by Terry Keys
“How long is it going to take for an expedited return of the handwriting analysis? I want the details out as quickly as you put me under arrest tonight. You already know all about trying to save face.”
No one said a word. I looked at them one at a time, eye to eye.
“Am I talking to myself here? There’s nothing but circumstantial evidence to begin with—and weak evidence at that. Hell, if I were the media, I’d be asking why you arrested a highly decorated officer so quickly on such sketchy evidence. I want my name cleared. I want these ridiculous charges dropped. Then I’m going to go out and finish what I started.”
“One thing at a time, old friend,” Baines added. “We’re all on the same team here, Porter.”
“You know, I thought we were, but here I sit.”
An awkward silence fell over the room.
“Porter, I’ll leave you with this,” Chief Hill said, eyeing me. “There’s a lot more at stake than your reputation. You have been allowed to work on a case that involves you intimately. With that said, we had to react fast to make it abundantly clear that HPD can and will treat all of our officers with the same level of scrutiny as the general public. I know you’re hurting and pissed and felt you deserved more rope here, but the fact is, you’ve already gotten a hell of a lot more than most.”
The three of them left, and I replayed Hill’s comments in my head. I hated to admit it, but he was right. I used my credentials to log into Hill’s computer and checked my emails. Nothing from Fingers. I thought about checking the local news stations’ websites but talked myself out of it. All it would do is get me worked up again. And the last thing I needed was to make more trouble for myself.
I heard the door unlocking again and logged off the computer. This time it was DeLuca.
“Doing five-to-ten, I hear?”
I managed a smile. DeLuca sat down across from me.
“How you holding up? Need anything?”
“I’ve been better. I mean, prison life is rough, but I’ll survive.”
We laughed. I needed that.
I filled her in on what I had Fingers working on. I also let her know about the note they’d discovered in my jacket pocket. She gave me an update on what she’d been working on as well.
“I guess it’s worth noting that I’ve been officially removed from this case. Kind of goes without saying.”
“Do you think Hill or your Baines friend think for one second that you’re just going to sit back and twiddle your thumbs?”
“No, but Hill seemed pretty serious. And I’m in enough shit already. Last thing I need is another story right now. Can’t you just see it? ‘HPD’s Detective Porter continues to investigate despite his recent arrest.’. I mean, I’ve had my share of bad looks, but that would take the cake.”
DeLuca shook her head. “So you don’t think the murder rap took the cake already?”
“Yeah . . . hell, I guess there isn’t any cake left now, is there?”
Chapter 39
It was one thirty a.m., and two houses away from Wilcrest’s, a light was still on. Not to mention the old man sitting on the porch of the house right across the street from his. Caleb wondered how long he would have to wait before he had the all clear. He’d already been waiting an hour, and his sunflower seeds were almost gone. He glanced over at Marci, who was knocked out cold.
Caleb didn’t understand why an older couple with no kids living at home needed a house so goddamn big anyway. He remembered back to his childhood in New Orleans and how vastly different it had been.
Suddenly, he saw a figure approaching, about twenty feet from the car. He made sure the silencer on his gun was secure, just in case. He wasn’t going to take any chances here. He slid down in the seat as far as he could. Who the hell walks their dog at this time of night? he wondered as an old woman and her dog crossed the street in front of him. She headed for the house where the old man waited on the porch, and they both went inside, Lassie in tow.
He waited another twenty minutes until the last street light he could see finally went out.
He nudged Marci on the leg. “Hey, beautiful, wake up. It’s go time.” He leaned over and kissed her on the lips.
“Hey! None of that, Mr. Focus,” she said, smiling.
“Can’t blame a man for trying.”
Caleb reached into the backseat and grabbed his backpack. Marci had been using hers for a pillow and threw it onto her back.
They eased along the side of the house, opened the unlocked gate, and slipped into the backyard unnoticed. Other than a lopsided table and a pair of rickety-looking lawn chairs, there was nothing to get in their way.
Caleb located the wires for the back door alarm trigger and disabled them. He reached into his bag and found his lock pick. A few seconds of jimmying and they were in.
Thanks to Google Maps 3D and Brazoria County’s online public records, they had a complete layout of the house. The Wilcrests’ bedroom was downstairs, about forty steps around a corner.
Marci lifted the canister of sarin gas from her bag and set it up. They’d already decided how this would go down. Caleb would enter first and identify which side of the bed Wilcrest was sleeping on. Marci would follow and subdue his wife. Both had rags doused in chloroform in hand. They both put their night vision goggles on and secured them on their faces.
Caleb tiptoed down the hall. It was pitch-black. He hoped neither of them were light sleepers. He poked his head into the room. After he looked in he signed some instructions to Marci who nodded and inched her way in behind him.
Wilcrest was on the far side of the room Caleb eased over. Marci and Caleb were both in place and suddenly a cat meowed from a corner of the room.
Caleb slammed the rag onto Wilcrest’s mouth and nose. Marci did the same to Wilcrest’s wife. Wilcrest scratched and pawed at Caleb’s arm. Both he and his wife flailed for another five seconds, and then both of them lay motionless.
