Shepherd's Fall

by W. L. Dyson

“Keep an eye on him. I'm on my way.” Nick reached over and disconnected the call.

  “Okay, Nick. Give us the juice,” Conner said, lifting a rib out of the container and starting to chew into it.

  “I had Rafe put a tracker on his car when I started getting suspicious.” He quickly wrote an e-mail and then signed off. He grabbed his jacket and stood up. “I'll be back in a bit. Enjoy your dinner, and save some ribs for me.”

  “We're going with you,” Marti said. “I'm not going to miss this.”

  “Me either,” Conner added, lumbering to his feet.

  “It just isn't necessary, guys. I don't need this many people to confront one.”

  “What you need and what you're getting are two different things.” Marti linked her arm in his and walked out with him.

  Steven was coming through the door with more containers. “Where's everyone going?”

  “After a traitor,” Marti told him. “Bring the food.”

  Saturday, 8:20 p.m.

  Route 40, Baltimore

  Traffic was light, but it still took almost forty minutes to get to the motel. The Blue Star was a leftover from the sixties and didn't look like much had been done to it since. It had once been painted white with hurt-your-eyes blue and pink trim that might pass in Miami but was completely out of place on a commercial strip on the outskirts of Baltimore.

  When Nick pulled in, he saw Rafe outside the office, leaning against his car. Nick drove over in Rafe's direction and parked.

  “What's going on?” he asked as he climbed out of his SUV.

  “He's hiding up in room 203.” Rafe touched Nick on the arm. “He is a frightened animal. Be careful.”

  “I know.” Nick glanced up at the room doors and then over at Rafe. “I called for backup. When they get here, send them up.”

  Rafe looked disappointed that he was being left behind, but he nodded.

  Marti ran up the stairs ahead of them. “Let me knock. Please let me.”

  Nick rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

  She walked up to the door of 203 and knocked. “It's Marti. Open up. I need to talk to you.”

  There was only silence. And then the door cracked open. “What are you doing here?”

  “Let me in. We need to talk.”

  “You alone?”

  “No.” She pushed at the door. “Conner, Steven, and Nick are standing here. Let us in.”

  The door closed, and they heard the chain rattle. Then the door opened wide. Marti went in first, followed by the men.

  The room wasn't in much better shape than the outside. It had dingy walls, faded curtains, cracks in the walls, and a bed that sagged in the middle. Nick saw Conner shut the door and lean against it, his arms folded across his chest.

  “How did you know?” Michael said.

  “We didn't,” Nick admitted. “Not for sure anyway. Until the brick incident. When I ran it past you, you wouldn't meet my eyes. That's when I knew for sure.”

  “I knew when I bought this.” Marti pulled the Rolex watch out of her pocket. “You paid those old men to burn down our building. You are such a lowlife.”

  Michael stared at the watch and then dropped his eyes, his mouth tight. “I should have known they wouldn't do what they were told to do.”

  Nick took the watch from Marti, examined it, and then tossed it at his former friend. “So, tell me why, Michael.”

  Michael let the watch hit the bed and the fall to the floor. He didn't bother to pick it up. “You don't understand, Nick. It wasn't supposed to end up like this, but you get into them for a little bit and before long, they own you.” Michael's head dropped. “I needed money. I had been gambling a bit here and there in Atlantic City, and I got in a little too deep. They offered me a deal to make the debts go away. I just had to launder their money through the bank. And to complete the deal with Carver, I needed you to comply with his deal, so…I guess…I tried to scare you into it.”

  Conner made a disgusted groan, then spoke up from behind Nick. “So what'd you do with Nick's loan papers? Did you bury them?”

  Michael slowly lifted his face, wiping at his mouth. “Yeah, I buried them. I had to. They threatened my family if I didn't.”

  “Oh, the same family you're ready to leave high and dry today? Find a good flight, Michael?” Marti's voice was full of contempt.

  Michael's face had gone completely blank, as if he had nothing left inside to muster. “You don't understand. Carver can't let me live. The Feds will tear his operation apart. They'll want me to testify. He'll kill me before he allows that.”

