The Prison Guard's Son

by Trace Conger

  I grabbed it, made my way back through the basement and climbed out from under the cellar door. After realigning the hinge screws over their holes and stomping them back into place, I headed for my car. The first thing I noticed was that my legs moved faster than they had on the way to Vance's house. The second thing I noticed was that the silver SUV was gone.

  When I turned the corner onto the street where I parked, I saw someone sitting on the hood of my Navigator. From a distance I couldn't identify him. He wore a black jacket, gray slacks and black dress shoes. As I got closer I noticed it wasn't a black jacket. It was a black sweater. A turtleneck sweater. That and the neatly parted gray hair gave him away. Little Freddie.

  I'd worked with Little Freddie two years ago while trying to find a blackmailer for an underground information broker in Ohio. Little Freddie was the worst kind of killer. After a mob butcher snuffed out his wife and daughter he had nothing left to lose, and that made him more dangerous than a man with sweaty palms juggling live hand grenades.

  During our last case together, Little Freddie tortured a police informant with a steel baton and a pair of pliers, dismembered a mob lieutenant in an Indiana cornfield, and murdered the man who’d hired us. He was the perfect person to kill Vance.

  "Christ, kid," he said, flicking a cigarette onto the sidewalk. "You can actually drive in this piece of shit?"

  "When I left Cincinnati it was in one piece. You're not helping things by sitting on it."

  He stood up. "Good to see you again, Finn. How's things?"

  "Things were cream and caramels until about ten minutes ago." I looked beyond Freddie and noticed the silver SUV parked in front of my wounded Navigator had Texas plates.

  "How long you been on my ass?" I asked.

  "Since Parkersburg."

  "Bullshit."

  "You're not the only one on Willie Baker's payroll. You were phase one. I'm phase two."

  "That's one hell of a coincidence, him finding both of us."

  "He didn't find you. He found me, but I knew I'd never be able to locate these two asshats so I told him I knew someone who could. You. The way I see it, you owe me a referral fee."

  "That's not how Willie sold it to me."

  "We thought it best to leave me out of it," he said. "Didn't want to influence your decision to take the case. I figured you'd say no if you knew I was involved."

  "I would have."

  "And there aren't many other people who could find Vance and Turner, so I guess we made the right decision." He put his arm around my shoulder. "Though I guess you can go on home now. You finished your job. Now I need to go finish mine."

  I shook my head. "Turner lives."

  "Bullshit he does. He murdered a kid, Finn. And you know how that sits with me."

  "He lives," I said. "I met him the other day. Looked him right in the eye. Talked to him. He's turned his life around. He's helping people. Probably as a means to pay for what he did to Willie's son. There's no need to kill him."

  "I don't care if he's giving Easter baskets to orphans. He killed that boy in West Virginia, and that's all the convincing I need."

  "He'll do more good alive."

  "That's the difference between me and you. You like to rationalize things. Weigh the consequences. Me? I just don't give a fuck." Little Freddie walked toward the silver SUV. "He'd already be dead had you not dragged my ass all the way to Memphis."

  "You followed me there?"

  "And back. Didn't expect you to return to Vance's place."

  "Plans change."

  "Mine hasn't." Little Freddie opened his driver door and bent down low, as if reaching under the seat, and then stood. "Now it's time for you to go home, Finn. Get back in that piece of shit and pray it holds together long enough to get you back to Cincinnati. Where it's safe."

  "Turner lives."

  "No. He don't." Freddie pulled a suppressed 9mm from his SUV and raised it chest level. "Go home, Finn. Get in that car and drive away now or I'll shoot you in the gut and disappear before anyone even notices you're dying on the sidewalk."

  I didn't have a choice. I wasn't going to convince Freddie to let Turner go and there wasn't much else I could do standing on the street with a weapon in my face.

  "You're making a mistake," I said.

  "It ain't the first or the last, kid."

