Justice for Aleta

by Deanndra Hall

  “You now are the investigation. You now have an identity with the cartel. They know who you are and what you’re doing. You can’t be effective because there’s a target on your back now too. Do you understand that?”

  Jack dropped his head and pinched the bridge of his nose with a finger and thumb. He had no control. He had no say. He and Aleta were at the mercy of every other law enforcement organization, including the FBI―except his own. “I do. And I guess that’s that.”

  “It is. But you have to trust us to keep you safe. Do you?”

  “I do.”

  “Good. We’re going to end this as soon as possible. We can let Menendez do that for us, but we still won’t have the Stone girl back, so we have to find Moss. Dax or I will let you know what’s going on as it unfolds.”

  Jack thought it was grossly unfair that a Texas Ranger knew more about what was going on than he did. “What’s Dax’s role in this now?”

  “None now, except to be an extra set of eyes and ears for us and a contact for you. If you need somebody and can’t seem to reach anybody, call him. And if you need moral support and somebody to tell you things are gonna be okay, there’s nobody better for that than Dax. He told me your nickname is Kentucky. If Texas Ranger Daxton Chambers has given you a nickname, he’d go to the mat for you. It’s a huge point of honor for him.”

  “Thanks. I needed to hear that. Anything else?”

  “Stay strong, brother. It’s gonna be okay. And listen, your brother, Amos? He’s worried sick about you and the Culp woman. Stay in touch with him. He needs to hear from you daily to know you’re all right.”

  “I’ll call him. Thanks, Cruz. I appreciate everything.”

  “You’re welcome. Sorry to ruffle your feathers, but the goal here is to get both of you through this safely, and this is the best way to do it. I’ll be in touch. Later, Kentucky.” With that, the call ended and Jack sat there, trying to figure out if he should be grateful or totally pissed off. He opted for grateful. It was out of his hands anyway.

  “I thought you were making breakfast,” a sleepy voice said.

  “I was, but I got a phone call.” He tried to break an egg into the bowl but wound up crushing the shell into a million pieces that all landed in the egg white.

  “I don’t want to know, do I?” Aleta asked, making her way to the coffee pot and starting the process of brewing their morning elixir.

  “No. You do not.” Jack got out more eggs and started again. If that was the way the day was going to start, he was sure the rest of it would be craptastic.

  “Jack!” Aleta’s panicked voice through the bathroom door startled him and he dropped his bottle of body wash. “Jack! There’s somebody at the door! Jack! Please!”

  “Got it, babe! I’m on my way!” Hair still full of shampoo that dripped into his face and stung his eyes, Jack grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his midsection. His Glock lay on the countertop in the bathroom, so he snatched it up. Aleta was standing outside the bathroom door, trembling. “Go back in the bedroom. Close and lock the door and get down behind the bed. Do NOT come out until I tell you to, got it?” She nodded. “Go! Now!” He waited until she’d scurried away and he heard the bedroom door’s lock click before he proceeded through the house.

  Sliding along the wall, gun in one hand and the other clutching his towel, he made his way to the front of the house. When he could finally see out the sidelight, he let out a huge sigh of relief, shut off the security system, and opened the door. “What the fuck? Did you guys give any thought to calling ahead? You scared the shit out of me, and Aleta’s sitting on the floor behind the bed, shaking.”

  “You’re expected in the conference room of Post Four in thirty minutes.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re just gonna have to wait. I’ve obviously got to finish my shower, but first, I’ve got to go calm her down.” He turned from the two men, pissed as hell. Fucking FBI. They just did whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. To hell with anybody else. He knew they were there to transport them safely, but he really didn’t care. “There’s hot coffee in the pot. Help yourselves.”

  “Thanks,” one of the guys said and moved that direction.

  “Wait. You know who we are. Who are you?”

  “I’m Agent Collins and that’s Agent Braxton,” the taller of the two men answered.

  “Collins and Braxton. I’m sure it’ll be a pleasure to meet you once the shock and awe has worn off. I’ll be back.” Stomping off toward the back of the house, Jack knocked on the bedroom door. “It’s okay. They’re FBI. You can open the door.”

  A frightened, pale face greeted him in the partially-opened doorway. “What do they want?”

  “They’re taking us to my office in a little while. Apparently there’s a strategy meeting or some shit that we’re expected to attend. Well, I’m expected to attend. You have to go because you can’t stay here alone.”

  “Great. Good thing I’m already showered, huh?” she groused and stormed away.

  Well, good fucking morning to us, Jack thought as he climbed back into the shower and rinsed the shampoo from his hair. If they’d wanted to make a statement, they’d succeeded.

  Fifteen minutes later, they were escorted to the big black Escalade the men were driving. As he walked along behind the one in front, Jack noted his simple black slacks and dark gray polo shirt. These weren’t regular agents. They looked more like Secret Service or something, Jack thought. The ride to the post was almost silent, with Aleta whispering questions to him from time to time and him answering as best he could.

