by Kaje Harper
Scott squeezed his eyes closed. He was so close to everything he wanted in his career, and this could kill it. It’s not fair! Damn it, not now! But he wasn’t putting Casey’s safety on the line for his closet either. He took a breath to steady his voice, then said, “Okay. We come out.”
Casey said, “Me and Will. Not you.”
“I thought we decided it was the three of us or none?”
“No. We’ve been making sure this douchebag still thinks Will and I are fucking around behind your back.”
“So? I’m not leaving you to face the fallout without me.”
“Yes, you are.” Casey’s tone went deep and intense. “This is the absolute wrong moment for you.”
“You think I don’t know that?” He heard the shake in his voice and gritted his teeth. “If I’d had to come out last week, it’d have sucked, but the Marlies would have dealt with it from one of their top scorers. Now? I’ve played one fucking NHL game and got an assist. I come out now and the Leafs will think I’m such a fucking prima donna that I can score one point and then hand them a steaming pile of public relations shit. They probably couldn’t send me right back down without people screaming discrimination, but they’re gonna hate my guts and find a way soon.”
“So, it’s obvious. You don’t come out yet.”
“Casey—”
“Casey’s right,” Will put in. “For another thing, it’ll be easier for Casey to tell his guys he’s gay, without the poly. The time for you to come out will be when you’re ready, when you’ve proved yourself. Maybe after they give you the Rookie of the Year trophy.”
He choked a laugh. “They don’t give that to guys who play two thirds of a season.”
“They might.”
Casey said, “There’s another factor. The douchebag doesn’t know about you yet. If we don’t catch him tomorrow, that might be one more ace in the hole.”
Scott frowned. “How would you use that?”
“Beg him not to tell you? Get him greedy about blackmailing you next? I’m hoping not to use you at all, but there’s no good reason for you to come out with us, and a bunch of good reasons not to.”
“Aargh!” That came out loud enough for the cleaning person a bunch of rows down to turn and look up at him. The cleaners were getting too close for comfort. Not much time left. He lowered his voice. “Casey, you promise you have a good plan? If you tell your people and some of them hate you, you’ll stay safe?”
“I promise I’ll keep the situation under control.”
“Will, you’re cool with this?”
Will said, “I don’t think we have a choice.”
His throat hurt and his chest hurt, and breathing was an effort. “I don’t want to be shut out of this. Out of your lives.”
“Never gonna happen, Scotty,” Casey said. “You’re our glue. You keep us together. Just, for a while it’ll have to be in secret.”
“God damn every motherfucking bigoted homophobic douchebag to hell.”
“Amen,” Will muttered.
“Go get some rest, Scott,” Casey said. “You’ve had a hell of a day.”
“You guys too, and worse tomorrow. Let me know what happens? Everything?”
“Will do,” Casey said. “Take care of our favorite winger.”
“And we don’t mean Debra,” Will added, then coughed.
“Yeah, dude, leave the funnies to me.” Scott pressed the phone closer to his ear. “You guys take care too. Watch your backs.”
“I have my very own cop on speed dial,” Will said. “We’ll be fine.”
“I’m on it.” Casey’s voice deepened. “Miss you.”
“Miss you guys too. Call me tomorrow.” He stood, waving to the cleaner guy as he headed for the exit. There were too many feelings still bouncing around inside him. Here he was in the NHL, doing what he’d always dreamed of, and every minute he wasn’t on the ice, he just wanted to be back in Kansas watching out for his men. He was exhausted, and various bits of his body were now reminding him vividly of the punishment he’d taken. He had bruises on his bruises. As he headed down to street level he wondered how far away the hotel was. Maybe a walk would clear his head. Walk, sleep, plane flight. Further away from Kansas. God damn it to hell.
***
Casey patted the duffel bag on the truck seat beside him and pulled over to the side of the road. The three-foot cross with faded artificial flowers was just a landmark by now, more a part of the scenery than a reminder of the dead girl to anyone but her family. He got out and approached it. There was a familiar envelope, tucked among the plastic lilies. He tugged it free with a gloved hand.