  I stepped into my car, set the laptop on the backseat, fired the engine and pulled away from the curb. My gut told me Freddie would head straight for Turner. There was no reason to wait. Once the word got out that Vance was dead, Valerie would relocate Turner, or at least throw some protection his way. Freddie knew that too, so he'd move fast. Had Turner not convinced me otherwise, I would have pointed my car toward Cincinnati and never looked back, but he didn't deserve to die. In eighty-four he was a gullible kid who blindly followed Vance in some sick pursuit. Josh Baker got a raw deal and Vance paid for it. Turner didn't have to.

  As I watched Little Freddie waving to me in the rearview mirror, I reached for my phone in the console to call Turner, but the phone was gone. Freddie must have yanked it before I got back to the car. All he had to do was reach through the tarp-covered window.

  I couldn't risk stopping to find a pay phone. Little Freddie was probably already moving. I had to warn Turner in person.

  Twenty Nine

  I KEYED THE ADDRESS TO the Raymond Asher Foundation into my GPS. The first time I went to Dallas I drove straight to Turner's home on Molly Court, but I'd get to Dallas around 10 a.m. so I had to snatch him at his office.

  The corner of the tarp covering my passenger window came loose and flapped violently as I crisscrossed through traffic on SH 114 east. I shifted my eyes from the cars in front of me to my rearview mirror watching for Freddie's silver SUV. I didn't know if he thought I'd heed his advice and go back to Cincinnati, but I figured he'd move fast anyway. I thought back to Vance's body on his living room floor. Had a neighbor heard the struggle and called the police, it wouldn't take long for the dominoes to fall. The news of Vance's murder would reach Valerie's desk, and knowing I was in town actively looking for both Vance and Turner she'd pick up the phone and dial a herd of cowboy hat-adorned marshals to protect Turner. Maybe they'd get to Turner before Freddie and gun Freddie down in the parking lot before he got inside Turner's office door. But reality told me it would take time for Valerie to even get word of Vance's death. The local police didn't know Vance was in WITSEC, and unless Valerie was actively listening to a police scanner how would she know they found him?

  I knew if anyone was going to get between Turner and Freddie it had to be me. I buried the accelerator and tore down the highway like a woman in labor was screaming in my passenger seat. I was watching the rearview mirror waiting for Freddie's silver grille to emerge behind me and almost clipped the back of an 18-wheeler as it swerved around a red minivan.

  The duct tape on the bottom of my makeshift window finally gave way and the tarp flapped wildly against the inside of the car. A gust of air surged into the vehicle and I had to crack the driver's window to equalize the pressure pounding my ears.

  I stayed ahead of Freddie for most of the 30 miles between Flower Mound and Dallas, but he caught me where SH 114 east merged into I-35E. The silver SUV closed fast in my mirror. He came up behind me, almost plowed into my bumper, and swerved into the right lane to pull alongside me. I glanced over to see him shaking his head and holding up my cell phone. He tossed it into the back of his vehicle and slammed on the gas, leaving me trapped behind a dump truck and a Prius.

  I weaved through the vehicles lining up to keep me from catching Little Freddie. As he pulled farther away I saw the prospect of beating him to Turner fading away too. Maybe Freddie would go to Turner's home and I'd have time to get to his office first. No, Freddie was a professional and he'd have Turner's work schedule figured out. He'd know where to find him.

  More doubt crept in as a lane of traffic opened up. I jerked the wheel to the left and pushed the accelerator to the floorboard
. The Navigator lurched forward and closed on Little Freddie. My GPS chirped telling me to take Exit 423. I’d almost reached Freddie when he cut across two lanes of traffic and took Exit 424 for Illinois Avenue. My exit was a mile farther up the highway. If my route was the quickest, I still had a chance to beat Freddie to Turner's office.

  I pulled off the exit and two right turns later I arrived at the strip mall. No silver SUV. Remembering the back door in Turner's office, I drove through the parking lot, pulled around the row of buildings onto the access road and stopped at the brown metal door.

  My engine still hummed as I pounded on the door. Nothing. I beat on it again and this time Turner’s voice came through.

  "Yes?" he said.

