In Shadows

by Sharon Sala

  “Yeah, sure! What time will you come by?” Lou asked.

  “Around six. An hour is more than enough time to get there. I’m gonna call Muncy and see if he got one, too,” Paul said.

  “Uh...what do we wear?” Lou asked.

  “Something you’d wear to church,” Paul said.

  “I haven’t been to church since high school,” Lou grumbled.

  “Then long pants and a clean shirt. Can you handle that?” Paul said.

  “Yes. Are you curious?” Lou asked.

  “You mean curious about who Dude really is? I know he’s a Fed. I know he loves a woman named Shelly. I just don’t know his real name,” Paul said.

  “His name is Dude, and I’ll see you tomorrow,” Lou said.

  “Get a haircut,” Paul added.

  Lou yelped. “Crap on a stick! You’re making a damn big deal out of going to eat a meal.”

  “You look like Bigfoot. Haircut,” Paul said. He hung up, then found out when he called Muncy that he had an invitation, as well.

  “I’ll drive over to your house and we can all go together. And that way I’ll get dibs on the front seat,” Muncy added. “I don’t suppose I should bring Dwayne?”

  “Hell no, you do not bring that monster dog,” Paul said. “But you could bring flowers.”

  “For Dude?”

  Paul laughed. “No, dumbass. For his girl. Her name is Shelly, and I’ll bet my dessert that she’s there.”

  “Oh, well, then,” Muncy said. “Yeah, I’ll do that. See you tomorrow evening.”

  “Don’t be late,” Paul said. “It’s rude to be late when someone’s offering you a meal. Be at my place before five thirty. I have to pick Lou up by six.”

  “You are turning into a real Emily Post,” Muncy muttered. “And if we’re gettin’ all picky about shit... If you’re wearing sandals, get a pedicure. You don’t have toenails anymore. You have hooves.” Then he hung up.

  Paul looked down at his bare feet and frowned, then he caught a glimpse of himself in the kitchen window and frowned again. Looked like he needed a dose of his own medicine. He went to find some sandals. He needed a haircut and a pedicure. And while he was at it, he was buying a new pair of pants. The only long pants he owned wouldn’t button anymore.

  * * *

  Shelly woke up the next day excited and anxious. Tonight was their dinner party, but instead of having the meal catered, Jack found a barbecue joint that would deliver and had an order in for delivery tonight at six thirty. The guests weren’t due until seven, so that gave them time to get everything out of to-go boxes and into bowls and on platters.

  He’d ordered pork ribs and beef brisket, baked potatoes and baked beans, and a tub of coleslaw. They had two dozen buttermilk biscuits on the side.

  Shelly ordered an Italian Cream Cake for dessert from a little pastry shop called La Baguette in a nearby strip mall, and for the first time in almost four years, she was going to get to use their good dishes.

  She talked all the way through breakfast about what she should wear, and should she use a tablecloth or her pretty place mats. Jack finally stopped her.

  “Honey. You’re worrying about making everything look pretty, and I’m just hoping they’re wearing shoes.”

  Shelly laughed. “Really?”

  “Yes. Three single men, all in their midforties to early fifties, if I had to take a guess. But they are the nicest guys you will ever meet. Muncy is the one who dug the bullet out of my shoulder and sewed me up. He’s rough around the edges, but as genuine as they come. Lou and Paul don’t live together, but they’re kind of like the Odd Couple. Paul is a less uptight version of Felix. Lou is the Texas version of Oscar. It’s barbecue. If you put a tablecloth on the table, they’ll be afraid to eat.”

  “Then I’ll use the sisal place mats. They look like they’re made out of straw, and give them a pile of paper napkins in the middle of the table instead of those made of cloth. We can also leave the beer in the bottles.”

  “Perfect,” Jack said. “As for you, they’re going to be enamored of you regardless of what you’re wearing.”

  “I do have the Northern Lights going for me,” Shelly reminded him.

  Jack laughed. “Tonight is going to be awesome.”