  But the biggest shock came when he stepped through the back door of the post. There were loud voices―unusually loud voices―coming from up the hallway in the direction of the conference room. When the agent escorting him opened the door and swept a hand that direction, all eyes turned to Jack.

  He was dumbfounded. There were FBI agents, DEA agents, U.S. Marshals, KDCI agents, KSP regional people, and, of course, Morgan looking none too happy. “Glad you could see your way clear to joining us, Trooper Fletcher,” one of the FBI agents announced. Jack didn’t like his tone one bit.

  “Don’t see that I had a lot of choice.” He wanted to add, Somebody want to tell me what the fuck’s going on? but he didn’t dare. He figured that would be made clear in the next couple of minutes.

  “You did not. I’m Agent Dover, FBI’s Frankfort office. Guys, please introduce yourselves to Trooper Fletcher.” It took five minutes to get through everybody in the room. “Okay, guys, let’s get back to work. Who’s got intel on Menendez?” Another agent jumped in instantly, and Jack watched as all the KDCI and KSP people made notes. The U.S. Marshals looked like they were already up to speed. In a couple of minutes, the DEA guys contributed some information. None of it really seemed relevant, except to explain what Menendez and Ortiz had been up to for the last six months. It was enlightening, yes, but not necessarily useful, at least not to the current investigation. They went on like that for another ten minutes, and then the door opened. When the man stepped into the room, Jack almost fell out of his chair.

  It was Colonel Wallace, Kentucky State Police Commissioner.

  Holy shit, this is serious, his brain whispered, and he tried to pay attention. If Colonel Wallace was involved, there was some component there that he didn’t know about, something no one had told him. When the DEA agent speaking stopped, Agent Dover said, “Welcome, Colonel Wallace. Would you like for us to bring you up to speed?”

  “No. Not necessary. Captain Seitzer, Trooper Fletcher, and our guys from the Frankfort office are here. I have complete faith in them to be able to handle the situation.” Jack’s respect for the man soared, and he understood Morgan’s trust in his men. Wallace fostered it from the very top, and that went miles toward having people who would risk their lives to do their jobs.

  Dover started again. “But I thought you’d―”

  “Not necessary. I only came by to say one thing.” Jack watched the man, who wasn’t especial
ly tall or imposing, pull himself to his total five feet and some-odd inches tall height and fold his arms across his chest. “You are not taking this investigation away from Trooper Fletcher and Post Four. They’ve worked hard on this, and Trooper Fletcher has put himself in danger in a most precarious way to see that the witness is kept safe and to facilitate the recovery of the kidnapping victim.”

  “Sir, I―” Dover started again.

  “No.” Wallace bent down and planted both hands firmly on the tabletop. “You don’t seem to understand, Agent Dover. This is Kentucky. It’s my turf and I say what happens here. The governor will back me, and if he does, the president will back the governor. You may be FBI field office, but I run the show around here. We’re grateful for your help, but I don’t see a single member of the KSP SRT here.” The Special Response Team was the most elite of the KSP’s officers, and Jack had wondered why no one was there representing them. “You need firepower and I know you’re going to turn to them, but you’ve left them out of the loop. That stops now.” Wallace’s eyes swept the room and when they landed on Jack, the trooper swallowed hard. “Trooper Fletcher?” he barked.

  “Yes, Commissioner.”

  “You know exactly what’s going on here, am I correct?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You were paid a visit by someone who put a gun to your neck last night, am I right?”

  “Yes, sir.” From the corner of his eye, Jack saw some of the other men in the office squirm.

  “And you knew who at least one of those men was, correct?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Where do you see this investigation standing right now?”

  Holy shit, Jack’s brain screamed. He was on the hot seat. Whatever he said in that moment could very well shape the rest of his career as a trooper. “Because of intel from the FBI’s San Antonio office, I knew that would happen, and I knew I was in no danger unless I didn’t comply, which I did. As of this moment, the Menendez cartel has a photograph of Blake Moss, aka Poser, the man who fired the shot that led to the deaths of Frankie McIntosh, Joshua Culp, and Jorie Culp. He’s also responsible for the kidnapping of Kennedie Stone. When news of the photo’s receipt by Menendez hits Ortiz’s organization, my witness and I will be in the crosshairs of Moss, who’ll want to eliminate the only remaining witness other than Stone. And we still don’t know where the girl is, or if she’s even alive. Before any action is taken by law enforcement, we need to know where Stone is and how to get to Moss. Otherwise, this whole operation unravels. If we do this correctly, we can take down Moss, Ortiz, and Menendez’s operation, and recover the kidnapping victim. If we screw it up, Stone is doomed, my witness is doomed, and we either assist Menendez’s organization in their growth as an unfortunate byproduct, or we unleash Ortiz. I understand the volume of product Menendez injects into society through his organization and its impact but, frankly, from where I sit, Ortiz is a much greater threat to the general public, because he’s got a name to make for himself and he has Moss. And that guy? He’s a loose cannon.”

