Snitch

by Rene Gutteridge

  Jesse checked his cell phone. He’d turned it off last night to save batteries and forgot to turn it back on. “What happened?”

  “You would know if you were where you were supposed to be,” a voice said.

  Jesse turned to face Sergeant Yeager, who didn’t look pleased. “All this ‘busy work’ you claim I’m making you do scored us a suspect, who is planning to deliver stolen parts on Friday.”

  “I’m sorry. I overslept.”

  “Out late last night?” The sarge didn’t wait for an answer. He walked back into the office. Dozer shrugged. Inside, Mack was making coffee.

  “You missed it!” Mack said as Jesse walked through the door. “It was great. Everything went down like it was supposed to.”

  Jesse looked back toward the office where Sergeant Yeager had disappeared. Should he tell him about his hunch that the two Ryans might be connected? Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe not. Suddenly he wasn’t so sure a procedural reprimand was all Sergeant Yeager would give if he told him how he’d gotten his information.

  “You okay?’ Mack asked. “You look worried.”

  Jesse blinked away the dismay. “What’s Sergeant Yeager been like today?”

  Mack glanced to the doors then back at Jesse. “Fine. Seemed a little uptight, but he’s been pretty focused on preparing for the meeting with our guy. The whole thing took ten minutes. Amazing.” Mack looked curious. “You don’t look okay.”

  Jesse leaned on the counter and gave Mack his full attention. “Not having Chaplain Greer around is throwing me. Kyle’s an okay stand-in, but it’s not the same. Things seem to be going really bad instead of really good. Maybe Kyle doesn’t have the experience Chaplain Greer has.”

  “Jesse, it’s not about experience. God is capable, and that’s all that matters. The Bible tells us to give him our worries, so whatever you’re worried about, you should talk to God.”

  Jesse gave her a short smile. “Yeah, well, I went behind Sergeant Yeager’s back to get some information I thought we could use. How does God feel about liars?”

  “The same way he feels about magic bullets.”

  “I wish I could see the world like you do. It must be some kind of trip to be inside your head.” Jesse stared at the counter. “And I was pretty rude to Kyle yesterday too. I was mad and I took it out on him.”

  “I talked to Kyle today. He seemed fine, so don’t worry about it.”

  “You did? When?”

  “Maybe an hour or two ago. He called to ask me what kind of music I liked.”

  Jesse stared at her. “He … It’s you?”

  “What’s me?” Mack asked, her eyes widening.

  “Nothing. I, um, better go talk to Sergeant Yeager.”

  Mack touched his arm. “Jesse, everybody lies. It’s human nature. If you go in there and tell Sergeant Yeager you’re sorry, I think that will go a long way in patching things up. It probably wouldn’t hurt to call Kyle, either. You’ll feel better. Every time I apologize to you, I feel better.”

  If he didn’t tell Sergeant Yeager about what he’d heard from Mason’s grandfather, they might miss an important connection. Maybe Mack was onto something. If he went in and apologized first, maybe Sarge would be less likely to explode. Still, Jesse couldn’t shake the disappointment in Sergeant Yeager’s eyes just moments ago.

  “Go ahead,” Mack said warmly. “He’s a reasonable man. He’ll understand.”

  “You really think so?”

  She nodded. “Once you sincerely apologize, there’s nothing else you can do. And people grow as much by forgiving as they do by apologizing. Needless to say, I’ve been growing like a weed,” she grinned.

  Jesse felt a tiny surge of courage. Mack made it look so easy. He made a mistake. Everybody makes mistakes. Maybe, just maybe, this mistake would pay off. He walked around the counter and pushed open the door.

  “You did what?”

  Ron didn’t need Jesse to repeat himself. He’d thoroughly explained it in three short, rapid-fire sentences. “I’m sorry,” Jesse said, clasping his hands awkwardly in front of him.

  “I can’t believe you would do something like this.”

  “If you’ll just let me explain—”

  “There’s nothing to explain. You disobeyed a direct order.”

