by Terry Keys
“Just listen. She said she saw you at the post office the other day. You have any reason to be at the Rosharon post office recently?”
“Like I said, Dad, she’s nuts. You know I wasn’t down in Rosharon. I haven’t lived there in twenty years.”
“Who do you think it could have been?”
Aunt B was almost ninety. She could barely walk, so I was surprised she was still driving. But one thing I knew about old people, especially old women, was that they always knew their people. Always. It wasn’t a scientific fact, but it damn sure was true.
So Aunt B thought she saw me? I was about a football field away from Caleb yesterday. It was the first time I’d seen him in person. And before he started running, I had no way of knowing for sure if it was even him. But somehow I knew. He’s about my height, has my build. I was too far away to dial in on facial features, but he probably favors me enough to fool Aunt B.
“Maybe her old eyes are fooling her dad.”
“Well, I don’t know if fool is the right word. She’s convinced it was you.”
“How is Aunt B, anyway?”
“Old.”
I sent Fingers a text and told him what I needed. I knew he’d be good for it. I wanted all of the videos from the Rosharon Post Office over the last week.
In more ways than one I was pleased at how well Fingers had worked out since joining my team. Due to his spotty past adding him was rolling the dice a little, but he was the best tech guy I’d ever been around. And I’d been around a lot from the FBI to high school hackers just getting started.
My in-laws finally arrived and said their good-byes to the girls as well. Both sets of grandparents had a handful of Christmas gifts for the girls. Just in case.
My father-in-law put his hand on my shoulder. “I know this had to be a tough decision, but we trust you, David.”
He hadn’t always felt that way, so I appreciated the words.
Now it was time for the moment I’d been dreading the most. The girls and I all went into our room. I reached out my arms and hugged them all. I knew this was going to be heart-wrenching for us all, but even I couldn’t prepare for this.
Chapter 25
Caleb watched as his know-it-all dad, David Porter, left the house, leaving the girls behind. He tossed another handful of sunflower seeds into his mouth. He wasn’t expecting five officers to stay there with them. And who in the hell were all the guests they had going in and out this morning? If he were a betting man, he’d say they were grandparents. What the hell was going on?
He tried to stretch out his six-foot-four-inch frame, but it was of no use in the Prius he’d boosted. He put the binoculars back up to his face to get another look. Now the grandparents were leaving too, but the pigs were still there. Had Porter gotten some type of round-the-clock protection for them? This kind of threw a monkey wrench in his plans. No way was he going to be able to take out this small squadron of cops without the entire city of Houston on his ass. It was too risky. From what he could tell, two cops yielding long-range rifles were out in front. Hell, he didn’t even have the necessary fire power with him. He thought this would be a simple smash-and-grab after Porter left. He decided to stick around another hour or so to see if maybe the boots would leave.
His cell phone vibrated, and he pulled it from his pocket. Marci.
“What’s up?” he said.
“You should have been in by now. What’s going on? Porter still there?”
“No, he’s gone, but we got other problems now. The grandparents came over—at least I think that’s who it was. Both sets. Porter and the grandparents left, but from the looks of it, five officers stayed behind. From what I can tell, they’re guarding the place.”
“Well, hell. Not much you can do. So you trying to wait them out? Maybe they are doing Christmas early?”
He spit another mouthful of sunflower seed shells out the window. “Yes, unless you have a better idea.”
“No, just a question. And check that on Christmas -I’d bet they’re sending them off to protective custody.”
“No way . . . I mean, you think?”
“Yes.”
Caleb pounded the steering column with his hand. “Damn it! I bet you’re right. What the hell are we going to do?”
“We aren’t going to do a damn thing for now. Relax. They’ll move them at night, if that’s the plan. We let them go and move our target to someone else.”
“Someone else like who? It’s not like he’s got another wife and kid somewhere else.”
“Let me think for a minute. Jesus!”
“How about we target the grand-”
And then together they both called out, “the grandparents.”
Caleb smiled. “Damn it, Marci, you’re smart and beautiful. What the hell would I do without you? You know what they say about great minds?”
“Well, you’d probably do something stupid and get yourself killed or caught. And yes I know what they say – great minds commit great crimes.”
“So which of them do we go after?”
“I say Miranda’s parents—her mom, maybe. We hurt him by hurting Miranda.”
Caleb felt tingly all over. “Oh my God, Marci! This is going to be so good–better than good.”
“Well, get the hell out of there. We got a granny to catch.”
Chapter 26
A few suits stayed behind with my family as I headed for the office. I heard my email notification go off and took a peek at my phone. It was Fingers. The videos I’d asked for.
I wondered if Caleb had been going to the Rosharon post office to pick up the packages from Azteca Gases. The ME in Jamaica and now this new lead from my older-than-old aunt may be leading me to the same place.
I texted DeLuca and told her to meet me in my office to go over the files. I wanted to speak candidly about a few things. I sat down and fired up my pc and then my door opened.
“First off, how is everything with you after the presser?” I asked as she closed the door and pulled up the only chair not littered with file folders. “You get any calls or weird requests yet?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary so far. Chief actually said my name today when we passed in the hall.”
