Since I didn’t want Labonte to know where I’d parked, I left the cruiser and headed in the opposite direction from the Lexus, then I doubled back. I eased into the Lexus and tried to get a few minutes of sleep. After my interaction with Labonte, I knew he’d be awake and on watch for at least an hour before maybe dozing off again.
My mind didn’t turn off, however, so I couldn’t sleep. I knew I had little time to figure out who was after me, so I came up with a game plan. I’d wait for one of my intelligence contacts to come through. My goal was to find out if there was any chatter about some foreign government getting wind of a previous assignment I was on. I also wanted to connect with Mick and see if he had experienced any threats. If he’d been targeted, then most definitely everything that happened today was about one of my past missions.
I pulled the lever on the seat and reclined. In the morning, I’d return the Lexus and see if I could get some face time with Stanley, see if he’d noticed anything at the coffee shop that I’d missed. A face-to-face meeting was unlikely to happen, however.
As I thought about how to get some face time with Stanley, I heard a slight click followed by a louder whirring sound. A sprinkler suddenly popped up by Labonte’s cruiser. It started pelting water against the car. Labonte bolted out of the vehicle with his weapon drawn. I watched him run a full circle around the cruiser, scared out of his mind. It was the only entertaining thing that happened all night.
After Labonte settled back into the cruiser, I knew for sure he’d stay awake until morning, so I shut my eyes and rested, but I still couldn’t fall asleep.
About two hours later, just before dawn, headlights filled my rearview mirror and caused me to perk up. A moment later a Ford 500 raced past me on the left, then turned right onto Stanley’s street. As the car turned, I glimpsed a woman driver. She pulled into Stanley’s driveway.
Figuring she was a nurse, I was surprised to see she wasn’t wearing scrubs. The woman wore snug blue jeans and a white V-neck t-shirt. Her legs were short but thin, and her upper body was petite and fit. She had the look and build of a cheerleader. She was small and didn’t weigh much, so she would’ve been the cheerleader at the top of the pyramid.
Before heading to the door, she looked over at Labonte and nodded. She must’ve been one of the agents from the LA field office working the investigation. Labonte crawled out of the cruiser, stretched his legs, and walked over.
It was getting light, so I could make out her face. She had dirty-blonde hair, cut short and stylish and tousled about. Immediately I thought of Anne Heche or a younger Meg Ryan. The woman wasn’t sexy, but definitely cute, real cute.
They talked for a few minutes. Labonte smiled too much and used too many hand gestures. The woman was all business, nodding along as Labonte talked. I could tell she only wanted the facts.
Right away I liked her.
When it appeared that Labonte was relaying his sprinkler story, she turned and walked to the front door. She had a spring in her step and walked on the balls of her feet. That told me she was athletic and in good shape. Now she reminded me more of a professional fitness competitor than a cheerleader.
The woman knocked on the door as Labonte carried on talking behind her. A moment later, Pepper swung the door open and greeted the two with a cheery smile. He had a giant coffee mug in his left hand. He held it up, motioning to the lady to see if she wanted a cup. She shook her head.
Stanley popped into the doorway. His shoulder and clavicle were bandaged and his arm rested at a ninety-degree angle in a cream-colored sling. He looked excited to have more visitors. Labonte stepped in front of the door, turned around, and pointed toward the cruiser. Started talking fast and laughing. I imagined he was relaying the sprinkler story for the second time.
I yawned and fired up the Lexus. I was going to find a good cup of coffee, then circle back and drop off the Lexus.
As I pulled away from the curb, a distant crack shattered the morning stillness. The first thing I saw were birds scattering from multiple trees on Stanley’s street. My right foot jammed the brakes. I gripped the steering wheel tight with both hands. My whole body went rigid.
The crack was clearly a rifle shot. I glanced toward Stanley’s house, holding my breath, expecting to see Stanley Tuchek mowed down on his front door step.
Instead, I watched Johnny Labonte blast off his feet and slam into the side of Stanley’s front door.
CHAPTER 10
Watching Labonte slither down the doorframe got me moving.
My right foot stomped onto the gas pedal. I didn’t bother making the right turn. The Lexus bounced over the curb and burned across the grass. My eyes locked onto the house as I pointed the hood at Stanley’s front door. I witnessed the woman sack Stanley in the midsection and lift him off his feet. The two fell backward and slid across the hardwood, out of view and harm’s way. Pepper dropped knee-first to the ground and covered his face with both hands. Labonte’s body leaned against the bottom right side of the door in the sitting position. The shot had taken out a portion of his right side, just below his chest. Some intestines had spilled out.
I skidded to a stop in front of the house. There were six concrete steps leading to the front door landing. I inched the Lexus up five steps, jammed it into park, and pulled the emergency brake. The SUV blocked most of the front door and protected Labonte and Pepper.
Yelling at Pepper to snap out of it, I grabbed Labonte under his arms and dragged him inside. Pepper followed suit and slammed the door shut.
“Grab a towel, George, or something to cover up the wound.”
“Who are you?”
I turned around and saw the woman had a gun pointed at me. Stanley said something, but it was indecipherable.
