Snitch

by Rene Gutteridge

  “It’s an old man,” the detective whispered.

  “It sounds like Mason’s grandfather!” Brandi whispered back. The detective quickly moved to the bed. “Keep the chain hooked, but open the door. Find out what he wants. I’ll be hiding in the bathroom. Do not, under any circumstance, let him in. And don’t tell him I’m here.”

  “Brandi? You in there? It’s Charles.”

  The detective slipped into the bathroom. Brandi took a deep breath and walked to the door, trying to calm her nerves. She hooked the chain, peeped through the hole, then opened the door.

  “Charles? What are you doing here?”

  “Sorry to scare you, darlin’. You look white as a ghost.”

  “I’m fine. You just startled me.”

  “You alone in there?”

  “Yes. How did you find me?”

  “I’m sorry, honey. I followed you last night. I had to. The guy you was with, I didn’t trust him. I don’t think you should, either. He’s got that look in his eye. I seen it before. He ain’t human. At least … not anymore.” He paused and looked around the parking lot. “I saw him leave earlier. I thought he might come back. He didn’t. So I thought you were safe. I headed home. But then I realized somethin’.”

  Brandi held her breath. “What?”

  “I realized you’re the right woman for Mason. He never had much luck with women. Here,” he said, handing her a piece of paper through the crack in the door.

  “What is it?”

  “Mason’s number. He told me not to give it out to nobody. I made up that bit about the number being blocked. But you’re a good woman. You’re good for Mason.”

  Brandi looked down at the piece of paper. “It’s in code,” Charles said, then his voice became a whisper. “Add five to each number. Start over after nine. That’s his phone number.”

  “Oh, okay. Thanks.”

  “It’s gettin’ dark. I gotta get home.”

  “Okay.”

  “Keep this door locked. If that man you been with comes around again, you call …” He paused.

  “The police?”

  “No. They’re aliens too. I don’t like my phone ringin’, but call me if you get in trouble.”

  “I will.”

  Brandi closed the door and turned. The detective walked out of the bathroom, and Brandi smiled while she tried to catch her breath. She held up the piece of paper. “We got it.”

  Laura had done her fair share of interrogations, one of the things she’d enjoyed most about being a detective. It was also something her father was best known for. He could suck a confession out of a brick wall. Some of his partners liked to yell and push papers off of tables. But her dad, he was always calm, subdued. He once told her that he liked to fool the criminal into thinking he could identify with him or his crime. Smile a little and nod, he told her. Let them see your eyes reflect understanding. Before long, a confession—or what the criminal thought was a justification—would come spilling out.

  She wished her dad could see her now.

  If the black-and-white monitor Laura watched was any indication, it wouldn’t be hard to put fear in this young man. Bobby Jackson sat very still in the steel chair, his hands tucked underneath his legs and his eyes darting over every inch of the room.

  Sergeant Yeager and Detective Stillman, “Dozer” they called him, stood beside her.

  “I’m going to go in and question him.” She looked at Ron. “He was alone when he was arrested, right?”

  “Yeah. Nobody saw him get into the car.” Ron turned to Dozer. “Go finish the paperwork, then get back to the shop. I don’t care if we have to work all night. I want the shop ready. I’ve got Mack running an errand for me. I’ll tell her to get there when she can.”

  “What about Jesse?”

  “Worry about what’s in front of us.”

  Laura went to the door and opened it. Bobby’s head jerked up. He seemed surprised at first, probably at seeing a woman enter, but there wasn’t any less terror on his face.

  “What am I being charged with?”

  “It’s called a traffic ticket. Here’s how it works. When you get one, you have to pay it. If you don’t, we come and arrest you.” Laura sat down casually and leaned forward. “Did the arresting officers read you your rights?”

  “Yeah. Am I going to jail?”

  “Most likely. Unless you can give me some information I want.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “Were you with Rhyne Grello today?”