I smiled. “Good for you. Moving up in the world.”
“Watch it, smart guy. So what’s up? What did you want to tell me about?”
I filled her in on what my aunt saw, or thought she’d seen, and told her how I connected that to our ME back in Jamaica.
“It’s nothing concrete, but it’s more than we had twenty-four hours ago.”
“Well, open up Fingers’ email and quit yapping.”
I pulled up the first surveillance video. It was from two days before. We fast-forwarded through the entire day with nothing out of the ordinary. Finally, about forty-five minutes in, there she was. It took her a full five minutes to make it from her car to the front door. And just as she’d stated, she was indeed talking to a young man. I rewound the tape a little. The tape had been spliced from four videos taken in and around the post office, and it was time-synched. I backed up the footage to the young man’s arrival. He got out of what looked to be a Prius and spit something onto the ground. He had a brief back and forth with the postal worker, who then handed him a medium-sized box. He wore a baseball cap and kept his head down. He appeared to be easily over six feet and fair skinned. So far, all the boxes checked out, but I was certain one hundred boys in Rosharon could fit this bill. Maybe a dozen was fairer. He took his package, headed for the door, and then held it open for my aunt. It was in that split second that he looked up. I zoomed in.
“Gotcha! There’s our first look at Caleb DeMornay.”
“That the guy you were chasing through the park?”
I nodded.
I had his face blown up, filling my entire screen. I did a print screen and sent it over to Fingers.
“We need to get this picture out everywhere. I’ll head over to the post office first and confirm the package he picked
up actually came from Azteca. I had Fingers try to pull their order records, but that shit is sealed up tighter than Donald Trump’s tax records.”
“Yeah, well, they’re selling shit that they shouldn’t be to people they shouldn’t be selling it to. So all the safeguards make a whole lot of sense. Get down to that post office, and let’s make sure our intel is bulletproof. I wouldn’t be surprised if the package came from some dummy corp. We may have to link the name on the package back to Azteca.”
DeLuca got up and headed for the door. Before she left, she turned back to me, a weird look on her face.
“He looks like you, David. To be honest, he could be your younger brother. The resemblance is that striking.”
She didn’t wait for me to respond. She knew me well enough by now to know I didn’t want to. Besides, she was right. He could pass for my younger brother—or worse, in this case. My son.
My cell phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Miranda.
Miss you already
I sent a sad face back. I’d said everything last night and earlier this morning, and I was fresh out of new ways to describe how I felt.
I looked through my window and saw a stir of commotion in the outer office. I stood up to get a better look, and I saw Mitchell in a minor pushing match with one of our guys in blue. I hurried out to get Mitchell before it got worse for our guy. He probably didn’t know, but I was saving him from Mitchell and not the other way around.
“Mitchell!” I called from about forty yards away. “Come on.”
I saw Mitchell give an I-told-you-so finger jab in my direction.
We gave each other the typical bro hug, and I escorted him to my office.
“So you come down here and. . . you gonna beat my guys up, or what?”
“If they freaking get in my way, yes!”
“Same ol’ Mitchell.”
“Goddamn right. It’s worse now. I’m a few years older aka more ornery and the punks killed my boy. What do you know about them? Where do we start? I can’t just sit around on my ass.”
I threw my hands up in the air. “Mitchell, I know how badly you want these monsters. I brought you here to help me, but we have to do this my way. I got a boss too, you know?”
Mitchell jumped up from his seat. “You don’t have a goddamn boy that’s dead, do you?”
“Calm down please. No, I don’t, but if we don’t do this my way, Chief is gonna have my ass. I asked him to meet us here at ten thirty. That’s ten minutes from now. He doesn’t have any idea who you are, why you’re here—nothing.”
He slammed his hand on the desk. “Remember when I saved your ass in Dubai? You remember what I told you about a favor?”
“I remember all too well, friend. I want to help you, but we need to get this cleared first. Last thing we need is both of our asses off the case.”
Chapter 27
We sat waiting for the chief to join us. Mitchell was reading on his phone, and I was looking at some of Caleb’s school records which I’d had sent over. Caleb had been a straight A student until his junior year when he dropped out of school completely.
My phone chimed. I looked down at a text message from DeLuca.
Package sent from dummy corp tied back to Azteca. Pic is Caleb.
As if the picture of what appeared to be a younger me hadn’t already been enough. At least now we’d done our due diligence and checked off another box.
Just then Chief Hill appeared in my doorway. I stood up and introduced him to Mitchell.
“So what’s this about, Porter? I got a hard stop here in about fifteen minutes.”
I gestured for him to sit down. “I’ll only need ten.”
I explained my relationship with Mitchell and, consequently, Mitchell’s relationship with Captain Wilcrest. Mitchell jumped in and added a few words, which made me nervous. But he played the part well.
The chief’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “So, what exactly are you asking for here, Porter?”
“Mitchell wants to work closely with us on the case. Help wherever he can. He’d be on my team. Well. . . DeLuca’s team.” I added a pair of air quotes. “He’d be my responsibility. I’m not asking for a long leash here, but Mitchell’s seen and done it all. He could be a big help in getting these two off the streets and behind bars.”
