Assassin's Redemption: Stolen Memories, #1

by Richard Allen Evans

  Beau grunted.

  “Take this in the spirit in which it's intended: Mind your own business and keep your nose out of my loins,” Beau said as Sherry appeared at the table with two fresh carafes of coffee.

  “More coffee,” she said, giving Beau an odd look.

  “Appreciate it,” Marcus said as Beau mumbled his own thanks and turned a shade of red.

  “Moron,” Beau said as Marcus snickered.

  “Seriously, I do worry about you and so does Chelsea. You know how she keeps trying to set you up,” Marcus said.

  “And I appreciate her concern - and yours - but I'm okay. Really man, I'm fine,” Beau answered.

  Marcus took a bite of his eggs and chewed slowly. “You know not every woman is Terri. But you've got to move on with your life. You know that too,” he said.

  Beau looked down at his plate and continued to eat. He paused. “Yes, I do but...look, I'll know when it's time,” he said as he looked up again.

  “Alright, I'll back off. But...I, uh...can't say the same for Chelsea. She means well,” Marcus said.

  Beau smiled. “I know.”

  “So, what's on your schedule today?” Marcus asked.

  “I've got a couple of days off. I'll go home and crash for a couple of hours and figure it out from there. Might head to the river - camp and do some fishing,” Beau said.

  “A little chilly for that,” Marcus said.

  “That's why God gave us campfires and heavy sleeping bags,” Beau answered. “Hey, take a day off and come with me. Nothing like fresh trout.”

  “No thanks, you crazy hillbilly. I'll stay in a warm bed with my wife,” Marcus said.

  Beau just laughed and continued to eat.

  “Dispatch to Unit 303,” the radios on their hips crackled.

  Beau picked his up and answered.

  “303. Go ahead.”

  “Hate to interrupt your breakfast Beau but the sheriff wants to see you in his office as soon as he gets back from his escort duty. No rush, he's been delayed,” Brenda said with a giggle.

  “10-4. 303 out,” Beau said.

  “What did you do?” Marcus asked.

  “Nothin' that I know of. He might not want me to take any time off with the Raven campaign setting up shop so close to the election,” Beau said.

  “Maybe,” Marcus said.

  “Well, ain't no use in worrying about it. I'll know soon enough — and so will you,” Beau said.

  ***

  Gene Raven sat in the backseat of the black Ford Expedition with an open leather binder in his lap. He was going over the latest polling numbers.

  His dark brown eyes focused on each line and his mind computed the likely steps needed to be taken to improve the numbers in each demographic. He rubbed his chin with his meaty right hand.

  “It will be good to get back the farm for a few days. I'm looking forward to seeing a few old Butcher County friends,” said Jack Raven, Gene's younger brother and Republican nominee for the U.S. Senate.

  Gene glanced up at the smiling, handsome face next to him. A flash of anger in his eyes with color rising in his face.

  “Listen dumbass, you'll do no such thing. We're too close for you to screw this up because you can't keep your pants zipped,” Gene said. “We're damned lucky you didn't get caught with that bimbo in Knoxville last night.”

  His voice was deep and gravelly, from years of smoking cigars.

  “She's hardly a bimbo. Her daddy is a congressman after all,” Jack said defensively.

  “And her husband is a local party boss. Really Jack, you're such an idiot. Tell him D.C., tell Mr. Horny about his latest lady's reputation in Washington,” Gene said.

  Darren “D.C.” Cyprus, a serious looking man riding shotgun, turned and looked at Jack without removing his $500 sunglasses.

  “She gives the best head on the Hill. Considering the cocksuckers up there, that's saying something,” he said.

  “You just worry about security D.C. and you just run the campaign Gene. Let me worry about where my dick travels,” Jack said.

  “I find it hard to believe sometimes that we share the same DNA,” Gene said. “I am running this campaign and you'll do as you're told.”

  “You're my brother not my master,” Jack shot back.

  “I'm the reason you have a 15-point lead in the polls. Without me, you'd be trailing that shoeshine boy,” Gene said.