  * * *

  Deputy Director Wainwright wasted no time updating the director about what Charlie’s widow had discovered, and was given the go-ahead to begin a full investigation. Wainwright had Fred running background checks on all the employees in the Bureau, civilian and special agents alike. Anyone with the initials FR was having their bank records checked for large deposits coinciding with the dates Charlie had posted in the notebooks. Even Ritter was on the short list because his first name was Farrell. Farrell Ritter. FR.

  When Fred pointed out that his initials were also FR, Wainwright frowned.

  “Well, is it you?” he asked.

  “Uh...no, sir.”

  “Then alright,” Wainwright said. “If you’re lying to me, I’ll personally lock you up and throw away the key.”

  “I swear, sir! Maybe you should have someone else run the background check on me just to be fair. I don’t want to be the only one who didn’t get cleared.”

  “Maybe I will,” Wainwright said. “Now, go get busy.”

  * * *

  At the same time, Wainwright sent Special Agent Nolan Warren to get a rundown on Jack’s snitch. After coming up with nothing they could use, Nolan went to the jail where Ritter was being held awaiting trial, to see if he would talk.

  * * *

  Ritter was a scammer and a hustler, and the moment he walked into that interview room and saw the person who wanted to talk to him was a Fed, he began trying to figure out how he could work it to his advantage.

  When the guard handcuffed him to the table, he frowned, but after the guard moved to the door, he eyed the Fed and then smirked.

  Nolan had never worked with Ritter in any capacity, but he guessed from the look on the man’s face that he was an asshole.

  “Mr. Ritter, I’m Special Agent Nolan Warren. I need to ask you some questions, and it would be in your best interests to answer them truthfully.”

  “What’s it worth to you?” Ritter asked.

  Nolan just shook his head. “Wrong. I ask questions. You give answers.”

  Ritter shrugged. “Then ask away. But just so you know, I do not expect to have answers for any of the questions.”

  Nolan ignored him. “How did you come to be a part of Dumas’s crew the night of the bust?”

  “I needed a job. He had an opening?”

  “Is that a question or an answer?” Nolan asked.

  “Why, it’s whatever you need it to be,” Ritter said.

  “Have you ever worked for Dumas before?” Nolan asked.

  Ritter grinned. “I’m not sure. Sometimes I’m high when I take odd jobs and don’t always remember where I was or who I was with.”

  “Jack McCann has stated that you were one of his snitches, and that you’d helped him with cases more than once,” Nolan said.

  Ritter nodded. “And that’s the truth. If I know something, I’ll gladly share it...for the almighty dollar. A man has to eat. I take my jobs where I can get them.”

  “Who planted you in Dumas’s crew?” Nolan asked.

  “Nobody planted me.”

  Nolan persisted. “Then why were you there?”

  Ritter rolled his eyes. “You weren’t paying attention, were you? I already told you... I needed a job. He had an opening.”

  Nolan leaned forward. “Have you ever been in a federal prison?”

  A muscle jerked at the corner of Ritter’s left eye. “You’re the one with access to federal records. You tell me.”

  “I’d say you obviously haven’t, or you wouldn’t be trying so hard to get yourself put there
...say for the next forty or more years. I’m not completely up to date on how much time you serve for crimes against the government because negotiations vary from case to case, but I do know it’s a whole lot more than heisting a car, or getting busted for a dime bag of coke.”

  Ritter’s smile was a little bit forced now. It was the first chink in the smart-ass’s armor, and what Nolan had been waiting for.

  “So, is your memory getting any better as to how you wound up in Dumas’s crew?”

  “I gotta have something for what I give you. That’s how this works.”

  “No, that’s how you worked it before you got involved in stealing from Uncle Sam.”

  Ritter shifted in his seat, and when he next spoke, Nolan heard a slight whine in his voice.

  “If I tell you what you want to know, can we work a deal?”

  “I am not a federal prosecutor. I have no power to give you anything except the promise that you will become someone’s girlfriend when you get to prison.”

  Ritter stifled a moan. “I’m telling you the truth about no one planting me there. I did get the job on my own.”

  “Why?” Nolan asked.

  “Will you at least put in a good word for me with that federal prosecutor?” Ritter asked.