Caleb went into his bag, took out a handful of zip ties, and secured Wilcrest’s arm and legs.
He went over and picked Wilcrest’s wife up and threw her over his shoulder. Marci had placed a chair facing the TV in the middle of the living room.
Caleb slammed her into the chair and strapped her down. Marci secured all the wiring and then headed outside to make sure the coast was clear to drag Wilcrest out.
Caleb pulled Wilcrest onto the wooden floor and drug him to the back door. A few minutes later, Marci returned with a hunting wagon. The pair loaded Wilcrest in and wheeled him to the car. They dumped him into the backseat and shut the door. Marci wheeled the cart back behind the gate and shut it closed.
Everything had gone as planned, and they had their man. Caleb and Marci climbed into the car. He leaned over and kissed her as he cranked up the engine.
“If you want to hurt a man, hurt his family, right?” Caleb said as he slammed the car into gear and pulled away from the curb.
“That’s right. That’s what Porter did to you, right?”
Caleb slammed his fists into the steering wheel. “Yes! And now all of them will know exactly what it feels like. This will be our Da Vinci, our Michelangelo, our Magnum Opus!”
Chapter 40
As the light shone into the room, my eyes popped open. It might have been the most unpleasant night of sleep I’d ever had—at least in recent memory. Thinking back to my military days, some of those deployments had the previous night beat hands-down. No AC in the desert and a lot of gunfire.
Nonetheless, sleeping on the floor was . . . well . . . sleeping on the floor. At least DeLuca had brought me a blanket and a pillow. I sure as hell didn’t plan on spending too many more nights caged up for something I didn’t do.
I logged into Hill’s computer again to check my email, and there it was. Fingers had located the car Caleb had been traveling in. Sandridge Apartments in Pasadena. The car had been in and out a couple dozen times.
Now I had to decide how I wanted to play this. Officially, we were off the case
. As quickly as thoughts of sitting on this another minute clouded my brain, I forced them out. We needed to catch these two now. My hands were tied, but I still had Mitchell.
DeLuca was supposed to stop by in the next hour. I decided I’d fill her in on it all, hook her and Mitchell up, and let them have at it. I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do, but I refused to turn this intel over to Baines and his boys.
I emailed Fingers back and told him how brilliant he was. I crossed my fingers that my emails weren’t being monitored.
I could hear someone fumbling at the door. I figured DeLuca was a few minutes early, which was fine by me. Instead, it was an early morning visit from Chief Hill and Special Agent Baines.
“Good morning, Detective,” Chief Hill said.
“Morning,” I said, a bit gentler than I’d been the last time we spoke.
“You behaving yourself in here?”
“Well,”—I motioned around the office with my hands—“not much here for me to get into.”
“We both know that’s never stopped you before.”
The three of us smiled. Chief handed me a bag of food and an orange juice.
“The handwriting lab is almost finished. Looks promising. Be a few more small hurdles to clear, and then we can make an official statement and get you the hell out of my office!”
Looks promising? I wasn’t sure what he meant by that. I didn’t write the goddamn note!
We talked a minute longer. “You happen to know if Wilcrest was planning to take today off?” He asked as they headed for the door. I shook my head. I wondered if he’d told Hill about the cancer and the chemo and figured now that he hadn’t.
The door hadn’t quite closed all the way when DeLuca pushed through.
“Well, looks like Houston’s favorite criminal has already been treated to breakfast,” she said, dangling a bag of Chick-fil-A in my direction.
“Well, that looks better than whatever this is,” I said, waving the chief’s nondescript brown-bag breakfast at her.
I scarfed down a chicken biscuit and hurriedly logged back into my email.
“So I’ve got some good news and some bad news. Which one do you want first?” I asked.
“How the hell do you get any news, locked up in here?”
“Inmates are crafty. You know that. Got nothing but time. So what’s it going to be?”
“Dealer’s choice.”
I showed DeLuca the email from Fingers.
“So what’s the bad news? What am I missing? Let’s stake it out, and go get the bastards.”
“One tiny thing you’re overlooking. I’m kind of sidelined right now and, actually, so are you.” I wrote FBI on a Post-it® and held it up.
“So what’s the play? You know I’m down for whatever. Mitchell too.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. I don’t want either of you locked up in this henhouse with me.”
“Mitchell has been waiting for this too. Don’t bench him now. We can get this done. I don’t want another cop to die, do you?”
“Stake it out. Here’s Mitchell’s contact info. Come back here later tonight, the two of you, and we’ll devise a plan.”
DeLuca’s eyes lit up. I was certain Mitchell’s would too. DeLuca reached for the door handle. “Stake it out. Nothing more!” I called out one last time.
Chapter 41
I needed to call Miranda and fill her in on my current situation. I didn’t want to keep anything from her, especially not this, not after our last conversation. She’d probably sent me half a dozen texts by now and was wondering why I hadn’t responded. I picked up Hill’s desk phone and punched in her number.
“Hello?”