  “And without me what would you have? You? Like it or not Gene, I'm the candidate. People will vote for me — not for your grand strategy or speeches,” Jack said smugly.

  Gene tried to calm himself and changed tactics. “All I'm saying is be reasonable,” he said in a softer tone. “We're near the end of the campaign and all of us are suffering from a case of raw nerves. I understand you have to blow off steam — I'm right there with you. But you can't see your usual friends until after the election. Let me take care of everything. I promise you I will find a few willing young ladies to take of your needs,” Gene said.

  “Do I get to take a look at them first to see if they're what I'm looking for?” Jack asked.

  “Absolutely,” Gene said.

  “And as soon as the election is over I'm free to call on any woman I want?” Jack asked.

  “Any woman — or man — for all I care,” Gene said annoyed.

  Jack exhaled slowly and nodded his agreement.

  “So tell us. The description offered by D.C. concerning the congressman's wife - is it true?” Gene asked with a sly grin.

  “I'd say that's accurate,” Jack said with a similar grin.

  “Excuse me Boss, our ETA to your family estate is five minutes. Our advance security detail has the grounds sealed and our chopper is circling,” Cyprus said.

  “Have you met with local law enforcement yet?” Gene asked.

  “I notified the sheriff that the services of his department will not be needed. We have a far more superior force already in place. I don't need the locals upsetting the plan,” Cyprus said.

  “Very good,” Gene said as he looked out the window and watched the Butcher County landscape zipping past the SUV.

  ***

  It was late afternoon when Adam checked his e-mail. He downloaded and decrypted the message: “Agree to your terms. Money wired to specified account today. Target must be eliminated within the next nine days.”

  Adam quickly typed his acceptance of the deal, encrypted it, and sent it to his agent.

  The last job he did in Tennessee almost ended his lucrative career before it got started. It was his first hit as an independent contractor.

  He closed his eyes and could still feel the coolness of the early April evening. It was planned to the last detail and appeared to be going off without a hitch until an amateur got jumpy and pulled the trigger too soon. Adam knew the shooter - not much more than another redneck kid - got lucky. It was a kill shot but the timing made for a messy escape. Had it not been for the intervention of his former employers in the federal government, Adam could possibly been implicated and imprisoned.

  He was fortunate that the plan — as most such plans — called for a viable patsy. The feds found the perfect fall guy for him — a man too slow to realize his own role until it was too late.

  And now, all of these years later, that same employer was now paying him to come back for an opportunity to do another job the right way.

  ***

  After breakfast, Beau went back to the sheriff's department in the basement of the Butcher County Courthouse while Marcus went out on patrol.

  Beau checked the daily log of BOLOs (Be on the Lookout) and patrol requests on his desktop computer. It was as much to kill time as it was to stay informed. As he clicked off of the update page he started thinking about his days off. Maybe packing a few things and spending a day and night camping at Greenbriar Park along the Chenoa River would be a nice break. Sure, the nights were turning colder as Marcus said, but that wouldn't hurt the trout fishing.

  Something else Marcus said had
a painful ring of truth to it. He had to move on. Terri had been gone seven years in May. He didn't expect or want to live like a monk. But he determined to do so at his own pace and of his own choosing.

  He was lost in thought when a voice across the office boomed at him.

  “Hey Beau! Come on in the office. I'm sorry I kept you waiting,” said the sheriff.

  Beau stood and walked across the office, negotiating his way between the desks stepping across the hunter green and black flecked tile floor.

  “No problem. I've not been here that long,” he said as he stepped into Thurman's office.

  The sheriff closed the door and walked over to an ancient electric percolator on top of a gray filing cabinet to the left of his desk.

  Filing cabinets were around the walls of the office. The walls were white - or had been once - and were adorned with family photos as well as pictures of Thurman in his law enforcement career. Several photos showed Thurman and the late Lonnie Rayburn, who both a former chief investigator for the county and a former FBI colleague. One photo which made people gawk was one of Thurman and Rayburn with Edgar Hoover in Memphis in 1968.

