Joe Dillard - 01 - An Innocent Client

by Scott Pratt

  ”Really? How?”

  ”When I went over the bank, I hit my head on the steering wheel. It knocked me out, but this voice kept telling me to wake up. It was your voice. You woke me up before I drowned.”

  She leaned over and kissed me softly.

  ”I’ll always be there when you need me, babe,”

  she said. ”Always.”

  I closed my eyes with the taste of her mouth lingering, and somehow managed to drift off to sleep.

  June 17

  2:30 p.m.

  I was so sore the next morning I could barely get off the couch, so I spent the day at home, looking out the window, worrying and wondering. I got hold of Jack a little before noon, but I didn’t tell him anything about Junior Tester. He’d been invited to play baseball for Martinsville in the Coastal Plains League over the summer and was having the time of his life.

  He said he was still hitting the ball great and had talked to several big league scouts. I promised him I’d make it up there to see him play sometime soon.

  Sam Wiseman called at two thirty in the afternoon and told me he’d called the Cocke County sheriff’s department and learned that Tester had taken a week’s vacation.

  ”I called his house, but nobody answered,” Sam said.

  ”Are you planning to go down there?”

  ”I ran it by my supervisor. He said since you didn’t see the driver and don’t have a tag number, it’d be a waste of time.”

  ”What if the front end of his truck is banged up like you said at the hospital? What if it has paint on it the same color as my truck?”

  ”You know how it is around here. We’ve only got five investigators to cover three shifts. There’s been a string of burglaries we’re working, and the boss wants me to keep concentrating on that. He said he can’t let me go chasing around Cocke County on a case I don’t have much chance of making.”

  ”This is bullshit, Sam. What about my family?”

  ”What about them?”

  ”Can’t you spare anyone to look out for them? At least for a few days.”

  ”We barely have enough road deputies to cover patrols. Besides, you haven’t exactly . . .” His voice trailed off without finishing the sentence, but the tone alarmed me.

  ”I haven’t exactly what, Sam?”

  ”You haven’t exactly made a bunch of friends around here over the years, you know. Not many people here are willing to go out of their way to help you.”

  ”So you’re telling me that the sheriff’s department won’t help me because I’m a defense lawyer?”

  ”I’m telling you we only have five investigators to cover three shifts, we don’t have enough patrol deputies to provide security for one family, we have a lot of other cases, and you’re accusing a law enforcement officer of a serious crime with no real evidence to back it up. I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do.”

  ”So what the hell am I supposed to do? Wait for him to come back?”

  ”Maybe you ought to buy a gun.”

  ”I already have guns. I was hoping you guys would do something so I wouldn’t have to use them.”

  ”Sorry. Like I said, we’re not going to be able to do anything right now.”

  ”Thanks, Sam. Thanks for nothing.”

  I hung up the phone, walked into the den, and sat down at the computer, as angry as I’d ever been in my life. It didn’t take me long to find Junior’s address and phone number on the Internet. MapQuest gave me directions to his house. I printed the directions and memorized the phone number, something that had always come easy for me. Once the numbers were in my brain, they stayed there for years. I spent the rest of the day trying to think of the various situations I might run into if I actually did what I was thinking of doing.

  At eleven thirty p.m., after the evening routines were all finished and Lilly had gone to bed—in our room again—I asked Caroline to sit down at the kitchen table. I told her about my conversation with Sam Wiseman and that the police weren’t going to help. Finally, I took a deep breath.

  ”I’m going down there,” I said.

  ”Where?” Caroline said.

  ”To Newport. To find Junior.”

  ”When?”

  ”Tonight. Now.”

  ”No, you’re not.”

  ”Yes. I am.”

  ”No, you’re not. No way.”

  ”I’m going, Caroline. You can’t stop me.”

  ”And just what do you propose to do when you find him?” Her voice took on some intensity, and she stood up. Neither was a good sign.

  ”I’m not sure, but I can’t just sit around here. The police aren’t going to do anything, so I have to take care of this myself. Sit back down and talk to me.

