by Terry Keys
No one moved. Everyone just stared at Akio, looking back at them from the floor.
“Bring me the AED!” Butler demanded.
Ten seconds later, someone reached through and handed him an AED. He’d already cut Akio’s shirt open. He slammed the discs onto Akio’s chest and pressed the button on the AED.
The machine barked out orders. “Charge needed. Will charge in five seconds. Clear.”
Akio’s body jumped when the charge hit him, but he still remained lifeless. The machine attempted to jolt his heart back several more times, but it was too late.
Butler hadn’t even noticed, but the Japanese soldiers were all standing with weapons drawn and pointed at the U.S. contingent.
Butler put his hands into the air. “America is not behind this. You need to lower your weapons now before a lot of good people die. We didn’t even have a person in this room. The only uninvited guests are the ones you arranged to come here.”
“Our leader is dead here on American soil. You told us Mr. Akio would be safe here. It was your job to protect him,” one of Akio’s men said.
“Hey, pal, that’s all the hell I’ve been trying to do here the last few hours. It was all of our goddamn jobs to protect him. You invited the girls. Way I see it, it couldn’t have been anyone else. Newman, cuff these girls now.”
The SAT phone rang, and Newman handed it to Butler.
“Butler speaking,” he answered, his eyes still trained on the weapons of the Japanese.
“Director Burke here. I got the president breathing down my neck on this. What the hell happened out there? And the whole world just saw that damn video with you going John Wayne and shooting the camera. It makes us look even guiltier.”
“Sir, I don’t know. None of us know. I panicked. Just wanted to stop the transmission and figured that was the best way. As far as Yoshida goes, there are no knife or gunshot wounds and no blunt force trauma to the head or neck area. I can’t even determine a goddamn cause of death. I can’t see one thing wrong with him. He literally just toppled over onto the floor. But there are no vitals. Make no mistake about it; Prime Minister Akio Yoshida is dead. Best I can tell is maybe cardiac arrest. Maybe a heart attack.”
“Well, you better figure something out, because not only is he dead, sergeant, but the world thinks the United States of America murdered him.”
Chapter 1
“Keep your back elbow up, and bring your hands through the hitting zone last. Fast hands. Come on, turn on one.”
My nearly eight-year-old daughter, Karen, was coaching Jose Altuve as he dug in at the plate for his second at bat of the game. She’d really taken to softball and baseball and every nuance that went along with them. If she was going to play, she wanted to be the all-time best at it.
I’d have to thank Chief Hill for these seats when I got back from vacation. I’d watched a handful of Astros games in my day, but I’d never been this close. Field level seats right behind the Astros’ dugout.
“Excuse me, coach. But I hope you know he can’t hear you,” Hilary said, rolling her eyes.
“He can to hear me,” Karen called back.
I shook my head and gave Hilary a glance of disapproval. I didn’t understand why eighteen year olds were sometimes so damn sarcastic.
“Hil, if Coach Karen wants to give the guy some batting advice, who are we to get in her way?” my wife, Miranda, said.
The game was in the bottom of the third inning. The bases were loaded with the score one to zero favoring the Astros.
“Daddy, why didn’t you play baseball?” Karen asked. “I think you could have been pretty good.”
Hilary rolled her eyes.
“Well, honey, I was pretty good at football. And at six foot three I was unusually tall for a running back, which meant more colleges gave me looks for football. I do love baseball. And when I was younger I was really good at it.”
“Daddy was good at all sports, Karen,” Miranda said, smiling at me.
“Dad, why aren’t there many blacks playing baseball? I mean, look out there,” Hilary noted.
“That is a pretty good question, young lady,” Miranda said.
“Well, there’s an easy and complicated answer for that. A lot of the inner city youth who end up filling out NBA and NFL teams don’t get exposed to baseball. And by the time they get to high school, they simply don’t have the skills required to compete.”