  “Coffee?” Thurman asked as he poured a thick black, almost blue, liquid into a stained Chicago Cubs coffee mug.

  Having tasted the Thurman's coffee once, Beau declined. He wanted to sleep at some point over the next two days.

  Thurman carried his mug and sat down behind his desk and gestured for Beau to sit at the chair in front of the desk. He then opened a manila folder in front of him and looked sternly at the deputy in front of him.

  “Let me ask you couple of questions Beau. Do you like it here in Butcher County? More importantly, do you like working for the department?” Thurman asked.

  Beau shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  “Well, yeah - to both questions. Is there a problem?” Beau asked.

  Thurman smiled.

  “Relax Beau. You're not in any kind of trouble. In fact, far from it. I'm just curious if you're planning to stick around Stone City. How long have you been here?” Thurman asked.

  “I moved here four years ago when I got out of the army. Been with the department almost the entire time. And I like it here just fine. I don't have any plans to leave,” Beau said.

  “You have qualifications that are pretty much unheard for a sheriff's department this size. You have a college degree, two years of law school, and a solid background as an army sniper. We've never been able to pay you what you're worth,” Thurman said.

  “None of us do this job for the money. You know that better than anybody,” Beau said.

  “True but it never hurts to make a little more when you can,” the sheriff said as he closed the folder with a slight smile.

  “No, I reckon you're right. Are you giving me a raise?” Beau asked, a little surprised.

  Thurman broke into an even wider smile.

  “Well, I suppose I am in a way. I'm offering you a promotion,” he said.

  Beau's tired eyes brightened.

  “A promotion? You mean to sergeant?” He asked.

  Thurman chuckled.

  “No, not to sergeant. I'm thinking chief investigator. You interested?” He asked.

  Beau sat in stunned silence for a couple of seconds.

  “Y-yes, I am but...I don't mean to sound ungrateful for the offer but, uh, there are plenty of folks in this department who have been here longer than me. And to be blunt, people who've got a lot more roots and political connections in this county,” he said.

  “True but you're the best qualified. I trust you and have every confidence in your ability to do the job. As for politics, I'm not worried about politics. The people who don't like me hate me regardless and them that do like me, well, they'll support me regardless. Will you take the job? It comes with about a $30,000 per year salary bump,” Thurman said, adding another tidbit as his trump card. “The budget funds two assistant investigators. Lonnie never used the positions. He did everything himself and let me use that money to help upgrade our computers and software.

  “We're finally up to date but since Lonnie passed away we've had a steady backlog of cases building up. Only three members of this department have been able to keep up with the extra workload. You've done the most. You have busted your ass, putting in long hours - on top of patrol duty. Your effort hasn't gone unnoticed.”

  Beau was still stunned by the offer.

  “Yes, I'll accept the job. I'd be crazy not to. Thank you, I really appreciate your confidence,” he said.

  Thurman put his hand inside a desk drawer and then stood. He reached across the desk and handed Beau a new badge emblazoned with the words “Chief Investigator Sheriff's Department Butcher County, Tennessee.”

  He extended his hand to Beau and they shook hands.

  “Congratulations son. You are now the number two man in the department. May God have mercy on your soul,” Thurman said with a chuckle.

  “Thank you sir, again. I am truly grateful but I do have one question,” Beau said.

  “If you want to appoint Marcus as an assistant investigator consider it done,” Thurman said as Beau breathed a silent sigh of relief.

  “Once again, thank you,” Beau said.

  “As for the second assistant, I have what might be considered an unorthodox suggestion at first glance,” Thurman said as he went to refill his cup. “Sure you don't want any? I hate to drink alone.”

  “I think I will,” Beau answered, knowing that he would crash later but sleep wouldn't be coming so quickly after all.

  “Good,” Thurman said as he reached for a somewhat less stained End Zone Diner mug.

  After he handed Beau the mug the sheriff returned to his chair as did Beau.

