Storm Gathering

by Rene Gutteridge

  Wichita, Kansas, was a straight shot up I-35. The truck’s wheels spun against the flat pavement of the interstate, windows rattling from the high speed. It was a six-hour trip that Aaron made in five.

  He pulled into a gas station to fill up and used his calling card at the pay phone.

  “Captain Bellows.”

  “It’s Aaron.”

  “Kline, where are you?” Anger chased away the grogginess in Fred’s voice.

  “I’m in Wichita.”

  “Kansas?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s going on? For crying out loud, I have a dead DA and now an officer who got lost on his way to work.”

  “Fred, I’m almost certain Taylor Franks is alive.”

  A pause was followed by, “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ll explain it later. Time is critical, sir. I need our contact at the Wichita Police Department.”

  “Kline! What in heaven’s name are you doing? What in the world makes you think this woman is alive or in Wichita, for that matter?”

  “I’m asking for your trust. I just need clearance to investigate this.”

  Another pause. “Why not? Like there’s not enough going on around here.”

  “If I find her, a lot of questions will be answered.”

  “All right. I’ll call a buddy I went to the FBI National Academy with and tell him to expect you. Are you going there now?”

  “First I have to go to a furniture store.”

  Bellows growled, “Well, pick me up a La-Z-Boy while you’re there, won’t you?”

  Aaron and Detectives Boyd and Shall from the Wichita Police Department stood at the front counter of Beaudeaux Furniture Store while a wispy woman went to get the manager.

  An older, professional-looking woman appeared and asked how she could help them. Detective Boyd explained they were with the police and needed some information. After inspecting their IDs, the woman complied.

  Aaron handed her the credit-card number. “Someone attempted to order furniture off this credit card, and the card was declined. Would you still keep all the information in the computer?”

  She nodded. “Certainly. We take all the information down first before asking for payment. If the card was declined, we would save the information in the computer in case the customer wanted to use another source of payment.” The woman read off the number and typed it into her computer. “Yes, here it is. Michael Kline.”

  “Yes, that’s it.”

  “Okay, looks like the billing and shipping addresses are different.”

  Aaron held his breath. “The shipping address is in Wichita?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “What was ordered?”

  Interest flashed across the woman’s face. “Looks like a clearanced couch.”

  “We need the shipping address,” Aaron said and turned to the two Wichita detectives. “I’d bet all I own that Taylor Franks needed a couch.”

  Two backup units were called in at the Rose Creek Apartments on the north side of Wichita. The apartment was on the third floor. The two detectives followed Aaron up the stairs. The other two units stayed a few feet back.

  “Your call, Officer,” Detective Shall said. His hand was near his holster.

  Aaron nodded, turned to the door, and knocked. “Maintenance. Here about your toilet.”

  At first there was silence, but then Aaron heard footsteps coming toward the door. He looked down at his jeans. Boyd and Shall were on either side of the door, out of view from the peephole.

  When the door opened, Aaron stared into the eyes of a beautiful woman with dark hair. “Taylor Franks?” he asked.

  The two detectives stepped into view.

  Color drained from her face. She couldn’t answer.

  “A lot of people have been looking for you,” Aaron said.

  A deep swallow triggered tears, and Taylor Franks covered her face with shaking hands.

  Aaron helped her back inside, and the detectives followed. The other officers stood in the doorway. Aaron noticed the apartment was nearly empty. A small chair and a TV were all that was in the living room. “Sit down,” he instructed.

  Taylor wiped the tears from her face, terror flashing through her eyes.

  “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” Aaron asked, controlling the anger that made him want to grab the woman by the shoulders and shake some sense into her.

  Taylor looked at the other detectives and broke down crying again. Finally regaining her composure, she said, “I’m running from the most despicable man you could ever imagine.”

  “Let me guess. Sammy Earle.”

  She nodded slowly.

  “But you’re not just running from him, are you? You set him up, to make him look like he kidnapped you.”

