by John Oakes
Winton gasped so hard his butt left his seat.
“Jesus. You okay?” Julius put a hand to his chest. “Shit, man.”
“The car!” Winton shouted. “The car!”
Julius slowed. “What car? What the fuck?”
They passed the intersection where they’d penned in the drug dealer at eighty-first and Stewart. Winton jabbed a finger at the window. “Why didn’t I see it before. Arg!”
Julius pulled to the side of the road, leaving his blinker on.
“The slick black car we saw giving Beatrice the drugs?”
“Yeah.”
“The dealer said he wasn’t on the island that night.”
“So?”
“So he meant he drove off. I thought someone borrowed his car, but what if—”
“It wasn’t the same car.” Julius shook his head. “You think there’s two Lincoln MKZs on Galveston?”
“It kinda makes sense. Think of all the years Jansen’s been profiting off shady shit.” Winton smacked a hand into his palm. “Think of all the money he’s made. Where is it? He drives a Ford Taurus to work and buys his clothes from JC Penney.”
“I don’t think he does what he does for money. He does it for the thrills, the kicks, the power.”
“You think he bought the same car his drug dealer had?”
“Think like an asshole, Julius.”
Julius raised an eyebrow.
“And might I just add once more,” Cletus furled a hand, “that an asshole with a fancy car on an island probably has a fancy boat.”
“Either way, he can only be going down the San Luis Pass Road or down Stewart,” Winton said. “If we move ass, we can get to the merge before he does. He won’t think anyone’s looking for a Lincoln MKZ.”
They drove down the length of the narrowing island to where the two parallel roads merged, and pulled off near Galveston Island State Park with a perfect view of the sparse traffic in either direction.
“You think he might have beaten us here?” Julius asked. “Assuming we’re right he’d come this way?”
“If he left the site of the fire on foot, he’d have to cover ground before getting to the car. I’d say we have a lead.”
Not five minutes later a black MKZ came cruising down San Luis barely doing the speed limit. Julius slapped Winton’s arm. “Now that’s thinking like an asshole.”
Julius pulled out after giving the car some distance, and Winton called Weischel. “We think we just saw Jansen in a black MKZ heading west, off island.”
“How are you certain?”
“Just get someone out here to help us. He’s about to leave the city and county.”
Weischel cursed. “I’ll have to alert Brazoria.”
Brazoria County held a cluster of small towns surrounding the mouth of the Brazos River. The area was lousy with oil and chemical treatment facilities, many of which were abandoned and rusting away. The mouth of the river had its fair share of marinas, which Winton searched for on his phone as Julius drove across the bridge to the next barrier island.
“My guess is he’s gonna turn right before the port. Lots of marinas clustered near the mouth.”
“How far?”
“Like seven miles. I’d keep Jansen barely in sight, then creep up as we near town.”
“Roger that.”
As the coast whipped past, and the big oil tanks in the distance grew larger, Julius asked, “What are we gonna do if we catch up to him?”
“We gotta stay in contact with the Brazoria County deputies. I’ll tell Weischel to put us in touch.” Winton sent her a text, but got no response.
Julius increased his speed, gaining on the MKZ. “What if it’s just some grandpa with a nice car, and he just keeps trucking all the way to Corpus Christi.”
Winton ignored the comment. “Come on. Turn. Turn you son of a—”
The MKZ either had to carry on into the residential area of Surfside, Texas or take a hard right to stay on the highway.
It turned right.
“That’s good,” Winton said. “Now he needs to turn right somewhere near the channel.”
Sure enough, the car crossed the channel then singled a right turn.
“We know it’s him,” Winton said. “He’s going for a boat, that sly bastard. You were right, Cletus.”
Cletus was silent, bright eyes searching the surroundings.
The MKZ parked, and Julius slowed. A man got out matching Jansen’s build but with long dark hair under a blue ball cap. He carried a duffel bag toward the docks of the largest marina connected to the channel.
