The Alex Troutt Thrillers: Books 4-6 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set Book 2)

by John W. Mefford

  I reached for the phone and Raul shook his head. “Let the bastard talk from now until Christmas. This has happened before. Now I’m beginning to wonder if he’s taking a payoff.”

  I pointed at the phone and whispered, “He might be able to hear you.”

  “Good! Fuck him and fuck this so-called justice system. Alex, we’re fighting an uphill battle, and the hill is covered in oil. We can run as hard as we can, but the progress we make is spit in the ocean.”

  A few seconds passed, and all that could be heard was the soft patter of rain on the rooftop and the warden’s incessant chatter. Finally, Raul picked up the phone and ended the call. The rain had subsided into an annoying dribble. The windshield wipers on Raul’s government-issued Caprice methodically squealed with each sweep across our vision.

  “Any way you can stop that? It’s giving me a headache.”

  With a wrist draped across the steering wheel, Raul glanced at me, but I beat him to the punch. “Forget it. I’m just pissed, upset even…about what happened at the prison.”

  He popped a knuckle off the plastic steering wheel, then wiped his hand across his face. “The bad guys outnumber us; they have more weapons, and they certainly have more money at their disposal to use for buying off officials or hiring an army of banditos to carry out any number of violent acts. And now, we can’t even keep our suspects alive. Sometimes I’m just not sure we’re capable of winning this war.”

  Raul threw the car into drive and pulled back onto Highway 100, heading south.

  On the way back, we stopped for a coffee. In the small shop, I watched as Raul spoke with a number of the locals. He seemed energized to interact with normal, hard-working people, those who didn’t have an agenda.

  As we got back into the car, holding our coffees, I could hear Raul whistling.

  “That didn’t take long,” I said, sipping on the jolt of caffeine.

  He chuckled once. “You talking about my whistling?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Well, that and your socializing with the locals. Seems like your attitude toward life did a one-eighty.”

  “My wife tells me I’m a prickly pear.”

  I could tell my brow furrowed.

  “I’m a bit emotional. And if something hits me the wrong way at the wrong time, I can get mighty upset in no time flat.”

  “Was that an all-time record with the warden?”

  “Eh. But look what happened. My positive mood might have returned, but Reyna was the kind of break that doesn’t come along often. With very little effort and money, we had a golden goose sitting just outside our door. All we had to do was entice him to walk in.”

  “You know his lawyer might well have been hired by the cartel.”

  “It’s very possible,” Raul said. “But there was still hope. And what else can you ask for, especially in our line of work?”

  That statement hung in the air for another twenty minutes, until the windshield wipers started squeaking against the glass. Now, as I thought more about the impact of Reyna’s death on my world, I had become the one with the sour attitude.

  “You going to tell me why you are so upset?” he asked.

  “Eh. I guess I got wrapped up in the case, in the hope that this Reyna guy would offer us some insight into who those men were that almost killed us.”

  That part was certainly true, but I also had another goal—to try to figure out if there could be any connection between Carly and the thugs who shot up downtown Port Isabel. But I still didn’t want to share my fears about Carly to Raul. Not yet.

  “Well, I appreciate you volunteering some of your vacation time to help me out. Not many people would do that.”

  I forced a smile, gladder than ever that I had engaged the Boston team to dig into Carly’s life. “I had skin in the game, you know that. Just sorry about what happened. The reach of these cartels is truly amazing.”

  I heard my phone vibrating, and I pulled it out of my purse. A text from Erin.

  If u get back to spi any time soon, we’re at the turtle place

  Raul drove me back to the house so I could pick up my car. He said he’d keep in touch if he learned more details about the shooters or the gang to which they belonged. I then drove across the long, arched bridge to South Padre Island. As I turned left onto the main drag, I could see slivers of blue sky amidst thinning clouds. I passed a dozen souvenir and T-shirt shops and cheap motels, and I could see the tops of some of the newer high-rise and high-end condominiums on the beach side. A mile or so north, just before the convention center, I turned left into the narrow, gravel parking lot at Sea Turtle Rescue Center.

