The man just said, “They talked to Al-Soud.”
“So?” asked Daniel.
“So be careful.”
“I always am.”
Wells heard the line go dead and shook his head. If that little Arab fella couldn’t tell the device he’d made for him and his buddy Kaz was as bogus as a three-dollar bill, then Wells wasn’t worried about what he might tell the cops.
Wells chuckled at the memory of him showing the two would-be terrorists the heavy marine fuel tank with the few fake gauges and switches welded on the outside, and then saying it was a pressure-triggered bomb that could bring down Turkey Point. The confusion on their faces when the FBI had swooped in was worth its weight in gold. That was the sort of thing that everyone liked. It satisfied his urge to a degree and had bought him some goodwill, too. If Sami Al-whatever wanted to blab, he could, but that dumb son of a bitch didn’t know anything useful.
twenty-seven
Tasker knew it was a dream, but he went with it anyway. In his mind he was with an old girlfriend and she wanted him, not the satchel of cash he was accused of taking. Her dark, shapely legs were about to encircle him when, just like in real life, somebody pounded on his front door and ruined the moment. It took a couple of seconds for him to realize the rapping was real and he was still in his own bed, alone. He rolled to his right and looked at the alarm clock. Who would be pounding on his door at seven-fucking-thirty in the morning? Normally he’d be up and around, but his interview with Sami Al-Soud at MCC had kept him up late, as he and Sutter had contemplated, over a beer until nearly two in the morning, what the hell was going on with the case.
He sat up in bed and ran his hands through his sandy, short hair. He slipped on a pair of gym shorts that were lying on the ground and pulled an FSU T-shirt off the chair near his bedroom door. He padded through the town house, clearing his head as he went. Just as he reached the door, the pounding started again. He turned the knob, leaving the chain on, and peeked out the crack.
He let his eyes adjust to the sharp Florida daylight and said, “What the hell are you doing here? Is everything all right?”
His ex-wife, Donna, in jeans and a casual shirt, smiled back. “I just needed to see you.” She hesitated, then added, “You alone?”
“Yeah, sure. Come in.” He closed the door and unlatched it, then reopened it to let her walk in.
As she crossed the threshold, she said, “I’m sorry, bothering you like this, but I need to talk to someone. That’s not correct, I needed to talk to you.”
They sat on the couch. “You want something? Juice? I could try and make coffee.”
She smiled and shook her head.
“The girls are okay, otherwise you would have said something. Why aren’t you at work?”
“Called in sick. I left the house for here as soon as the girls were ready for early-morning activities at school.”
Now he just looked at her. It was a treat to be able to look at such a pretty girl up close, and without being self-conscious. That was one of Donna’s great charms; she was an unpretentious, natural beauty. No need for makeup; looked as good at seven-thirty in the morning as at seven-thirty in the evening. He waited for her to gather her thoughts.
“I was feeling lonely and missed you. Then last night I just couldn’t get you out of my mind.”
He waited for the “But.”
“So I took a chance and raced down here first thing.”
He smiled and felt a rush of emotion sweep over him. Then he checked back to reality. “What about Nicky Goldman?”
“We broke up.”
“I’m sorry.” He didn’t like lying but had managed to keep a straight face.
“So am I. He was sweet. But you were right-being sweet and nice doesn’t make you Mr. Right.”
“What does?”
She let loose with that brilliant smile. “A lot of things.” She reached over and pulled him to her for a long kiss. When she was done, she said, “So what do you want to do today?”
He stared at her for a moment. “What do you mean?”
“We have the day to hang out. What would you like to do with it?”
He paused, brushing a strand of blond hair from her face. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“That’s why it’s called a surprise.”
“What I mean is, I didn’t take the day off.”
“You have such a flexible schedule I didn’t think it’d be a problem.”
“Usually that’s true, but we’re right in the middle of something that’s going morning to night until we’re done.”
“With no days off?”
“Not for a few days, anyway.”
She looked into his eyes. “It’s still work first, family second, isn’t it?”
“No. Absolutely not. It’s just that this is really important. I mean life-and-death important, and it’s basically my fault that we’re in it.”
A tear built up in her eye, then ran down her cheek.
He went to brush it away, but she caught his hand. “Is the redhead working with you?”
“Camy Parks? Yeah, her and half a dozen other cops.”
Donna stood quickly and turned to the front door. “I understand.”
“Donna, wait.”
She paused at the door.
“Please stay.”
“So we can spend the day together?”
“An hour, anyway.”
She opened the door and stepped out without a word.
Sutter sat at an FDLE conference table with Bill Tasker and his squad analyst, Jerry Ristin. Sutter had never been so impressed with a non-sworn member of a police agency as he was with this heavyset, raspy-voiced man. The guy treated them almost like they were students in a class, as he laid out his theories on what had happened on the case and what he’d found through his computer searches.
Clearly, the FBI had a tie to Daniel Wells and had not been completely truthful with the other law enforcement agencies involved in this case. Jerry couldn’t be specific, his job was to discover trends. Now he told the cops, whose job it was to get very specific.