  Taylor nodded, tears splashing from her eyes. She covered them and shook her head. “You don’t understand. I had to make sure he wouldn’t chase me.” She cried harder. “He took everything from me. My life. My dignity. My money. My home.”

  “It’s okay, ma’am.”

  “No, it’s not okay. It will never be okay again.”

  “What did you plan on doing here in Wichita?”

  Her teary eyes met Aaron’s. “Try to start a new life, I guess. I’m starting poor. But I can live poor. I just can’t live as a captive.”

  Aaron bit his lip, emotions split between anger for the woman who nearly wrecked his brother’s life and sympathy for her troubles.

  “A well-thought-out plan,” Aaron said to her. She stared at him with startled and fearful eyes. “Sent flowers to yourself, right? Made sure to use his name instead of his initials, so the police would have an immediate suspect. Dialed nine and one on your phone. Tilted a few pictures. Put a picture of you and Sammy near the open window. And sprinkled blood in the bathroom.”

  “Blood in the bathroom?”

  “The drops of blood? Very clever.”

  “But I didn’t . . . wait a minute . . .”

  “What?”

  Taylor smiled slightly and with a bit of amusement in her eyes, she hiked her pant leg up and showed a nearly healed wound about an inch across. “I nicked myself good with my razor that morning. Nothing bleeds longer or faster than a razor cut.” Then her smile faded. “But everything else you said was right.”

  “You know, this was a good plan, except Sammy Earle didn’t go down for your kidnapping. My brother did.”

  Taylor’s eyes widened. “Your brother? Who’s your . . . wait.” She studied Aaron’s face. “Mick.”

  Aaron nodded. “Yeah. He almost got killed over it.”

  Taylor’s lip trembled. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. I mean, I wasn’t supposed to meet Mick, you know? I should’ve never gone to the bar that night. Right when that guy bumped my fender in the parking lot and yelled at me that it was my fault, I should’ve just left.”

  Aaron almost laughed. “So that’s the mysterious man you had an altercation with.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I tried to get Mick to leave, but he was too . . . he was too drunk.”

  “He left his phone number for you, which linked him to your house.”

  “I just thought he’d get up and leave the next morning.”

  Taylor’s gaze encompassed the officers around the room. “Am I going to jail for this?”

  “Believe it or not, Miss Franks, faking your own kidnapping is not a crime. However, you’ll be charged on one count of credit-card fraud and one count of attempted credit-card fraud. We’ll see what the DA does with the fact that you tried to set Sammy up for this, especially in light of Sammy’s current circumstances.”

  Boyd gently placed the handcuffs around her wrists. He looked at Aaron. “We’ll take a statement and then have her transferred back to Irving.”

  Aaron nodded and they started to lead Taylor away when she cried out, “No! Please! I can’t go back! He’ll find me! He’ll hurt me!”

&
nbsp; Aaron walked to her side. “Taylor, I don’t think Sammy Earle is ever going to be able to hurt you again. He was arrested this morning for the murder of our assistant district attorney.”

  Taylor’s face froze in shock. She opened her mouth but couldn’t speak.

  “I guess Sammy proved what he was capable of after all,” Aaron said. “Proved what you knew to be true all along.”

  The detectives took Taylor away, and Aaron stepped to a nearby window, watching them lead her down the steps.

  Through the overly bright, musty concrete hall of the jail, Mick trailed a slow-moving guard. A hint of apprehension tickled at his heart. The smell reminded him of the worst days of his life.

  Metal clanging against metal rang in his ear; and every sound seemed to vibrate off his memory. The guard smiled as he unlocked the visitors’ room door. Mick smiled back. It was only a few days ago that he’d been the one here in chains.

  Taylor Franks sat in the far corner of the room, her fingers twisting around one another. She reluctantly smiled at him as the door opened, but a worried expression intruded.

  Mick walked through the room and sat across from her. “Hi,” he said, smiling.

  “I can’t believe you came to see me.” Tears welded in her eyes. “After all the trouble I caused you.”

