A minute later they sped toward Sedalia, leaving Bear behind to track Bennett.
Thirty minutes later, Jake pushed through the double doors of Hospice House with Maggie at his side, the drone of the early afternoon trucks rolling along Highway 65 replaced with piped-in soothing music. He stopped, his skin crawling the closer they got to the room.
“You don’t need to be here,” he said. “Hell, I shouldn’t be here. We should be out there looking for Halle.”
Maggie put her cool hand in his and pulled him toward Stony’s room. “Bear’s on the case. He’ll call you if something breaks. Come on.”
Seconds later, they stood at Stony’s room. Jake reached for the handle, but left his hand hanging in mid-air. Did he really have to do this?
Maggie put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m right here. You need to do this.”
He opened the door. Janey sat in a chair facing the bed, holding Stony’s fingers in one hand and a wadded-up tissue in the other. She looked up when Jake entered, Maggie stopping at the door.
“I think this is it,” Janey said, getting up. She wrapped Jake with her scrawny arms, heaved a few sobs and pulled back. She tried to wipe her tears from Jake’s shirt. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Jake said. “What did the doc say?”
Janey moved to the foot of the bed. “Not much. That it wouldn’t be long now.”
“Stony say anything?”
“No. He’s pretty drugged up. They’re just trying to make sure he’s comfortable at this point.”
They spent the next couple of hours waiting, a few snippets of awkward conversation mixed in, but mostly silence. They munched on sandwiches brought in by volunteers, while nurses slinked in and out to check Stony’s vitals. Jake checked in with Bear periodically, but Bennett hadn’t made a move. Jumbled emotions pounded him. A thousand memories spinning around in a whirlwind. When he had a bead on them, he spoke.
“Can you give me a minute alone with him?”
Janey nodded, gave Maggie a quick hug and stepped outside.
“I’ll be outside with Janey if you need me,” Maggie said.
“No, stay. Please,” Jake said. He needed her there.
Jake lowered himself in the chair stationed by the bed. Stony’s cheeks were drawn, like he sucked them in. His mouth hung open and drew in labored gasps under closed, puffy eyes. Maggie rested her hands on Jake’s shoulders. How should he begin? The words caught in his throat. He took a deep breath.
“I don’t know what to say to you, Stony,” Jake said at last. “I haven’t said more than a handful of words to you in sixteen years. I sit here and look at you and all I feel is the fucking pain you’ve caused.”
Maggie’s hands tightened on his shoulders. Then she stroked his head and neck. The coolness of her soothing touch helped fight the anger like water on fire. Stony’s ring hummed from Jake’s front pocket.
“I haven’t been a good person,” he continued. “I’ve…hurt people using the tricks I learned from you. I sometimes lay awake at night and try to think back…try to figure out what I did to make you hate me so much. I’ve been running from your ghost for years even though you’re not dead yet. I’ve been running from myself because of the man I was turning into. And I’m tired of running. I’m tired of hating you. I want to forgive you, but I don’t know if I can.”
Stony’s eyes scrunched as if a wave of pain swept through his frail body. After a moment, dirty brown eyes creeped open and fixed on the popcorn ceiling before sweeping to Jake’s face.
“Nicky,” Stony whispered. “Oh my God, Nicky. It’s you.”
Stony’s hand trembled upward from the bed, searching. Jake sat still as a stone until Maggie knelt by the chair, took Jake’s hand and placed it in his father’s outstretched palm. The old man’s weak fingers closed around it.
“Nicky,” Stony repeated. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, Pop,” Jake said. “It’s almost over.”
“Tell Jake…tell Jake I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry for what I did. So sorry.”
Stony’s voice trailed away and his eyes closed again. His breath hitched once, twice, and stopped. Jake waited for his chest to rise again, but it never did. A single tear rolled from the corner of Stony’s eye and dropped on the white pillow. He was gone—now nothing but a shell. Tell Jake I’m sorry. Jake always wondered if Stony remembered what he did, if he even regretted it. Now Jake knew, but did the deathbed confession change anything? He pulled his hand back and stood. Maggie enveloped him in her arms.
