Games of Guilt: A Crime Thriller (Hidden Guilt Book 3 of 3)

by Terry Keys

  Caleb tossed the package into the backseat and sped off. He reached into his pocket and fumbled for his cell phone. His heart was nearly beating out of his chest. He waited angrily as the phone rang.

  “Hey, hon—”

  “Marci, please tell me that freaking Porter isn’t from Rosharon—or anywhere else south of Houston, for that matter?”

  “Caleb, calm down. I can barely understand you. What are you talking about? Why do you need to know where he’s from? Besides, I’m pretty sure he’s from Rosenberg, not Rosharon. What the hell is going on?”

  “Don’t tell me to calm down. I’m leaving the post office, and this old-ass woman stops me and tells me I look like freaking David Porter.”

  “Okay. I just looked at his file. I got some good news and some bad news.”

  “Cut the shit, Marci.”

  “Hey, don’t get snippy with me here. Okay, so Porter is from Rosharon. Whoop-de-freakin’-doo. Good news is, you’re fine, right? The car is moving, and you’re clearly not under arrest. So what if some old woman says you look like Porter?”

  “We should have known that. I would have picked another town. This could be a problem.”

  “I know, Caleb. There are a hundred little details here, for Christ’s sake. So I missed one. We missed one. ”

  Caleb and Marci were silent.

  “I guess you’re right. No more freaking mistakes. We can’t afford them. Now, what if the old bag goes and calls these people, saying she saw me? Then what?”

  “We know Porter is in Jamaica right now. He can’t be in two places at once. And so what if she tells someone? Just calm down and be rational. It was an old woman who no one would take seriously anyway. Porter’s parents probably don’t even know you exist. I’m sure Porter didn’t go around broadcasting that after he read your letter.”

  Caleb went silent again, trying to bring his heart rate back down. He grew more and more impatient at each stop light he approached. “I got everything else we need for tonight,” she said, breaking the silence. “Caleb?”

  “Good. What time do the park lights shut off again?”

  “Eleven thirty.”

  “Okay. I’ll be home soon.”

  Chapter 19

  I fell to my knees. My heart ached and anger filled my veins. Now I knew exactly why these two young people had been killed. It was all starting to make sense.

  The bastards were still targeting people I knew. They were still making it personal. I wondered if I needed to get Miranda and the girls into protective custody. I understood criminal behavior enough to realize that their goal was to make me feel like each death, each murder, was my fault. I knew better, of course, but I felt the burden of it deep within my soul. It hurt. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake it.

  The last time I’d felt this way had been six years ago. I was working a serial case that involved young girls as the victims. The kind I hated most no doubt because I had daughters of my own. I’d missed a clue that should have been obvious even to a novice detective. But my mind had been back home with Miranda and Karen, our newborn daughter. Every new victim devastated me, as if each little girl was one of my own daughters.

  I’d vowed from that moment on that if I was going to do this job I had to be all-in or not in at all. I wore my heart on my sleeve at times, but it’s really the only way I know how to operate. I’ve learned to block out ninety-nine percent of everything else going on in my life; I owe that much to the victims of these heinous crimes.

  Dixon and DeLuca pulled me to my feet. I approached the old war veteran and wrapped my arms around him. We hugged for a long time, his body trembling as he cried in my arms. I ached for him.

  Finally, he stepped back, wiped his eyes, and gave me a once-over.

  “Porter, what the hell are you doing here? How are you involved with this?”

  Dixon and DeLuca stared at the two of us, waiting to be filled in I could tell.

  “Mitchell, I wish I wasn’t here. For what it’s worth, I wish you weren’t here either. I didn’t want to see you again under these conditions. Not like this.”

  Mitchell, DeLuca and I all sat down on some of the couches in the lobby. I thanked Dixon for chauffeuring us around and told him I would call him when we were ready to head for the airport.

  “So anyone care to tell me what’s going on here?” DeLuca asked looking between us.