  Luke raced over and grabbed my hand before I’d made it up the ramp to enter the covered facility with no walls. “Mom, did you know this place was started by the Turtle Lady? And now look at it!”

  Before I could answer his question, I was interrupted by Erin talking to a turtle in one of the tanks.

  “I’m sorry someone cut off your flipper, big fella. But you’re nice and safe here.”

  I was hoping her new love of turtles didn’t correlate with Corey’s college major: marine biology. Without me saying a word, the kids escorted me from tank to tank, reciting the story of each turtle and what the nonprofit organization’s plan was to rehabilitate them and send them back into the wild. We found Archie next to a smaller tank holding a tiny sea turtle in his hand. The employee encouraged Archie not to drop the little guy.

  “I’m okay. It’s just that he feels so…slimy.” He lifted his head and a silly grin came over him. That was the kind of picture that would be priceless to show to his friends and colleagues. Given his CIA dismissal, Archie was a one-man team, and I didn’t know any of his friends. Then again, he’d done a pretty good job at recruiting me and my team to offer a fair amount of support for his PI business.

  “How did you end up here of all places?” I asked him.

  He handed the turtle back to the employee, then reached for my bare arm like he was going to wipe his hands on me.

  “If you want to keep your hand attached to your wrist, I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Just kidding.” He wiped his hands on his pants. “We were just down the street taking in the special screening of Finding Nemo and—”

  “You convinced the kids to see an animated movie…including Erin?”

  “They thought the old-time theatre was a hoot. The squeaky chairs where you have to lean your neck back to see the screen and you sway back and forth in the seat like you’re driving a hoopty. There was something very nostalgic about the atmosphere and the movie, which they’ve apparently seen a hundred times at home. They were reciting all the lines. Luke was even doing his best impression of the rad sea turtle named Crush.”

  “I understand the connection now.”

  Luke ran up and nudged his head against my side. “Like totally, dude, now give me some fin.” He held up his elbow, and I bumped it with mine. I rustled his hair as he smiled at his own brand of comedy. I was relieved the kids had been able to do something different and fun. And with Archie. Who would have thunk it?

  I thanked the windbag for his help with the kids—one of our few normal conversations I could recall—and then we agreed to split up. Archie went to visit Kyle’s buddies to try to get more information out of them about the night Kyle went missing. Once they were ready to describe the woman from the car, we’d have a group Skype session and I’d bring in our sketch artist. I planned on spending some time with the kids while I waited to see if the Boston team could turn up anything on Carly’s past.

  Erin begged to spend a few more minutes talking to the three-legged sea turtle. She seemed legitimately concerned. It was nice to see her emotionally engaged in some living creature other than herself and her dramatic friends. Whenever she was moody or depressed, she typically would close up and only interact with Pumpkin, our ornery, oversized cat. Maybe she was an animal whisperer.

  As Luke dug through my purse, searching for loose change to dump into the d
onations bucket, I could see Erin speaking to one of the older employees.

  She walked up to me with a smile on her face.

  “I can tell you want something.” I gave her a knowing wink.

  “Mom, I just got through talking to the manager, and they need some help cleaning out the tanks. Can we stay so I can help them?”

  “Oh, that sounds cool. Can I help?” Luke jumped in.

  “They asked me, not you. I’m older,” Erin said, raising her chin.

  “Okay, okay, you two. Back to your corners. I’m assuming this is volunteer work?”

  “Yep, but I figured it’s good experience for me if I want to be a veterinarian.”

  Sounded like the facility just needed eager bodies to do some grunt work, but I didn’t want to burst her bubble.

  Sunrays angled in from the open sides of the facility, and I fanned my arms. The humidity was on the rise.

  “Well, I thought we might get in a swim at Teresa’s house.”

  “We can do that afterward, though,” Erin negotiated. “It will be our reward after doing some real work for a change.”