  Try to be rational.”

  ”Rational? Did I just hear you say rational? You’re talking about going out in the middle of the night to an insane man’s house to do God knows what and you’re telling me to be rational? You’re as crazy as he is!”

  I stood up and started towards the bedroom with Caroline right on my heels.

  ”He’s a police officer, Joe,” she said. ”He’s going to have a gun, you know.” The words were staccato and her voice had a tone I’d only heard a couple of times during all the years we’d been together.

  ”Keep your voice down. Lilly’s sleeping.”

  ”Don’t tell me to keep my voice down. Wake up, Lilly! Your dad’s about to do something insane! You better kiss him goodbye, because you might never see him again!”

  Lilly stirred and groaned, but she could sleep through a hurricane.

  ”Leave her out of this,” I said. I walked into my closet and grabbed up a pair of black jeans, a navy blue hooded sweatshirt, a pair of old combat boots, and a black stocking cap. Then I hurried back out to the kitchen and started to change clothes. Caroline was hovering like an attack helicopter.

  ”I have to do something to this guy,” I said as I pulled off my shirt. ”If I don’t, we’re all going to spend our lives looking over our shoulders. I mean, for God’s sake, Caroline, think about what he did.

  He staked us out. He stalked you. He followed me and ran my truck into the lake. He tried to kill me.

  What do you want me to do? Sit back and give him another chance, because I guarantee you he’ll try again as soon as he finds out I’m still breathing. Or maybe he’ll try to kill you next time. Or Lilly. Hell, maybe he’ll wait until he gets a shot at all of us at the same time. Three for the price of one.”

  ”I don’t care, Joe. I—”

  ”Yes, you do. You care. You care about me and you care about Lilly and you care about living. And as much as you want to think we should be civilized right now, as much as you want to deal with this rationally, there comes a time, Caroline. There comes a time when meeting violence with violence is the best way, the only way.”

  ”So you’re going to hurt him?”

  ”I’m not planning to kill him, but I’m not going to give him a hug, either. I have to let him know if he comes after any of us, there’ll be consequences. I have to show him that I’m willing to cross the same line he crossed.”

  ”I’m going with you.”

  ”No. You have to stay here with Lilly. We can’t leave her here alone. I promise I’ll stay in touch.

  I’ll—”

  ”No, Joe. This is too weird.”

  I looked her in the eye. ”You know I love you, and you know I respect you, but—”

  ”Don’t patronize me.”

  ”I’m not patronizing you, but I’m telling you I’m going. You can yell and scream all you want. You can call the damn cops for all I care. I’ve made up my mind, Caroline. I’m going.”

  She took a long, slow breath. ”Have you thought this through?”

  ”Of course I’ve thought it through.” I sat down in one of the chairs at the table and started lacing my boots. ”I’ve thought about it all day, and to be honest, I have no clue what’s going to happen when I get down there. Maybe nothing will happen.”

&n
bsp; ”I’m too young to be a widow.”

  ”And I’m too young to make you one.”

  I got up and grabbed a lighter out of a drawer and a bottle of water from the refrigerator. I opened the bottle, poured the water into the sink, screwed the cap back on, and headed for the garage. Leaning against the wall was an old hickory walking stick I’d bought during a trip to Grandfather Mountain, North Carolina, a few years ago. It was four feet long and hard as steel. I picked it up and looked at it. Caroline was standing in the doorway, eyeing me.

  ”I need your cell phone,” I said.

  ”Why?”

  ”Because mine’s at the bottom of Boone Lake. Just get it. Please?”

  She disappeared for a second, came back to the doorway, and tossed me her phone.

  ”You’re taking a walking stick to a gunfight?”

  she said.

  ”If things go right, he won’t get a chance to shoot at me.”

  ”Sometimes things don’t go the way you plan them. And speaking of plans, do you have one?”

  ”Sort of.”

  ”What is it?”

  ”You don’t want to know.”

  ”Yes, I do.”