“Hmmm. Well, that kind of makes sense.”
I hugged my wife as we both shared a laugh.
“Hey, what’s so funny?” Karen asked.
Nothing was really funny; this was perfect—everything was perfect. My life, our lives, were whole again. Being a detective was incredibly rewarding at times. Catching a killer who you’ve been chasing for months on end gives me a high that’s hard to beat. No one told me while I was in the academy that a police officer’s family would have to endure so much. I love trying to get into the head of a criminal and figuring out what makes him or her tick. And ultimately finding their mistake and capitalizing on it. They all make mistakes. Some of them think they won’t, but sooner or later they all do.
“So what did you have to do to get these seats?” Miranda asked me.
“Chief bought season tickets. They’re going to auction them off every week. Luck of the draw is all.”
“Daddy, this is fun. Are we going to come back again?” Karen asked.
“I believe we will, sweetie.”
“I’d prefer not,” Hilary said, never taking her eyes off her phone.
I laughed. “Hilary, does it really matter where you play on your cell phone? Home? Ball game? Restaurant?”
I only got a glare and another eye roll. And then a sharp elbow to the ribs from my wife.
The game ended with the ‘Stros on top, which left Karen on cloud nine.
We headed back to my truck and I GPS’d Popeye’s. The family decided before the game that Popeye’s would be better than any of the stadium food and at a much better price.
“Daddy, is fried food good for you?” Karen asked.
I peeked at her in my rearview mirror. “Well, not really.”
“So why do we eat it?”
“Well, other than the fact that it tastes so good . . . hmmm. I can’t think of another reason.”
She stared out into the blackness of the night. I could see her little wheel of questions still turning.
“So even if it tastes good, why do we eat it if it’s not good for you?”
“That is the million dollar question, young lady. I have a question for you now.”
“Okay.”
“Actually it’s for both you and your sister. Are you guys excited about our trip tomorrow?”
“I am, Daddy!” Karen roared.
Hilary rolled her eyes. “Dad, we’ve gone over this a million times. It doesn’t matter how swell of a place you think it is. I’m going to hate it.”
I looked up to respond but Miranda squeezed my hand. From the corner of my eye, I could see her shake her head too.
She was right. Arguing with Hilary would be a lose-lose situation. I’d just wait and let her see just how much fun it would be.
Everyone scarfed the Popeye’s and we headed home.
When we arrived at home and both girls darted upstairs. A fresh cup of milk and a handful of Oreos sounded good to me so I grabbed some. I sat alone at the kitchen table and downed them both. After I finished as I usually did I went into both girls’ rooms and gave them a good night kiss. Hilary barely allowed it, but I would continue until she told me I no longer could.
I walked into our bedroom, and Miranda was already passed out on the bed. After I undressed, I climbed into bed too. I rolled over and planted a soft kiss on her shoulder. And just like that I was out.
Chapter 2
I woke up the next morning at six a.m. Typically, I was a pretty sound sleeper. I guess I was so excited about the trip that I just couldn’t sleep.
I walked downstairs and put on
a pot of coffee. We’d gathered all of our camping equipment the day before. I glanced around my living room, taking it all in. There was a lot more gear than I remembered taking as a kid. While my coffee brewed, I started loading up my truck.
About twenty minutes later, I’d finished. I headed for the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. I felt a small, soft hand reach around from behind me and stroke my chest.
Miranda leaned in and whispered in my ear. “Do you think we have time for. . . .”
I turned around and smiled at her. “Maybe.”
I set my coffee down and scooped her up in my arms. I whirled her around once then headed for the staircase. We both heard a door open and close. About two seconds later, Hilary looked down at us. Miranda laughed. Hilary did not.
I set her down and she went up to wake Karen.
“Beat your alarm clock, huh?” I asked.
She shrugged and turned back for her room.
An hour later, I was sitting on my couch drinking my third cup of joe.