  “If your stuff is truthful, I will tell him you cooperated.”

  Ritter sighed. “Here’s the deal. Morris has been paying me a little something for a while now.”

  Nolan sighed. He’d just found FR. “You’re talking about Special Agent Charlie Morris?” Nolan asked.

  “Yeah, Charlie.”

  “Why was he paying you?” Nolan asked.

  Ritter shrugged. “I might have found out that he was playing both sides. And I might have told him it would be worth his while to give me a little something to keep me quiet.”

  Nolan’s eyes narrowed. “That’s called blackmail.”

  Ritter shrugged. “We just called it an arrangement.”

  Nolan sighed. “Okay, you were blackmailing Charlie. So how does Dumas enter into this?”

  “He was just a means to an end,” Ritter said.

  Nolan slapped the table with the flat of his hand, making Ritter jump.

  “Stop bullshitting me. How did you find out Jack McCann was working that job? Who wanted him dead?”

  Ritter shrugged. “I found out through Charlie that Jack was there undercover. I didn’t necessarily want Jack hurt. What I wanted was to mess up Charlie’s thing with Adam Ito by having that deal go bad.”

  Nolan’s heart skipped a beat. Jack was right. Once Ritter started talking, he didn’t seem inclined to stop.

  “I don’t follow,” Nolan said. “How would outing Jack screw up Charlie?”

  “If the sale didn’t go through, which it wouldn’t when I raised hell about a Fed in the building, then Ito would lose his sale, and Dumas would lose faith in Ito, and Charlie would be cut off from both sides...buyer and seller. If this one went bad, the next time Charlie had a chance to broker another deal, he wouldn’t have any takers, right?”

  “But outing Jack doesn’t make sense. Ito didn’t know Charlie’s name, and he didn’t know he had a Fed on his team.”

  “But I did,” Ritter said. “I knew both of them, and that’s why he was paying me. To keep my mouth shut. Only, he stiffed me on the last deal and then refused to let me in on the one you busted. I showed him what could happen if a deal went sour.”

  “And you didn’t think about what would happen to Jack?”

  Ritter frowned. “No. He was just a means to an end. What you guys call collateral damage.”

  Nolan leaned back in his chair, stunned by Ritter’s thinking process. The whole Bureau was in a fresh panic, wondering what the twist was to Ritter showing up on Dumas’s payroll, and it was nothing more than a snitch’s version of payback.

  “I don’t see the big deal here. I mean, what the hell? McCann survived, so no harm, no foul,” Ritter said.

  Nolan kept thinking of how close Jack had come to dying, and what Ito had done to Jack’s wife to get to him.

  Nolan shook his head. “Sorry, but you read that all wrong. There was harm—great harm. And that was a chickenshit way to treat a man like Jack, who always did right by you,” Nolan said.

  Ritter shrugged. “It ain’t easy livin’ on the street.”

  “It’s way easier than life behind bars,” Nolan said. “But you’ll soon find that out.” Then Nolan stood and motioned to the guard. “I’m ready to leave now.”

  Ritter yelled, “Wait! What about the prosecutor?”

  “What about him?” Nolan asked.

  “So, are you going to tell him I cooperated?”

  “I am going to tell him that you were running a blackmail scam, and when it went south, you targeted Jack to get back at Charlie.”

  Ritter’s eyebrows knitted. “That doesn’t make it sound good on me.”

  “That’s because you didn’t do good. You did bad—very bad.”

  “But you promised!” Ritter cried. “You’re a Fed. You can’t lie!”

  Nolan looked at him in disbelief.

  “Where did you come up with that? You were working dirty deals with a Fed whose whole life was a lie. And for the record, I didn’t lie. You just tried to work a deal and then told on yourself. That’s collateral damage, Ritter. You understand about all that, right?”

  Ritter was still shouting when Nolan left the wing, thinking how happy the deputy director was going to be when he heard this.

  * * *

  The food arrived promptly at six thirty, which soothed Shelly’s first concern. She and Jack put part of it in the oven for it to stay warm, and then put the coleslaw in the refrigerator.