  ”Trust me, you don’t.”

  I walked over to the five-gallon container that held gasoline for the lawn mowers and filled the water bottle with gas.

  ”Are you going to throw a Molotov cocktail at him?” Caroline said.

  ”Not exactly.”

  ”Then what’s the bottle of gas for?”

  ”Diversion, if I need it. Or maybe bait.”

  The last thing I picked up was a small flashlight off the shelf in the garage. Rio was following me every step of the way, whimpering. He knew I was going somewhere and didn’t want to miss out on the fun. I tossed the stick, the plastic bottle of gas, and the flashlight into the passenger side of Caroline’s Honda and shut the door.

  ”Keep Rio close while I’m gone,” I said. Caroline was still standing in the doorway with her arms folded. ”The shotgun’s locked and loaded behind the door in the bedroom. You know how to use it.”

  She started chewing on her fist. I could see tears welling in her eyes. ”I want to go,” she said. ”I can’t stand the thought of sitting here waiting. By the time you get back, I’ll be insane.”

  ”I’ll be fine,” I said. ”Try not to worry.”

  ”Yeah, sure.”

  ”I have to do this.”

  ”No, you don’t.”

  ”I can handle myself, Caroline.” I walked up to the door and took her in my arms. ”I’ll call you on the house phone when it’s done. Don’t call me, please. I don’t want to worry about the cell phone ringing.”

  ”You be back here by four,” she said, ”and you better be in one piece.”

  ”You sound like my mother.” I kissed her and got in the car.

  Junior’s place was almost seventy miles away. As I drove down Interstate 81 towards Newport, I ran through the possibilities. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Caroline was right. I was doing something crazy and dangerous. I had a vague plan in mind, but I wasn’t sure how I was going to get close to him, if he was home. It was after midnight, so I couldn’t just waltz up to the front door and knock. Junior would have to be paranoid after what he’d done to me. If I went to the door after midnight, he’d be sure to answer it with a gun in his hand. And to make matters worse, I didn’t know anything about his house, his neighborhood, whether he had a dog . . . Shit, I didn’t know a thing. When I was a Ranger, I went on several recon missions.

  During the missions, my job was to make accurate assessments of enemy strengths and positions so the commanders would know what they were up

  against. It would have been nice to have had the same luxury before I went to Junior’s, but I was going in blind.

  The miles passed quickly, but not quietly. A debate was raging inside my head, as though a tiny Caroline was perched on one shoulder and a tiny Joe was perched on the other.

  Turn around and go home. You might get yourself killed.

  He tried to kill you. The sonofabitch tried to kill you.

  He was stalking your wife. Your kids might be next. The police won’t do a thing.

  I kept driving.

  I made it to Newport in just over an hour. It’s a small town, so it took me only a few minutes to find Junior’s place, which was about a half mile outside the city limits. I was relieved to see that it was relatively isolated, the nearest neighbor more than a hundred yards away. I drove by slowly the first time.

  There was a black mailbox on a post at the end of the driveway with ”Tester” stenciled on it in slightly crooked white letters. The house was a small brick ranch that sat on a rectangular lot bordered by scruffy pines. There were no security lights, and I didn’t see any lights on in the house. One of two small outbuildings looked like a garage. After I made the first pass, I drove about a mile down the road, turned around, and made another pass. I thought about Junior driving by my house and stalking Caroline. Now it was my turn.

  I found an apartment complex about a half mile from the house, parked the car in a corner of the lot, grabbed the hickory stick, the bottle of gas, and the flashlight, and started walking. The streets were deserted. It was around fifty degrees, and the moon was low in the west. Some cloud cover would have been nice, but the Rangers had trained me to use the shadows. They’d trained me to make myself invisible in all kinds of terrain and conditions. They’d also taught me the value of surprise in an ambush and they’d taught me plenty about hand-to-hand combat.

  If I could surprise him and get my hands on him, I knew I could handle Junior Tester.

