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

by John W. Mefford

  Innocent, my ass.

  “Yes, Erin?” I could feel my body temperature rising with each beat of my pulse.

  “I was thinking that I’d like to get my ears pierced.”

  “That’s all?” I said casually, the tension already dropping.

  “Mostly.” She sucked in her lower lip and bit it.

  We were now unhooked, and she was starting to take in more of the artwork around us. Apparently, we had waltzed into another section of the museum—a lot of paintings with vibrant colors.

  “Mostly. That’s all you’re going to say?”

  She turned around and flipped back her long, dark hair so I could see her ear. It was cute, just like her. “Well, I was thinking that I’d like to get multiple piercings, maybe three on this ear and four on the other?”

  “You’re not trying to be twenty-one again, are you?”

  She knew I was referring to our summer vacation, when she just happened to make friends with some college kids on the beach.

  “Mom, are you really going to bring that up? I don’t want to fight. Besides, you know I was really only interested in learning more about Corey’s marine biology major. Well, mostly anyway.” She winked at me.

  “You’re right.”

  She stopped and put a hand on my arm. “Wait, did you just say I’m right?”

  “Very funny. I know I’m not perfect, Erin. There isn’t a blueprint on how to master parenting. But just tell me you’ll keep the piercings contained to your ear.”

  “Totally, Mom. I just want to be able to express myself.”

  I nodded and smiled.

  “You know, kind of like this cool painting behind me here.” She swung around just as a man passed by, sipping from a bottle of water. Erin knocked the plastic bottle right into his face, spilling liquid all over his blue shirt.

  “Oh my God, I am so sorry,” she said with both hands at her head.

  The man froze for a moment, apparently stunned by the lightning-quick jab from Erin, who reached down and picked up the bottle of water and handed it to him.

  “Thank you.” He slowly turned around, and I held up a finger.

  “I know you.”

  A warm smile came over his face. “I starred in Aquaman.”

  Erin had a confused look.

  “I’m just joking,” he said, tugging at his soaked shirt. “At Dr. Strickler’s office, of course. Alex, right?” He leaned closer. “The FBI agent.”

  I nodded. “Small world,” I said, once again admiring the sparkle of his dark eyes and his streaks of silver hair.

  “This is kind of my home away from home.”

  “You work here?”

  “They pay me a small stipend, but I really do it because I love being surrounded by such amazing beauty.”

  Erin’s mouth opened as she looked at me.

  “You know I’m talking about this incredible collection of artwork.” He began to chuckle, then pulled out a handkerchief and blotted his shirt.

  “Of course.”

  “Not that you and your daughter aren’t…well, I’m just digging myself a hole, aren’t I?” He paused and blotted his shirt again. “Don’t answer that,” he said with a slight wink and an unassuming smile. “So, are you guys just having a mother-daughter day out at the MFA?”

  “MF…what?” Erin giggled.

  He smirked. “Good one.”

  “Oh, this is Erin. Say hello to… I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name in the middle of the fight against Spike.”

  “He’s the man who helped kick the gun away?” Erin asked.

  “I tried telling you I’m a super hero. Today Aquaman, tomorrow the Incredible Hulk.” He winked again and released a slight chuckle. He held out his hand until I shook it. “I’m Colin Brewer.”

  “Colin.” I gave Erin the signal to also shake his hand. “We’re actually here for Erin to get some information on a school project.”

  “Oh really? What’s the topic?”

  “I need to figure out something that interests me and write a paper on it and tell the teacher why,” she said.

  “Yes, so far, we’re striking out though. She’s finding it a bit difficult to relate to any of the various periods of art.”

  “I don’t know, I kind of like this stuff,” she said, swinging her finger to the art on the walls near us.

  “Interesting,” Colin said. “Tell you what, if you’ll give me a minute to go grab a towel and dry off a bit, then I’ll be happy to give you a brief tour of our Impressionism section, which actually starts right here in this very room.”

  “Impressionism,” Erin repeated. “That could be really cool.”

  “You sure you have time?” I asked.

  He splayed his arms. “It’s what I love to do. Back in a second.”

  Erin and I walked around the room. Every few paintings, she would pause, and her eyes seemed to study all the different colors and brushstrokes. Colin came up with a towel in hand and saw the same thing I did: Erin was into it.

  She turned around and faced Colin. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure. That’s what I’m here for.”

  “Why are the paintings so…you know, not very detailed, just splotches of color?”

  “Great question, Erin. That’s the very definition of an Impressionist painting. In France during the late 1800s, this type of painting was considered to be nothing more than sketches by most painters and critics, something that would essentially serve as an outline, to preserve an idea so they could later come back and paint a more detailed, refined version.”

  Erin nodded. “So how did it become this big deal if everyone thought it sucked?”

  “Let’s walk and talk a bit,” Colin said, clasping his hands as he strolled through the colorful gallery. “Paris was one of the centers of the artistic world in those days, and there was really just one official exhibition for artists to sell their works. It was called the Salon. But the qualification process to show your work at the Salon was arbitrary.”

  Erin raised part of her upper lip.

  “He means random, or maybe subjective.”

