by John Foxjohn
“David.”
David heaved a relieved sigh, recognizing the voice. He turned to meet William Patterson, who strode toward him. He extended his hand to shake, but the chief ignored it and hugged him. David, who’d never been comfortable with male hugs, tolerated this one.
As David followed him to his office, he turned his head to give the woman a smirk, but her wolf brown eyes met his and he averted his gaze and his smirk.
Patterson indicated David to have a seat. “I see you met my secretary.”
“Secretary? Is that what they call monster body guards now?”
Patterson chuckled. “She is rather protective of my time.”
“Yep. It would take a howitzer to get through her.”
David and the chief talked for almost two hours, catching up on the months they’d been apart. David ended up telling him all about the case he was on, the diary, and what Justin said about the Sawyer case.
Patterson scratched his chin. “That name’s familiar. I should know it.”
“Yes, sir—you were the captain over the third precinct when it went down. I was on patrol. I remember the name but nothing about it. I wasn’t involved in any way.”
Patterson held up a finger, reached for the phone, and dialed a number. “Dawson, could you find me an old case file and bring it up here right away?”
“Sawyer, from the third precinct.”
“Pretty quick.”
“Oh—before you hang up. Bring it up here yourself. There’s an FBI agent in my office that wants to talk to you.”
Patterson smiled when he hung up. They chatted about Beth and how many kids they wanted until the buzzer on the desk sounded.
Patterson reached over and pushed the button.
“I’ve got this here Inspector Tate here that says you told him to come up. I tried to explain the appointment policy—”
“Marge, Marge. I want to see him. I called him.” David burst out laughing when the chief rolled his eyes.
The door opened and Dawson Tate stepped in. “Damn, William, you need to do something about that sec—David!”
The inspector strode forward. David extended his hand, but Tate ignored it and grabbed him in a bear hug. As breath squeezed from his lungs like a popped balloon, he wondered if anyone just shook hands around there anymore.
Inspector Tate caught David by both shoulders and lifted him off the floor. “Damn, it’s good to see you.”
David laughed. “It’s good to see you, too. Be even better if you’d put me down.”
* * * *
Melissa and the other four agents were cold and tired. She’d found a trailer four down from Whistlams’, but it had a slight problem—no electricity or furniture. They took turns looking out the window, an hour at a time. The rest sat around on a threadbare carpet covered with stains and rancid odors.
Time traveled by as fast as two turtles in a long distance race. At the last minute, Andy had thought to get something to drink and snacks. If he hadn’t, they’d be in trouble, now.
Melissa took her turn at the window and when Morgan relieved her, she sank on the carpet, her back against the scarred, imitation wood paneling. Her nose wiggled at the odors and her stomach heaved in rebellion. John, leaning against a corner, slept. Melvin sank down close to Melissa. “Can I ask you a question?”
Melissa leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Sure.”
Melvin hesitated. “You told us once, that David was a multi-millionaire.”
Without opening her eyes, Melissa nodded.
“He doesn’t act like one. I mean, he doesn’t throw money around. He never talks about it, and except for the clothes, he doesn’t have anything expensive.”
Melissa raised her head. Andy and John, who was now awake, edged closer. Melissa rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand. “That’s the way David is. But he hasn’t had the money long enough to know how well off he is.”
Andy leaned toward her. “How’d he get all this money?”
Melissa stretched her back by turning her shoulders. She could use a massage and a hot shower. “I don’t know the entire story. David has never said anything about it. Beth told me a little. It seems he had this buddy from Viet Nam. They saved each other’s life or something. I don’t know. Anyway, his friend moved to California and hooked up with some kind of hippie out there. He talked David into investing money in a company this hippie started.”
Melissa stood for a moment and stretched. John went to relieve Morgan, who’d listened to the conversation while watching out the window. He sat where John had.
Melissa continued, “David put all his savings in stocks. Ten thousand dollars, and borrowed another ten thousand. He bought the stocks at a ridiculous price. Dollar or two a share.”
“I take it the stock did well,” Andy said.
Melissa nodded and chuckled. “Went through the roof.”
“What company was it?” Melvin asked.
Melissa shrugged. “Microsoft or something like that.”
Melvin’s eyes almost popped out his head. “You’re shitting me?” It occurred to him what he’d said. He dropped his eyes and mumbled, “Sorry.”
“I haven’t heard of this company,” Morgan said.
Andy shook his head. “Me either.”
Melvin, now looking up, said, “You will. In a couple of years, Microsoft will be the greatest computer company in the world.” He turned to Melissa. “You’re telling me, David was one of the original investors in this company?”
She nodded.
“What I don’t understand,” Morgan said, “with all this money, why is working for the FBI?”
Melissa brushed a strand of hair off her face. “David’s thirty years old. He has enough money to do anything in the world he wants and never have to worry. If you were in his place, and you were already doing what you wanted to, what would you do?”
As the conversation lagged, Melissa dozed. She woke when Melvin took his turn at the window, and dozed again.
She blinked her eyes when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She rose and stretched to take her turn. An hour later, she had trouble keeping her eyes open. It was never like this on TV. Characters always had good food, comfortable surroundings, and things happened faster. After looking at her watch, she woke Morgan.