  “Because you made an irrational decision!” Jesse’s attempt at humility landed with a thud on the floor. “You had no reason not to use my informant. It was a solid lead. I know her, and I was sure she could at least—”

  “You know her?”

  Jesse paused. Ron stared at him, demanding an explanation.

  “From high school,” Jesse said hastily. “We barely knew each other.”

  “You went behind my back to get an informant, and then you broke the golden rule of using informants?”

  “I’ve got good information on Mason Capps. That’s why I came in here.”

  “I thought it was to apologize.”

  Jesse sighed. “Will you at least listen to what I have to say?”

  Ron leaned back in his chair, folding his arms together and tapping his foot against the carpet.

  “It’s kind of a long story, but the gist of it is that Brandi Brown, Mason’s former girlfriend, said that Mason keeps in regular contact with his grandfather. She knew where to find the grandfather, so I took Brandi with me to see what kind of information we could get out of him.”

  “And?”

  “He came up with a name. Ryan. A guy Mason brought around once before.”

  “Does Ryan have a last name?”

  Jesse hesitated.

  “Well?”

  “All he could remember was that it rhymed with … um … Jell-O.”

  “Terrific,” Ron said. “So a fellow that rhymes with Jell-O. And the cow jumped over the moon.” Jesse was getting upset, but Ron didn’t really care. He knew Jesse was cocky, but he hadn’t expected him to pull a stunt like this.

  “The reason I’m telling you this,” Jesse said, “is because I drove up when you were talking to the red-haired guy.”

  “I didn’t see you.”

  “I saw the van and parked on the other side of the garage. I thought something might be going down. Did you see the other man?”

  “Yes.”

  “I overheard the red-haired guy talking to him, and he called him Ryan. Or something like it.”

  “Something like it?”

  Jesse seemed confused by his own words. “No, I think it was Ryan. I’m almost certain. Could be the same guy, right?”

  “Where is the informant?”

  “At a motel. She’s willing to cooperate. Mason is not her favorite person, and she is hoping to get a deal.”

  “You left her there?”

  “She’s not going to run. She knows what’s at stake.”

  “Which motel?”

  “The Six. Off the interstate.”

  Ron stared at his desk, gently rocking back and forth in the squeaky chair, his hands folded in front of his lips. Jesse’s eyes searched Ron for an answer, a clue. But Ron looked away.

  “You’re relieved of your duties,” Ron finally said.

  “What?” The color drained from Jesse’s face.

  “You crossed the line, Detective. I can tolerate a lot, but I can’t tolerate this. You’re reckless.”

  “I’m not reckless!” Jesse shouted. “I’m trying to solve this case! I’m trying to get Mason so we can get in.”

  “I told you I would get us back in.” Ron gave him a cold stare. “How do you think they knew where to show up in the first place?”

  Silence.

  “I said we were going to work the bars, make the connections, and get names and numbers.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re moving at a snail’s pace.”

  “I worked the bars.”

  Jesse’s jaw dropped. “You’re saying you’ve been working undercover?”

  “Go back to Henderson. You’re off this task force.”

  Jesse cursed, flung open
the door, and slammed it behind him. Ron heard the bell chime as Jesse blew out the front door. Within seconds, Mack stood in Ron’s doorway. He held up a hand. “No questions. Just get back to work. Tell the guys we need to put those posters up in the garage. Make this place look used, okay? I need a half hour without interruption.” Mack nodded and shut his door. A sharp blade of pain sliced through his head as he grabbed the desk phone. It was an old phone, big and black with a cord and a square full of push buttons. He used to love this kind of phone. Back in Chicago, he’d tuck his fingers underneath it and carry the whole thing around with the receiver cradled on his shoulder. Nan never understood why he didn’t want a cordless phone at home.

  Nan. He could see her face. In his mind, she looked happy. They were at Yosemite on vacation. She was smiling and really enjoying life. Why not? He’d put her through tough times in Chicago. It would break her heart if she knew he’d been back on the street again. That he was doing more than leading a task force from behind the relative safety of a desk. He closed his eyes. He knew what he was doing.

  He put the phone to his ear, his fingers hovering over the number pad. And then he dialed.