The chief shook his head. “Porter, have you seen the movie Remember the Titans?”
I laughed, uncertain as to where he was going. “Yeah, I’ve seen it—a few times, actually.”
“Do you remember when Coach Boone told his assistant, Coach Yoast “You’re overcooking my grits, Coach?”
I nodded.
“Listen, I am going to give this an extremely short leash. I respect Wilcrest. He’s done a lot for this department. I owe him that much. We’re damn sure going to miss him around here.”
Mitchell perked up. “Miss him? The old fart finally retiring?”
Chief Hill and I stared at each other. “I take it you haven’t had a chance to speak with him yet?” I asked Mitchell.
“Well, hell, Ranger! I just got in last night.”
I nodded. “Right.”
“So, what the hell? Ol’ Willy retiring?”
“Yes. Something like that,” I finally offered up.
The chief stood up. “I’m going to excuse myself. Nice meeting you, Mr. Mitchell. You two gentlemen stay off the five o’clock news. Don’t make any waves. This beach is a no-splash zone.”
As soon as the chief closed the door behind him, I started punching numbers on my phone. “Cap, you got a sec to come over to my office?”
A minute later, Captain Wilcrest was standing in my office doorway. He broke down the instant he saw his old friend Mitchell. The pair ran up to each other and gave the biggest, hardest hug I’d seen in a long time.
“You two got some catching up to do,” I said, heading for the door. “I’m gonna let you have at it.”
Chapter 28
It’d been a few days since I’d heard from Paul, and I was beginning to worry. He was joining the MCD here in Houston to work with me, but he had some loose ends to tie up in New Orleans, which I completely understood. I figured I should call him just to touch base. With Paul moving to Houston, we would be able to get reacquainted—all while driving Miranda and DeLuca insane.
I hated the way Paul Lafitte and I drifted apart over the years. Our moms, both New Orleans natives, were best friends growing up. Going back as far as I could remember, Paul was always there. His dad passed away from a heart attack when Paul and I were twelve. Paul began acting out, his way of dealing with it all, I supposed, and Momma Smalls shipped him to Rosharon to live with us. We were inseparable until I went off to Tech to play football. After college, we enlisted in the Army together. We served as Rangers together as well. It was quite likely that Paul knew me as intimately as Miranda did—well, almost.
As I thumbed for his number, another thought popped into my mind. What the hell was going to happen if DeLuca and Paul split up? What if it was a bad breakup? How in the hell was that going to work? I hated to be so pessimistic, but Paul didn’t have a good track record. And for what it was worth, DeLuca didn’t either. Maybe they’d turn out to be equally bad for each other. Or maybe they’d end up like Miranda and me and never look back.
In my opinion, DeLuca had already been a miracle worker. She’d already shocked the world and gotten Paul to leave his first love, Momma Smalls, behind.
“Paul, how are you, brother?”
“Couldn’t be better, Knuckles. I’ll be in Houston day after tomorrow, so don’t bother asking,” he said with a laugh. “I’m certain that’s why you called.”
“Hey, maybe I just called to check on an old friend. And okay on when I’ll see you in Houston, but what did you call me?”
“I didn’t stutter, old man. I know the speed is gone from that forty-year-old body, but are your ears going bad too? Knuckles. Been awhile since you heard it, huh?”
Knuckles was the nickname L
afitte had given me growing up. He was right—it had been a long time since I’d heard that name. It felt good, though. It made me smile all the way down to my bones.
“You’d better watch it with those old man jokes. I can still run circles around you.”
“Your days of running circles around me are over,” Paul said, laughing.
Even though Paul was making jokes and being somewhat jovial, he sounded like he wasn’t completely in this conversation with me. I’d known Lafitte long enough to realize he wasn’t his usual Lafitte self.
“You okay, man? You sound strange. I can’t pin it down. What’s bothering you?”
“Ahh man . . . that easy to tell, huh?”
“Yeah. So what’s up?”
“On the one hand, I can’t wait to be there with you working cases, getting the MCD off the ground. Being there with DeLuca . . . of course I can’t wait for that. But on the other hand, Momma Smalls ain’t no spring chicken. She’d never in a million years stop me from pursuing my dreams and goals. I also told her about DeLuca, but I kinda wish I hadn’t. Now she’ll never ask me to stay, no matter how bad she needs me here. I hate leaving her behind, man. Feels like I’m abandoning her.”
“I understand. Can your siblings help?”
“Are my siblings capable? Yes. Willing? I don’t know.”
I finished my phone call with Lafitte and then turned my mind back to the files I’d received on Caleb. I wanted to know more about him. I always needed to know as much as I could about each criminal I tracked, but this one was admittedly a little different.
As I got going looking over the case files my mind drifted back to Lafitte. He had a tough one on his hands. If he backed out and decided to stay with Momma Smalls, I’d understand. I shot him a quick text letting him know again that he didn’t need to feel obligated to come to Houston. I wished there was something I could do. Momma Smalls wasn’t leaving New Orleans. Hell, if Hurricane Katrina couldn’t get her out of there, nothing could.