“Go, go.” Winton waved Julius forward. He parked behind the MKZ and they jumped out, running through the gravel to get to the docks. “Wait.” Winton texted Weischel. I’m at the marina. Jansen leaving by boat. Track me.
Winton and Julius trundled down the gangway to where the dock floated in the water. “How is it shaped?” Winton asked Julius.
“Looks like the letter E but with more lines.”
“Gotcha.”
“I see him.” Julius pointed. “Jansen’s going to the end.”
They jogged down the landward length of the dock. With each perpendicular row they passed, Winton noticed the boats growing larger.
“Is Jansen taking a yacht outta here?” Winton asked. “You sure he went to the end?” The last row had boats so big they had to be moored alongside the dock.
“Thought so,” Julius said. “Hey, where’d Cletus get to?”
Winton spun, but saw no sign of him. He shrugged and kept on forward. They turned the corner into the shadow of a gleaming white and chrome forty-foot pleasure boat. The dock ended up ahead with no sight of Jansen.
“He must have gotten aboard one of these bigguns.” Julius squinted up at the decks of the three largest boats.
“Guess he’s an even bigger asshole than we thought.”
They edged along the second boat, then began to examine the third.
Something thumped to the deck behind them. Winton turned to see Jansen following his duffel bag over the side of the second boat. He landed a little stiffly, but managed to stay on his feet. He straightened his coat and pulled a gun from his waist.
“Nice haircut,” Winton spat. “You look like you belong on Wayne’s World.”
Jansen took a step forward and leveled the pistol. “You’ve seen me shoot before. Don’t move.”
“Does it piss you off any that I knew it was you from the very beginning?” Winton asked.
“I don’t care. And I don’t care about the police accusing me of being a homosexual. It’s all just talk to rile me up. None of it’s relevant.”
“But the rest is.” Winton looked to Julius and surveyed their surroundings. It dawned on him with stomach-chilling effect that they were in a blind spot to the surrounding area. If Jansen shot, no one could witness it. He swallowed and kept at Jansen. “You’re a murderer, a cold-blooded killer. No, worse. You’re callous. You killed Beatrice with total indifference the way you’d swat a fly.”
“I probably did that baby a favor. Some great loss to the world. One less beach bum living off their parent’s wealth.”
“You’ve got some high estimation of yourself,” Julius said. “Maybe someday you’ll get yours.”
“I love Karma,” Jansen said. “It keeps the simple-minded assured that anyone who does things their own way will be punished. Meanwhile, the rest of us go on running the show.”
Winton took a step forward, bringing him closer to Jansen’s gun, but also within diving distance of the gap between boats.
“Don’t move.”
“You gonna shoot or what, you fucking coward?”
Just as Winton saw Jansen straighten his arm to take aim, he dove sideways into the water. Beneath the surface, he heard a splash on the other side of the dock, but no gunshots. To be safe, Winton frog-kicked deeper, trying to get round the bow of the second boat before surfacing. He scraped up along its hull and took a breath, treading water. He wonde
red which way he should swim, not knowing where Jansen was with his gun.
Jansen appeared on the main dock, heading away from them and back toward the smaller craft.
“Son of a bitch.” Winton swam back around the bow and found Julius surfacing from under the dock. “You okay?”
Julius treaded water. “He didn’t shoot. Thank God.”
“Bastard’s running for the smaller boats I think. He was just luring us back here.”
Julius turned and pulled himself onto the dock, then hauled Winton out, setting him on his feet.
They ran hard, to Winton’s surprise faster than he’d run in two decades. But even that was no use. Somewhere an outboard motor gurgled to life and revved up. A white cabin cruiser left the marina and turned into the channel leading toward the mouth of the Brazos and open water. It passed them by as they stopped at the edge of the dock, fifty feet away.
Jansen stood at the wheel, increasing his speed. He spotted them, and instead of reaching for his pistol, he waved. “Next time, gentlemen.”
The rear of his boat read “Bad Medicine.”