“FRASER ROAD UNDER THE ASH RIVER BRIDGE”
He got back in his truck and said toward the phone on the passenger seat, “Note was right there on the cross. You didn’t see anyone approach it at all, Deeter?”
“No, sir. No one anywhere near it since you sent me here at dawn.”
He bit back a curse. He should’ve set someone up watching that cross from the moment he got the letter yesterday. Although if the guy was smart, he’d have put the note there before ever delivering the information. He’d been hoping the guy wasn’t smart. Shit.
He said, “Next one’s underneath the Fraser bridge over the Ash. Deeter, park at the intersection with Lonetree Road like you’re watching for speeders. Ransome, try to get ahead of me and get into the trees on the riverbank behind the turnoff. Carefully. Don’t get spotted. Make a note of anyone you see, plates of any vehicles that go by, in case the bastard’s watching me.”
He got two replies of, “Yessir.” He put the truck in gear and drove off slowly.
Ransome and Deeter would follow orders. They were good cops.
Even if they had both taken a step back when he briefed them before dawn. They’d been waiting in his office, as he requested. He’d gone in, closed the door, looked at them both and said, “I need your help with a case. Some bastard is trying to blackmail my lover, William, and me for being gay. I want to nail the son of a bitch. Today.”
He winced, remembering it now. Just that flat statement, and he’d watched them flinch back and take it in. Even at the time, he could tell his tone was too rough, too belligerent. He’d been determined not to soft-pedal it or apologize, or let his nerves make him dance around the truth. Instead, yeah, he’d basically shoved it in their faces.
He’d stood there as their expressions went through confusion, surprise, and something he took to be distaste, or at least dismay, before turning to professional blanks. He felt the newly established distance and it hurt, because no one had supported him more than these two guys. Ransome had practically done a tap dance to get him re-elected, and for the last four years he’d fed the man a lie.
He’d wanted to make it up to them. If he’d been like Scott, or even Will, he might’ve tried to discuss what they were thinking. How they felt about working for a gay man. But he wasn’t good with feelings and they were all pros with a job to do. The personal shit didn’t matter right now, as long as they were still willing to let him lead them in finding the blackmailer.
So he’d plunged on with the details, locking away their reactions in that “deal with it later” box he had in his head. They’d stayed professional and let him lay out their assignments. Ransome had pointed out that as the victim he shouldn’t be involved, and he’d actually been grateful to say the blackmailer insisted he make the drop. If he’d had to watch this play out from a distance, he’d have gone crazy.
He’d hoped to have deputies watching his main suspects all day, but they hadn’t been able to locate Peterson. Likewise, neither of the Cobalt Energy guys seemed to be staying anywhere in town, although they’d been at the Roadside Inn two days ago when the letter would’ve been mailed. The Iowa City PD had been willing to confirm Landon was home with a door knock that morning, but they weren’t watching him. It was only a four-hour drive.
He should’ve put someone on all of them yesterday. Or the day before. Should have, wou
ld have, but he didn’t have the manpower to watch four men indefinitely when he’d had no idea how long the blackmailer would wait to make his move. His department was too small for shit like this. He might’ve called in the state cops, but he’d have had to say “I’m gay” to them too. He was saving that bit of fun for after he caught this blackmailing motherfucker.
The road to the bridge was a narrow two-lane, bumpy with deep potholes. It was going to be a bitch by midwinter. Someone would probably break an axle and get stuck here. Of course, by then it wouldn’t be his problem.
The bridge spanned the little river where it had dug out a gully. He pulled onto the shoulder a hundred yards back. “Getting out now. Keep your eyes open.”
He got his Maglite out of the toolbox in the back of his truck, then eased his way down the gravel embankment. It was dark under the bridge, and cold. The water rushed by yards from his feet. He swept the flashlight over the ground on both banks carefully, taking his time, then ran the beam up over the structure. Halfway up one of the supports on his side, an envelope was duct-taped to the steel. He noted that he could barely reach it. But then, he was shorter than any of his suspects.