  “You should have thought of that before,” Nick said.

  “And Carver's in jail,” Conner added.

  “Yeah,” Michael said. “Until he gets bail. And even if he stays in jail, he'll get the word out.”

  Nick shoved his hands deep into his pockets to keep from punching Michael. “You have put me and my family through hell. You put my daughter in danger. You risked my life and the lives of my team. All so you can pay your gambling debts? So you can live in that big house and play the big shot?” Nick shook his head. “You come around, acting like my friend, and then run to Carver and tell him every move I'm making.”

  “He promised he wasn't going to hurt you or Krystal.”

  “And you believed him?” Conner laughed. “Even after Nick was shot?”

  “Please, Nick. We've been best friends for as long as I can remember. You have to believe me. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I was just desperate.”

  Marti walked over and opened one of the suitcases. It was full of cash. “Desperate. I can see that.”

  “That's mine. I earned it.”

  “You are pitiful, Michael.”

  “Did you come to arrest me or what?” He was practically whining now. Nick could hardly look at him.

  Conner shook his head. “We don't have that authority, and you know it. We just came to get answers.”

  “Oh, please. I know that the Feds are right behind you!” Michael's tone was frenzied. He jumped up, grabbed Marti, and pulled a gun out of his pocket, holding it to her head. “Drop your guns, both of you.”

  Nick and Conner pulled out their weapons and dropped them to the floor. “Don't do this,” Nick said. “You're only making things worse.”

  Michael's eyes were darting left and right. But Nick kept looking at Marti, her eyes locked on his, as if she was trying to communicate something.

  Conner went on trying to distract Michael. “We can't arrest you, Michael. There's no reason for any of this. You can just walk out of here. You don't have to hurt Marti.”

  Nick kept watching Marti, trying to figure out what she was telling him with her eyes. She was planning something.

  Nick put his arms out. “Michael. We've been friends forever. If the Feds get you, they'll have to do it without my help.” He eased forward a step, hoping Michael didn't notice.

  Michael choked out a broken laugh. “Mister Justice and Right? You'd be the first one to call them, Nick. No way could you let me walk away free and clear. Wouldn't sit right with those morals of yours.” With one arm still wrapped around Marti, Michael waved his gun. “You wouldn't—”

  Marti moved so fast that even Nick wasn't ready for it. Whirling around, she brought her hand up, chopping Michael across the throat. His gun dropped as he reached for his throat with both hands. With an upward thrust of her palm, she hit him in the nose. Nick heard the crunch of bone and cartilage.

  Howling, Michael doubled over. Marti stepped back, ready to strike again, but Conner had already scooped up his gun and held it with both hands, pointed just two feet from Michael's face.

  Nick reached down and picked up his Glock. “Steven? See if Linc is here. If he is, tell him to come get this piece of trash.”

  22

  Four months later

  The boy ran faster, desperate now to reach his father. No matter how hard he ran, he couldn't seem to close the distance. As he continued to scream out for his dad, he began to cry. S
till, the man never turned around. Never acknowledged him.

  The man could feel the boy's anguish. His desperation. His fear of being left alone and abandoned. His breathing became as labored as the boy's. His heart pounded just as hard. Clenching his fists, he fought to run as the boy ran, urging the boy to run faster, yell louder, to not give up, to not give up. Keep going!

  And then the man stopped and cocked his head, as if listening for something. Once again the boy screamed out, “Daddy! I'm here! Daddy!”

  Slowly, the man turned and waited as the boy covered the distance between them. Finally, the boy collapsed at the man's feet, lifting his face to look up at the man through his tears. “Daddy?”

  The man looked sad as he gently lifted the child into his arms. “I've missed you, my child.”

  “I'm sorry, Daddy. I just got lost for a little while.”

  Saturday, 7:15 a.m.

  Towson, Maryland

  Nick awoke with a start, sitting straight up in bed. Taking a deep breath, he looked over at the alarm clock, then collapsed back into the pillow. The dream had seemed so real. But the man he called Daddy wasn't the man who raised him.