“I’m sorry,” she said. Jake kissed her forehead and opened the door. Janey leaned against the window in the hall, eyes cast wide like a miracle recovery was even a possibility. The somber expression on his face killed the idea and she began to cry. She’d wanted nothing more than to be there when Stony died and Jake robbed her of that. But he couldn’t take on any more guilt. Instead, he hugged her tight.
“It’s over, Janey,” he said. She sobbed into his chest for a moment and pulled back. She reached up and stroked his stubbled cheek then went back into the room. Maggie hugged her and Jake’s cell phone vibrated.
“How’s Stony?” Bear asked.
“He’s gone.”
“Damn, Jake. I’m sorry. You okay?”
“I don’t know,” Jake said. “I suppose so.”
“Look, I know my timing sucks, but Bennett is going to be on the move soon. He’s been cooling his heels at the Turn It Loose for the last couple hours, but he’s going to be hooking up with Willie soon and I know that little fucker has Halle. This might be our last shot.”
“Who else is joining the cavalry?”
“Just you and me, partner. Somebody got the shank inside that killed Howie. Somebody has been feeding info to Langston. I don’t know who I can trust in my department.”
“Where do you want to meet?”
“Call me when you get close. We’ll see where that little bastard is by then.”
Jake hung up. Maggie waited in the hall.
“Bear?” she asked. “What did he say?”
“We might have a lead on Halle, but I gotta get back to Warsaw. I’ll explain on the way.”
He started walking then stopped. He should go back in the room and tell Janey he was leaving. But he didn’t have time to explain everything. Instead, he grabbed Maggie, and they strode through Hospice House and into the late afternoon heat. As they headed south on Highway 65, the sun began its descent in the west and Jake had a sinking feeling their time ran short.
Chapter Forty-Two
Jake drove on to Maggie’s drive and found Bear waiting for him. On the way, Maggie took the news about Willie, Shane and the death of Howie Skaggs better than he expected, considering known drug dealers and murderers had their daughter. Maybe the fact that Jake and Bear had a lead through Bennett helped her maintain her composure.
“Let’s take your truck,” Bear said. “They’ll spot mine a mile away.”
Bear slung a rifle case in the back along with a large, blue duffel bag. He hoisted his large frame into the passenger seat while Jake said goodbye to Maggie. He cupped her face in his hands, bending down so their foreheads touched.
She rose on her toes to kiss him. “Find her. Find her and bring her home.”
Jake climbed into the truck and peered over Bear’s shoulder, studying his partner’s smartphone. A map of the area displayed on the screen along with a blue dot moving along the marked red line of the road in jerky spurts.
“How much does one of those GPS trackers cost?” Jake asked.
“Couple hundred bucks for a good one. Software is free. I can run it on my laptop or on my phone.”
“Got many of them deployed amongst your shithead clientele?”
“A few.” Bear grinned. “But it ain’t exactly what you’d call legal. But, I’m fightin’ a war down here, and all’s fair in love and war.” He pointed to the dot on the screen. “Bennett left the Turn It Loose. He’s headed this way.”
The
y rolled down the driveway and stopped fifty feet back from Poor Boy Road. As Bear continued tracking the smartphone, Jake reached under the seat and pulled out the Glock. Bear raised his bushy eyebrows but said nothing. Some serious shit could erupt before the night was through and he needed to come clean with Bear. He checked his loaded gun and set it on the seat.
“A few things you probably oughtta know,” Jake said. “Keats put me on a contract to take down Shane Langston.”
Bear’s neck should have snapped given the speed he whipped his head around. “What?”
“Yeah, I told him I wanted out of the life. He knew I was coming here to see to the end of Stony and he came up with this brilliant idea to have me take out a potential rival. Shane’s angling to step into the trade in Kansas City. Keats doesn’t want that to happen.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”
“Because you’re a cop for one, and I didn’t think you’d take well to my mission of killing the drug lord you’ve been looking to take down for the last several years. And two…I don’t think I can do it. I may be a miserable leg breaker, but I’m not a murderer.”