He waited until he was in the truck to open it. “THE 4:45 TRAIN WEST. GET ON, PUT THE BAG IN THE LUGGAGE RACK AT THE BOTTOM OF THE STAIRS. GET RIGHT BACK OFF. AND DRIVE AWAY. IF I DON’T SEE THE TRUCK LEAVE, YOUTUBE GOES LIVE.”
No more treasure hunt. Good. Now he had to figure out how to make the endgame work for them, not the blackmailer. Their little station didn’t have any handy cameras or guards.
“I’m headed to the station, to meet the westbound train. I’m supposed to leave the bag there on the train and get back off, and drive away.”
Deeter said, “You want one of us to get on it too? Follow the money?”
Casey ran through possibilities as he drove on autopilot. “No. The platform’s so short there’s only one car in use at our stop. He can sit in the upper level and watch everyone get on. He might recognize you.” Having a small department had its drawbacks. Every cop in town was familiar to every lowlife, and vice versa. Peterson would know their faces, Landon might too. The Cobalt guys wouldn’t, but he couldn’t risk it.
“What, then?”
They could get on in force and search the car, but there was no guarantee it would be as simple as finding Peterson or Grieg sitting there. Even if they were, there’d be no evidence to hold them. It wasn’t illegal to take a train trip.
“I’m thinking. Check if it’s running on time today.”
After a minute, Deeter said, “Just six minutes late.
He glanced at his watch. It’d be tight to make the train, but not horribly so. The blackmailer wouldn’t want to make it impossible to complete the drop. His mind raced through scenarios, following the train, trying to monitor who got off at each station. It would suck. Several of the stops were busy, indoors, where a guy could get lost in the crowd, hidden by a hood, a hat… “I’m gonna try to stay on the train. Buy me a ticket, Ransome, on my department email.” He recited the password.
“Won’t he be scared away if you don’t get off like he told you?”
“Working on it.” He pulled over and called Deputy Pauley. “Mike, does your brother still work in the market down by the train station? Is he working today?”
“Yes. Why? Is something wrong?”
“No, I need a favor. Give me his number.”
He glanced at the dashboard clock, his knee jiggling with tension. Screw this. I’m the sheriff, I can talk and drive for once. He punched in the number and pulled back on the road. His call was ignored until he’d dialed three times, then was answered, “Who is this?”
“Dan Pauley? This is Sheriff Barlow.”
“Sheriff? What’s wrong? Is Mike—”
“Mike’s fine. I need a huge favor, could break open a case, no risk to you, and I’ll pay you two hundred dollars for your time.” That might not be procedure, but he wasn’t going to worry about it.
“What kind of favor?”
“I need you to buy a ticket online for the westbound Amtrak coming in at 4:50. To the next stop is fine; it’s just in case you get asked. You’ll be reimbursed for it. Wear a colorful hat or jacket, something noticeable and go get on the train. I’m going to be right behind you. We swap coats and hats in the entry before it leaves, you get right back off, drive my truck away, and you can go back to work. I stay on, looking like you.”
“I don’t know. That’s tight. Plus I don’t get off work till five.”
Casey gritted his teeth. “Tell your boss I’ll pay him for your time too. Another hundred bucks.”
“There’s no danger?”
“I swear.” He couldn’t imagine any. At worst, the blackmailer would figure it out and not take the duffel bag. “I’ll give you the two hundred in my coat pocket when we swap. Cash.” He checked the dashboard. Fourteen minutes till train arrival. Nineteen till departure. “Come on, Dan. Walk over there, get on the train, swap coats, get back off. Easy money. I’ll owe you big time.”
“Well, okay. My jacket’s bright green. Will that do?”
“Perfect. Wear some kind of hat.”
“Do I need a suitcase?”
“Nope. Like a day trip.”
“Okay. I guess I’ll see you there?”
Yes! Thank fuck. “Good man. Don’t even look my way until we’re on the train. Now get going.”
“Yes sir.”
Casey pulled into the station parking a few minutes later. There were only two other cars in the lot and the platform looked empty. No train yet, but also no sign of Pauley.