  I looked over at Mitchell and then turned to DeLuca. “After Miranda disappeared my investigation led me to Dubai. I had never been to Dubai and I had no connections; basically I was a lone wolf. Luckily for me Mitchell here and Wilcrest had served together in the military. Turned out I needed a hand dealing with some bad guys and Wilcrest called in Mitchell to help.”

  Mitchell cleared his throat. “You mean to bail you out?” He added.

  “One could see it that way I suppose. Mitchell lives in Dubai –“

  “Check that lived in Dubai – shortly after our Wild Wild West re-enactment I moved to Brazil. Thanks to you I started getting way more attention than I wanted in Dubai.”

  “So now you know how we met and like I said sure as hell didn’t want to see him again, not on these terms.”

  Then I turned my attention to Mitchell, filling him in on everything that’d happened since Dubai. And everything that’d happened twenty years earlier. . . and everything in between.

  “Goddamn, Porter. I don’t know what to say. So they are targeting people you know and love to make you feel guilty? I want to be mad at you. Without your shit, my boy’s still alive. You know he was my only son? And you’re sure your own son is behind this? This is some real Hollywood shit, Porter.”

  I placed a hand on Mitchell’s shoulder. “It’s okay. If you need to be mad at me, go ahead. I understand. I didn’t realize he was your only son. I’m sorry. And yeah, I’m sure. My own flesh and blood. He’s angry and misguided. He thinks his actions are just. These killings invigorate them both.”

  DeLuca was about to speak up, probably on my behalf. I stared her down. Everyone knew this wasn’t my fault, not directly. But Mitchell was hurting, and if blaming me made him feel a little better, I was okay with that.

  “Deep down I know it’s not your fault, Ranger. Just hurts so damn bad. Did you look at their bodies? Did you see what they did to my boy? How he died?”

  I nodded. “We saw.”

  “So when do we head back to Houston?”

  “We?” I said.

  “Yes, we. You know I can’t just sit back and twiddle my thumbs on the sidelines.”

  “Mitchell, I know you’re hurting. But I believe we’re close to nailing these two. They’ve made some mistakes along the way. We’re closing in on them.”

  Mitchell gave me a stare that sent a chill down my spine. “Porter, I said ‘when do we head back to Houston?’”

  I knew arguing with him would be useless. Either Mitchell was headed back as a member of my search team, or he’d be heading back rogue—and neither of us needed that.

  I sent Miranda a text, letting her know that we’d be heading back on the next flight. She’d texted me earlier in the day on behalf of Karen. She was concerned I would miss her first scrimmage the next day. I told her to be sure to let Karen know I would be there.

  I phoned Dixon for a ride to the airport.

  Figuring out how I could keep Mitchell involved but out of the way and safe was going to be quite the juggling act. This wasn’t his first rodeo, and if I tried to bullshit him he’d sniff it out in a heartbeat. Plus, I owed him one. Allowing him to help out with this was the least I could do. I also had Chief Hill to pacify, who I was certain would want Mitchell far, far away from the official investigation.

  On the plane ride back to Houston, I didn’t even open my laptop. I stared out the window and reflected on things. I was really glad that Wilcrest and Mitchell would get to see each other again. I wasn’t sure if Mitchell knew about Wilcrest’s cancer. I suspected not. I’d let Cap tell him. I just hated the conditions
, on both accounts.

  I’d set Mitchell up with an in-house travel agent, so he’d have a room and a set of wheels waiting on him. It’d probably be after one a.m. by the time I made it home, but that would give me a few hours of much-needed sleep before Karen’s scrimmage.

  When I arrived at home, I set down my luggage and did my customary tiptoeing into the girls’ rooms to check on them. Everyone was sound asleep.

  I slipped my shirt off and climbed into bed with Miranda. Curling up behind her, I let out a deep sigh of relief.

  “Hey,” Miranda said, half dazed.

  I kissed the back of her head. “Hey, there. Sorry to wake you.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’m glad you’re home. Did you check on the girls? Was Karen asleep? She was a bundle of nerves earlier. I think most of it was her fear that you wouldn’t make it back in time.”

  “She’s out. Sleeping like a rock.” And not long after that, so was I.