I looked at the woman. “Agent Chase, from Long Beach.”
She dropped the gun. “Sorry.”
“Would have done the same thing. You two move to the back of the house.”
Pepper came back with a bathroom towel. I motioned for it.
“No, I’ll do it,” he said. “You call 911.” He flipped me his cell.
While I dialed and waited, I checked for a pulse. I looked at Pepper. “He’s got a pulse, but it’s faint. Sorry, George.”
“He’ll make it.”
The operator answered and I requested an ambulance, then I turned to Pepper. “You have decent pressure on the wound?”
He nodded.
“How else can I help?”
“I’ve got it from here,” he said. “Go protect the kid. Secure the back rooms. There’s two bedrooms and a laundry room back there.”
I nodded and hustled to the back of the house. Stanley was sitting alone on a bed in one of the back bedrooms. The woman had drawn the blinds, so the room was a little dark. The walls were a forest green color and there was only a single bed in the room. I could hear the woman rustling about in another room, already securing the back of the house.
“You alright, Stanley?”
He blinked fast. “This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. Is Agent Labonte dead?”
Before I could respond, the female agent bounded into the room.
“Everything’s secure,” she said. “And the backyard is clear. We’re safe for now.”
“The shooter was pretty far away,” I said. “I could tell from the sound of the crack. There’s a twenty-story apartment complex about 300 yards from here. The shooter must’ve set up on the roof.”
“So he’s long gone already,” she said. “Probably not a threat.”
I nodded. “On the freeway by now. I take it you’re from the LA office?”
“Agent Karla Dickerson. Where were you, by the way? How’d you get here so fast??”
I told the truth. “I was in Stanley’s Lexus, parked on the corner. Didn’t trust Labonte to stay awake all night. I was on protection before the shooting—”
She nodded. “I read your report last night.” She turned to Stanley. “You all right?”
“Agent
Labonte will be okay, won’t he? He’s not dead, is he? This can’t be happening. This isn’t real.” Stanley stood, then paced back and forth. He was breathing hard, to the point of hyperventilation.
The ambulance could be heard in the background. All I could think to say was: “The paramedics will be here soon. He’s got a chance.”
Karla took a seat on the bed and patted the spot next to her. “Come, Stanley, have a seat. We need to calm your breathing.” She put an arm around his shoulder and gave him a comforting squeeze.
I tried to process what had just happened. By the look on her face, Karla was doing the same thing.
Why had Labonte been shot? Why him? It didn’t make sense with my theory. Shooting Johnny Labonte didn’t hurt me, didn’t make me look incompetent, it wouldn’t be payback for anything. I may have had it all wrong. Perhaps this was about Stanley after all, and what he’d been doing online.
Stanley stopped pacing. “Was that bullet meant for me, Agent Chase?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “The shooter missed badly if it was meant for you.”
He pushed up his glasses. “Everything is suddenly spiraling out of control.”
“Suddenly?” I said. “What do you mean by that?”
Karla put her hand on Stanley’s knee. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”
“I want you back on protection, Agent Chase. Promise me that. I don’t want anyone else but you protecting me.”
That wasn’t going to happen, but I tried to stay positive. “We’ll see, Stanley.”
The kid walked to the corner of the room and started texting.
“Who are you texting?” I asked.
He didn’t look up.
“Stanley.”
He looked up, but didn’t stop texting. “Letting my dad know I’m okay.”
I nodded. When he finished texting, I said, “We didn’t finish our conversation at the hospital. You up for talking more about your situation?”
“We need to know everything,” Karla said. “Talking about it will keep your mind off what just happened.”
Stanley sniffed. “What more do you want to know? I feel like I’ve told you both almost everything.”
Karla motioned for Stanley to sit beside her. He did.
“How much money are we talking about exactly?” I asked. “What have you made off the website and sponsorship?”
“To date, 1.8 million.”
Karla and I exchanged glances. She pulled out a pad and made a note.
I asked, “How do you know so much about this TV show?”
“I don’t have a job, Agent Chase. I spend all week thinking about the show and running different scenarios and theories through my mind. Gives me an advantage over most people. Other than the writers, who else can devote that much time to the show? I know where the writers are going with the show, figured it out months ago. They’re pretty predictable actually.”
“You’re pissing off the network,” I said. “That has to be it.”
“That’s not what I gathered,” Karla said. “That’s the second thing I checked after meeting with the governor and being assigned Stanley’s case yesterday afternoon. I figured the network had the best motive for stopping Stanley, considering the amount of attention he was generating.”
I sat on the other side of Stanley. “What was the first?”
“I checked in with Stanley at the hospital, just before he was transferred home. Asked these same questions. After we talked, I went straight to the WBC and met with two execs.”
“Why isn’t the WBC upset about all this?”
“They’re not losing any money because of Stanley. In fact, they’re making money.”
“How so?”
“All the attention Stanley’s site receives draws more attention to the show itself. This generates more viewers, and a higher Nielsen rating. In turn, the network keeps increasing their price for commercial spots. They’re happy with what Stanley’s doing.”