  Bobby glanced at the wall, then at Laura. “No. I mean, I haven’t seen him in a while.”

  “You’re lying to me, Bobby.” Laura calmly crossed her arms. “If this is how you want to play it, I can take you straight to jail. Or you can tell me the truth and I can put in a good word for you. Lie to me again, all bets are off.”

  Bobby’s gaze fell to the table. “I was with him. This afternoon.”

  “What were you doing?”

  “We were … um …” He glanced up at Laura. “We were making a deal with a body shop. They needed some parts. We thought we might be able to help out.”

  “Help out, Bobby? You’re into charity work, are you?”

  Bobby paused, then met her eyes. “It was a business arrangement.”

  “Where’d you get the parts?”

  “We just …”

  “Remember, Bobby. No lies.”

  “Okay, okay. They are stolen parts. But they aren’t mine. They’re Rhyne’s. I just linked him up with this body shop. I didn’t steal nothin’.”

  “Did you sell the parts?”

  “No. Rhyne needed the van for a couple of days. So we didn’t do nothin’ wrong.”

  “What kind of van?”

  “A Chrysler.”

  “Why did he need the van?”

  Bobby stared at the table again. “I don’t know.”

  “Why don’t you make an educated guess?”

  “It’s just rumors. That’s all I know.”

  “Tell me.”

  Bobby leaned in a little. “The rumor is that Rhyne’s doing drug runs to Mexico. Nobody’s seen him do it. It’s just what we been hearing.”

  “What about a guy named Mason Capps?”

  “I know him a little, but we don’t hang out much. He knows Rhyne.”

  “Do you know where Capps is?”

  “No.”

  “But you do know how to get ahold of Grello.”

  “No. I don’t have a phone number. I don’t know where he lives. I found him at a casino. He likes to gamble sometimes.”

  “You’re telling me you have no idea how to get in touch with him?”

  “He said he’d call me. He didn’t leave me a number or nothing.”

  Laura excused herself and found Ron waiting for her outside. “I’m getting somewhere with him.”

  Ron smiled. “We just got Mason Capps’s phone number.”

  Chapter 37

  Ron and Brandi sat in one of Ruth’s cars, a block away from Cracker Jack’s. She looped her hair around her index finger over and over again.

  “All right, speak so I can make sure this thing is recording,” Ron said.

  “What should I say?” She looked nervously at Ron.

  “Okay, we’re good. There’s a minor miracle. I can’t even get my VCR to record.” He glanced sideways at her. “I’m just beating you to the punch.”

  “What?” she laughed a little.

  “You think I’m old.”

  “No,” she said, smiling. “I was thinking how nice you are.”

  She smacked her gum. Ron held out his hand. “I don’t want to hear that noise all night.”

  She spit her gum in his hand, and he wrapped it in a piece of scrap paper. “Are you sure you’re clear about what to do?”

  “I act like I want to get back together with Mason. I’m real nice to him.”

  “You want to know what he’s been up to. Try to get him to tell you who he’s been hanging out with, what he’s d
oing. Why he was too busy to come get you out of jail.”

  “There’s no good explanation for that,” she growled.

  “Remember, you’re fishing for information. Don’t make him mad and don’t raise suspicions by asking too many pointed questions.” Ron smiled at her. “You’ll do fine.”

  “Yeah, if I can keep from throwing up when I see him.”

  “You get us the information we need, and I will personally talk to the DA.”

  “You will?”

  “I promise.”

  Ron glanced at his watch. “I want you in there early. And I want you to get out first. Make sure he doesn’t follow you, and then come back to the car. I’ll be waiting.”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s time to go.”

  Mason tried to convince himself he wasn’t nervous, but his body kept trembling. He couldn’t believe he’d said yes. He really wanted to see her again. He was tired of Rhyne making all the calls, especially about his personal life. Rhyne was busy living large with his new and more important friends anyway. As long as Mason showed up the next morning, everything would be fine. No harm done.