He dug in the duffel bag, easing a couple of bank notes off the paper bundles. He’d topped each batch with a couple of hundred-dollar bills, for looks. Skimming off two should still be fine. After snapping a quick cell phone picture of the bills he’d removed, he stuffed them in his jacket pocket, and carefully twist-tied the bag’s zipper shut.
He’d dressed inconspicuously in a navy-blue jacket and knit hat, but for this he wanted to stand out. He grabbed his Stetson from the back of the truck, swapping out his beanie. He wished he’d brought his plaid scarf, but the hat would have to do.
The next five minutes were pure tension. Time ticked down toward the train’s arrival. A woman got out of her car and crossed the platform to stand looking down the tracks. No sign of Pauley.
Right as the train was coming in, he spotted Pauley jogging onto the platform, dressed in a bright green parka. Hell, yeah. Casey dialed back to his conference call, set the phone to speaker, and told his men, “Phone’s going in my shirt pocket and I’m going in. I’ve got Dan Pauley to switch with me. Eyes and ears open, no sound from your end.” There was no time for more. Already the train had stopped. Dan and the woman passenger were moving toward the open door.
He got in line behind them, hefting the duffel bag. Dan was almost his size, luckily also in jeans and boots, but with that green parka and a knit cap. Might work, might work. The woman ahead got on and headed up the little staircase to the upper level. He crowded in after Dan, dropped the duffel, and grabbed his sleeve. Dan turned. “Hi, Sher—”
He said fast, “Switch now.”
“Switch?”
“Swap your parka for my hat and jacket, and take my truck keys. Get back off the train, get into that black Tundra over there, and drive away. Pull over after a block or two and my men will find you and take care of you.”
“Okay.” Dan unzipped his parka, too slow for Casey’s nerves.
“The keys and two hundred bucks are in my jacket pockets.” Casey slipped his jacket off and shoved it at Dan. “The money’s yours, like I promised. Fast, now.” He swept the beanie off the guy’s head and jammed his Stetson on him.
“You’ll make it okay with my boss, like I told him?” The guy shrugged his parka off.
Casey grabbed it from him. “Promise.”
Dan pulled the navy jacket on and put his hand in the pocket, clearly finding the banknotes.
“Go.” Casey didn’t push him off the train, but it was a near thing. “Walk fast. Keep your face down. Drive the truck away without looking back.”
“Okay. This better be for real.”
“You’ll be a hero,” Casey said.
Dan turned and swung down off the train. He hit the platform with booted feet and strode to the parking lot. Casey held his breath. From the back it looked good. Didn’t it? It looked like him? The truck’s headlights came on, and it pulled out of the lot. The train whistle blew, and a conductor came through from somewhere behind Casey and stuck his head out to call, “All aboard.” He pulled the door shut. The train lurched, then picked up speed.
The conductor turned to Casey. “Ticket?”
Casey pulled out his phone, scrolling to his emails. Did you get it, Ransome? Yes? There it was. “Got it on here.” He held out his phone to be scanned.
“Seating upstairs only on this car.”
“I’ll get my bag stowed and head up there.”
Casey pushed the duffel firmly onto the rack, buying time as the conductor went up out of sight, and thought about his options. This part of the lower level had bathrooms and baggage. If the blackmailer was in the same car, he’d be on the upper level, and probably have a view of anyone coming up the stairs. There was only one place to hide out. Casey stepped into a bathroom and pulled the door mostly shut.
It was a small, foul-smelling space. He spoke softly into his phone. “No problems getting on. No suspect spotted. The bag’s in place. I made the switch with Dan Pauley, and I’m in the john just down from the luggage rack. Dan Pauley has my truck. Ransome, you find him and get it, tell him he did good. I gave him some of the money, two hundred. Confirm the numbers on the bills for our records, and let him keep them. We don’t want him busted for trying to spend it. Tell him I’ll reimburse the ticket and his boss tomorrow.”
“Yessir.”
“Get a crime scene team working on both of the ransom note locations before it gets fully dark. I want footprints, tire tracks, anything that’ll help us sew this up tight.”