“Ladies!” I yelled up the staircase. “We’re just going to the woods.”
A few minutes later, the three of them, all dolled up, finally came down.
“Where’s all of the stuff, Daddy?” Karen asked.
“Daddy got it all packed in his truck already. It’s time to roll out!”
We got loaded up, stopped at Shipley’s for breakfast, and jumped on I-45 North.
I loved road trips with my family growing up. They were quite memorable for me. We played games like I Spy, and my dad would tell stories. This road trip, though, was shaping up quite differently; thank you, Apple. If it hadn’t been for my radio, I wouldn’t have known that humans actually spoke. The only thing I could see was the top of their heads as they bent over their cell phones.
When we turned onto River Road three hours later, it finally dawned on me that this was really happening. Miranda and I had talked about taking the girls to float the Guadalupe River since they were young, but due to work—mainly mine—we’d never actually gotten around to it. The fact that my old friends Paul Lafitte and Elena DeLuca were joining us would make the trip that much more memorable.
So far, despite their romantic involvement, we’d made a great team of detectives. Everyone had taken notice, all the way up to Chief Hill who had pulled me aside a few times now to congratulate us on our successes. He was still trying to get me to add a fourth detective, and I received dozens of resumes and recommendations weekly.
I’d floated the Guadalupe River many times as a teen with Paul and our friends. We’d had some great times out here. If my memory served, this was probably the first place either of us had ever been drunk. May have been the first place I’d made out with a girl too. Miranda was more of the city slicker type. DeLuca too. Just thinking about the two of them trying to rough it this weekend made me smile. It would be comical indeed.
I looked in my rearview mirror. “Girls, are you ready to have the time of your lives?”
“Dad, would you please stop trying to sell us on how great this place is?” Hilary, my soon-to-be high school senior growled.
I laughed. “You’ll see for yourself.”
“I can’t wait,” an excited Karen chimed in.
“How many times have you been here, honey?” Miranda asked?
“Hmmm. Let’s see . . . a half dozen times or so at least. This is where Paul honed his guitar skills. And where I learned how to swim.”
“I can’t swim, Daddy,” Karen said.
“It’s okay. You’ll be right beside me, and you’ll have a life jacket on too. Look over there! You can see the river flowing.”
It wasn’t too crowded, as it was still pretty early in the summer. That was fine by me. I wasn’t usually a large crowd kind of guy.
“Why did you come here so much, Daddy?” Karen asked.
“I don’t know. I mean, we didn’t have much money growing up. And it doesn’t cost that much to come up here. And well, to be honest, we always had a really good time here. So it just became something we did every summer. You have to remember we didn’t have PlayStations, smartphones, or the internet to entertain us.”
We turned into our campsite, and I put the truck in park. “Well, campers, it looks like we made it.”
“Where’s the rest of it?” Hilary asked.
“The rest of what?”
“Hotel, bed, stove, AC, microwave—you know, the usual things you have when you go out of town.”
I looked over at Miranda, who laughed and quickly reached for the door handle. Before she could open it, I hit the Lock button. “Oh no you don’t,” I said. “I presume this means you didn’t tell her?”
Miranda laughed harder.
“Okay, guys, this isn’t funny. Didn’t tell me what?” Hilary demanded.
“Well, honey, there is no hotel or any of the other things you mentioned,” I said.
“What? Where are we supposed to sleep?”
I pointed to the tents in the back of the truck.
“Daddy, do we get to sleep in the tents?” Karen asked.
“Yes, Karen, we do get to sleep in those wonderful tents. Actually, you and Hilary are sharing a tent.”
“No. This isn’t what I signed up for. I thought we’d be in a hotel.”
“Hilary, it’ll be great. You’ll see. And besides, look around. How many hotels do you see out here?”
It was too late. Hilary had already slammed her headphones over her head.
I nudged Miranda and smiled. “Leave me to do the dirty work, huh?”
