Crimson Blood

by Douglas Pratt

  “How about a burger or something?” Leo asked.

  Lindsay agreed immediately. She sat in the back seat so she didn’t draw undo attention.

  Leo found a Jack’s, a regional fast food franchise. With a bag of burgers, fries, and three milkshakes, we headed back to the hotel.

  “Won’t they come looking for you there?” Lindsay asked.

  “They might,” I said. “That’s why Leo is going to sleep on the couch for us.”

  “No one gets past me,” he said.

  We parked in the lower parking lot so that Lindsay and I wouldn’t draw attention walking through the hotel naked. The doors at the lower lot were isolated, and while the security guard probably got an eyeful, if he was watching, no one else saw us slip in and go to the elevators.

  Leo took point as we entered the suite. After thirty seconds, he gave me the all clear.

  Kerry or his men had already been here. The safe was open. I walked through the room. The laptop was also missing. So were the flash drives. Kerry had effectively wiped any evidence I had.

  “They didn’t waste time,” I said.

  Examining the safe, Leo said, “They didn’t force the safe, or the door.”

  “Someone let them in?” Lindsay asked.

  “He said, he owned everybody.”

  “Plan?” Leo asked.

  “Shower, sleep, regroup.”

  “Oh, a shower sounds nice,” Lindsay said.

  “You’re up then,” I told her.

  “If you join me, we can conserve water,” she said walking into the bedroom.

  Leo laughed, “I bet you are so happy I’ve been making you run. You have all the stamina to keep going.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “You get to sleep alone,” I mocked him over my shoulder.

  21

  We were in bed, or rather I was on the bed, and Lindsay was still sitting on top of me. She leaned in and kissed me. Her eyes were worried. The range of emotions she felt today went from one end of the spectrum to the other.

  “I like you, Max,” she said.

  “I feel a ‘but.’”

  “I’m scared,” she said.

  “I know. I’m going to get you someplace safe first thing in the morning. I’ll get Leo to take you up to Tennessee and get you hidden somewhere until this is over.”

  She grinned. “That’s not what I meant,” she said as she rolled off me and lay across my chest. “I mean, I don’t understand why you came after me. I think I would have run. Or called the cops. I don’t know that I feel that way about you.”

  “Linds, I do really like you. I’m not in love with you, though. Not that I couldn’t be. I don’t know. We enjoy each other’s company, but that may be all we have. I still like you, and I don’t think I would want to live in a world that you weren’t in. I didn’t have a lot of time to think, and I am often reactionary. Getting into the truck with Kerry’s men was probably stupid. I would do it again, though.”

  “Leo was there,” she said.

  “I didn’t know that, and one day, Leo won’t be there. I make a decision like that so that whether it’s good or bad, I feel like I made the best choice.”

  “You didn’t seem scared at all up there.”

  “Last year, I was in love with someone. She was hurt pretty badly, and now she isn’t in my life. Honestly, for the last year, every day scared me. I climbed inside a bottle for the first two months. Leo came around and got me to at least leave the house. Heck, he has me running three days a week now. I really hate running.”

  “Where does that leave us?” she asked.

  “Right now, wherever you feel comfortable. We were thrown off a bridge together. We are in a small club, so we are definitely friends.”

  “You weren’t thrown.”

  “Potato, tomato.”

  She kissed me. “Friends. With benefits.” She smiled and flicked her tongue against my lips.

  Satisfied, she curled up in my arms. I held her in the dark as she drifted off to sleep.

  After a few minutes of staring at the ceiling, I slipped out of bed and donned the terry cloth robe the hotel provided. Leo was sitting on the couch watching an encore of Saturday Night Live.

  “She didn’t tire you out?” Leo asked. “I had to turn up the volume to not hear her.”

  “No, she didn’t.” I plopped down on the couch next to him.

  “What’s the plan?” he asked.

  “They have the evidence, unless we go back to Morgan’s.”

  Leo shook his head. “If they were brave enough to come here, you can just about guarantee they went there.”

  “Doesn’t mean they got everything.”

  “Okay. First thing, we go there and check it out. Then what?”

  “I need to get Lindsay someplace safe,” I said.

  Leo grunted an agreement.

  “Maybe you could run her up across the state line and stash her somewhere.”

  “Can you survive a few hours while I’m gone?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I think you reduced Kerry’s security detail by a great number. I want to find the one called Bobby. I have an idea now.”

  “What are you going to do with him?”

  “Ask him some simple questions. Then drop him in a deep hole.”

  “You still want to find those kids?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “You know my motto. I’m pretty carefree about people’s morality, unless it involves kids or puppies.”

  “Good,” I said.

  “I also hate rapists,” he amended. “And fat free hot dogs.”

  I watched the television for a minute. Justin Timberlake was the host, and he was doing his musical number.

  “Is she alright?” Leo asked.

  “I think so. She was very concerned about our relationship status.”

  Leo bobbed his head with curiosity. “What is your relationship status?”