Her eyes closed. Seconds later, a hand tugged hard on her shoulder. Her eyes snapped open and she stood in one motion. John looked out the window. The others were awake and alert.
“What we got?” she asked.
“Whistlam. Maybe,” Andy said.
Rushing to the window, Melissa looked out the corner. John pointed to a Trans Am that had pulled up to the curb on the same side as Ms. Whistlam’s trailer, but one down. “Parked—there a couple of—minutes ago. No one—has got out yet. When it went—by, I could’ve—sworn Whistlam—drove—it.”
Melissa put her hand on his shoulder. “Calm down.”
He nodded.
As Andy and Morgan looked out the other front window, the car door opened and a white male leaned out, looked both ways. He edged out of the vehicle, shut the door, and ran bent over to the Whistlam front door. The door opened before he got there, and shut behind him.
Now, eagle-sized butterflies flapped in Melissa’s stomach. Her moment of truth, the one she had prepared for all her life, had arrived. This was the situation she had wanted, even begged for, and what she did or didn’t do, how she handled things in this one grievous time period, could determine her future with the bureau.
As she considered all this, debated with herself, should she go through with it, a grin spread across her face. “We got him. Let’s do it without anyone getting killed.”
* * * *
“This case sure doesn’t look like what you described,” Chief Patterson said.
David scratched the back of his head. Inspector Tate, Chief Patterson, and David had sat down with the old case two hours before. Now, they were more bewildered than before they started.
“Are you sure that’s what he wrote?” Tate asked.
David nodded several times. He wrote, “David, if you’re reading this, think of the Sawyer case. I can’t be sure, but this situation may be similar.”
Chief Patterson rubbed his mouth. “He did say it may be similar. He couldn’t be sure. Maybe he didn’t have a good enough grasp of what was going on to know.”
David leaned his head back. “One thing’s similar. This Sawyer case was a mess. So is the one in Lufkin.”
An hour later, David left the police station with mixed emotions. He was glad to see old friends, but his visit brought back memories he didn’t want to relive. In a funk, he stopped at a pay phone and called Beth at Sheree’s.
“You have to go back this afternoon?” Beth asked.
David closed his eyes. “Yeah. I’d better. I have one, maybe two stops to make. Take about an hour or two.”
“I’ve got an idea,” Beth said. “I was about to go visit Patty and Henry at the bookstore. Why don’t you meet me there and we can have an early supper before you go back.”
David hesitated. “The supper sounds good. Could we meet some other place?”
The phone went dead for a long moment on Beth’s end. “Dammit—David. Patty and Henry want to see you.”
Her tone made David’s eyes widen. She seldom used cuss words. “I don’t know,” he said at last.
“Well I do. You have to get over this guilt.”
“You’re right. I’ll meet you there.”
When he hung up, for the first time, talking to Beth increased his bad mood. He didn’t want to see Henry and Patty, but knew he had to. At least his mood matched the place and the person he planned on seeing.
CHAPTER 23
David’s rental car crunched down the alley covered with broken seashells. He had to drive slow to avoid trash littering the narrow passage and overturned metal trash cans, some with bullet holes, impeding his way.
In the middle of the alley, he stopped the car and killed the engine. He got out and locked the doors. His feet crunched on broken bottles, seashells and no telling what else, as he made his way to a soul food restaurant’s back door.
David knew the door led past the kitchen and it would be unlocked. Not too many people would be stupid enough to come in that door.
He put his back to the wall. His gun slid from the breakfront shoulder holster and he ejected the magazine, and checked the loads even though he knew he was ready. With the gun cocked, side safety off, he reached for the doorknob. His heart ricocheted.
He slid into the doorway fast, gun at ready—in the kitchen’s storeroom. Collard greens, pinto beans, and fatback odors wafted through the air, making his stomach rumble from hunger.
He opened the door and slid into the hallway, turned the corner, and a black man the size of a Clydesdale stood with his back to David, arms across his chest. David held his breath.
Elmer’s shaved head shined with the glow of the florescent lighting. David eased behind the bodyguard.
Elmer stiffened when the cold end of David’s gun touched the back of the guard’s left ear.
“Mother fucker. You’se fucking with the wrong man.”
“No, Elmer. If you move a muscle, you’ve fucked with the last man. I have a .45 with steel-jacketed hollow points. Normal forty-five has an eight pound trigger pull. Mine has two pounds. If I breathe wrong, what little brains you have will splatter all over this place.”
“Whats the fuck you’se want?”
David kept the gun tight against the guard’s head, but turned sideways to watch his back. He shifted his footing so he could be ready. “First, I want the gun you carry.”
“That goes to shows how dumb you’se fucking is. I’se don’t carry no gun.”
“What about that .38 under your coat?”
“Mother fucker whose are you?”
David took a deep breath. “Elmer—I’m the one who has a finger getting tired.”
“Okays.”
Elmer reached his left hand down for his gun.