“David, if we’d told her that back in Houston, she’d still be back in Houston,” Miranda said.
“That is a damn good point. Well played.”
My door suddenly opened.
“Aye, Knuckles, you gonna sit in your truck all day, or are we gonna set up camp?” Paul asked.
“Daddy, who is Knuckles?” Karen asked.
“Old childhood nickname of mine, dear.”
We all climbed out and began unloading our gear. Paul and I grabbed my canopy, and we set it up first. It was too damned hot our here to not have some sort of shade.
“You know, David, growing up we never had one of these,” Paul said, laughing.
“Hell, growing up we didn’t need one. Could you imagine scorching under this heat without it?”
I looked over and saw Miranda and Hilary working on the girls’ tent. They seemed to be doing fairly well, so I let them keep giving it a go. Little Karen was still unpacking smaller items from the truck and doing a great job at it.
“When does Karen turn eight again?” Paul asked.
“Two weeks. This parenting thing isn’t easy. Makes me think back to all the stupid things we put our parents through.”
“Yeah, well, you were quite a mess.”
“You weren’t an angel either, my friend.”
“You’re right. I followed right behind you, doing every stupid thing you did down to a T,” Paul cracked back.
“What are you two over there laughing about?” DeLuca asked.
“Just reminiscing about the old days. You know, this guy was quite the charmer back in the day,” Paul said.
DeLuca pointed at me. “This guy a charmer? You know, I can be talked into a lot of things, but I’m having a hard time buying that one.”
I pointed to Miranda. “How do you think I was able to pull that off?”
“He’s got a good point.” Paul grinned.
“The defense rests, Your Honor,” I said. “Call your next witness, counselor.”
Chapter 3
Camp was set up. Hilary had finally accepted the fact that the next couple nights would be spent tenting with her baby sister. The signal wasn’t the greatest, but she still had Wi-Fi so she’d survive.
After we finished setting up the tent, Paul and I did one of my favorite things—we barbecued. There was nothing quite like good ol’ Texas BBQ to fill your stomach on a hot summer night.
“Paul, why don’t you grab tha
t guitar of yours and play something for us?” I asked.
“You know, I haven’t heard him play before,” DeLuca offered up.
“Paul, why haven’t you played for her?” I asked.
He shrugged.
“Well, he plays and sings extremely well. Maybe he’s afraid that after you hear him you’re going to want to marry him right away,” I said, laughing.
“Ha ha. I doubt he’s that good,” DeLuca argued.
“Well, I guess you’re about to find out for yourself.”
Paul leaned in and tuned his guitar. Then he started playing. He played for at least an hour. A few stragglers from other camps had wandered over and joined in as well.
I leaned over and nudged DeLuca. “Well?”
“Okay. He’s good—really good.”
“Well, I just hate saying I told you—”
“Then don’t,” she said.
We both laughed.
“So this was the play back in the day, huh?” Miranda asked.
“Huh? I’m lost.”
“Paul whips out the guitar, the two of you sing some duets, and the girls just melt in your arms?”
“That’s a mighty far-fetched accusation, Mrs. Porter. And aren’t you only supposed to question the defendant with his lawyer present?”
She leaned over close to me. “Is it so far-fetched? And I can ask the defendant anything I want, anytime I want. If he feels like he needs his lawyer present before he answers, well, that’s his call.”
We leaned in even closer, and I kissed my wife. We were both hot, sweaty, and at least I was a stinky mess, but none of that mattered.
“Daddy, are we going to go down the river tomorrow?” Karen asked.
I turned to her. “Yes, we are, little one. You want to do the long float or the short one?”
“Let me answer that,” Miranda interrupted.
“No. Let me guess—short?” I said.
“Ding. Ding. Ding.”
Miranda had never been to the Guadalupe and was pretty much talked into the trip by Paul and me. Same for DeLuca. So if anything went wrong, I was certain we’d hear about it for a long time to come.