Just One More Chance: Baytown Boys Series

by Maryann Jordan

  Mitch nodded slowly and Grant watched his friend and Chief run through the possibilities. “You may be right. Good work, Grant. Now, what do you want to do about it?”

  “I’d like to talk to Hugh…just to question him about his son’s activities.”

  The two men shared a slow grin before Mitch said, “Bring him in.”

  *

  Grant sat across from Hugh Hubbard in the interview room at the police station. When he had approached Hugh at home on his day off, he immediately agreed to come to the station to talk about his son so that Karly was not in earshot. The burly man leaned back in his seat, eyes intent on the officer. “Before we get started, I’ll say up front, I had no idea my boy had been using.”

  Grant said nothing, using silence to create tension. Most people liked to talk to fill up empty air, so Grant was not surprised when he continued on.

  “He turned eighteen and hasn’t been home too much, so I had no idea. And I’m gone most of the week anyway. My wife tells me he comes around some, but I didn’t worry none. I figured he’d come if he needed me.”

  “He doesn’t have a job,” Grant stated. “Nor a bank account. I would think it would be hard for him to make ends meet without coming to you for money.”

  Swallowing, Mr. Hubbard said, “He’s got friends. He crashes at their places. You know what it’s like to be young and not wantin’ to hang out with your parents or kid sister.”

  “I wouldn’t know, Mr. Hubbard. When I was eighteen, I joined the Army and was serving in Afghanistan.” Grant’s voice, hard and steady, resounded in the room.

  Once more silence filled the space as Grant tamped down his irritation. He was struck by the difference between himself and Jermaine at the same age. Get it together! Don’t get emotional! Sucking in his breath, he continued. “So he lives with friends, doesn’t ask you for money, but you buy him a new car.”

  Hugh’s lips tightened as his jaw ticked. “Figured he needed a car to get around. How’s he gonna get a job if he’s got no way to get there?”

  “In talking to him the other day, it didn’t seem like he’s been looking too hard for employment. Does your wife know you bought him the car?”

  “What’s going on here?” Hugh growled, his fists clenching on the tabletop. “I thought we were gonna discuss my son’s problems, not hound me? Should I get me a lawyer?”

  Grant studied the angry man sitting in front of him, observing his defensive posture and threats. Mitch had already alerted the Baltimore office of the FBI as to their suspicions and Grant knew that both the FBI and DEA were already checking on Hugh’s workplace.

  “Having an attorney present is entirely your choice, Mr. Hubbard,” Grant replied, keeping his face neutral and his voice steady. “Your son’s charges include possession and intent to distribute and in this climate, after recent events, he won’t be offered bail. I’d like to help your son because I don’t think he’s a major player at all…but with his cooperation, he could get off easier.” He studied the play of emotions across Hugh’s face as he wrestled with Grant’s proposal.

  “Don’t know what to tell you,” he finally said, shifting in the chair, causing the legs to squeak with his weight. “I bought him the car ’cause he hadn’t caused us no problems even though he dropped out of school. I figured he worked some for cash and stayed with friends. He’s young, but an adult, so it’s not my place to watch over him. That’s all I know and all I got to say. I’ll be getting him a lawyer ’cause I figure that’s the only way he’ll have a chance in hell of getting any representation in court.” With that, he scooted his chair back and stood. With a curt nod, he left the room, leaving Grant deep in thought.

  A few minutes later, Ginny popped her head around the doorframe. “So, what’d you think?”

  Looking up, Grant said, “He’s lying. He knows what his son’s been doing and he’s running scared now. His wife’s got no idea and I want to make sure she and Karly are as protected as possible.”

  *

  “I’m telling you, the boss isn’t available,” the rough voice on the other end of the phone growled.

  Hugh wiped the sweat from his face as he sat in his car, cell phone pressed to his ear. “I need a lawyer for my boy. I’ve done whatever was asked of me, and now it’s payback time.” The silence on the phone had Hugh sweating more, realizing he took the wrong approach. “I’m sorry, I just mean that I need help.”