“But what about his theories? Is he not giving some of the show’s secrets away?”
Stanley waved his hand. “Guys, I’m right here.”
“His theories are not always right,” Karla said.
“Only one mistake,” Stanley added.
“Plus,” Karla continued, “he’s not giving away any big secrets.”
“Does he even know the big secrets?” I said. “How could he? He’s not writing the script.”
“Enough.” Stanley stood, looked at Karla first, and then me. “I’m right here, you two.”
We both looked at Stanley and gave him our attention.
“I’m not going to give everything away,” he said, “like who the ultimate villain is. If I did, people would stop visiting my site, which would stop all the hits, which would stop the advertising. I have to play it strategically. So I give away a bit of info each week.”
I eyed Karla. “You sure the execs were being truthful? Maybe they were hiding something.”
“I know when people are lying to me.”
I believed her.
“Sounds like there’s some commotion out there,” Karla said. “I guess one of us should go and take a look.”
I hadn’t noticed the sounds coming from down the hall. I wasn’t about to leave the kid’s side. Karla sensed that and slipped out. Stanley started pacing again. After seeing Labonte’s intestines spill out, I imagined he was in shock.
“You okay? That must’ve been traumatic for you to see.”
He didn’t stop pacing or look up. “It’s all so suddenly real now. I don’t know what to make of it.”
“You’ve said that twice. What do you mean by suddenly so real? Wasn’t it real after you were shot?”
He hesitated to answer, pushing up his glasses instead.
“What do you mean, Stanley?”
He sighed. “I don’t remember much about being shot. I guess that’s it. But seeing someone shot with their insides hanging out has really affected me, Agent Chase.”
I nodded.
“Does Agent Labonte have family? A wife and kids?”
“No, he’s single, not sure if he has a girlfriend or not. I don’t know him that well.”
“He has to live. He can’t die.”
“It’s bad, Stanley. He may not make it; you have to prepare yourself for that.”
“I can’t believe this.” Stanley whipped out his cell and started texting again.
I was about to question who he was texting, but decided against it. Instead, I focused my thoughts on Labonte. Why had the sniper taken out his right side? Why not blow off his head or shoot dead center in the chest? Did the sniper miss again on purpose, like he did with Stanley?
Ten minutes later, I had no answers, and I had no time to think anyway. Karla came back to the room and told me that Stanley was requested up front. The three of us walked down a narrow hallway toward the living room. When I stepped into the living room, all activity ground to a halt. The living room went deathly quiet.
Frank was in the middle of the room, with Phil Hornsby to his left. Frank looked at me and wiped his brow. Behind Frank, in the corner, stood Anfernee Gates. When Gates saw me, he actually waved, which nobody saw but me.
A deep voice to my left said, “What the hell are you doing here?”
I looked over. The front door was wide open and the governor was standing on the landing. He steamed through the front door. All I could see was his mountainous chest barreling right at me.
I held my ground and braced for the impact.
CHAPTER 11
The governor stopped his charge exactly two feet from me. Nobody said a word. It felt like the air had been sucked from the room and everyone was holding their breath to conserve oxygen.
“I said, what the hell is he doing here?” The governor pointed at me, but looked around the room.
Phil Hornsby stepped forward. “I’d like to know as well.”
Frank wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. I didn’t know i
f he was stalling while thinking of what to say, or if he’d simply locked up.
I let out a slow breath and was about to speak, but Karla stepped in.
“I told Agent Chase to meet me here before I started work. That way he could drop off the Lexus and I could give him a ride home.”
I looked at her. She was something.
The governor jammed his thumb over his shoulder. “What’s with the parking job?”
All eyes diverted to me.
I cleared my throat. “When I came around the corner, the shot went off. I bee-lined it here and used the Lexus to block the front door from additional fire.”
The governor glared at me for a few seconds. “What about the shooter? I take it you didn’t catch him again.” He looked around the room. “Anyone go after the shooter?”
Everyone continued conserving oxygen.
The governor faced me. “Looks like we have ample protection here, Agent Chase. You’re dismissed.”
I nodded.
“For good,” he added.
What was that supposed to mean? Did he have the power to fire me?
“Good day, Agent Chase.” The governor waved toward the door.
I started walking that way. As I did, I caught movement in my right eye. I looked over and saw Gates staring at me with an ear to ear smile. He mouthed the word bye, then waved and smiled again.
I lost it. “Something funny, Agent Gates? Is that why you’re smiling?”
Gates dropped his arm, and the smile. I wasn’t sure if anyone else in the room had caught his mocking gesture.
“Nothing funny about a federal agent being shot and near death,” I said. “Is there?”
He didn’t say anything.
“Show some respect,” I said.
Frank swept in behind me. He grabbed my right arm and ushered me outside. He kept quiet because a lone news van had parked across the street. A camera was already pointed our direction. A policeman was in the process of taping off the crime scene. The cop held the tape up for us as we ducked under. We kept walking until we passed the corner where I had parked the Lexus.
Once we were out of sight, Frank turned to me. “You’re lucky she saved your ass.”
The Greatest Good Page 9