  Chapter 20

  Karen’s alarm was set for seven thirty a.m., so I set mine for seven twenty-eight. I climbed out of bed and stood behind my door.

  Miranda rolled over toward me. “What are you doing?”

  I placed a finger over my mouth. When she realized what I had up my sleeve, she shook her head at me. Just then my door burst open and Karen flew in, leaping at full speed onto my side of the bed. I’d left the covers fluffed so it’d look like I was buried under them. Before she could even get a word in, I dove into the covers and my tickle assault began. Karen laughed and begged me to stop, though her pleas were half-hearted, which I understood perfectly.

  “You tricked me, Daddy!”

  “Yes, I did. Gotcha real good too.”

  I tried to cherish these moments as much as I could. Hilary had grown up way too fast, and before I knew it, Karen would be too cool for me too. It was inevitable.

  We ate and gathered all of her softball gear. Then the four of us loaded into my truck and headed for the field.

  “What’s wrong with Hilary?” Miranda asked.

  “Didn’t want to get up, as usual. She’ll get over it,” I said, taking a peek at her in my rearview mirror.

  There was nothing quite like opening day for Little League softball in League City, Texas. The regular season was months away, but this was a select league that played year round. I didn’t like the idea of Karen playing so young, but it beat the alternative. Too many kids nowadays watched the tiny screens on their phones or other electronic gadgets for hours every day. The sprawling, six-field park was packed. Cars filled the parking area and spilled over onto the sides of the street and the medians. Moms and dads, grandparents and hundreds of kids milled about. It was controlled, beautiful chaos. Face-painting booths, dunking booths, and other games were everywhere. There were informational booths set up too.

  We meandered our way through the crowd to the field where Karen’s scrimmage was about to begin. I nodded to her coach, took out my glove from the bag, and started tossing a few with Karen. I’d wanted a son to follow in my footsteps on the gridiron, but this was just as good.

  The game got underway, and I assumed my usual position against the fence just past the dugout.

  “Let’s go, Karen!” I yelled. I know it embarrassed the hell out of her, but, hey, it was my job. And plus, she should be used to it by now.

  She walked up to the plate and took a practice swing. Then she smiled at me. She took the first pitch—a called strike. As the next pitch came in, I could see her body recoil as her swing unfolded.

  I heard the ringing of a cell phone that sounded like it was coming from the dugout. And then all hell broke loose.

  Chapter 21

  I heard a loud explosion and felt the ground shake. The eruption was so massive that it made my teeth rattle. My ears rang and I stumbled as I lost my balance, nearly falling. My head pounded. My eyes had instinctively closed, and I struggled to open them, only to find the entire softball field engulfed in smoke. I could smell the explosive material; I recognized it immediately. My head pounded harder. As my ears finally came into focus, I heard people screaming. Bloodied bodies lay sprawled on the ground in every direction, as far as I could see. Some were moving; others were still. My next thought flashed to Karen. She’d been at home plate when the explosion rang out. I looked in what I thought was the right direction. Panic and fear gripped me. I spotted her. Oh God! Was she dead? I couldn’t tell. Right on top of home plate, motionless, lay Karen.

  I took off in a sprint toward her. My equilibrium was off. Pushing my way through the chaotic crowd. As I began picking up speed and gaining balance, I felt a nagging, stinging, burning on my left leg, it made me limp a little. I screamed her name as I ran. When I reached her, I knelt down beside her. I shook her as I screamed her name over and over. Was I too late? I began to believe I was. Her face was bloody and her body was limp. I started feeling around for a pulse.

  Suddenly her eyes popped open, and she let out the loudest scream my ears had ever heard. I lifted her from the ground and pulled her tight to me.

  “It’s okay, Karen. Daddy is here. I’m right here.”

  I could feel her body shaking in my arms.