  “By trouble, you mean the fact that I was nearly burned alive? or that I almost drowned? or died from food poisoning?” He waved his hand in the air. “No big deal.”

  A smile broke onto her face. “Yes, I heard all the details. I can’t believe you did all that just to try to find me.”

  “Maybe I could live in prison, but I don’t know that I could’ve lived thinking I hadn’t done anything to protect you.”

  “We hardly knew each other. Most strangers don’t care about one another.”

  “I thought you were special from the moment I met you.”

  Taylor looked down. “I’m a crook. A petty thief. And a liar. That’s what I am. I was getting my life together, though. Had a steady job, making sure I was always on time and responsible. Things were looking up for me.”

  “You’ve come from some tough times. I don’t think less of you. I’ve made a billion mistakes in my life too.”

  Taylor studied him. “You seemed at the end of your rope when I met you.”

  “Hanging by a thread,” Mick admitted.

  “And now?”

  “Believe it or not, all this has changed my life for the better.”

  Taylor nodded, looking unsure if she could believe it.

  “What about you? Are you okay?”

  “My lawyer says I may not even have to do jail time. But if I do, it’ll be for three months or so. The credit-card thing is going to be the biggest problem. I was always good at that, stealing credit cards. It was so easy to do when I worked the ticket counter. These guys fly, charge things, never look at their statements. That’s how I got my bus ticket to Wichita and the flowers.”

  “At least Sammy’s out of your life for good now. By the way, why did you send the money back?”

  “I took the money, but then a few days later I found out your card was maxed out. So I sent the money back. I wasn’t trying to steal; I was just surviving. Sammy took everything from me. But you were so kind, I wanted to give it back. I had no idea you were even involved in the case. I thought you’d get up and leave that morning and I’d never hear from you again.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “I’m so sorry for all that’s happened.”

  “It worked out. Somebody other than us was in control. That’s what I’ve found out through all this. God loves sinners.”

  “I’m not sure I can believe that. There are some sins worse than others.”

  “And there is a forgiveness that’s divine.”

  “What are you going to do with your new life?”

  Mick smiled at the thought. “I don’t know. I still love to coach football. Or maybe there is another purpose for me to step into.”

  “That’s great. I’m happy for you. Maybe you’ll find true love soon too.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I wish you the best, Taylor. I don’t know why our paths crossed. I’m so glad you’re okay. I think you’ll find your life amazing someday.”

  Taylor shrugged but smiled and squeezed his hand back. “Thanks. Mick,” she said with hesitation. “You don’t . . . you don’t know what you saved me from.”

  Mick held her eyes and then stood and walked across the room to the door. As the guard let him out, Mick looked back once and waved. “Good-bye,” he said quietly.

  She nodded and smiled. “Good-bye.”

  Aaron stood outside next to a dogwood meant to add some serenity to the stale jailhouse landscape. The doors pushed open, and Mick strolled out. “How’d it go?” Aaron asked.

  Mick nodded, coming alongside him and walking a little farther until they were out from underneath the shadow of the building. “I think she’s going to be okay. I’m glad I came to see her. I assured her I’m fine, and I think I assured her she’s going to be fine too.”

  Aaron smiled at him. “You’re looking better, man.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I don’t know. I think I see hope in your eyes.”

  A sloppy grin crossed his face. “The eyes are the window to the soul, so they say.”

  Aaron clapped Mick’s shoulder. “I’m so glad I have you back.”

  “Yeah, that was a long ten days.”

  “No, I mean back. In my life. In my world.”

  Mick traced lines in the cement with his shoe. “Me too.”

  “I think it was a journey we were meant to take. Both of us.” Aaron looked out across the parking lot. A flock of birds had gathered around a McDonald’s sack. “Does this mean you’ll be the best man at my wedding?” He glanced at Mick, who was also watching the birds.

  “Yeah, but you better marry her quick.” He smiled. “The new and improved Mick might catch her eye.”