  Did my daughter just say that?

  “Okay, but only if Luke can help too.”

  “Kick ass,” he said.

  “Hey, any more cussing out of you, and I’m going to make you run laps when we get back to the house.”

  “Sorry,” he said with his pretend pouty mouth.

  My phone began to ring and vibrate. I reached into my purse. “Hey, guys, I’m going to be in the car. Just come on out when you’re done.”

  The kids yelled something back, and I gave a quick thumbs-up to the employee who was looking at me, then I punched up the line as I walked down the ramp.

  “Hey, Archie.” The line went dead.

  Maybe he had dialed my number by accident. I turned to go back up the ramp, when my phone buzzed again. It was a Skype invite. I accepted it, realizing that Archie was probably in a room with Kyle’s two buddies.

  “Hi, Archie.” I made it to my car, where I immediately flipped on the AC.

  The black screen came to life, and I could see Archie with his arm extended, presumably holding the phone, and two guys sitting on the edge of an unmade double bed. Pizza boxes, beer cans, and clothes were scattered all over the room. A generic dolphin picture with a cheap, plastic frame was on the wall, tilting to one side.

  Nothing surprising about the inside of a cheap motel room rented by two college boys.

  “Glad you could join us, Alex,” Archie said. “I was just telling Trent and Ryan about all of your experience in cases like these, but how cool you were with keeping this investigation low-key for now.”

  I knew he had to promise them something to open up, so I wasn’t surprised with the position he’d put me in.

  I heard some other voices in the background.

  “Hi, guys,” I said. “I only want to help find Kyle and get him back safely.”

  “Are you really with the FBI?” The kid with cropped black hair and a SPI tank top looked into the phone and stopped fidgeting with his fingers.

  “You are…?”

  “Trent.”

  I dug through my purse, found my credentials, and held them in front of the phone. “Can you see that okay?”

  “Looks legit to me,” Trent said.

  The other kid, Ryan, nodded. He had a pair of green Beats headphones around his neck.

  “What’s all that extra noise?”

  “Oh, sorry. I’ll mute the TV.” Ryan picked up a remote from the carpet and punched a button.

  “So how are things going, Archie?” I had no idea what new information he’d learned.

  “The boys agreed to answer more questions, but they wanted to meet you first. And, being younger, they think Skype is just as good as meeting in person.”

  “Sure thing.”

  I pinged them with a couple of easy questions, essentially asking them to replay the series of events during party night. We learned the name of the girl that Kyle was trying to woo was Norma and that they met at the bungee jump place. Ten minutes into the interview, once I could see they were more comfortable with the exchange, I decided to ask them a pointed question.

  “If the party house was so dangerous, then why did you guys leave Kyle there?”

  Ryan turned to glance at Trent, who had started rubbing his hands together again.

  Trent scratched the side of his black head of hair. “It’s something I regret, big time.”

  “Me too,” Ryan said defensively, giving his buddy a mean eye.

  “Look,” Trent said. “Kyle could always get himself out of any jam, whether he talked his way out or fought his way out. That’s just Kyle. He’s not the kind of guy you worry about in those situations. Me and Ryan like to, you know, party pretty hard, but the shit going on in that house wasn’t all about partying. They were taking it too far. For some of the women…making them take drugs, and worse.”

  “What do you mean by worse?”

  Ryan spoke up. “Some of the group sex sessions…” He shook his head, then looked over at Trent.

  “We got to get this out. It just wasn’t right,” Trent said.

  “What was it?” Archie asked before I could.

  “It seemed more like gang rape, if you ask me. Not all of them, just in a couple of rooms.”

  “And you didn’t do anything to stop it?” I asked.

  Trent swiped his hand across his eyes and puffed out a breath. “Hell no, and I’m living with the nightmare. But honestly, it wasn’t cut and dry. The girls didn’t fight back, probably because they were so high, but it was still over the top. Just some crazy shit, man.”