  “Indeed, Alex. Most of these artists had been rejected by the Salon over the years, and they just didn’t feel like they were getting a fair shake. So the artists pooled their money together, rented a studio, and set a date for their first collective exhibition. They called themselves the Anonymous Society of Painters, Sculptors, and Printmakers.”

  Erin put her hands in her skin-tight jeans. “Kind of reminds me of the movie, Dead Poet’s Society.”

  “I can see that,” Colin said.

  “Since you have a whole gallery filled with this work, I guess it kind of caught on.”

  “Yes and no. Initially, they had to endure a tremendous amount of criticism.”

  “Who are some of the most recognized Impressionist artists?”

  “Have you heard of the names Monet, Renoir, Degas?”

  She smiled. “Yes. That’s kind of cool.”

  “It’s my favorite form of art, mainly because of how the artists focused on a particular moment in a scene. They typically painted outdoors to capture the appearance of light on the various forms in the scene, maybe how it shimmered against a body of water, or how clouds moved through the air, or maybe viewing a moving train through a burst of rain.”

  Erin’s eyes gravitated back to the painting in front of her, a flowing river with the soft sun setting behind it, just before the calm water spilled into a churning ocean. She moved farther down the line of paintings, now stopping at each one.

  “I think you did the unimaginable,” I said to Colin with a smile on my face.

  “And what is that?”

  “You’ve made Erin interested in something from school. She’s not fond of the typical subjects: math, science, English. I don’t recall her being this inquisitive about a school topic since elementary school.”

  “I’m glad I could help ignite that fire. Growing up, I was always hungry for information, to lear
n everything I could. But I’ve learned that not everyone had the same upbringing or feels the same way, even if they had. The younger generation has so many distractions it’s a wonder they learn anything of substance.”

  “Do you not have kids?” I asked with one eye on Erin.

  “Kids…me? No. Just haven’t found that one special person to share my life with.”

  I had noticed he wasn’t wearing a ring, but that didn’t mean much. A lot of guys chose not to wear their wedding bands, for one reason or another. But I was more shocked that he wasn’t married or somehow attached to a woman. With his casual, approachable demeanor and focus on education, he didn’t have that ladies’-man persona.

  I watched a young man in baggy jeans stroll by and then stop a few feet away. It didn’t take long for his eyes to give Erin the once-over. I took a step in that direction, about ready to pounce on the guy, but something stopped me. I waited. He made his move and said something to her. They began to talk for a moment, and then she nodded toward me. He quickly exited the opposite direction.

  “Do you have to fend off the boys with your FBI-issued sidearm?” Colin said, chuckling.

  “It really came out of nowhere. She was just a regular, little girl, and then over the summer she started to develop. And now she gets ogled everywhere we go. I’m not sure I can handle this transition. Not on top of everything else I’ve got going on.”

  “Stress at work?”

  “Eh. I shouldn’t complain. Everyone has their issues. But I’ve got two great kids. Yep, a good life, that’s for certain.”

  “You’re not married?”

  “No,” I said, not wanting to get into my personal life.

  He pulled out his phone and tapped through a few screens, then he glanced at me again. “Hope I didn’t offend you. I guess I feel like I know you a little bit after our discussion today and our near-death experience at the doctor’s office.”

  I hadn’t put a lot of thought into how the incident with Spike at Dr. Strickler’s office would impact a normal citizen, someone who had probably never witnessed such rage and aggression.

  “It takes a lot more than that to offend me. I have to say the incident at Dr. Strickler’s office was as bizarre as it was disturbing. I might be in the FBI, but I don’t live for those times. And I’m sure it wasn’t easy for you to process.”

  “I appreciate your concern.” He touched my elbow, his eyes warm with gratitude. “Well, there is one way of looking at it. I didn’t have to go very far to talk through any issues.”

  “Then again, it was our doctor who pulled the trigger on the shotgun.”

  Colin nodded while offering an affable smirk. “Good point. And I have to say the gun blast nearly made me throw up my lunch. Certainly didn’t expect that.”

  We both chuckled for a quick moment. “I just hope that Ashling understands she’s worth more than being with a guy who treats her like shit. No offense.”

  He winked again. “Sounds like another case for Dr. Strickler. I think we’re going to keep him in business for quite a while.”

  Part of me wanted to ask about his issues, why he felt like he needed to see a shrink. From my limited perspective, the greatest stress he had to deal with was a spastic teenager spilling water all over his clothes. But I knew all of us had something buried deep inside.

  I felt a buzz from inside my purse, and I knew I’d received a text. Erin happened to look my way and smile as she shuffled to a painting that featured a family having a picnic in a field of wild flowers. With white puffy clouds dotting the sky and a giant tree in the foreground, the sunlight cast a spindly set of shadows.

  I let my eyes wander a bit, taking in more of the paintings, then the second buzz came.

  “Uggh,” I said, digging through my purse for my phone.

  “Uncle Sam needs you?” Colin asked.

  I finally felt the metal edging of my cell phone. I pulled it from my purse and saw a text from Nick.

  Terri said you want to meet tonight. Good timing. Tripuka met with lawyer late today.

  “Crap,” I said, my intensity already on the increase.