“Slow. Two fingers.” David sighed when he had the gun, but didn’t let down his guard. Elmer didn’t need a gun. He handcuffed him to one of the storage racks. David stepped out of range of the enormous man.
He dried his sweating hands on his pants, still watching his back. “I want to have a little conversation with Joey. There is no reason for anyone here to die. I’m not going to hurt Joey unless you do something stupid. Do you understand?”
Elmer’s eyes narrowed in hate. “You’se fucking hurt Joey. I’se’ll kill you mother fucker.”
David shook his head and eased by Elmer. He had to make his move before the guard thought about yelling out. His heart beat faster. He took shallow breaths through his nose as he flung open the office door.
He closed the door behind him and almost jumped four feet into the room. Joey Williams, sitting behind his desk, reached for his bottom drawer. His hand failed him when David placed the barrel of his gun on the bridge of his nose.
David shook his head and Joey brought both hands on the desktop. Joey didn’t worry David too much at the moment. He wasn’t like Elmer. No one knew what the guard would do, but Joey wouldn’t take any chances. He knew if he wanted to, he could arrange another meeting more favorable to him. If he was alive.
“Mind if I move my hands off the desk?’
David sat in a chair across from the black man, but angled so his back wasn’t to the door. “Not at all. You have sense enough to know not to try anything.”
Joey nodded several times and adjusted his tie and coat. He didn’t give the appearance of being the biggest drug lord in Texas.
“I heard you turned in your badge.”
“I resigned from the Houston Police Department. I have a higher one now. FBI.”
Joey frowned and jerked at his coat. David figured this little tidbit made him mad. He didn’t know David was with the bureau, and Joey liked to know these things. Still keeping his gun trained in Joey’s direction, David adjusted himself in his seat. His breathing had calmed down.
“You can relax. I’m not stupid enough to try anything. What do you want—Mason?”
“Just a little conversation. That’s all. I’m sure you’ve heard about the deputy sheriff killed in Lufkin.”
“The way I heard it there was two killed. I had nothing to do with that. You know I don’t pop cops.”
“I know you don’t. But I also know you make it your business to know everything going on in Texas.”
“If I tell you, what’s in it for me?”
“When I was on the Houston Police Department I didn’t have any friends in high places.” David’s eyebrows rose and he smiled. “I do now. Ever hear of the IRS?”
Joey leaned back and crossed his arms with a satisfied smirk. “The IRS can look all they want. They do anyway. Haven’t caught me at anything, and won’t.”
David leaned a little forward, ready to throw his ace in the pot. “You’re still living with Rosa, aren’t you?
Joey’s shocked expression was what David had hoped. He leaned forward. “IRS isn’t my only friend. I also know people in immigration and naturalization.”
“You son of a bitch.”
David pursed his lips and nodded. “Sometimes. When I have to be.”
Joey stood and turned his back on David. He sauntered as if he didn’t have a care in the world to his little refrigerator, opened it, brought out a Pepsi, and offered David one.
David refused—glad he never played poker with this man.
As calm as if they were having a business meeting, Joey took his seat again.
“I tell you what I’ll do,” David said. “If you help me, I’ll go to these friends I have in immigration and see what I can do. You know you can trust me.”
Joey nodded several times. “You’ll get Rosa a visa?”
“I didn’t say that. I said I’d see what I can do. I’m not going to promise something I can’t deliver. If I can get it done, I will.
”
Joey nodded. “I like that in you. Always have. You don’t have a prejudiced bone in your body. You’ll fuck with a white man the same as a black one.”
Thirty minutes later, Joey escorted David out the back. No one occupied the hallway, including Elmer. Who released the guard David didn’t know and didn’t ask. When he got in his car, his handcuffs lay on the dash.
* * * *
Wind whipped Melissa’s hair. She brushed it out of her face. Next time, she’d put it up out of the way. Maybe she needed to get it cut. It might be too long for field agent work, but at least her hair took her mind off her racing pulse and churning stomach as she eased her way across the street to the trailer where Whistlam hid.
With Andy taking the other side of the front door, she’d sent Morgan first to cover the back. He’d edged away from the trailer on the other side of the street, cut across to some woods, and should make his way to the back. Melissa had lost sight of him when he entered the trees.
John had left when Morgan disappeared. He took almost the same route, but stopped at the side of the trailer, and Melvin the opposite side.
Her hand hovered near her gun. She’d debated whether to remove it, but the gun would make her conspicuous if the neighbors, or Whistlam looked out the window.
She stopped, and for the hundredth time, wondered if she’d made the right call. It was too late now to worry about it. She did make the call and at this point, couldn’t change it. They had no communication with each other and Andy was the only one in her view.
With her heart racing like a freight train, she wiped wet hands on her coat. Andy slipped by Whistlam’s car and sped toward the front door.
She took a deep breath. It was her turn. She sprinted to join him.
Before she banged on the front door, inside, someone cursed, a chair overturned and footsteps slapped the floor, fading away from her.
In the rear, a gun exploded, and another.
She gestured to Andy who jumped forward and kicked the door. The wood shattered as the door exploded open. They rushed in, guns drawn. Ms. Whistlam glared at them and cursed.