  Finally I looked around and the crowd was in chaos. Parents yelled frantically for their kids. Some children stood in one spot crying – waiting. From a distance I could hear sirens. I eyed the crowd for Miranda and Hilary but didn’t see either of them. I could hear Miranda’s voice yelling Karen’s name getting closer and closer. There was still a layer of dust in the air. Just enough to blur your vision a little. I felt an arm touch mine, and then I heard Miranda’s voice. A trickle of blood stretched from her temple to her chin.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “I’m fine. Let me look at Karen. Damn it, David.”

  I could hear the pain in her voice, the anger. Maybe even a little disappoint that I hadn’t already nailed these two. Maybe the latter was the guilt I felt.

  “Where is Hilary?” I asked

  “She was right behind me, David.”

  “Dad!” I heard Hilary screaming. She’d fallen down. Her face was bloody. Her arms and her hands had scrapes on them.

  I surveyed the crowd, trying to make sense of it all. Had this been a well-planned terrorist attack? I knew better. Just then I saw him, directly in front of me and about forty yards away. I don’t know how I knew it was him, but I did. He had a cell phone in his hand, and I watched as he panned back and forth, capturing the chaos, the panic, the fear.

  Caleb suddenly looked up from behind the phone. He must have taken note that I’d zeroed in on him. He smiled at me. It was a wry smile, a confident smile. I shoved Karen into Miranda’s arms and took off in an all-out sprint. I pulled my gun out of its holster as I ran.

  Caleb was running too. He had on a long sleeve black hoodie and sweat pants.

  I darted in and out of people, running into some along the way. The aching in my leg intensified with each step. When I came to the end of the sidewalk, I stopped and looked around but didn’t see him.

  I looked to my right and spotted him again. The forty yards that separated us when I’d first seen him had now almost doubled. There were so many people, and everyone seemed to be in my way. I fired three shots into the sky. I knew I shouldn’t, but I didn’t feel like I had a choice. I wasn’t going to let him get away. Almost everyone dropped to the ground. Only a few remained standing, and one of them was Caleb.

  I figured Marci would be close with a getaway car. It was a long shot, but maybe I’d be able to fire a few rounds into the tires and render the car useless. Assuming I got close enough to make a difference. I was about one hundred yards away when I heard two shots whizz by my head. I could see Caleb still heading the opposite direction – Marci. I stopped and did a three-sixty. I saw nothing. Then another shot rang out, smashing into the concrete by my feet.

  We’d run into an adjacent field that was uncut and overgrown. I dropped down to my stomach and took cover. Several more shots rang out. All close, I
could tell. She wasn’t trying to hit me; she was trying to slow me down so Caleb could get away.

  I leapt to my feet.

  “Here I am! I’m right here!” I yelled angrily.

  Two more shots also missed. I looked around for Caleb, but he was gone. A line of trees was up ahead about fifty yards but I knew this was no use. I’d be walking into a booby trap. I’d been a young cop too once before and had made that mistake more than once. Marci already had a bead on me, and it was probable that Caleb did too.

  I dropped back down to my stomach and commando-crawled another hundred yards until I felt it was safe to stand again. I took one last look around. Between the hundreds of people at the park right now, my aching leg, and the chaos that engulfed the park - I’d lost him. Caleb was forty yards away and I let him escape my grasp.

  Chapter 22

  Miranda and I sat with Hilary in the waiting room at Clear Lake Regional Hospital, waiting for the doctor to come out and give us an update on Karen. The place was packed with people who’d been at the softball field earlier that day.

  None of us spoke much. The shock of it all was still too fresh. My leg ached, and I knew it needed attention, but right now it was the least of my worries.

  Hilary had already gone back to have her wounds tended to. She had some minor scrapes that probably bothered her more cosmetically than anything else.

  “Detective Porter, you want to head back and let us look at that leg?” a nurse said.

  I stood up and kissed Miranda on the forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

  The nurses cleaned the metal pieces out of my leg. None of them had made it more than a half inch into my leg, and I was confident that they’d gotten it all. They threw a few Band-Aids on for good measure and applied some type of antiseptic.

  “That sweet little girl of yours got lucky, detective,” the nurse said glaring at me. It felt accusatory.

  “I know. Way too close for comfort,” I said.