  They’d already picked up the cake before noon, and it was in the refrigerator, as well.

  Every time Shelly went by the dining table, she had to stifle the urge to pretty it up. But the scent of barbecue was beginning to permeate the house, and the longneck bottles of beer were in a tin tub in the kitchen staying cold.

  Shelly wanted to look nice for Jack’s friends and was wearing her favorite summer dress. Pale pink with a high neckline and very little back. The loose fit, which kept it cool for summer, was saved from being ordinary by a hemline ending just above her knees. Her long curly hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck with her favorite silver clip, and the only jewelry she was wearing was her wedding ring and the sapphire ring Jack had given her for their anniversary. It still put a lump in her throat, remembering she’d received it the same day the Bureau came to tell her he was dead.

  Jack was wearing black jeans and a red knit polo shirt. He’d spiked his hair just enough to make Shelly happy and was putting out some tortilla chips to go with the spicy salsa on the table when the doorbell rang.

  Shelly looked at Jack. “They’re here!”

  Jack gave her a quick kiss and then grabbed her hand and took her with him as he went to let them in.

  “Really?” Shelly said, as she hurried to keep up with his long stride.

  “Yes, really,” Jack said. “I have to show off the trophy wife first.”

  Shelly grinned and then stood beside him as he opened the door. Three very uncomfortable men were on the threshold. Two had flowers and one had a big box of candy. When they saw Jack, they grinned.

  “Dude! Is that really you? Damn boy, you clean up real good,” Paul said.

  “Yes, it’s me, Jack McCann, otherwise known as Dude, and welcome to our home. This is my wife, Shelly.” And then as the men filed through the open doorway, Jack named them off. “Paul Faber and Lou Parsons are the two who fished me out of the bay, and Muncy Peters is the best medic the army ever shipped home.”

  The men were taken with Shelly.

  “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Paul said. “The candy is for you.”

  “A ple
asure to meet you,” Lou said. “These carnations are for you, too.”

  “I don’t know what all these flowers are in my bouquet, but I thought they were pretty. Only, they’re not as pretty as you,” Muncy said, as he handed her a mixed bouquet of flowers.

  “They are all beautiful! Thank you so much, and thank you even more for saving Jack’s life. I thought I’d lost him. The biggest miracle in my life was finding out he was still alive, and I have all of you to thank for it.”

  “That night and the ensuing week was the most excitement any of us had seen since the early days in Afghanistan,” Paul said, and then wrapped Jack up in a bear hug.

  Jack hugged them all, thanking them again for what they’d done, and saying how glad he was to see them again.

  Shelly kept looking at them, at the dear expressions on their faces, and the way they kept looking at Jack. They liked him. They really, really liked him, and he liked them, too.

  “Honey, why don’t you show the guys where the beer and snacks are while I put these in water.”

  She led the way into the kitchen and got down her biggest vase. While she was arranging the flowers, the men had already popped the top on their first beers and were digging in to the chips and salsa.

  This was turning into a real party.

  Life couldn’t be better.

  When food finally reached the table, everyone was ready to eat. Jack seated her at the table beside him and let the other three sort themselves out.

  “Don’t brag on this food thinking I cooked any of it,” Shelly said, which made them all laugh.

  Jack grinned as he reached for her hand. “She’s still not a hundred percent from her ordeal, and I didn’t want her stressed out by trying to do too much, too soon. She is a damn good cook.”

  Paul glanced up and then pointed to her eyes. “Can’t help but notice you’re in the process of wearing out two black eyes. Were you in a wreck?”

  “No. I was kidnapped,” Shelly said, and picked up the bowl of coleslaw. “Help yourself and pass it around.”

  Paul felt horrible that he’d even asked. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

  “Oh no! It’s okay. I am alive today because Jack found me.”

  Jack nodded. “That’s most of the reason why I wouldn’t tell you guys anything personal about myself. I didn’t want anyone knowing I even had a wife, but when my cover was blown, everything went downhill fast. They couldn’t find my body, so on the off chance I was still alive, the bad guy snatched Shelly to get to me.”