  “Captain Gates.”

  “Laura, it’s Ron.”

  “What’s wrong? You sound like something’s wrong.”

  “I think we just got a huge break.”

  “What?”

  “How many months has the LVPD been looking for Rhyne Grello?”

  “The drug dealer? Six, at least.”

  “I think we’ve found him.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Almost positive. We have an informant that put us back in touch with Mason. Apparently Mason’s been hanging around Grello.”

  “He dropped out of sight for a while. You think he’s behind the auto thefts?”

  “Maybe. We don’t have much information on Grello. But we have info on the guy he was apparently with today.”

  “Let’s bring him in.”

  “He’s delivering parts to us Friday. Maybe we should wait, see if Grello comes in with him, and make the arrest then.”

  “No. Narcotics has been close to Grello before, and he’s always outsmarted them. It’s our turn, Ron, and we need to move on this now. It might be our only chance.”

  Ron stared at the ceiling, thinking through the options. “All right. I’ll bring in Bobby. We’ll see what he knows.”

  He hung up the phone and went to see Mack. She was busy working on a laptop. “We got a trace on that number Bobby called from?”

  “Yeah. It was a cell. But we’ve got his address.”

  Ron walked into the garage and called everyone over.

  “What’s going on?” Dozer asked. “I saw Jesse leave.”

  “Forget about Jesse. Right now I need you and Wiz to bring in Bobby. Mack’s got his information.” He turned to Mack. “Please tell me he’s got some parking tickets or something we can get him on.”

  Mack nodded. “Four unpaid speeding tickets.”

  “Good. Bring him to headquarters. Let me know when he’s there.” Mack handed Wiz and Dozer the information and they left.

  He looked at Hank. “Hold down the fort. We may be getting calls today since we’ve been passing out fliers. Collect information from anyone who calls. I’ll look into them later.” Hank nodded and went back to the garage.

  He turned to Mack. “I need you to go to the Motel 6 off the highway. There’s a woman there named Brandi Brown. She’s an informant. Get all the information you can from her. Then stay with her until I call. Don’t mention this to anyone.” Mack left without asking questions.

  Ron walked outside and stood in the shadow of the garage. He wasn’t superstitious, but he’d give anything if knocking knuckles with Elvis would make this thing work.

  Chapter 36

  Kyle sat on a couch that had been handed down from his grandmother. One lamp lit the small living room. As the television droned on, Kyle sat and stared. How had he come to this? He’d spent his entire youth serving God, spent every penny he had on seminary, and now here he was, wondering what it was all for. Wondering what got him up in the morning.

  If he weren’t on sabbatical, he would be in his office, reading a book by some megachurch pastor, wondering if his church would ever grow above a hundred and fifty people. It dawned on him that he’d never really been content or fulfilled. He got his bachelor’s degree in three years, his master’s at a prestigious school. He wanted a church. He got the church, but then wanted the people. He got the people, but then wanted more people. Why was he so desperate to fill his days with something else? Something more … exciting?

  He clasped his hands and closed his eyes, trying to concentrate. He was restless, and he had a crush on a woman who could fire a gun. How could he match that excitement? He couldn’t even fire his nearly deaf organist.

  “I’m feeling useless.” It was all he could pray. It was a statement, a call for help, a confession. He didn’t have to say any more. God knew his heart, and Kyle felt ashamed of it. He’d lost his focus, his passion. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to be doing this.

  Then he heard a knock. Hopeful it was Mack, he opened the door to Jesse instead.

  “Jesse … what are you doing here?”

  “Are you certain there’s not some sin you’re dealing with that might be skewing this whole prayers and blessings thing?”

  Kyle sighed. Just one? “Well … I guess I’m dealing with a little bit of … envy. Why?”

  “About what?”

  Kyle opened the door wider. “You want to come in?”

  “I don’t have any other place to be. I got fired from the task force today.”

  “What?”

  Jesse looked around. “So this is a parsonage. Could use some work. It’s a little small.”

  “Well,” Kyle said, “I’m not Siegfried or Roy.”

