin’ in this house around my daughter.” Her focus jumped to Grant and she said, “I’ll tell my husband, but I’m telling you all now also—I don’t want him back here around Karly.”

  “Ma’am, that’s a family decision, but I think you’re wise. He’ll be in the county jail in Easton, if your husband wants to visit his son.”

  With a curt nod, Sheila opened the front door, watching as the officers escorted her stepson into the patrol vehicle.

  “That was almost too easy,” Burt commented as they drove back to the police station.

  “He’s a user, not just a runner or dealer. That makes him a risk to the organization that’s moving this shit through the county.” Sighing heavily, he added, “But knowing he was bringing drugs into the house, I’m glad to get him away from Karly.”

  *

  Grant sat across from Jermaine, the jail’s institutional, grey, metal table between them. The young man’s eyes were clear today—and filled with fear.

  “We’ve got you on possession and using. There was enough to also charge you with intent to distribute. But you’ve got to know the DA doesn’t want just you. So what can you tell us about where you got the meth?”

  Jermaine’s lips continued to stay tightly pressed together, his fingers tightening together as they lay clamped on the table his only movement.

  “That’s a nice car you have registered, sitting in your dad’s driveway. How’d you pay for it, considering you don’t have a job or a bank account?”

  Jermaine’s eyes flickered. “My dad bought it for me. It was a gift.”

  “Was it now?” Grant said lazily, having already ascertained that the car was, in fact, purchased by Hugh Hubbard. “What nice thing did you do to make your dad buy you a car?”

  “Can’t a man buy his son a car?” Jermaine asked, his lips slightly curving.

  “Sure, but usually it would be a reward for being a great son. Can’t see that you’ve done too much to make him proud.”

  “He’s plenty proud,” the young man boasted, his slight grin appearing more like a smirk the longer he stared down at his hands.

  “Yeah, I just bet he’s proud as punch to have a son sittin’ in jail, twitching until he can get his next fix.”

  The smirk left Jermaine’s face as he spouted, “Ain’t got nothin’ more to say to you, so don’t waste my time.”

  “You talk big for someone who’s facing time with the evidence in your possession. But,” Grant said, scooting his chair backward, “I’ll let you figure that out.”

  That afternoon, Grant walked back into the jail, meeting Chief Freeman as she walked toward him.r />
  “The dad’s been in talking to him. Jermaine’s not giving up anything or anyone, but he’s scared…just like the last guy you brought in.”

  “If they work for the same organization, then they’re smart to be scared. Too bad they weren’t scared before they got caught.”

  “The DA will go for no bail, even though this is his first offense, due to the situation. I think that’s smart. He’ll be safer here in jail anyway.”

  Nodding, Grant looked up as a burly man walked toward them, his physical resemblance to Jermaine making it obvious he was his father.

  Stopping at Chief Freeman, Mr. Hubbard said, “He ain’t talking and that’s what I’ve advised him to do.”

  “That’s his right, sir,” she said smoothly, “but when the DA speaks with him, she may offer a deal.”

  Mr. Hubbard’s jaw tightened and his scrutiny shifted away for a moment. “We’ll see.” With that, he turned and walked out the front door, leaving Grant and Hannah staring at his back.

  Rubbing his chin, Grant wondered aloud, “Interesting. Curious that he wasn’t demanding his kid be released…or protesting his innocence…or advising him to take a deal.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  Jerking out of his musings, Grant said, “Oh, nothing in particular. Just…well, let me check on a few things and I’ll get back with you.”

  Chapter 25

  Jillian parked her scooter at the end of the gravel drive and walked to the front door of the small beach house. Sitting a few miles on the south side of town, the weather beaten exterior gave evidence of a house that had withstood many years of the ever-present wind from the bay.

  Knocking several times, she knew it would take more for the dweller to answer. “Lance? It’s Jillian…and you know I won’t just leave so you might as well open up!” A moment later the front door opened and she peered through the screen at the tall, dark-haired man.