Winton growled and looked around for something to throw. All he found was a pebble the size of a Skittle. He hurled it all the same in impotent rage.
“Better watch out for that anger of yours,” Jansen called out. “Unlike Karma, it can actually ruin you!”
Winton fished out his phone in the hope that his GPS location would, at that moment, be bringing the cops barreling down on their position. But his screen was blank. “Shit. It’s soaked.” Winton closed his eyes. The only sound he heard was the thrum of Jansen’s engines and his laughter as he pulled away.
Winton and Julius ran up the gangway to the parking lot where they got a better vantage of the channel and of Jansen covering more distance to freedom by the second.
“Where the hell is that Cletus?” Julius asked again.
“Oh no.” Winton took a step closer to the channel. “Oh, sweet Lord.”
A dark figure emerged from below deck and he stuck a three-foot rod into Jansen’s neck. The snap and crackle of the cattle prod called out over the water, like a bug zapper feasting on a dragonfly. Jansen’s body bucked and flailed before he dropped to the deck. Cletus reached down out of view, and the whip crack of violent electric shock rang out again and again as Bad Medicine motored under the shadow of the bridge.
Before heading out of sight, Cletus waved and stuck his cattle prod in the air by way of salute.
Winton and Julius jumped up and down and waved back.
TWENTY-SEVEN
The first people to get to Jansen were a pair of local cops who looked like they could be brothers with their matching black buzz-cuts and downturned eyes and mouths.
Julius and Winton arrived just as they were hauling Jansen out of the boat, which had come to rest in a marshy bank where aquatic plants grew thick in the still water.
“Whoo-hoo,” one cop said, as they dragged Jansen through the marsh toward shore. “This water stinks like swamp ass.”
The other cop looked back. “Whoa, Griff, looks like this fella done shit all over his self!”
They laid him face down on dry ground, examining his stained trousers. “Boy, I tell ya what, Zeke. I seen some folks shit their pants in my days, but this fella done shit his pants all the way.”
“They don’t tell those criminals not to run from the law on a full stomach,” Zeke said. “You wanna stay light, stay loose. Keep the potty breaks to a minimum.”
“Damn,” Griff said. “This dude done shit his pants so hard he mighta died from it.”
Winton and Julius stepped down the bank closer to them. “He’s survived it once before,” Winton said.
“You know this man?” Griff asked.
“Unfortunately.”
“I’m gonna need you both to take a seat on the grass and show me some ID.”
They did as asked, and Winton said, “This guy was running from the Galveston P.D. I’m sure they’d appreciate a courtesy call.”
“Were you running with him?”
“No sir,” Julius said. “We uhh…” He looked at Winton. “We’re private detectives. Just helping out where we can.”
Zeke handed their IDs back. “Right on. So what’s this guy wanted for?”
“Murder,” Winton said. “Amongst other things.”
Zeke whistled. Jansen was coming to and tried to sit up, for the first time registering that his hands were cuffed behind his back. Zeke hauled him further up the bank near Winton and Julius. “Murder, huh? So why’d you shit your pants?”
“I was electrocuted.”
“You get hit by lightning?” Griff asked. “Happened to a cousin of ours working on a golf course. He forgot English for three fuckin’ years.”
“I think it was a cattle prod,” Jansen said between gritted teeth. “The man who did it. Where is he?” Jansen looked at Winton and Julius. They both smiled.
“There ain’t no man,” Zeke said. “And there ain’t no cattle prod in that boat.”
“Bad Medicine?” Griff asked. “Please tell me you didn’t name your boat after some shitty Bon Jovi song.”
Jansen regarded the cop with hooded eyes.
“That was a little on the nose,” Winton said. “A little indulgent.”
“I think that might have been what tipped Karma over the edge,” Julius said. “You’re a real first-class asshole, you know that?”
Winton smirked and said low, “Cletus sure did. And he never mentioned he kept the cattle prod all these years.”