  When I got back to his place, I cut in and moved along the pine trees to the back of the lot. I crept around the entire lot, staying in the shadows of the pines, looking for a light in the house or signs of movement. Nothing. From what Diane Frye had told me, I knew Junior didn’t have a wife or kids, but I wasn’t sure about a dog. I was relieved when nothing moved or barked. Once I was sure nobody was stirring, I walked out of the trees and up to the garage.

  It was big enough for only one vehicle, and it was empty. The other outbuilding was just a storage shed that contained a few tools and a pile of junk, but there was plenty of fuel for a small fire. I crept to the back of the house and stood there listening for several minutes. It was silent.

  I moved slowly around the entire house, trying unsuccessfully to see something inside through the windows. No television, no radio, no bathroom light or night-light, nothing. When I’d circled the house and was again near the back door, I moved quietly up the concrete steps and turned the doorknob. It was unlocked. I stood there for a second, debating whether I should step inside and add breaking and entering to what could soon be a long list of crimes I’d committed. I decided against it. If he was there, I needed to get him outside. It was time to put my

  ”plan” into action.

  I jogged back out to the shed and stepped inside.

  I turned on the flashlight, grabbed up some rags and several pieces of wood, turned the flashlight off, and walked back outside. I piled the wood and rags up about ten feet from the shed, where Junior could see it if he looked out the back door. Then I took Caroline’s cell phone out of my pocket, turned it on, set the block function, and dialed the number I’d memorized earlier in the day. In less than ten seconds, I heard a phone ringing in the house. Once. Twice.

  Three times. Four.

  A light came on at the back corner of the house. I quickly doused the pile of rags and wood with the gasoline from the bottle, trailed some gasoline to a safe distance, and lit it with the lighter. The pile ignited with a whoosh. Eight rings. Nine.

  I ran back towards the house and crouched down by the back stoop. Answer the phone! Answer the goddamned phone! Ten rings.

  The cell phone clicked in my ear.

  ”Hello?”

  ”Junior,” I said. ”It looks like your shed’s on fire.”

  ”What? Who
is this?”

  ”It looks like your shed’s on fire. I’m calling the fire department.”

  I hung up, stuffed the phone back into my pocket, and waited. I could hear quick, heavy steps coming towards the back door. I stood and flattened my back against the side of the house.

  Come outside. Please, come outside.

  I heard the doorknob turn, and the door opened.

  A form appeared on the stoop within three feet of me. It was him.

  ”What the … ?” I heard him say.

  He started down the steps. Just as he got to the bottom, I gripped the walking stick with both hands and came off the wall. I dropped to one knee and swung the stick with everything I had. There was a loud crack as the stick caught him across the shin.

  He howled and fell to his knees.

  I dropped the stick and threw myself at him. I managed to get my forearm beneath his chin and climbed onto his back. I got him into a strong choke hold and squeezed as hard as I could. I felt him kicking as I wrapped my legs around his torso and pulled him backwards on top of me.

  He tried to reach back to claw my face, but the more he struggled, the tighter I squeezed. After fifteen seconds or so, his strength began to wane.

  ”Good thing I can swim,” I said quietly into his ear.

  At the sound of my voice, he stiffened.

  ”You see how easy this was?” I said, letting up just a little. ”If you ever come near me or anyone in my family again, I swear to God I’ll kill you. They’ll never find your body.”

  I tightened my grip on him again, and he passed out in less than thirty seconds. As soon as I felt him go limp, I let go and started patting him down. The front of his pajamas was soaked, and I smelled urine.

  To my relief and surprise, my little ruse had worked better than I’d hoped. He didn’t even have a gun. I moved over to where I’d dropped my stick, picked it up, and then crawled back on top of him.

  He opened his eyes about a minute later to find me straddling him. I’d pinned his shoulders to the ground with my knees and had the hickory stick pressed firmly against his throat. He stared at me with the same intense hatred I’d seen at the courthouse.

  ”Consider me your living, breathing restraining order,” I said. ”Don’t ever come near me or my family again. Do you understand?”