I pulled a drag and thought of my father. What a good man. Such grand memories. He worked later than most, but he always came home for dinner. When my brother Will and I were in early grade school, we would hide in the bushes near the front stoop or some more creative spot and wait for him. When he got close, we would jump out and scare him. He always carried his briefcase in one hand and a stack of papers in the other. Whenever we popped out, he would sling the papers high in the air, and, depending on the quality of our specific hiding place, he might even fall to the ground. He humored us for a long time with that one.
Could I ever be like that? I really didn’t know. Sure, I could see myself marrying Liz and having kids, coaching soccer, all that. It would be a fine life. But it wasn’t me. Not in the near future. As selfish as it sounds, I still had things to do. I needed to leave my footprint on the world before I settled down. I definitely didn’t want to be one of those fathers who had too much going on to deal with his children. Putting the little ankle-biters aside, I couldn’t be with anyone. It would only complicate things. As it already had.
I was trying to talk myself into doing what had to be done.
Liz came out, kissed me on the neck from behind, and took a seat in the other rocking chair. “I didn’t know you smoked.”
“Once a year, maybe. It’s been a long day.”
We talked about trivial things for a while, and I finally got the guts. “I’m worried about what we’re doing to each other, what’s gonna happen.”
“What do you mean?”
I chose my words carefully. “I think we’re getting too close. We’re going to hurt each other.”
Her smile went away, and she stopped rocking and looked at me. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
I met her eyes. “Completely. I think we’re fools to let this last much longer. You’re going back to New York…for good. I’m not moving up there. I couldn’t talk you into staying.”
She leaned back in her chair and began to rock again. “You made this decision before you came home? Before what happened earlier? Before dinner?”
She had me there. Looking back out over the marsh, I said, “More and more I realize how much I love you, and I can’t allow it. It’s not the right time.”
“You’re right…I’m not ready to settle down, either. Maybe it’s not the right time.” She took a breath and our eyes met again. “But the idea of us walking away from each other doesn’t really make sense. There’s something between us.”
“Of course there is. Something great…but—”
“But you’re scared.”
“Yes, I am.”
Her eyes began to water. “Okay,” she said, standing. “If that’s all you have, I’ll walk away, too.”
“I don’t have a choice.” I really didn’t. I wanted to tell her the truth, but I couldn’t. The case would rely on the fact that I had ended the relationship promptly once I’d become aware of Liz’s relationship with Jack. And I had no idea what their relationship was now. How could I be absolutely positive she wouldn’t say anything? It was best to leave her out of it.
And I wanted to tell her I loved her, but I couldn’t do that, either.
“You always have a choice,” she said. “I think you’re a fucking idiot.” It was the only time I’d ever heard her say that word.
“I’m sorry, Liz.”
“Don’t be.” With that, she left, her head held high.
23
You put it behind you.
How do you get past putting an op in jeopardy because of your own damn needs? How do you go undercover to befriend a man you would rather beat with a Louisville Slugger? How do you face the people you’ve let down? You put it behind you. If there are people who believe in you and demand greatness from you, and if you believe in yourself, you put it behind you and carry on. I mean: quit feeling sorry for yourself, Reddick.
Everyone but me had pretty much gotten past my relationship with Liz. It had been two excruciatingly painful weeks. We all knew that it was a potential problem in court, but we couldn’t call off the op now. AUSA Cannon’s concern was whether the information was exculpatory, meaning information favorable to the defendant that the prosecution must share. Forget the defense finding out; we might have to tell them. As I had guessed, the fact that I severed the relationship immediately would be the greatest argument against its exculpatory nature.
The message had been sent down, though. Time to make some progress. That or make arrests. I needed to make something happen or go back to Florida.
I had an old friend who I’d been writing music with since my college days by the name of Scott Simontacchi. He’d been in Nashville for years and had become a well-known musician in the circles that mattered. I gave him a ring, and he got his hands on two backstage passes to see Bruce Springsteen at the North Charleston Coliseum. I invited Jack, knowing he wouldn’t turn it down. It was that night that our friendship began. A good old-fashioned bromance. I buried my feelings and opened my heart, allowing myself to not only like the man, but to connect with him.