“Miranda, it’s me.”
“David! Where are you calling me from? I’ve been calling you all night! I wanted to apologize, but you never answered. You never responded to my texts either. I assumed you were mad at me. Then I got worried that something happened to you. I didn’t know what to think. Are you okay?”
Just as I’d imagined.
“I’m sorry. And yes, I’m okay. Listen, they arrested me last night for Tess’s murder. I’m locked up right now in Chief Hill’s office. So I guess yes and no.”
“What? Why would they do that? You had nothing to do with that!”
“I know . . . and so do they. It’s not about that. This is about public perception and how the police handle their own. Don’t worry.”
I filled her in on the note they found when they were processing me in.
“So if they have that, when are they going to let you go? Why are they still holding you?”
“I’m sure they won’t be holding me much longer. And like I said, I’m fine. How are you and the girls doing?”
“Funny you asked. Right now they are both out dressing and grooming the horses. I think they’re going on a ride later. I wish you could be here to see them.”
“Me too. I’m glad they’re making the best of this. It’ll all be over soon. I promise.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about your friend Tess. No one deserves to die that way.”
We talked for another twenty minutes about nothing, really. I didn’t know what I was going to do if this wasn’t over by Christmas. It was great family time that I didn’t want to miss.
I took my feet down off the desk as I heard the door opening.
“Got good news and better news, Porter,” Chief Hill said as he strolled in with Baines on his heels. “The handwriting analysis is complete, and it confirmed what we already knew— Tess wrote the note. We are releasing you here in the next hour. The better news is, I’m putting you on a plane to Montana to spend the next few days with your family. Or weeks. . . if it takes that long until this thing is over.”
“No. I’m not leaving now. I mean . . . with all due respect, after you release me I intend to join my team and the FBI and nail these guys.”
“It’s not up for debate, Porter. Your other option is to stay locked up here in my office till this thing is over.”
I didn’t want to be left in the dark on this one, but it didn’t appear I had many options. Going to see my wife and girls sounded really good too.
“Okay, fine. I’ll go. But I want to be briefed on everything every night,” I said, staring at Baines.
Baines winked, flashing me the okay sign with his fingers. His sarcastic smirk was definitely not a confidence booster.
Chief Hill gave me a few more tidbits of information and handed me my cell phone before the pair left me alone again.
I elected not to tell Miranda I was coming to see them. I knew she’d gripe at first, but they’d all welcome the surprise. I thumbed for DeLuca’s number, wanting to fill her in on the latest developments.
“Hey, Al Capone. I see you got your phone back.”
“I did. Listen, I’m being put on a plane to see Miranda and the girls. Chief’s orders. You get ahold of Mitchell yet?”
“Yeah. I’m headed to get him now. Got us a real beauty to ride around in. No one’s going to make us in this POS.”
“Remember the mission—stake out, gather intel, and report back to me.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
An hour later I was whisked out the back of the station, en route to a private jet. Destination: Montana.
Chapter 42
I felt the small plane’s engines ratchet down and could hear the engine speed slowing. I sent Miranda a text and told her I would call in thirty minutes, knowing all the while I’d see her in twenty.
A contingent of three black Escalade SUVs was waiting when we finally landed. I rushed into the middle vehicle and we sped off. For a second I wondered if this was how the President felt, rushed from place to place. I even had a small security detail armed with what appeared to be military-grade AR-15s.
I stared out the window and admired the rolling hills, awestruck by the amount of snow on the ground. Due to the lower humidity level, the sixty-five degrees the truck’s dash read felt nothing like it di
d in Houston.
We drove for an hour before turning off onto a dusty side road bordered on both sides by a high, metal fence. The SUV came to a stop at a massive gate with the letter A mounted in its center and a guardhouse on one side. Two armed security guards approached the vehicle and recorded our names before allowing the SUV to proceed. I knew the Ambrose property was large, but the size of this ranch blew my mind. About three hundred yards up the way, I saw a sprawling, two-story house. I could also make out what appeared to be the largest barn I’d ever seen. A massive horse stable loomed behind it, which is where I imagined the girls would still be.
The SUVs got about half a football field away from the house, and then I saw her. Miranda had come out onto the porch, probably trying to see what the hell was going on. The vehicle came to a stop, and I took a long, hard breath before I opened the door.
Miranda’s jaw dropped as I stepped from the SUV. She just stood there, as if trying to decide if I were real or not. Then, like something out of a movie, we were running toward each other, arms outstretched.
When I reached her, she leapt into my arms. I swung her around and gave her a long, deep kiss.
“What are you doing here?” She asked, out of breath.
“What do you mean, ‘what am I doing here?’ My girls are here.”
I set Miranda down, grabbed her face between my hands, and kissed her again.
“God, I missed you,” I said.
Miranda pulled away from me. “Hey, I’m still mad at you, mister,” she said, smiling.
“I know. I’m stupid sometimes. That’s why I have you to help me,” I said, forming a pretend gun with my thumb and index finger and aiming it at my head.
I pulled her close to me again and hugged her tight.