The older man summed it up, saying, “Well, boys, it looks like you were hosed by the Bureau again. This is getting to be a habit. I woulda figured you’d catch on to their shenanigans by now.”
Sutter and Tasker just looked at each other.
Ristin shrugged. “Maybe next time.”
Tasker asked, “You got anything else?”
“Nope, not really.” He smiled and chuckled like a senior Christmas elf. “Don’t look so down, boys. The FBI has been fucking cops since before you were born. Don’t be embarrassed that you fell for it.” He paused. “Twice.” He paused again. “In two months.”
Sutter felt his blood pressure rise. “Wait a second. I wouldn’t call that shit with the money typical FBI bullshit. They don’t usually frame cops.”
Ristin smiled again. “Ah, the innocence of youth.”
Tasker said, “At least with Dooley and the money, I knew what was going on and why. This one has me more confused.”
Ristin said, “You mean the KKK surveillance?”
They both nodded.
“I don’t know why you were on that. But the fact that Wells had an FBI number in his phone book and was probably a snitch in the case against Al-Soud tells me that the Bureau has used him.”
Tasker said, “So he’s no threat now?”
“I didn’t say that. If he really wasn’t a threat, he’d go to the Bureau and lay low. If he had no reason to stay here, he’d be gone quicker than a doughnut at a Weight Watchers meeting.”
Tasker said, “We need one or two more pieces of the puzzle.”
Sutter said, “I know where we can find those pieces.”
“Where?”
“Jimmy Lail. He’s not as stupid as he acts.”
“How?”
Before he could answer, an intercom buzzed and a female voice said: “Bill, you have a visitor in the lobby.”
Tasker reached over and hit the button on the intercom. “Who is it?”
“She wouldn’t say.”
“Thanks, be right there.” Tasker looked at Sutter and said, “Had an issue with my ex-wife this morning. She may have come to her senses.”
“I gotta head over to the PD for a few minutes. I’ll follow you down and take care of my shit, then meet you at one at ATF.” He turned to Ristin. “Sir, you have done a great job. I appreciate it.”
Ristin smiled. “It’s a team effort to keep Billy out of trouble.”
“Ain’t that the truth.”
Heading down the stairs, Tasker said, “I like how you two bonded over my misfortune.”
“I say always find the bright side of a situation.”
Tasker smiled. “Let me introduce you to Donna real quick, then I’m gonna take an hour with her to make sure she’s okay.”
Sutter nodded as they reached the ground floor and headed through the double security doors. He looked into the lobby, curious as to what this ex-wife Tasker was always talking about looked like.
They stopped at the door and both cops froze. Alicia Wells stood up when she saw them. Her eyes were red and she held a tissue.
Sutter said, “Now, this is gonna be interesting.”
Camy Parks sat at her desk, gazing out a window that looked over a fenced parking lot where they held seized vehicles. The file from the cruise-ship bombing sat on her cluttered desk. She had to admit that after two years without any progress at all, the case had lost a lot of its original interest for her. At first, when there’d been media activity and people were asking her about it, she had attacked the case like a pit bull, but over time, as leads washed out-and with them the inquiries-she felt like she had been placed on some kind of inactive squad. That was what she had liked about the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms-they were never inactive. She loved the feeling of having too much work and being the underdog agency. Now, with her duties restricted to the one case, she had lost some enthusiasm. That is, until recently. Now people were interested in the case again. She had the two good-looking cops working with her, Tasker the quiet and introspective one, and Sutter the too-sharp-for-his-own-good one. She even had been able to bring Jimmy Lail along on the case. That had been a thrill at first, but now he was wearing on her nerves.
Something about the case had never seemed right and she couldn’t put her finger on it, but lately it had just gone plain spooky. This guy Wells moved like a ghost. He was in the area, but no one could put their hands on him. Then there was that business with the Klan house. Where had the FBI gotten that info?
Her cell phone rang. She looked at the face of it and saw: “Incoming Call.” That meant that it was a number that was blocked. Had to be Jimmy calling from his office.
“Hello,” she said into the tiny phone.
“Hey, baby.”
She let out a small sigh. “Hello, Jimmy.”
“What’s my girl up to?”
“Work. It’s ten-thirty. You should be working, too.”
“What’s with my lady this morning?”
“Jimmy, did you call for a reason other than to annoy me?”
“Whoa, girl, I was gonna ask you if you wanted to have dinner and some lovin’ tonight.”
“Can’t tonight.”
“Even for Joe’s Stone Crab?”
“That’d be nice, but it’s September. Joe’s is closed.”
“I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go.”
“Not tonight.”
“Why not, baby?”
“I’ve got to wash my hair.” She cracked a smile at that old one.
“C’mon, baby, that’s a bunch of-”
She didn’t hear the rest as she mashed the “end” button on her phone. She smiled, thinking that between Sutter and Tasker, one of them had to be free tonight.
twenty-eight
Tasker focused on east Palm Drive as it turned into Southwest 344th Street, the empty Homestead speedway a few miles behind them. Sutter sat in the backseat of the Cherokee, talking-more like reasoning-with Alicia Wells. She had come in from the cold, like a spy from the sixties. And she had problems. Alicia told the investigators some of her story, but obviously held back quite a bit. What she did say was that Wells might have a secret box near the Turkey Point power plant and she thought she could find it. Knowing that the discovery of physical evidence might help them find the elusive repairman from Naranja, Tasker decided Alicia could talk in the car and headed out to this quietly modern part of the county.