My supervisors over the years always said I was one of the best in the business at making friends. We spent a good bit of time together, fishing, drinking, surfing, philosophizing. We got to know each other well. Or, I should say, he got to know Travis Moody. He even started calling me Trav. That’s when I knew I had him. I made it clear that I wanted to work for him—in any way that he needed—from pushing coke to muscle work. And I’d already proven myself in both arenas.
As hard as it was to admit, I could see what Liz saw in the man. Behind the layer of cocaine that had put a shadow on his spirit, he was charming and quite entertaining. He was one of those people who had something to contribute. I wasn’t growing fond of him, but I did understand his appeal.
Speaking of Liz, I was in pain. Though losing Anna had battle-hardened my heart, I definitely wasn’t bulletproof. Tears were shed. Weight was lost. Drinks were downed. I hoped that after this was all over, I could find her and tell her everything and that she’d forgive me. But I didn’t count on it. Optimism can often set you up for pain.
The call finally came. Jack asked me to accompany him to Atlanta. He needed some protection. Steve was ecstatic. Chalk one up for Agent Reddick.
Jack and I made the four-and-a-half-hour drive on a Thursday morning, parking outside Atlanta’s subway system, the Marta.
“Leave your phone,” he said. “They won’t let you in with it.” Luckily, I had a GPS micro-transmitter hidden in my shoe. The Atlanta DEA knew exactly where I was, and they’d be able to track whoever we were going to meet. That’s how we would open up this circle, how we’d blow this case wide open.
We hopped on the Marta and took it two stops down, where a Lexus waited on us outside the station. We climbed in the back. The pineapple air freshener swinging from the rearview mirror did nothing to mask the smell of stale cigarette smoke buried deep inside the cloth seats. The driver was white and appeared to be in his mid-twenties. From his apparel, I guessed he was quite the Atlanta Hawks fan. He wore his hat tilted to the side and spoke gangsta English.
“Whaz up, Jack?” he said, turning around to greet us. He had a gap in his teeth.
“What’s goin’ on, brother? This is a friend of mine. Travis. He’s straight. I told your boy I might bring somebody. Travis, meet Joe.” Amazing. Jack was like a chameleon. I didn’t know he spoke gangsta.
“I’m cool. You guys carryin’?” Jack shook his head, and Joe reached into the backseat and patted us down.
He got a little too friendly, and I said, “All right, buddy. That’s not the gun you’re looking for and those aren’t grenades.”
He ignored me.
Joe drove evasively, making sure no one was following us. Across town, under an overpass, he swung the wheel hard left and cut in front of oncoming traffic. I took hold of the door handle as the wheels screeched, and we were thrown forward. Seconds later, we went out the way we came in, and Joe had a smile on his face,
satisfied. Ten minutes and many turns later, we pulled into a parking garage out near the airport. Joe parked the Lexus on the second floor, and we switched vehicles. We exited the garage in a shabby Toyota Corolla. As long as my transmitter hadn’t died, Joe had just needlessly wasted gas and given me a hell of a headache.
We eventually pulled into a sketchy motel right off the interstate. It was a two-story brick building called the Rose View. What looked like two meth-heads were arguing with each other closer to the road. A sleazy businessman looked down on us from the railing. We followed Joe up the stairs. Jack had the backpack and seemed calm, like he had done this many times before. I’d done it a few times myself, but I had to tip my hat to their vigilance. No one could have possibly followed us.
Joe knocked twice. A moment later, a thug opened the door and let us in. Thick gold chain around his neck. Might have had a rap album under his belt.
He stuck his hand out to Jack. “How’s it going?” A tattoo of a dragon breathing flames wrapped around his arm and disappeared behind his sleeve.
“All right,” Jack replied.