  "Mr. Asher, this is Roger Mathers." I tried to sound like I wasn't hyperventilating. "Can you let me in?"

  A dead bolt slid across the metal and Turner heaved the heavy door open.

  "Hello again." He wore a concerned smile. "We have a front door—"

  "Is anyone else in the office?" I interrupted.

  He stepped backward. "No. They won't get in until noon." His smile disappeared. "What's going on?"

  "I need you to come with me." I reached for his arm but he yanked it away.

  "What are you talking about? I'm not going anywhere."

  "We don't have a lot of time. I'm not here to learn about your charity. Willie Baker hired me to find you."

  Turner's eyes widened and he stumbled back, reaching his arm out for his desk chair.

  "Josh Baker's father?"

  "We need to move. He's only a few minutes behind me."

  "Who? Willie?"

  "No, the man he hired to kill you."

  "What are you talking about?"

  The front door chimed as Little Freddie's knees broke the infrared sensor. He saw me and charged toward the back. I grabbed Turner, jerked him from his office chair and pulled him out the door and onto the service road.

  "Get in the car and I'll explain later." I opened the passenger door and pushed him into the SUV. I ran around the front of the car and climbed through the driver's door as Turner's office door flew open. We pulled away as two slugs tore through the blue tarp and cracked the windshield directly below the rearview mirror. I looked up and for the second time that morning I watched Little Freddie fade away in the rearview mirror.

  "Do you have a phone on you?" I asked.

  Turner yanked a phone from his pocket and held it out to me. I grabbed my wallet from my back pocket, slipped the white business card from inside and handed it to him.

  "Are you going to tell me what in the shit is going on?"

  "Call that number and put it on speaker."

  A moment later Valerie Cheatham's voice filled the vehicle.

  "This is Finn Harding. I've got Raymond Turner in my car, but he's in trouble."

  "What in the hell are—"

  "Someone just fired two shots at him. He's safe, but I need to bring him to you. Where's your office?"

  "Dallas. 1100 Commerce Street. The federal building. How quickly can you get him here?"

  "We're on our way." I snatched the phone from Turner's hand and clicked it off.

  "I'm not going anywhere without Eva and Ella," said Turner. "My daughters."

  Little Freddie had a knack for seeing things through, and I knew me whisking Turner away wouldn't be the end of this. Freddie would look for leverage. Something to use to get to Turner. And his girls made perfect targets.

  "They're in school?" I said.

  "Adelle Lee. It's on South Polk."

  I glanced from the road to the phone and searched the call history for Valerie's number.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Calling the marshal back," I said. "I'll send her to the school."

  "No." He grabbed the phone and tossed it onto the console. "I'm not risking a shootout at my kid's school. We can get there quicker."

  I looked at the two bullet holes in my windshield. "Okay. How do I get there?"

  Turner guided me to the elementary school and I pulled into the parking lot. My Navigator slammed into a yellow speed bump, which jarred the vehicle, and I waited for my bumper to break free, but somehow it hung on. I stopped in the fire lane in front of the main entrance and Turner reached for the door handle.

  "Your first instinct might be to grab those girls and run, but don't," I said. "I can get you to the marshal's office. And that's the safest place right now."

  "And my wife, Christina," he said. "I'll call her as soon as I get the girls and have her meet us there."

  I handed him the phone. "Call her on your way in."

  Turner pushed open the door and climbed out. As he walked through the main entrance I grabbed the .45 from my bag and scanned the parking lot for Little Freddie's SUV. Nothing. After a few minutes, I leaned back to check the main entrance through the rear passenger window, but no girls and no Turner. I looked through the windshield and saw a silver SUV pull into the far entrance and stop in the middle of the parking lot. There was no license plate on the front bumper and it was too far away to see if Freddie was behind the wheel. It rolled forward a few feet and stopped.

  My fingers tensed around my weapon. The SUV rolled forward a few more feet and then stopped again. I watched the SUV sit in the same spot for ten minutes. The sound of girls laughing trickled through the two small holes in the blue tarp and I leaned back to see Turner, Ella and Eva approach the rear of the car. As they climbed into the back seat, the silver SUV rolled forward.