Alicia sat, half-turned toward Sutter in a sundress and, clearly, no bra. She had garnered a few stares back at the office, which was another reason Tasker thought it best to hustle her out of the FDLE building. She had cried on and off during the brief interview, and now Sutter was waiting for her to regain her composure. He handed her a tissue. She held it to her nose and cut loose with a deafening honk as she blew her nose. Tasker thought a semi had rolled up behind him.
Alicia said, “That’s better, thank you.” She wiped her eyes again.
Tasker asked, “Still up this road, right?”
“I’m guessing it’s on the dirt road to where we used to fish. The boys told me that Daniel could see them from where he liked to park on the bank of the canal.”
“And you can find it?”
“I’m not stupid. Just choose not to deal with everything. Wish I didn’t have to talk to you fellas, but I do.” She looked at Sutter. “And I’m sorry I pepper-sprayed you.”
Sutter smiled. “It was a good move. A smart move. I never expected it.” He handed her another tissue. “And believe me, I cried and blew my nose a whole lot more than you are now.”
She smiled and let out a short giggle.
Tasker said, “You said Daniel worried you. Did he give any specifics?”
“Naw, only that it was gonna be spectacular and on Thursday.” She blew her nose again, earning an amazed stare from Sutter. “And that it was gonna be in Miami.”
“Anything else?”
“Just that he didn’t seem to care if people got hurt. He might be a little confused. He gets that way sometimes. Focused on something and then forgets other stuff. If he was working in his workshop, he’d sometimes forget to eat.” She put her hand on Sutter’s knee. “I couldn’t live with myself if someone got hurt and I didn’t do anything.”
Sutter said, “There’s a lot of that going around.” He threw his intense stare over to Tasker in the driver’s seat.
Alicia went on. “Daniel is a good man. He’s a great father and treated me better than I ever been treated. I don’t want him in trouble, neither. I reckon if you catch him before he hurts someone, he might just get probation.”
Tasker remained silent. He didn’t want to mislead her. He left his eyes on the straight road and kept driving.
“Daniel is a little different in some ways.”
“How do you mean?” asked Sutter.
“He likes order in his workshop, but everywhere else he likes things just… goin’ nuts. I mean, he lets those boys of his run wild. They’re holy terrors.”
“If everyone who let their kids run wild was crazy, we’d all be in asylums,” said Tasker.
She leaned forward and rested her hand on his shoulder. He looked up in the rearview to see her piercing blue eyes. It felt like electricity was shooting through his body where her hand touched.
Alicia said, “No, it wasn’t like they were bad. He punished them if they sassed or didn’t eat good. He liked them to start fires and break stuff. He watched them and sometimes gave pointers on how to make it worse.”
Sutter said, “They ever hurt anyone?”
“Not that I know of.”
Tasker thought back to the FBI profiler. Maybe she wasn’t so full of horseshit. “Did he ever say he liked to be in control of things like that? Like fires or breaking things?”
“Naw, but he told me once that he liked when things were out of order. When they were in… I can’t think o
f the word he used.”
Tasker and Sutter said in unison: “Chaos?”
“Yeah, that’s it. He liked to see how people reacted to chaos. He had an idea, a what-do-you-call-it?”
This time nothing popped into Tasker’s mind.
Alicia said it herself. “He had a theory that the bigger the flash, the crazier people acted. Didn’t matter if there was any real danger-it was all show.”
Tasker asked, “He ever say how he tested this chaos theory?”
She shook her head. “Nope.”
“You don’t have any idea where he might be staying?”
“Nope. He just calls me or my mama from a pay phone. I don’t even got an idea where he uses the pay phones. One time it was in a Publix, ’cause I heard the people talkin’ on the store speaker.”
“He have any close friends he might go to?”
“Naw. He did call one fella a lot, and the guy called him, too. He came by the house a coupla times.”
“What’s his name?”
“Never heard it. He was from up north. New York or Boston. Talked real fast, and funny, but always dressed nice, like he was a banker or a lawyer.”
Tasker thought of one more thing as she said, “Turn here.”
He slowed and pulled off the paved road onto a soft, muddy road that cut between two long strips of Brazilian peppers. Some people called them Florida Holly, but they definitely weren’t native plants. The thin long branches of the low trees crept out toward the two-lane asphalt road. Tasker turned off 344th onto the uneven, winding trail. Several times the Cherokee almost bogged down, feeling like it might get stuck in the soft sand.
Once he had a grip on the vehicle’s handling, he asked Alicia, “Why was Daniel learning to drive a big rig?”
“He just wanted to learn. I asked him if that meant he’d be gone truckin’, ’cause I didn’t want to stay alone with them kids. He said he wouldn’t be leavin’. But he kept going to that school.”
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