  “Something wrong?”

  I waved at Erin.

  “Just, uh…Uncle Sam calling, so to speak.”

  Erin walked over, and I told her we needed to leave.

  “I’m not sure I have everything I need, but I guess I can check online,” she said.

  “Tell you what,” Colin said, patting his pockets until he pulled out a business card from his back pocket. “If you have any questions or want to learn more, feel free to call me, email me, or you can just meet me here at the MFA.”

  Erin took the card. “You’re a bullfighter?” she asked with a slight giggle.

  “Ha! I tried to make my business cards lighthearted, showing all the various things I’ve experienced or had a passion for.”

  I looked over her shoulder. Under Bullfighter, I read Curator, Chef, Science Nerd, and then Painter.

  “So you paint as well?” I asked.

  “It’s another passion. What is life without a passion or two?”

  After Erin thanked him for his help, we walked out. I glanced over my shoulder to take another look at the Curator, Chef, and Science Nerd. He was speaking to a couple, pointing to a painting on the wall. It was obvious he loved what he did, and it truly served the interest of the public. Besides being a good-looking man who probably was about my age, he was calm and had lived a life full of experiences. He intrigued me.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if my infatuation with Brad was more of a surface level relationship. Perhaps I was meant to be with a more mature person, like Colin, for instance. As Erin and I got in the car and headed home, I temporarily pushed the uncertainty of my feelings out of my mind. We had to determine if a serial killer was sitting in the Somerville jail. And now that he had finally brought in a lawyer, we probably only had a few hours left before he would walk the streets again.

  14

  I picked up a handful of nuts and started eating.

  “Hey, hey!” Nick said into my earbuds.

  “Sorry, guys. I forgot to click mute when I started eating again.”

  We had just pulled everyone into a conference call and were waiting on Gretchen to join the line. I was sitting under the halo light at the kitchen bar, the kids in bed and Ezzy likely curled up with a book and Pumpkin, our oversized cat, nestled at her feet. I’d spent the evening providing feedback to Erin on the outline of her paper on Impressionism—she’d realized there were a few gaps that needed to be filled—and attempting to reach everyone on the team to get updates on any new information about the two murder cases.

  I shoveled in another mouthful of nuts, trying to squelch some nervous tension, and got started with Terri and Nick.

  “While we’re waiting on Gretchen, do either of you—” I choked on an uneaten cashew. “Sorry.” I sounded like a chain smoker. I gulped down some water.

  “Okay. Take two,” I said, clearing my throat. “Do we have any feedback from Tripuka’s attorney?”

  “Loud and clear,” Terri said. “He told my lieutenant that we either need to charge him with a crime and start the booking process or release him. He gave us until noon tomorrow.”

  “It’s what I was afraid of,” I said, reaching for the water again.

  “It gets worse,” Terri said.

  “What could be worse?” Nick asked.

  “The attorney’s name is Winston Wise, and he has a very litigious trigger finger.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Does the name Gloria Allred mean anything to you? Wise worked at her firm a few years ago. He seeks out clients whose rights might have been violated, and then he threatens to sue the city, the county, and any other agency in his crosshairs to not only get their release but to ensure they are never charged with a crime. In a few instances, it’s gone all the way to a jury. He won one client eight million and another client five point five.”

  “I hate it when suspects who we
know are guilty get smart. It makes our job twice as tough,” Nick said.

  “But do we really know it? We only know that he tried to run me over, and then there’s his probation violation. Not sure what exact charge your DA will file, Terri, but I’m guessing they don’t want to overreach. So, Winston Wise might—”

  “You mean Wise Ass,” Nick chimed in.

  “I like it. Wise Ass could probably get Tripuka pushed through the booking process and get him out on bail before the end of the day tomorrow.”

  “Might not take that long. He’ll scare the crap out of anyone he interacts with.”

  I did a search on Wise Ass and checked out his mug shot. For him, it should have been called a smug shot. His wise-ass attitude was etched on his face, arched eyebrow and all.

  We were screwed unless we could find something connecting Tripuka to Emma or to our cold case. “Terri, did you get ballistics back yet on the bullet that killed Emma?”

  “Just came in. It was a .38.”

  “Okay, we’ve got something. What’s the hold-up on the search warrant, Nick?”

  “I tried reaching out to Meyers and Long Duck Dong—”

  Terri snickered.

  “And they pretty much blew me off. I guess they don’t like the Feds offering any help. I get it. But they didn’t fill out the forms correctly, and it got sent back. You hear anything more, Terri?”

  “Hell no. They only told me that the judge was tied up until tonight.” I heard a huff of air.

  “Okay, let us know the second you have it. Hoping we can find something…a hair, some blood, a chipped nail…”

  “I’ll take the murder weapon,” Nick said.

  “I don’t want to get greedy, but if we’re asking for favors, that would be at the top of the list. Any headway on figuring out Tripuka’s whereabouts ten years ago, at the time our Lopez was murdered?”

  “Sketchy right now. He spent some time in Chicago that year. He actually attended Illinois State for a period of time, but didn’t get a degree. Then he worked at Chicago University. Not sure of his job there, and we don’t know the exact date he returned to Boston.”