  Trent asked if he could get some water. While he stepped out of the view of the camera, Ryan added a new nugget of data. “You were asking earlier about everything that we saw. I don’t think we mentioned this, but I saw some guy walking around taking pictures of people. No one paid him much attention.”

  “How about that one guy?” Trent said, moving back to his previous spot on the bed with a glass of water in his hand.

  “What guy?” Archie asked.

  Ryan pointed his finger at his buddy. “Shit yeah, that one guy with the hairy potbelly. He snapped at the man taking pictures. Not sure if it was the coke in his system or if he had a real problem with his picture being taken.”

  “Did you catch his name or if he worked for any company or government agency?” I asked.

  “His name? No,” Trent said. “But we overheard two girls talking about all the people who were there: county officials, police, district attorneys. And they used the generic term, the Feds. Not sure who they were referencing.”

  That wasn’t a good sign. It certainly didn’t give me a lot of confidence to ring up the FBI office in San Antonio for assistance, although the Feds could have been US Marshals or DEA agents, or the girls could have simply been using the term in a generic manner.

  “Thank you for that piece of information. Now, how long had you guys been gone before you decided to go back and get the wallet? And whose wallet was it?”

  Ryan slowly raised his hand.

  “Did you ever get it back?”

  “No. Not after what we saw with Kyle being hauled off in the trunk of the car.”

  I nodded. “Sorry, how long had you been gone?”

  “Uh, maybe forty-five minutes or an hour. We walked around the area, went to DQ and picked up some burgers and then headed back here to the motel. I started digging for my wallet and then I realized I’d probably dropped it in the bathroom when those two girls tried to—”

  “I don’t need the details, thanks,” I said.

  “We jogged back to the house, which was pretty much a fortress with the concrete brick walls surrounding the entire place. We built up a pretty good sweat, and then snuck up to the side wall, where we heard a lot of voices outside. We climbed to peek over the top, and that’s when we spotted the Mercedes, and Kyle being thrown into it.”

  “Before we tal
k about the pretty woman you saw, how many guys were out there?”

  Trent sipped his water, then started counting off with his fingers. “Two carried him to the car. And I think I saw three others standing around the car. One of those fuckers had a gun.”

  Ryan’s eyes got wide as he nodded. “True that. I’m almost certain it was a Sig Sauer. It looked like a P938. My dad takes that kind of gun on our hunting trips.”

  “You mentioned the red Mercedes. Did everyone squeeze into that car?”

  “Actually, no. I think three of the guys followed in an older pickup truck that had one of those plastic covers over it. The truck was white and the cover on it was white with blue trim.”

  “Good information, thanks,” Archie said.

  “So, if I can figure out how to do this,” I said, “I think we’re ready to bring our sketch artist into this Skype session.”

  Ryan flicked his hand against Trent’s shoulder and looked in the direction of the TV. “I don’t think we need to do that. There’s the chick right there on TV. She just looks a little different, but I swear it’s her.”

  Archie leaned a bit to his left. “What are you guys looking at?”

  The boys mumbled back and forth, while Archie’s jaw slowly opened. Then he turned to both boys.

  “Are you sure this is her?” he asked as the camera rocked a bit.

  Trent snickered. “I guess it could be someone who looks just like her, but if you want a sketch of the person we saw that night, we’d just say it’s that person on the TV screen.” He jabbed a finger at the TV.

  Archie moved even closer, and the camera view angled toward the ceiling, then back to the orange carpeting. Back and forth it went for a few seconds. I felt like I was in a boat at sea.

  “Guys, what are you looking at?” I tried not to sound annoyed with not being able to see what they were looking at.

  “You guys must be smoking crack or something,” Archie said, suddenly irritated.

  Now my curiosity was really piqued. “What is it? Who is it?”

  No response from the boys.

  I glanced up and saw Luke jogging over to another tank, helping out one of the employees. I could run over to that motel for just a few minutes. I tapped the steering wheel with my thumb four times and thought through the idea for another second. What was I thinking?