“You sure your friend’s cool, eh?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” Jack didn’t bother introducing me. I didn’t think we had much of a future, so I wasn’t offended. We followed him into the room. The curtains were drawn. The lamps near the two beds and the blaring television were the only source of light. Two other thugs were watching cartoons. One of them sat on the edge of the bed with a TEC-9 semiautomatic with at least a 36-round magazine in his hand, which wasn’t exactly a welcome mat. The other sat on the noisy air conditioning unit and didn’t say a word.
“So what you got for me?” the first thug asked.
Jack handed him the backpack, and the man began to flip through the twenties. I kept my eyes on Speedy Gonzalez, who was gracing the tube. I had seen that show a lot when I was younger, but I couldn’t remember Speedy’s cousin’s name. It started bothering me.
The dragon man stabbed a knife into the side of a kilo and dished out a couple lines onto a plate before handing it over. Jack rolled up a bill and took one down.
“It’s good,” Jack said, smiling. “You got eight?”
Dragon man nodded and stacked them in front of Jack, who shoved them into his backpack, stood, and thanked him. Jack said, “This is it for me, at least for a while. I wanted to tell you to your face, out of respect. I want no hard feelings. Nothing personal, but I’m trying to calm down. I think we’ve done well.”
“You found something better, Jack?”
“Nah, man. I’m just tryin’ to look out for myself. I hope you understand.”
“I guess I got to. I hope you’re not leaving me for somebody else. You take care of yourself.”
“Not at all, buddy. Just cleanin’ up.” Jack’s a good liar, but I wasn’t buying it. I knew he had found a safer way to bring in better coke; I just didn’t have all the answers yet. Could it have something to do with the containers of teak he brought in from time to time? For Jack’s sake, I hope the dragon man didn’t figure that out. He didn’t seem like the understanding type. They bumped fists and we got out of there. I didn’t bother saying good-bye.
Crossing the parking lot, I asked Joe and Jack, “Y’all know who Speedy Gonzalez’s cousin is? It’s killing me.”
“Slowpoke,” Jack said, climbing into the Lexus.
“That’s right!” I slapped my leg. “Slowpoke Rodriguez.” I got in the other side, behind Joe. Speedy was my guy back in the old days. I remember pretending to be sick when I was a kid, and the minute my mom would leave to go run errands, I would run downstairs and catch an episode. Shirt Tales was another one I loved, but apparently no one else had ever heard of it.
We said good-bye to Joe and went on our way. If my counterparts had done their job as I had expected, they would have teams following Joe and the thugs we met at the hotel. We were making progress. Next stop: Jack’s cabin.
24
Back on the highway, Jack brought Liz up.
“I haven’t even told you about her, have I?” he asked, his eyes focused on the highway.
“No. I mean, I’ve heard you mention that someone screwed you up.”
“Yeah. She screwed me up. First girl to ever do it, too. You ever had your heart broken, Trav?”
“Once or twice.”
“Nothing like it, is there? To be honest, I’m still hurting. She’ll come around though, I think. Just needs some time. We had a great thing.”
“They come back sometimes.”
“Yeah, they do. But I think she’s seeing someone. That’s something I will deal with if it doesn’t end soon. I can’t bear thinking about her and some other asshole.”
If he only knew. “She must be a good woman. Tell me about her. How’d you meet?”
“Last year during the Spoleto festival, she came to town to accept the Menotti award, which is a big deal in the art world. CBS was even doing a piece on her. Being the Director of the Arts, I introduced her and that’s how we met. I asked her out after her acceptance speech. The cameras got it on tape and ended up including it in their piece. Honestly, I’ve watched it way too many times lately.”
I nodded.
“I knew knowing her could put me on the map. And it did. Within a couple months, she had given me exclusive rights to sell her paintings in the state. It was huge for me. Not that I didn’t want to bed her, too. But I had my priorities.” He took a key bump from a bag of coke in his pocket. I hated that sound.
Suppressing my anger, I said, “I can understand that.”
“Then she caught me sleeping with Tela Davies.”
“How’d she do that?”
“Believe it or not, it was the day Chad Rourke died. You know Tela was with him that night. Up at his place. It was in the papers. She called me as she was leaving his place and said she wanted to come over. We’d only met a few times but really hit it off at King’s place earlier that night.” Jack looked at me. “How the hell could I say no to her?”