  “Yeah, well your fuckin’ problem is just that—yours. You better get smart and cut the boy loose…and pray he doesn’t drag your shit into his.”

  Hugh did not have a chance to beg before the call was disconnected. Sucking in a deep breath, he stared across the parking lot at the jail, trying to decide what to do. Looking at his watch, he only had a few hours before he needed to travel back for his work-week in Baltimore. With a last look back at the large, brick building holding his son, he started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, sweat still dripping off his face.

  *

  “We got a problem,” Juan’s underling, Miguel, said. “Our number one man at the railroad is a risk. His asshole son got caught using and had enough to be considered distributing.”

  Juan’s dark eyes cut over to the man standing in front of him. He gave no indication of what he was thinking, but his gut clenched in anger.

  “The kid was in the same fuckin’ town that the other two runners were caught in…near where the lab was raided.”

  Juan’s fist slammed down on the desk in front of him. “How is it that a shit-stain place like the Eastern Shore with nothin’ but redneck cops has been able to wreck our trail? Fucking hell! Is there not one of them we can get on our payroll?”

  Shaking his head, Miguel said, “They’re tight down there boss.”

  Nothing was said for a moment as Juan pondered the situation. “Is the railroad compromised?”

  “We don’t know yet. So far, I don’t think anyone’s made a link with the railroad running and the man we have there. It’ll be fine, unless his son talks.”

  “I don’t like loose ends.”

  Miguel nodded as he stood, the silent order sounding between the two men. After he left the room, Juan picked up his phone, placing a call.

  “There will be a slight delay in getting some produce to you. Keep doing what you’re doing and someone will let you know when to expect more.”

  *

  The clouds kept the moonlight from penetrating the room where the sleeping couple lay, bathed in darkness, bodies entwined. Grant’s phone vibrated and he twisted around to see who was calling. Mitch…fuck. Calls in the middle of the night are never good.

  Sliding his arm out from underneath Jillian, he sat on the edge of the bed. “Yeah?”

  “Just got a call from a contact at the FBI in Baltimore. Hugh Hubbard’s been found dead. Executed.”

  “Dammit!” Grant cursed, trying to keep his voice low, but he felt the bed shift and knew Jillian was awake.

  “Hannah’s put extra guards on Jermaine and Tyrone in the jail and called in the state police as well.”

  “So, was my hunch right? Was he involved?”

  “Seems so. My contact couldn’t tell me much but said that they’d been watching the railroad workers for a while, knowing something was passing through. But it looks like with Jermaine’s arrest he put his dad at risk, and we know these guys don’t play around.”

  Rubbing his forehead, Grant said, “Who’s telling Mrs. Hubbard?”

  “The FBI will be coming in a few hours to talk to her and to search the house. You might want to be there for Karly.”

  “Got it,” Grant said, disconnecting, tossing his phone to the nightstand again. He felt Jillian’s arms snake around his waist as she laid her cheek on his back.

  “That sounded like really bad news, sweetie,” she said softly, her fingers lightly moving across his chest.

  He placed his hands over hers, holding them against his heart for a moment. Sucking in a deep breath, he acknowledged, “Y
eah, Karly’s stepdad was killed.”

  “I assume it wasn’t an accident?”

  He shook his head slowly. “No. Seems he was into some of the same shit his son was, just higher up on the food chain in the organization.”

  “Will you be with Karly later?” After he nodded, she added, “Since Jade is her teacher, would you like me to call her and see if she can be there too? If I call early enough, they could get a substitute for her class.”

  Twisting his torso, he looped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her in tight. “That’d be great, babe. Thanks for thinking of it.”

  Lying back down, Grant knew sleep would not come, but he tucked Jillian back under the covers with him. The calm he felt as he listened to her breathe would be the only calm he knew for the coming day.

  Chapter 27

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Grant shouted, pounding his fist down on the table. A vein pulsated in his neck as he leaned forward, menace in his eyes.

  “Chief Evans, you need to contain your officer,” the agent in the requisite FBI dark suit ordered, his glower matching Grant’s.