Bennett’s Mazda sped past them along Poor Boy Road. Bear watched the smartphone for a few seconds before waving his hand forward for Jake to follow. Jake let off the brake.
“Stay back out of his rearview mirror,” he said. “Damn, Jake. You can’t whack this guy.”
“I know. Taking Shane out is the only way Keats is going to let me go. Said if I don’t, I’m the one who’s going down for the dirt nap.”
“How long did he give you?”
Jake checked the clock on the dash. “I’ve gotta call him in about four hours or he sends in a band of his merry goons.”
“That ain’t good.”
Jake followed Bennett’s car through the rises and falls of Poor Boy Road, past the Turkey Creek Cemetery. At Highway M, Bennett swerved north, and Jake trailed behind, catching glimpses of his dusty tail lights.
“But I had another idea,” Jake said. “Maybe I don’t have to kill him. Maybe I have to help you take him out. Whether he’s six feet under or in prison, it counts the same.”
“That’s true,” Bear said. “I like the idea a hell of a lot better than trying to clear you of a murder rap. I wouldn’t cry any tears over Langston eating a bullet, but I’d rather see the shitbird rot in jail for a while.”
“Second thing, I’m the one who made the anonymous call about the warehouse.” Might as well come clean.
Bear blew out. “And how did that come about?”
Jake told him about tracking Langston through the car dealership which gave him the address of the warehouse and the call to his hacker friend which tied it to Langston.
“Marion Holdings?” Bear said. “We heard whispers of that but could never track down anything definitive. Not sure how the hell you got what we couldn’t with one phone call.”
“It’s all about knowing the right people.”
“I was kidding before about hiring you. Maybe I should reconsider. You’re Sherlock Holmes.”
Open farmland on either side gave way to large clumps of towering trees as they neared the water. The road bent to the east and single-family homes popped up. Bear kept his eye on the tracker.
“Stop,” Bear said.
Jake hit the brakes past a gray farmhouse. A pit bull the size of a small horse eyed them suspiciously. The dog’s ripped muscles tensed and he looked like he could snap the rope tying him to a nearby tree.
“What’s Bennett doing?” Jake asked.
“Beats me. Stopped a hundred yards ahead. You’ve been a busy beaver, my friend. You got any other giant atom bombs you need to drop?”
“Yeah. Halle’s my daughter.”
Bear’s jaw hung open. “Are you shittin’ me?”
“Nope. Maggie told me last night.”
“How in the hell did that happen?”
Jake narrowed his eyes. “You really need to have the birds and the bees talk? I know you aren’t the sharpest crayon in the box, Bear, but I shouldn’t have to explain it to you. Guess our last night together before I bailed town did the trick.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. I guess it makes sense, though.”
“How so?”
“Kid’s stubborn as a mule. If that ain’t you, I don’t know what is. Good thing she got her mother’s looks.”
Jake grinned, but the spinning calendar of all the time he’d missed forced the smile to fade. “I wish I’d known. I’d have been there for her.”
“Let’s get her out of this mess and you can do that.” Bear pulled up his smartphone again. Bennett was on the move. He motioned for Jake to move forward.
Jake glanced to a paved drive twenty yards from the pavement marked by a fence post with a blue ribbon. A large security gate with a stand-alone keypad box in front closed in an arc, blocking the path. A man climbed back inside a black SUV hidden away behind a tree on the opposite side of the gate.
“Keep going, don’t stop,” Bear said, attempting to slide low in the truck seat to avoid being seen. His immense size made it an exercise in futility.
“What the hell are you doing?” Jake asked, resisting the urge to laugh.
“People know me around here. Trying to make my fat ass a little inconspicuous,” Bear said, giving up when they passed the driveway. He checked his phone. “That’s where Bennett went.”
“What’s up with the security?”
“Big property company came in years ago and bought up a ton of land to develop lakefront homes. You drive around Benton County and you’ll see their signs all over the place along with these gated communities. Worked in some places but not as well in others.”
“So that’s the only way in?”
“Naw, we can slide in anywhere. It’s not like the whole property is fenced off. The gate is just a deterrent. They have security trucks patrolling their properties, though. You can’t wander in and cruise around for very long.” Bear pointed across the cab. “Pull in this driveway.”