I nodded in agreement though I didn’t agree at all. How do you say no? With the word, no. You show some respect for yourself and Liz and your relationship, and you say no.
With his eyes back on the road, he said, “I’d had a ton of vodka and wasn’t thinking straight. Liz was coming in from New York the next afternoon, so it wasn’t the smartest move, but…what do you do?” He paused for a moment, shaking his head. “So Tela came over and we had a good time. It’s kind of fun screwing a girl you’ve been watching in movies for years. Like I knew her before I knew her. The next morning, I was ripping a line in my bedroom and Tela was in my shower when Liz walked in.”
“You’re kidding me,” I said. I wanted to punch Jack in the face, bury his cockiness behind black eyes and broken bones.
“I swear. I heard Liz say my name and I ran into the bathroom and locked the door. Opened the shower door to warn Tela. She’s butt-ass naked, fine as hell, running her little fingers through her hair, shampooing. At first she thought I was joining her. Until I shut off the water. I had to beg her to stay in there, soaking wet, and not say a word. I’m telling you, Trav, not my finest moment. She never really said she’d stay in there, but I closed the door on her. Had no time. I went back into the bedroom. Liz was waiting on me. She jumped into my arms.”
He stopped talking to concentrate on weaving by a patch of slow traffic. I couldn’t stop feeling sorry for Liz. How was the world so unfair to allow Liz to get caught up in all this evil?
“This is getting bad,” I said, hoping the story would end soon.
“It gets worse. Liz took my robe off and then dropped her clothes onto the floor. The girl had missed me. Tela’s ten feet and two walls behind me. Liz asked if I was getting ready to take a shower, you know, since she heard the water running. I said yes and she said she wanted to take one with me, that she felt dirty from the plane.”
I fought the images forcing themselves into my mind’s eye.
“I knew I was busted. She p
ulled me into the bathroom and I’m not kidding you, put her hand on the shower door. Started to pull it open. I was dying inside. Had to listen to that little peel of the black rubber strip slowly pulling away.” Jack laughed. “Then just as the door cracked, her phone rang. She let go of the handle and went back into the bedroom. I opened up the shower door. Tela was in the corner with her hands covering her tits. She mouthed to me that she wanted a towel and I just held up my finger, telling her to wait.”
He passed another group of cars with a heavy foot and then kept going with the story. “It was one of her friends here in town, asking her to go wakeboarding. Liz asked me if I minded. Of course I didn’t. I thought I was off the hook, but she ended up back in the bathroom in her bikini getting ready for another twenty minutes. I was sitting on the lip of the tub talking to her about trivial blah, and Tela was a couple feet away behind the wall of the shower. I can’t tell you how miserable I was. Then Liz saw the remnants of some cocaine, and I had to listen to her bitch for ten minutes. She ended up leaving without finding Tela, though.”
That was the day I met her. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t figured this out. To put this man in jail would only begin to satisfy the rage that was building up inside of me.
“That afternoon,” Jack continued, his speech quickening, “I went straight to the diamond display at Geiss and Sons. I needed to get a ring on her finger. Lock her down. I spent a fortune and went back home to propose to her after she’d finished wakeboarding. She was waiting on me.” He hit the steering wheel. “Dropped one of Tela’s earrings on the counter. A little dream catcher. That was it. I couldn’t even lie anymore. She wouldn’t let me. Saw right through me. Said the only reason she was still there was to make it very clear to me that we were over. I started backpedaling, telling her whatever she needed to hear, but she wasn’t buying it.
“In some kind of desperate plea, I pulled out the ring and offered it to her. I opened the box. Asked her to marry me. Completely pathetic and absurd, I know, but I was throwing out anything I could. She took the box and ring and walked out to the balcony. Threw it as far as she could into the marsh. Poof. Then she turned around, walked up to me, and slapped me. As she started to walk to the elevator, I jerked her back around and slung her against the wall. Hard. Almost punched her.”
Lowcountry Punch Page 13