  Mitch stood next to Grant, putting his hand on his shoulder in a show of solidarity, not censure. Without speaking, Sam, Burt, and Ginny moved behind them, placing the entire BPD on one side of the room, facing the two agents.

  The female, Agent Hall, huffed, “This isn’t helping. We’re not here to arrest her, but she is a person of interest.”

  “What evidence do you have?” Mitch asked.

  “If you will take a seat, we’ll discuss this,” she said, her voice brooking no refusal. The harsh scraping of chairs on the floors as the BPD took seats matched the angry current zinging through the room.

  Agent Harden, his scowl still pointed at Grant, began, “We’ve been investigating Juan Munoz for over a year. He’s one of the largest makers and distributors of meth in the United States, particularly from New York to Miami. We suspected he shifted some of his drug runs to come through this part of Virginia but, until recently, were not able to prove it. The meth lab in Accawmacke County and the arrests of Isaac and Tyrone have shifted our focus to this area.”

  “After we’ve done your work for you,” grumbled Sam, who pinched his lips together after Mitch shot him a look.

  Ignoring Sam, Agent Harden continued, “We also suspected Stanley Martino of being on his payroll but, unfortunately for him, he decided to run and his subsequent execution—again in this area—shifted our focus from the D.C. run to here.”

  Agent Hall added, “We, and the DEA, have also had our eye on the railways, knowing there were some employees working for Juan.”

  “So why didn’t you get them when you knew about them?” Grant bit out.

  Mitch, a former FBI agent himself, answered for them, “Because you wanted Juan…not just the lower level workers.”

  Oppressive silence hit the room, but barely cut through the anger filling the space.

  “So by waiting, you got a dead drug runner, a dead dirty lawyer, and now a dead railway worker. So tell me, how’s your plan going?” Grant queried, his voice as hard as his jaw which, considering the force of his clenched teeth, he wondered that it did not crack.

  Agent Harden shook his head in derision before settling his gaze on Mitch. “You were one of us…you know how this works.”

  “Yeah…I know…and I know I thought I left this fuckin’ system behind when I got out.”

  Agent Hall cut in, “This isn’t getting us anywhere. We need to move forward. And that involves Jillian Evans…and her transportation and shipment of drugs.”

  *

  “Oliver? You here?” Jillian shouted into the entrance to the workshop. Looking behind her, she smiled at the two boys, barely able to contain their excitement. “Come on, guys. We’ll go on in.”

  The trio walked inside the large room and Bobby immediately ran over to one of the pottery wheels. Hesitantly he reached out, dragging a finger over the surface, his eyes taking in the contraption. Twisting around, he said, “Do you think Mr. Dobson will let me make something sometime?”

  “I’m pretty sure he was going to do that today,” she replied, grinning as Oliver walked in from the back.

  “Absolutely, boys,” Oliver said, greeting them with fist-bumps. Turning his attention toward Jillian, he asked, “What about you? Are you in the mood to play with the clay?”

  Laughing, she pointed down to her old jeans and t-shirt. “I came ready to make some pottery!”

  “Well, let’s get to it.” Within a few minutes, he had each of them unwrapping plastic-wrapped clay and starting to use their own wheel after showing them the very basics. Allowing Jillian and Junior to manage on their own, he stood with Bobby, offering assistance.

  “How much clay do you use?” Bobby asked, his small hands trying to shape the mound.

  “A lot,” Oliver answered. “I order big blocks at a time and keep them wrapped up until I need them so they don’t dry out. Then I just use whatever is needed for the project that I’m working on. A big vase or bowl would take a lot more clay than a small cup.”

  Jillian loved the feel of the wet clay as it slithered through her fingers, but found the process to be harder than Oliver made it seem. She managed to get a lopsided vase finished and laughed as she saw Junior’s creation.

  Bobby’s, with Oliver’s assistance, was the best of all. “Now what do we do?” Bobby asked, his face as messy as his hands, with clay splatters where he had rubbed his nose.