  “I like her. She has spunk.”

  “Oh, I heard,” Leo quipped.

  “She’s not Lisa.”

  “Dude, no one is. Hell, after last year, Lisa’s not Lisa.”

  “I know,” I said with frustration. “I think I’m about to let her go, and something makes me think of her.”

  “Been there,” he muttered somberly.

  “Really?” I asked looking at him.

  “Yep, mine though left me when I was in Afghanistan. Angela Mayo. She was the girl of my dreams. We dated for two years. She moved to North Carolina while I was at Lejeune. We were engaged to be married.”

  “What happened?”

  “It’s classified.”

  “Seriously,” I said, thinking he was joking. “What happened?”

  “No, it’s literally classified. I was presumed dead on a mission. When I got back, eight months later she was three months pregnant and about to marry a lawyer.”

  “Man, you never told me about that.”

  “Still hurts. I think she might would have even left the lawyer for me when she found out. I know she would have. I just couldn’t put her through that again. I’m not the guy that can have a nine to five job shuffling papers. She deserved to know that her husband, and her baby’s father, would be home every night to eat dinner, put the kids to bed, and watch the Bachelor with her.”

  “Wow, sometimes you amaze me. We’ve spent a lot of time together lately. I had no idea.”

  “No one does,” he said. “You know, I’m surprised you never enlisted. You have that insane drive that makes a good soldier.”

  “That’s probably my biggest regret. I’ve often wished I’d served. When I graduated high school, my life was in such a turmoil. It never occurred to me.”

  “Then where does that drive come from?” he asked. “I’ve known career soldiers who wouldn’t get into that truck to save their own kids.”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t see another option.”

  “That’s why I like you. You have a mouth on you, but you got some balls to back it up.”

>   “You need anything?” I asked.

  “No, get some sleep. I imagine tomorrow you are going to storm a castle.”

  22

  The same skinny tattoo artist was opening up his shop. I was waiting for him to get here, and I wasn’t sure how late he would open on a Sunday. Apparently, eleven was the magic hour.

  Leo and Lindsay were driving north for the state line. Leo was going to get her in little motel in Waynesboro, Tennessee. The town was about forty miles from Florence and seemed out of the way enough for her to be safe. He promised to leave her some protection.

  We went first thing to Morgan’s house. Leo had been correct. Kerry’s men had sufficiently scrubbed all evidence. We found a smoldering ruin that the Sheffield Fire Department had finally extinguished. Firemen were still milling around the remains, so we drove past.

  There was little chance to tie any of the child pornography to him. Leo was confident that if the law did get to the site on the dark web, that the webmasters would just close up shop and move. Without the house and the bedroom, there would be little proof that the videos were filmed here.

  We would need a witness. Bobby was our best lead, unless we could find the kids.

  That’s why I’m sitting in front of this tattoo parlor waiting for the skinny dude to arrive.

  I was driving Leo’s truck, and he had mine. He figured I might be less recognizable if Bobby was out looking for me. I climbed out when I saw the guy arrive.

  I had a few hours while Leo deposited Lindsay. Lindsay had the number of the burner phone that Leo gave me. He is ever the Boy Scout, always prepared. As I said before, I don’t always question what Leo does on the side, in case I ever have to testify.

  “Hey,” I said as I walked to the parlor.

  The tattoo artist turned around. “Oh, hey, it’s you.”

  “Do you have another minute?”

  “Yeah, come in. Sunday’s are usually slow.”

  I followed him in the shop. “I didn’t get your name the other day.”

  “Brian. You have any luck?”

  “A little. I’m hoping you can point me in a more specific direction.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “There is a guy, looks like a body builder. Probably on steroids. He’s short, with a military hair cut. He’s got sleeves, but I don’t know what they look like. He runs with a couple of guys. One looks like a mountain. The other is a short, blonde guy named Bobby.”

  “Sounds like Nick Betts. He grew up in Tuscumbia. I think he was in the Navy for a minute. Definitely on roids. The blonde is probably Bobby Davids. They both went to school with me. A couple years older though.”

  “You know where Bobby is?”

  “Naw,” he said, “I avoid Bobby. He’s a mean son of a bitch. I don’t have time for that. Nick’ll pop around sometimes. Saw him a few weeks ago.”

  “That’s actually a lot of help,” I said. “Listen, these guys are into some really bad stuff. I would appreciate it if you forgot I was here.”

  “How bad?” Brian furrowed his brow.

  “Bad enough,” I said.

  “’Kay,” he responded. “I never met you.”

  I left the tattoo parlor. No one seemed to be watching me. I drove Leo’s truck to the north side of Florence and found a park.

  Something Kerry said last night was wriggling around in my head. I had an idea I wanted to chase.

  Angela Kerry was in Africa, and I guessed that she went that far away for more reasons than just ministering with Christ’s Directive. The website for Christ’s Directive had an email and phone number for their office in Macon, Georgia. The number went to a voice mail, which I expected since it was a Sunday morning.