They shared a chuckle as the two cops hauled Jansen up to his feet.
“If you think I’m done with you,” Jansen spat. “It’s only just begun.”
“That’s real ominous coming from a grown man with shit in his britches,” Julius said.
Weischel arrived in time to get a full view of Jansen in all his glory before they put him in the back of the cruiser.
“When do you think I’ll get him?” Weischel asked.
“Oh, the chief isn’t a stickler for paperwork,” Griff said. “Maybe by tonight.”
“Thank you very kindly.”
The two cops nodded and drove off with Jansen.
“Where’s Cletus?” Weischel asked. “What happened to Jansen?”
“Oh,” Julius stood and dusted himself off. “Cletus had an appointment he had to run off to. Something about a girl. As for Jansen… Looked to me like he got hit by lightning.”
“Lightning?” She inclined her head with a hand on her hip. “It ain’t raining.”
“There’s all kinds of lightning,” Julius said. “I saw it on a documentary.”
“Yeah,” Winton said. “Same kinda lightning that hit that guy who abused your brother in the group home.”
Weischel looked around at the scene, hand on her hips, her wide shoulders turning woodenly with her head. “Nature is so unpredictable.” A coy smile spread across her face. “Plimpton’s on his way. He’s pissed.”
“You don’t say.” Julius scratched behind his ear.
Winton held out a hand, and she shook it. “Tell the big fella that everyone lived happily ever after, just like in a fairy tale.”
Weischel smirked. “Perfect. He’ll really hate that.”
Winton waved. “Come on, Julius. Let’s get out of here.”
Winton rolled the window down and held his phone out in the whipping air, letting it fly up and down as the air caught the angle of his hand just like when he was a kid.
“I think you’re supposed to bury it in rice,” Julius said, as he turned into the beach house.
“Maybe I’ll steal some for the ride home.”
They packed up their belongings, took their remaining beers and threw it all into Julius’ backseat. Winton found a box of instant rice and threw his phone down in it along with Julius’.
As they drove off the island, a buzzing erupted from inside the box. Winton pulled out his phone which was now alight with notifications and an incoming call.
Lucas.
“What’s up?”
“Winton?”
“Yeah.”
“Finally. Where you been?” Lucas asked feverishly.
“My phone got dunked in water. Why you got your shirt in a knot?”
“Winton I’m at the hospital with Missy.”
“What?”
Winton would’ve stood right out of his seat if not for his seatbelt. “Is she okay?”
“She’s having the baby, and she’s gonna fucking murder you if you don’t get here.”
“Well, I’m coming!” Winton hung up and looked at Julius. “The baby’s coming. Now.”
Julius increased his speed and looked around for cops. “Babies take a little coaxing. Especially the first one a woman has. We’ll be okay.”
The world became a blur, and before Winton knew it he was huffing like a woman in labor to calm himself.
Julius reached back for the bottle Winton had been drinking from on their way down to Galveston. “Hey man, take a drink or four. It’s worth the risk if it keeps you from stroking out.”
Winton drank and drank again, and soon his arms and legs felt delightfully heavy.
“So, it’s your last moments of not being a father.” Julius looked over. “Any last thoughts or wishes?”
“I’m certain this trip to Galveston was one of the oddest periods of my life.” Winton sounded calm to himself, almost serene. “It was so odd, but so vivid, like I needed to see this life and death game play out. I needed to meet everyone I met. I needed to see Beatrice die. I needed to sit on that beach with Ryan’s friends. I needed to sleep in a mausoleum to a wife who will never return to appreciate it.”
“And Doctor Jansen?”
“Maybe I needed to meet him most of all.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
Winton drank and wiped his mouth. “I’m certain it will someday”
Julius drove another ten miles in silence, before fishing out a cigarillo and lighting it. “I don’t got issues like you do. I don’t got a family. I don’t got a rage demon on my shoulder. But I know I needed this too. And it scares me to think what for.” He looked down until Winton looked back. “It scares me, Winton.”