  Besides, after their little trip to Mexico, Mason was going to take his money and get out of town. It would be enough to start over somewhere. He had learned to hate being Rhyne’s whipping boy. The money might be good, but there was only so much a person could take.

  He couldn’t believe Brandi had gone to the trouble of talking with his grandfather to track him down. He figured it was over after their last conversation, but women like Brandi, they always come back for more.

  He glanced at his reflection in the bar window, smoothing his hair down on the top and the sides. The room was crowded and loud. He grabbed a stool at the bar and ordered a beer. He wasn’t going to wade through this crowd. She would find him. She always did.

  Before his first sip of his beer, she appeared. She was wearing her hair down, just like he liked it. He hated the ponytail she wore sometimes.

  “Hi,” she said, smiling.

  “You look good,” he said.

  “I could say the same about you.” She glanced around. “Maybe we could find a table?”

  “Nah. Just hop up here. I’ll buy you a drink.”

  She climbed on the stool. “I don’t want anything.”

  “Come on. The funs just beginning.”

  “I wanted to see you,” she said, staring at her fingers. “I want to know where we stand. You left me hanging out to dry.”

  “I was just in a really bad place, you know? Needed to sort things out. I’m glad you got out, though. Your ma help you?”

  “You know she doesn’t have any money. It was Alice. She sold her TV.”

  Mason got the bartender’s attention. “She’ll have a Coors.”

  “So, is there someone else?”

  Mason turned on his stool to face her. “Baby, I swear it. There’s nobody else.”

  “Then what have you been doing all this time?”

  Mason wiped the sweat off his bottle. “You know me. I had to work some things out. I was broke. That’s why I couldn’t get you out.”

  “Are you still broke?”

  “Not anymore,” he said, grinning. “I’ve got this thing I’m doing. It’s going to bring in a lot of money.”

  “What kind of thing?” Brandi frowned.

  “Don’t get all freaked out on me now.”

  “Tell me what you’re doing.”

  That disapproving look on her face told him she wasn’t going to be happy about it. But then she touched his arm. “Look, I don’t care what you’re doing just as long as you’re doing it for us.”

  Mason looked at her. “What does that mean?”

  “You know what that means.”

  “You always got mad before.”

  “Maybe it’s because I didn’t always understand. I understand now.”

  “Listen to me, baby. I’m going to do this thing, and I’m going to make a lot of money. Then we can get out of here. I hate this city. We can go somewhere and start over.”

  “You mean that?”

  “Yeah. I mean it.”

  “How much money are we talking?”

  “More than enough. But I gotta do it.”

  “What exactly is it?”

  “It’s a one-time thing, I swear. I do this, and I’m out. Then we leave.”

  “What are you doing, Mason?”

  Mason glanced around the bar. Nobody was looking at them. “There’s this guy, Rhyne Grello. I’ve known him since we were kids. We’ve done some business together here and there. He’s hooked us up with a really big player. I mean, really big. We’re going down to Mexico. Just for a couple of days.”

  “For drugs?”

  “Keep your voice down.”

  “Well?”

  “We’re just delivering, baby. I’m not using. Rhyne doesn’t use. We’re big-time now. We gotta keep our heads straight.”

  Brandi looked genuinely interested. “You swear you’re not using?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How much money?” Her eyes lit up like they used to.

  “A lot.”

  She smiled and wrapped her fingers around his. “I always knew you’d make it big.”

  Mason put his hand on the back of her head and pulled her closer. “Baby, this is nothing like you’ve ever seen. We’re delivering for Vincent Ayala,” he whispered.

  Her eyes softened.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I guess because I know how big this is for you.”

  “For us,” he said, stroking her cheek. “This is big for us. Tomorrow our lives are going to change.”

  “Did you say Ayala? Vincent Ayala?” Laura asked.