  “They have to dry, but I can show you what they’ll look like later,” Oliver offered. He ushered the group into the next room, explaining the glazing process before leading them to the side where three kilns stood. Two were quite large and the boys leaned in as Oliver opened the door. Reaching in, Oliver pulled out several bowls in blues and greens. “These were made yesterday and fired this morning. They’ve cooled now, so we can touch them.”

  “Can we make ours just like these?” Junior asked.

  Jillian smiled affectionately, seeing his enthusiasm shining through his pre-teenage nonchalance. She replied, “We can certainly come back and work on these tomorrow, or whenever Mr. Dobson says we can.”

  Oliver said, “Boys, you can hang out here for a while. You can even work on another piece of clay if you like. I’m going to show Miss Jillian where to wash up and then she and I have some paperwork to look over.”

  Junior and Bobby needed no more encouragement and dashed back to the wheels, while Oliver led Jillian to a bathroom with a large utility sink along one wall. Scrubbing their hands and forearms, they quickly cleaned the clay residue off.

  Wiping her hand on the proffered towel, she smiled up at him. “I want to thank you so much for letting them come today. This is such a treat for them.”

  He fidgeted for a moment before saying, “It’s no problem for them to come.” He studied his own hands for a moment before seeking her face. “I’m glad we can be friends…even if nothing else.”

  “Me too,” she replied, her hand resting on his arm.

  Sighing slightly, he said, “Let’s head into the office and we’ll take a look at some marketing ideas.”

  Smiling at the boys still in the workshop as they walked through, she followed Oliver into his crowded office.

  *

  Mildred knew she should not be eavesdropping, but the desire to hear why the FBI were in town to question Jillian was too strong. Hovering near the hall served the dual purpose of allowing her to keep an eye on the police department’s reception as well as listen in on the heated conversation. She heard one of the agents say, “This isn’t getting us anywhere. We need to move forward. And that involves Jillian Evans…and her transportation and shipment of drugs.” Drugs? Shipping drugs? Whirling from the doorway, she stepped quickly back to the front counter, her mind racing. With her hand clamped over her mouth and her breath coming in pants, she remembered Jillian taking boxes from the new potter, explaining that she sent them out and he paid her a handling co
mmission.

  Whirling around, she stepped toward the conference room, ready to defend Jillian, but halted, making a decision. It might be illegal…it is illegal, but… Her mind made up, she hurried over to her purse and grabbed her cell phone.

  *

  The afternoon sun sent slanted rays through the window in Oliver’s office, highlighting the dust coating the furniture. Jillian stared at his profile as his head was bent over the catalogs of ceramics, working up price comparisons for the Galleria. Her phone vibrated and she dug around in her purse until her fingers touched the screen. Recognizing the caller, her eyebrows lifted in surprise. Standing, she said, “I’ve got to take this call. I’ll just step outside.”

  Oliver looked up in time to nod as she slipped outside the room, before turning his attention back to the catalog.

  “Mildred? What’s wrong? Is it Grant?” Jillian’s words tripped over each other in a rush as she hurried toward the door, in case she needed to make a quick exit.

  “No, no,” the whispered voice came back. “He’s fine—”

  “Why are you whispering? I can barely hear you.”

  “Shhh, quiet, Jillian and listen to me,” Mildred demanded. “Where are you? At the shop?”

  Stopping at the outside door, Jillian turned so that she could keep an eye on the boys as she replied, “No, I’m at Oliver Dobson’s workshop with the two Montwood boys.”

  “Oh, Jesus, no!” cried Mildred. “You’ve got to get out of there and get somewhere safe before they come looking for you!”

  Forehead scrunched in confusion, she repeated, “I have to get out of here? Get somewhere safe? Who’s coming? What are you talking about?”

  “FBI agents are here and they’re looking for you!” came the harsh whisper.

  Turning to face the wall, she whispered, “Why is the FBI looking for me? Mildred, you’re not making sense.”

  “They say you’ve been shipping drugs and the only person I know you ship for is that potter—wait, I think they’re coming out.”