Jake wheeled down a long, asphalt driveway. A well-maintained white rancher sprawled in front of them. There were no cars on the drive or lights on in the house. Bear directed him toward the back of the house and told him to park. A line of maples stood like sentries along the property line. A narrow footpath darted between them leading to the water.
“Nice place,” Jake said.
“Belongs to my dipshit brother-in-law. Roy made a nice living selling insurance in St. Louis, and they retired here last year. My wife makes me drag his ass out on the lake fishing once a week. See that ramp by the door? Built it for him on one of my rare days off so he can wheel down to his dock. Smashed the crap outta my thumb with a hammer. Bitter old fart didn’t say thank you or fuck you very much. Just handed me a warm can of Pabst Blue Ribbon and wheeled his crippled ass back inside.”
“At least you got a beer,” Jake offered.
“I’d rather drink your luke-warm piss than a PBR. We can park here without raising any suspicion. Come on.”
Bear dropped out of the truck and Jake followed. Bear reached into the back and unzipped the rifle case. Out came a Savage 30.06 rifle with a scope attached to the stock; Bear slung it over his shoulder. He unzipped the duffel bag and pulled out a pair of binoculars, ammo for the rifle and a couple of magazines for the Beretta on his hip.
“You going to war?” Jake asked.
“Always be prepared. All hail the fucking Boy Scouts of America. You got extra ammo for the Glock?”
Jake went back to the driver’s side and took the two extra mags he kept under the seat, shoving them into his back pocket. Without thinking, he reached into his front pocket and slid the gold ring on his finger. Bear leaned over the truck rail and retrieved a bulletproof vest. He tossed it over to Jake. Jake peeled off his shirt and donned the vest.
Bear rubbed his ample belly. “You coulda put it over your shirt. Show off.”
“How the hell do I know? Haven’t worn one of these t
hings before.”
“I think you just wanted to show off your six-pack.”
“Get your eyes checked, old man,” Jake said. “That’s an eight-pack. Maybe we can rekindle our workout routine. I’ll get you back into shape.”
Bear huffed while Jake slid his T-shirt over the top of the vest. “Dragging my fat ass outta bed every day is my workout.” He pointed back to the trees. “There’s a big-ass house on the other side of these trees, a couple hundred yards through the woods.”
“Whose house is it?”
“Don’t know. Maybe your little buddy in Kansas City can tell us.”
“Smart ass.”
“I’ve just seen it from the other side of the river when I’ve cruised through Lakeview Heights on a few calls. We’ll do a little reconnaissance through the trees here. See if there’s anything interesting going on.”
“And if there is?” Jake asked.
“We call in the dogs. I put some of my DEA task force guys on alert before you got back from Sedalia. Guys I can trust. If Halle’s in there and Shane’s got her, I don’t want to spook him.”
They entered the tree line, making their own path over brush and twigs. They moved at a quick pace before slowing as they caught glimpses of the house up ahead through the woodland. Bear moved like a cat. Just like their deer hunting days in the backwoods by the old house when they were teenagers.
Twenty minutes later, the day’s dying sun made it nearly impossible to spot the path in front of them. Every twig they snapped sounded like a shotgun blast. Thankfully, rumbles of boat motors roaring by on the nearby water helped mask the sound of their approach. Thirty yards ahead, the house lit up like a Christmas tree. A spotlight blasted from the front door on to a driveway where a beat-up truck, a couple of black Lincoln Navigators and Bennett’s Mazda were parked.
“Hail, hail, the gang’s all here,” Bear whispered. “That’s Willie’s truck and I’ll bet dollars to donuts that’s one of Shane’s Navigators.”
Jake took the binoculars from Bear and scanned the front of the house and the yard. A red ember flared on the far side of the house and faded; tendrils of smoke coiled across the floodlights. He scanned across the front of the house seeing nothing in the windows. Another dark figure hid in the shadows of the front porch, a rifle leaning against the house.
Jake Caldwell Thrillers Page 21