  A different tactic might work better. I went to Angela Kerry’s Instagram and sent her a message. “Hello, I need to talk to you ASAP about a girl named Becca. If you know her, send me a message immediately.”

  The message was vague, and I hoped she would respond. Liberia was six hours ahead of Alabama. Her time was almost six in the evening.

  With no word from Leo, I thought I might make one more stop. The editor of the Shoals Daily Journal was Trevor Lee. His address did not get immediate results on Google. However, I went to the same tax assessor website that helped me find Keller’s house. Lee’s address was five minutes from me. I’ve discovered that the internet has ended all privacy.

  I drove to Lee’s home, a 50’s colonial brick house at the end of a cove. There was no garage, and a Nissan Maxima was parked in the driveway.

  I rang the doorbell and waited. The door opened at a disheveled man about ten years older than me looked out the glass storm door. His glasses were cocked on his nose at an angle, and he wore an old t-shirt and shorts.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Trevor Lee?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Who are you?” he asked again.

  I didn’t answer, instead grabbing the door, I yanked it open.

  “Hey!” he exclaimed as I stepped in the door.

  “We are going to talk about Elizabeth Warlow.”

  “What?”

  “Elizabeth Warlow. You pulled her off a story Friday.”

  “Yeah, so?” he asked.

  I walked past him into the house. “Do you live alone?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Why did you pull her off the story?”

  “This doesn’t concern you,” he said. His confusion was changing to anger. “I’m going to call the police.”

  “It does concern me. Did you know they killed her?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Elizabeth. She was murdered last night.”

  “That can’t be true,” he said moving back to confusion.

  “She was. So let me ask you again. Why did you take her off the story?”

  He walked into the den around the corner from the door. I followed him in, and he sat down.

  “I got a call from our corporate office. It was Michael Holden, the VP. He told me that there was someone looking into a guy named Jackson Morgan. It would be in the company’s best interest if that was dropped.”

  “So much for media non-bias.”

  “We all have to answer to someone,” he said.

  “And your integrity stops at William Keller.”

  His brow wrinkled. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, that Jackson Morgan worked for William Keller on his security detail.”

  “Oh” was all he said.

  “His security detail is the one that killed Elizabeth.”

  “How do I know this is true?” he asked.

  “I guess, you don’t. Until her body shows up. Or she doesn’t show up to work tomorrow.”

  I looked at him. “I need to know if it matters to you.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because if it does, when this plays out, you won’t stop looking for the truth. Even if corporate tries to stop you.”

  “Man, I didn’t know. I would have never pulled her off.”

  “Alright. It’s not entirely your fault. Had she listened, she would still be alive.”

  “Man, I don’t believe this.”

  “Believe it. I can’t promise you the story. But you might want to push back on your VP. See what happens.”

  I turned to leave, and he asked, “Who are you anyway?”

  “Just a guy who hates bullies. I’m the one who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  I walked out of the house.

  23

  I pulled out of the cove as my phone buzzed. The Instagram icon showed a notification. Pulling over, I opened the app. A message appeared from Angela Kerry.

  “What is this about? I knew a Becca in high school.”

  I typed a response. “Can I contact you and talk? It involves your father.”

  Her response was delayed. “What did he do?”

  “Can we talk?”

  “Yes,” she ty
ped. She gave me a user name for a video conferencing app.

  Five minutes later I had the app downloaded and searched her name. The app rang like a phone. The screen turned black for a second, and then her face appeared. She was young. Her face was smooth, but dirty. Like she had been working in, well, Africa.

  “Miss Keller?”

  “Yes, what is this about?”

  “I’m Max. I was taking a chance that you knew Becca.”

  “I did,” she replied. “What is this about my father?”

  “Did he know her?”

  Her eyes welled. “What did he do to her?”

  “You know what kind of a man your father is?” I asked.

  “Ha! Do I ever. Why do you think I’m in Africa?”

  “Becca was murdered last week.”

  “What! No! Did he do it?”

  “Not personally. He had one of his guys do it.”

  “Was he sleeping with her?”

  “Seems to have been.”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I shouldn’t have left her. I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

  “Do you know about the videos?’

  She nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

  “Did your dad video anything?”

  “Not all the time.”

  “He was videoing Becca when she was in her early teens. He said he raised her.”

  “I hate him,” she rasped.

  “Where would he keep those videos?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Why?”

  “I want to shove him so far in a hole he never sees the light of day.”

  “I don’t know where he keeps them. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” I said.

  “How did you know Becca?”

  “Becca was like a little sister. She came to our church with her aunt. Her parents were gone.”

  “Your parents went to church?” I asked surprised.

  “Of course. Appearances. Her aunt was as evil as my father, though.”

  “What was her name?”

  “I don’t remember her first name. Her last name was Thompson. She had like a foster program through the church. Fostering kids and finding them homes.”