  Sweat poured down Ron’s face. Fighting a shooting pain in his belly, he held his cell close to his ear. The city sounds were competing with the conversation. “Laura, listen to me. My team isn’t ready for this. I can’t send them in. Get the narcotics guys on this. They know Ayala. They’ve been trying to peg him for years. Call Williamson. He’ll know what to do.”

  “I am not calling Williamson! Or anyone else in narcotics!” Laura yelled through the phone. “You find out where they’re going. You trail them!”

  “We’re talking about the mob.”

  “Maybe the mob. Nobody has positively linked Ayala with the mob.”

  “Ayala is suspected of having two undercover officers killed in the last three years.”

  “Which is why we can’t afford to lose this. You get a surveillance team together and—”

  “A surveillance team? What? Who? We need at least ten officers to go to Mexico on surveillance. That will take at least forty-eight hours to put together.”

  “Then you’re going to have to use your guys.”

  “I won’t do it. It’s too dangerous. Even if Ayala isn’t with him, Grello could be a wild card.”

  “We’ve got Rhyne Grello and Vincent Ayala in our sights, and you don’t think you can pull it off? Ron, I brought you on to this task force because I thought you could pull this off.”

  “You brought me on to a task force to break up an auto-theft ring. I never signed on for this.” Ron took a deep breath. His heart suddenly started pounding. “I need to call you back.” He listened to the headset for a moment. Brandi said her good-byes to Mason. Ron flipped open his phone and started to dial Dozer’s number. But before he could finish, another horrific pain stabbed through his stomach and around his back. He clutched the steering wheel, his head fell backward in a dizzy fog, and then the noisy city went silent.

  “Well,” Jesse said, stretching his arms up to the lowest ceiling he’d ever seen in a house, “I guess I should let you get back to whatever it is you do.”

  “You’re welcome to stay for a movie,” Kyle said.

  “No … uh, thanks. I’ve had enough drama for one night. Maybe another time.” Jesse stood. “I’ve got to get up early and head back to Henderson, figure out what I’m supposed to
be doing. I think you can officially stop praying for me now.”

  “I think I’ll keep at it. But maybe you can start praying for yourself too.”

  Jesse smiled. “Well, I can’t do worse than you.”

  Kyle laughed. “I guess not.”

  “Do me a favor, will you? Ask Mack out. You two are perfect for each other.” Jesse was about to thank Kyle for his time when his cell phone rang. He looked at the number. “It’s the sarge. Probably calling to chew me out some more.”

  “Or maybe he’s calling to make things right.”

  “So far that formula hasn’t worked out too well for me.” But he punched the button and answered it anyway. “Yeah?”

  “Jesse? Jesse?”

  It was a woman’s voice. She was crying and sounded hysterical.

  “Hello? Who is this?”

  “Jesse?”

  “Who is this?”

  “Brandi. Jesse, you’ve got to come quick,” she said between sobs.

  “What’s wrong? Where are you?”

  “Something has happened to your boss, Ron. I think he might be dead.”

  Chapter 38

  Jesse and Kyle arrived at the hospital just after the ambulance. Paramedics were rolling the gurney through the automatic doors and down a long hallway. Brandi leaned against a wall, looking shaken. When she spotted Jesse, she went to him. He guided her to a chair in a small waiting room that wasn’t as crowded as the one in the ER.

  “He didn’t look good when I found him,” she said, tears rolling down her face. “I was with Mason, and then … then … he …” She looked down at her blouse. “I still have the wire on me.”

  “Sergeant Yeager was using you as a snitch?”

  Brandi pulled away and grabbed a tissue.

  “An informant, I mean.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” She blotted her eyes. “You were supposed to be there. Not him. But … he was nice. Reminded me of my dad.”

  “You met with Mason?”

  She nodded. “I got his phone number. Charles brought it by. He didn’t give it to you because he thought you were an alien.” She blew her nose. “We set up a meeting with Mason. Mason told me he and this guy named Rhyne Grello were going to Mexico, something about drugs. When I came out, Ron was unconscious. I called 911. I didn’t know what else to do.”