  But he knew who it was.

  With a smile, he rolled out of bed. Today, he couldn't be late.

  Saturday, 10:30 a.m.

  Towson, Maryland

  Nick straightened his tie and buttoned his suit coat. He hated wearing ties, but today was special. Fingering his hair in place one last time, he nodded in satisfaction, then picked up his keys and walked outside.

  A tow truck was just backing up in his driveway with a '75 Corvette on the flatbed. Curious, Nick walked over as the driver emerged from the cab of the truck. “You Mr. Nick Shepherd?”

  “Yes. What's going on?”

  The driver handed him a padded envelope. “Was just paid to deliver this and the car. Where do you want me to drop it?”

  “Right there is fine,” Nick replied as he opened the envelope. Inside, he found car keys, the title, and a letter. He opened the letter.

  Dear Nick,

  I'm sorry I turned you away when you came to check on me and the children, but all this has been so difficult. I still don't understand how Michael could have done this to any of us. The other Corvette was confiscated, but since I could prove I bought this one for Michael with part of my inheritance from my grandmother, they left it with me. And I want you to have it. By the time you get this, the children and I will have left for New Hampshire. I'm going to stay with my parents until I get back on my feet. You're a good man, Nick. Don't ever change.

  Megan O'Shea

  Nick tipped the driver and pocketed the Corvette keys. His heart broke for Megan. Nick looked over at the car. He wasn't sure what he'd do with it. Driving it would feel as though, somehow, Michael was making restitution. But nothing could have been further from the truth.

  He glanced at his watch and chided himself. He was going to be late if he didn't hurry.

  Half an hour later, he picked up his mother at the nursing home. A male nurse was waiting with her. She was all dressed up in a flowered dress that Marti had bought for her. When he pulled up to the curb, he got out and helped the nurse transfer her from the wheelchair to the SUV. She slapped at their hands. “I can walk, you know.”

  Nick and the nurse shared a smile and let her fasten her own seat belt.

  All the way to the church, she was like a little girl at Christmas, bright-eyed with wonder as she sat in the front seat of his SUV and chatted away, sometimes knowing who he was, sometimes referring to him as Ros. It didn't matter to him at all.

  She might not always know that he was her son, but he always knew she was his mother.

  When they arrived at the church, he walked slowly with her, letting her lean on his arm. They found Marti, Steven, and Krystal waiting just inside the doors for them.

  “You're late,” Marti chided. “The service is about to start.”

  “I'll explain later.” And just that quickly, he knew what he was going to do with the Corvette. He knew his sister would love it.

  In spite of her constant hints at leaving again, Marti had stayed with them. She signed the papers, although it turned out they didn't need to use their assets. The bank had quickly given Nick a line of credit to satisfy the Department of Criminal Justice. Nick had an idea that Linc had explained what Michael had done, and they wanted to cut off any lawsuits before they got filed. Not that Nick was thinking that way, but the bank wasn't taking any chances.

  And that made Nick think of Annie and Zeena. Annie was doing well, back working as a chef, and spending time getting to know her nephew. Zeena had turned herself in to Nick as promised, and he had Kline bail her right back out as promised. As soon as Annie had her surgery, Zeena went into rehab and was determined to turn her life around. Nick wished her well.

  While Marti and Steven settled their mother in a pew, Nick made his way down to the front of the church. The pastor met him there.

  “You ready?”

  “I am now.”

  With a nod and a smile, the pastor turned and nodded toward the back of the church. Nick barely noticed the organ music when it started. His attention was on his daughter as she made her way down the aisle, dressed in a yellow gown and carrying a bouquet. It was like a punch to his gut to see her like this: so beautiful, so full of promise, so close to being the woman she was meant to be.

  Then the music grew more dramatic, and Jessica stepped into view. She looked like something from a dream he had once. He didn't even know the color or shape of her dress. All he could see were her eyes, bright with tears and love, just the way they were the first time he'd married her, but this time, there was something else there as well. The understanding that this wasn't a fairy tale. It was real life, with all the problems, joys, pains, and laughter that real people experience every day.