  Aaron laughed and smacked him on the back. Mick laughed too. Aaron said, “You know, bro, with all that detective work you did on this case, you might think about going into law enforcement.”

  Mick howled. “Oh yeah, that would be something, wouldn’t it? They have a lot of need for football coaches?”

  Aaron grinned. “The FBI hires accountants all the time.”

  Mick raised his eyebrows. “No kidding?”

  “No kidding. They dropped all the charges against you. There’s a chance it could work.”

  “Me in the FBI. And the walls came tumbling down.”

  Aaron put his arm around Mick and led him down the final cement steps toward the parking lot. “Let me buy you lunch.”

  “For sure. And please tell me you’re going to buy my tuxedo. I’m totally broke, man.”

  Aaron laughed. “Of course.”

  “And one more thing.”

  “What?”

  “At your wedding reception, promise me you won’t serve any food that can spoil.”

  It was nearing the end of the day when Aaron pulled into the driveway of Shep Crawford’s firehouse. The man stood looking at a small flower garden as if wondering what made the things grow.

  Aaron got out of his truck and approached Crawford, who stuck his hands in his pockets and casually observed him as if they’d never spoken. Aaron stuck out his hand.

  Crawford shook it firmly, but his eyes were cold. “Kline, what are you doing here?”

  Aaron wasn’t sure. He glanced at the flowers for something to do with his eyes and to avoid Crawford’s uncanny stare. “Look, I just wanted to come and say . . . I don’t know . . . I guess, thank you.”

  “Thank you?” Crawford sniffed. “Interesting.”

  Aaron finally looked at him. “I never understood if you were a friend or foe.”

  A twinkle came into his eyes. “Sometimes I’m both.”

  “Whatever the case, if you hadn’t caught Mick, things could have been a lot different. Sammy might n
ot be the lead suspect in Fiscall’s murder. Mick would’ve had motive and no alibi.”

  Crawford looked bored and unimpressed with the conversation. He suddenly took a shovel that leaned against the side of the house and beckoned Aaron to follow him.

  Aaron followed uneasily. Around the corner of the house, he watched Crawford kneel beside a small dark object covered with buzzing flies. Taking a closer look, he realized it was a dead bird.

  Crawford pushed his shovel under its decaying body and lifted it off the ground. “Been meaning to get rid of this.” He smiled.

  “A dead bird.”

  “Probably met its death splattered against a window.”

  Aaron glanced up. There were no windows on this side of the firehouse. He took a couple of steps back. “Anyway, I’m not sure why I’m here. It just seemed like I needed to be.”

  Crawford tilted his head. “Kind of like this bird, your brother was in the wrong place at the wrong time, mostly due to his lifestyle choices. I hope he learned a lesson.”

  “Mick found his peace with God.”

  A joyless smile spread across Crawford’s lips. “Well, then, Kline, ‘tell the angel who will watch over your future destiny to pray sometimes for a man, who like Satan, thought himself for an instant equal to God.’ ”

  Aaron shook his head, laughing a little at Crawford’s absurdity. “You seem to live and die by The Count of Monte Cristo, don’t you?” Aaron met his eyes carefully. “But you didn’t finish the quote. It continues: ‘but who now acknowledges with Christian humility that God alone possesses supreme power and infinite wisdom.’ ”

  The smile remained steady across Crawford’s face. “I’m glad you know your literature so well.”

  “You seem to know it better than I,” Aaron said. He stared at the bird on the shovel. “For many of us, the last few days have brought us to hell and back. I’m better for it. Mick’s better for it. Taylor Franks will get a new life. Seems like things worked out for the better. Except for Earle and Fiscall.”

  Then, to Aaron’s surprise, Crawford broke into insidious laughter. Aaron stood there, feeling like he wanted to leave, but curiosity kept him planted.

  Crawford’s laughter faded. He walked toward his garbage can, and without wrapping the bird up, dumped it in. Then, as casually as if he were talking about a storm gathering in the distance, said, “Well, to quote a book you’re fond of, Aaron: ‘an eye for an eye.’ ”