  What if he rams me? Or opens fire on the entire vehicle?

  Gunning for Turner was one thing, but now I had two girls in the backseat.

  "Come on, hurry up," I said. Turner clicked the seatbelts around his daughters and climbed in between them. I pulled away from the curb before Turner had a chance to close the back door. As he reached for the door the silver SUV picked up speed and headed for us. I clenched the leather steering wheel with my left hand and raised the .45 with my right.

  "Get down," I said to the backseat.

  Turner put one arm around each daughter and leaned them as forward as they could go with the seatbelts around them.

  As the silver SUV crept past us, I saw a woman talking on a cell phone behind the wheel.

  Once we passed, I set my weapon on the passenger seat and gave Turner the all clear. He, Eva and Ella sat up in the backseat.

  "Daddy, where are we going?"

  "We're going to get mommy," said Turner.

  "What?" I said. "I thought you told her to meet us at the marshal's office."

  "I forgot about her car. It’s at the dealer. It was recalled."

  "How did you forget that?"

  "It's a little tough to concentrate with all this going on. I've been driving her to work. She's going to meet us in the lobby." He paused. "I didn't tell her why."

  "Okay, how do I get to her office?"

  Turner was giving me directions when his cell rang. He answered it and then handed it to me.

  "He wants to talk to you," he said.

  "Hello, Finn," said Little Freddie.

  "How'd you get this number?"

  "It's on the brochure I took from Turner's office." He paused. "You went for the kids didn't you?"

  "Yeah," I said.

  "Figured. I went for the wife. Wanna trade?"

  "Not really."

  "I don't have to tell you what happens if you don't."

  "What is it?" asked Turner. "Is Christina okay?"

  "Tell him she's fine," said Little Freddie, hearing Turner through the phone. "Whether she stays that way is completely up to him." He paused. "There's a park about a mile from her office. The one with the giant blue dinosaur slide. I'll assume Turner knows where it is. You've got twenty minutes to get there. I'll swap the wife for Turner."

  I didn't say anything.

  "And Finn, don't fuck this up."

  I clicked off the phone. Turner leaned forward wedging himself between the two front seats.

  "What d
id he say? Is Christina all right?"

  "She’s fine, but he wants to trade her for you."

  Turner was quiet for a moment. "Then do it."

  I lowered my voice so the girls in the backseat didn't hear me. "If you get out of this car, he'll shoot you dead on the spot. That's his job."

  "I don't care. I'm not risking her life for mine." He dropped his face into his hands. "Where are they?"

  "Some park with a dinosaur slide. Near her office. You know it?"

  "Red Oak Park. We have lunch there sometimes."

  I clicked on Turner's phone, scrolled through the recent calls, found Valerie's number and dialed.

  "What is it now?" she said, recognizing the number.

  "We've got a problem," I said, pressing the phone tight against my ear. "How quickly can you get to Red Oak Park?"

  "Why?"

  "I've got Turner and his daughters in my car, but they've got his wife at the park. They want to trade her for Turner."

  "Jesus Christ. Could you fuck things up any worse?"

  "Look, I'm trying to help. Can you get to the park?"

  "Where is it?"

  I looked at Turner. "Where's the park?"

  "It's near the golf course where 342 and 77 connect," said Turner.

  I repeated the directions to Valerie.

  She was quiet for a moment. "I'll get there, but you've got to stall them. It's going to take me some time."

  "Okay," I said. "You might want to be discrete. They suspect anything and she's dead."

  "You want to lecture me about being discreet? Your discretion got us in this clusterfuck in the first place. I told you to stay the fuck out of it and look what happened."

  "You're wasting time. Just get to the park. I'll stall as long as I can."

  "Stay out of our way when we get there." She hung up.

  I handed the phone back to Turner.

  "Did you find Jacob?" he asked.

  "I found him. He was living in Flower Mound."