  “My suggestion is Haley Garrison. You know her I believe,” Thurman asked trying to gauge Beau's expression.

  “We've seen each other around here from time to time,” Beau said as he took a sip of the high octane liquid. He felt an adrenaline surge almost immediately.

  “You probably already know but let me give you some background on her. She went to college at East Tennessee State on an ROTC scholarship. Did a hitch in the army working for the provost marshal at Ft. Benning. Spent a year in the crime lab with the Atlanta PD and six months in Knoxville, working in the crime lab there. Haley's been here for the past six months. We had an opening and I hired her. Remember the three people handling their caseloads I mentioned earlier?” Thurman asked as Beau nodded.

  “She was one of the three. You and Marcus were the other two. You can review her personnel file if you would like,” he said.

  Beau took another sip and quickly shook his head. “No sir. I trust your judgement. She is certainly more than capable,” he said.

  Thurman shifted a little uneasily.

  “There is one thing you need to know in the interest of full disclosure,” he said.

  Beau took a larger drink of the coffee. He was getting somewhat used to it.

  “Yes?” He asked.

  “I'm also sure you're aware Haley is also my wife's niece. But everything I said is the truth. Family or not, I wouldn't have hired her if she couldn't do the job. Besides,” he added with a sheepish grin, “There's politics and then there's politics.”

  Beau couldn't help but laugh.

  “I didn't know but I believe you and I trust your recommendation. When would you like me to start?” He asked.

  “You're due a couple of days off if I recall the duty log. That lazy ass Smitty...why don't you take some time to rest up. Spend the rest of the week getting the CID office organized and hit the ground running next Monday,” Thurman said as he stood to shake Beau's hand one more time.

  “That sounds fine. And...I won't let you down,” Beau said.

  ***

  The queen-sized bed felt so good and the nice warm quilt seemed almost heavy as she rolled over and looked at the clock on her nightstand.

  “Why did I buy a queen sized bed? It's not like there's anyone in here with me,�
� Haley Garrison mumbled to herself as she crawled from one side of the bed to the other to turn the alarm before it actually went off.

  She was skittish about an actual relationship – none of the guys she picked ever measured up to what she wanted in a man...but there were those times when she did get lonely.

  She slept a couple of hours in preparation for her shift which would start at 7 p.m. After a weekend off and keeping “normal” hours, she knew the little bit of sleep would take the edge off of the fatigue she would feel later. Slipping out of the bed and into a gray pair of insulated house slippers, Haley put on a thick navy blue robe that came down to her knees. She wondered sometimes how short it would be if she wasn't 5'5. Even though the robe and slippers were all she wore, she didn't bother tying the belt of the robe, preferring to leave it open.

  She lived alone and her apartment was on the third floor, far away from any potential prying eyes. Besides, it made no sense to put on clothes just to step out of them when she got to the shower.

  When she got to the bathroom and flipped the light switch on, she stepped in front of the mirror. Haley pulled her hair back. It was shoulder length, wavy, and jet black. She looked at the skin around her eyes and wondered how much longer she would be wrinkle free.

  Only 28 years old, Haley knew she had a few more years before she had to seriously worry about the effects of aging. Her deep blue eyes still searched the mirror.

  Hanging the robe on a hook by the door, she stepped toward the shower when her telephone started ringing. Ignoring the robe she walked quickly toward the cordless phone on an end table in the living room. Haley noticed the caller ID read “Butcher County Sheriff's Department,” she answered on the third ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Haley?” Asked a commanding baritone voice.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “This is Beau...Beau Fullbright. I hope I'm not disturbing you,” he said.

  Haley felt a sudden flutter in her chest and a sudden awareness of her nudity. She found herself blushing.

  “N-no, not at all. What can I do for you Mr. Fullbright?” She asked.

  “I know you're scheduled to work tonight but...I was wondering if you would be willing to drop by the CID Office around noon, I'd like to talk to you about a possible change in your duties. I mean, if it's convenient for you. If it isn't —” she cut him off.