  Jesse turned to face him. “So what’s this envy all about?”

  Kyle gestured for him to sit. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about ministry. Before I took this sabbatical, I was really bored. It seemed all I did was settle one argument after another and attempt to help people just get along with one another. I kept wondering if I was missing something. And then I got tied into this task force, and I suddenly felt alive.”

  “I’m glad you’re figuring out your life, but how does this help me?”

  “That’s the thing. I don’t have it figured out. I think I’d like to be the kind of guy who carries a badge and a gun, but that’s just not me. I’m a pastor at heart. At least I think I am.”

  “I know you’re hot for Mack.”

  Kyle froze. “How do you know that?”

  “They don’t call me a detective for nothing.”

  Kyle looked away. “Let’s get back to you. Why did you get fired?”

  “I lied. But for a good reason. If Ron would let me do what I do, I know we could break into this ring. But every time I make headway, Ron is nearby, waving his stick of distrust.” Jesse kicked his feet up onto an ottoman. “Mack had a stellar idea. She said to come clean and ask Ron for forgiveness. You see where that landed me.” Jesse glanced around. “In a parsonage.”

  “You want a Hot Pocket?”

  Jesse groaned. “Hot wings sound better, but I guess I can’t be choosy.”

  Kyle tossed a couple Hot Pockets in the microwave. “I usually eat at potlucks.”

  Jesse kept glancing around the room. “Sorry,” Kyle called from the kitchen. “No Elvises around here, jumpsuited or otherwise.” Kyle brought a Hot Pocket to Jesse and handed him a can of root beer.

  “People like you, don’t they?” Jesse said.

  “Like me?”

  “Yeah. You’re well liked, aren’t you?”

  Kyle shrugged. “I guess.”

  “You’re easy to like. Me … I just rub people the wrong way. Look what I do to Mack. By the time we’re done, I might actually make her cuss.” Jesse let out a sad laugh and guzzled the drink. “Who am I kidding? I�
�m already done.”

  Kyle leaned forward. “Jesse, you’re a passionate guy. You’re really good at what you do, and you love it. There’s nothing wrong with that. It seems to me that this is your purpose. You were born to be a cop.”

  “I’ve never thought about it like that. But you’re right. It’s the only thing I’m good at, so I didn’t want to blow it. Then I blew it.”

  “God made you who you are.”

  Jesse leaned back in his chair. “That’s what I see in Mack. Everything’s stacked against her, you know? She’s awkward to be around, she’s quick-tempered, she was homeschooled, she was a clown … but she’s comfortable in her own skin. Who can be that comfortable?”

  “She doesn’t care what other people think of her. She trusts God. That’s where her comfort comes from. It’s really all about purpose. God has a purpose for Mack, and she embraces that.”

  “All that stuff I do,” Jesse said. “The Elvis. The bullet. Chaplain Greer. You think that’s nuts, don’t you?”

  Kyle smiled. “No … but Elvis is dead, and that bullet nearly killed you.”

  “I can’t feel anything from God, but I can feel these socks on my feet.”

  “Here you are, on a Friday night, with a dorky pastor in his dumpy old parsonage, eating a Hot Pocket. God got you here somehow, didn’t he?”

  Jesse laughed. “Yeah, I guess.” He gazed out the window. “I have a lot of questions, but I never had the courage to ask any of them. I was always afraid God wouldn’t answer me.”

  Kyle watched as Jesse’s confident eyes flickered with vulnerability. Sitting right in front of him was his answer. His purpose. Watching a broken man open up to the idea that God loves him—it couldn’t get any more exciting than that.

  Brandi sat on the end of the bed listening to this new detective explain that Jesse wasn’t working the case anymore, but that they might still need her help.

  Brandi felt sick. She hated this ratty motel, but it was better than jail. She’d thought about running, but then her life would pretty much be over. Besides, she didn’t have any money.

  Suddenly, they heard a knock at the door. The detective motioned for Brandi to stay still as she quietly went to the door, her hand on her gun. She peered through the peephole as a muffled voice came through the door. “Brandi Brown? You in there?”