  He wasn't sure how it had happened. Somewhere in the midst of trying to rebuild his relationship with his daughter, he'd found himself building a bridge back to the only woman he'd ever loved.

  When she stepped up next to him, Nick reached out and took her hand. She tilted her head to look up at him and then whispered, “I love you.”

  Good news—I have my family back.

  Acknowledgments

  My heartfelt thanks to my editor, Shannon Hill Marchese, who believed in this project; my agent, Greg Johnson; Nicci Jordan Hubert and the wonderful people at WaterBrook who put as much effort into this book as I did.

  A huge thank-you to Melissa Backus of Backus Bail Bonds, Winchester, VA; J.T. Fugitive Recovery Agent, Baltimore, MD; Scott Harrell of CompassPoint Investigations; Aileen Ferguson of Hargett Farms; Author Robin Caroll; and Jennifer Peterson of Ms. MS for their invaluable help.

  And to the residents of Baltimore—I hope you'll forgive me for moving a few things around and changing the names of some of the streets for the sake of the story. I'm proud to be your neighbor.

  And last, but certainly not least, a special thank-you to all my readers who have waited so patiently for this novel; the incredible family and friends at ChiLibris, ACFW, CCWC; and in particular, my daughter, Jayme.

  Prologue

  I am not selling stolen guns! This is all a big mistake.” Andrea Morrow twisted her hands in her lap, hoping the two men across the scarred table would believe her. The alternative was unthinkable.

  “Miss Morrow, you were recorded taking a briefcase full of money from known gun dealers and giving them the keys to a storage unit that contained a large quantity of stolen weapons. Now, what part of that recording is false?”

  She looked up at Agent Chamberland, or the Ice Man, as she was starting to think of him, with his white blond hair and cool blue eyes. He never showed any emotion at all—just stared at her with those pale-as-glass eyes as if he could see straight through her.

  “All of it,” she insisted. “Maybe that's what you see, but there's an explanation. I didn't know what was in that storage unit. I swear.”

  Agent Ch
amberland strolled over, pulled out a chair, spun it around, and straddled it. She couldn't avoid grimacing at the cop cliché. “You're a kindergarten teacher, is that right?”

  “Yes,” she said, leaning forward. “At Midway Elementary. I've been there five years.”

  She a ran a finger over a deep scratch in the Formica tabletop and thought about the small tables, perfect for six-year-olds, in her bright classroom. Would everything she worked for crumble into dust? It made her want to scream. If they'd just check her story out, everything would be okay.

  “And your boyfriend called you and asked you to do him a favor?”

  She nodded at Chamberland. “We were supposed to have dinner. I was home when he called and said he had to work late.” She pushed her hair behind her ears. “Look, I've explained this at least twenty times already. Why don't you just call Paul and have him tell you what happened?”

  “We've tried to call him, Miss Morrow.” Chamberland scratched his chin with his thumb. “The number you gave us went to a prepaid cell phone. No one is answering it, and we can't trace it. We went to the address you gave as his employment. There is no such company as For-ton and Conrad in that building, and no Paul Roush works for any company in that building. So let's try this again.”

  None of that made sense to her. She knew he was there. “Paul asked me to come by his office and pick up a set of keys to give his friend. He met me out in front of the building. Please go ask around again. Maybe you just missed him the first time.”

  “Do you have a picture of Paul?” the other agent asked.

  She thought for a moment. “No. We haven't been dating that long. I can't think of any pictures he'd be in. Maybe one of the people at the party where we met might know him well enough to have a picture.”

  “That's convenient. Another rabbit trail.” Chamberland leaned forward, and if his eyes were cold enough to freeze water before, they could give her frostbite now. “I'm getting a little tired of the dead ends, Miss Morrow. As we can't find any legitimate information on a Paul Roush matching your details, I suggest you start telling us the truth.”