  “Trooper Fletcher,” Wallace began, and Jack steeled himself for whatever was coming. “I’d say you have a better grasp of what’s going on than any of these individual agencies do. You just summed up the situation while DEA is worrying about the drugs and the FBI is worrying about Stone. We’ve ALL got to work together on this. I want to know what’s going on every step of the way. I want the SRT inserted into this investigation to provide firepower. Your men on protective duty can stand down, Dover. The SRT will be on detail for Trooper Fletcher and Mrs. Culp’s security. Agent Davidson,” Wallace said, turning to the KDCI agents, “I want an agent assigned to Trooper Fletcher’s case. Their job will be to make sure the trooper and his witness have anything they need, and I do mean anything.” Wallace stood up straight and folded his arms across his chest. “Are we all on the same page now?”

  “Sir, I’m just following orders, sir, and―” Dover said, trying again.

  “Your orders are about to be changed. I’m calling the field office and I’m sure they’ll back me. Anybody else got any ideas about coming into our house and destroying everything Trooper Fletcher and his Texas contacts have put together?”

  Dover closed his notebook and made a big production of slamming it into his messenger bag. “No, Commissioner. We do not.”

  “Good. Carry on. And you,” he said, wheeling in the doorway and pointing at Jack, “well done, trooper. You exemplify everything we ask for out of our personnel. Stay safe and let these guys take care of you.”

  “Yes, sir, Commissioner. Thank you, sir.”

  “You’re welcome.” With that, the commissioner left the room and everyone sat in stunned silence for a full minute.

  It was Cappy who finally broke the silence. “Braxton and Collins?” The two FBI agents stiffened. “Return Trooper Fletcher and Mrs. Culp to his home. Morton?” One of the DEA agents sat up straight. “We will facilitate your continuing investigation into the drug activity, but that is not the focus of this investigation, so do not try to make it so. Harvey?” A U.S. Marshal nodded. “You will be expected to do transportation of any criminal or victim to wherever they need to go, under your full protection.” The man nodded in agreement. “Wexler?” A KDCI agent Jack knew in passing popped up.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Assign Agent Fletcher to his brother’s case. I want him to be the person they contact for groceries, beverages, clothing, any needs they have. If Trooper Fletcher has a bill to pay or an errand to run, it will be Agent Fletcher’s responsibility. Got that?”

  “Yes, sir,” Wexler answered, and Jack wanted to laugh right out loud. Amos was going to be his errand boy. How awesome was that?

  “Gentlemen, I think we all know our roles now. Dover, you’ll get with the commander of the SRT and brief him on everything that’s going on. FBI and SRT will coordinate for any encounters that might have to happen. Everybody, back to work. We’ve got bad guys to catch and lives to save. As Trooper Fletcher said, we can’t afford to mess this up.” One by one, the men from the various agencies stood and made their way out of the room.

  When only Jack, Braxton, and Collins were left, Cappy looked up at the two FBI agents. “Out in the hallway. I need to talk to my trooper in private.” The heavy wooden door of the conference room closed behind the two men and Cappy turned to Jack. “You okay?”

  Jack chuckled just a little. “I am now.”

  “Good. You knew that guy last night was undercover?”

  “When I felt that gun barrel against my neck, I thought about Dax’s text and knew what was going on. At that point, I knew our fate was sealed if I handed him that picture, but I had no choice, for my own safety and for his. I can see now it was going that direction anyway. No point in trying to slow down the train with one hand.”

  Cappy nodded. “Correct assessment. Mrs. Culp doing okay?”

  “As well as can be expected, considering she’s scared half out of her mind. I’m doing my best to keep her calm.”

  Cappy gave him a lopsided grin. “I bet you are.”

  “And you’re okay with this? Our relationship?”

  Morgan nodded. “It hasn’t interfered with the investigation in any way, and it’s not going to. Wallace is right. You embody everything we want in a trooper, Jack. I have complete faith in your judgment, and if you say you’re not going to let the relationship get in the way of what needs to happen, I believe you.”

  “Thank you, sir. That means everything to me.” He couldn’t believe it. Even after his screw-up the night before, they were honoring him with their trust, and he’d die before he’d let them down.

  “Why would we have you here if we didn’t trust you? So carry on. And please, stay safe. This is a precarious situation. I don’t want anything to happen to you or Mrs. Culp.” As he said those words, he opened the door, and Jack was surprised to see Braxton and Collins standing there with Aleta, waiting for him. “Mrs. Culp,” Cappy said and extended his hand.
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br />   “Sir?”

  “I’m Captain Seitzer, Trooper Fletcher’s commanding officer. I just want to take a moment to tell you how sorry I am for your losses. We’re going to do everything we can to take care of you and Trooper Fletcher and get you through this while getting justice for your husband and son.”

  “Thank you, sir. I appreciate everything everybody’s doing for me, really. I know it’s expensive, and a lot of guys are involved, and it’s hard to do and people might get hurt, but I really am thankful for it all.”

  “I know.” Jack watched as Morgan’s other hand rested on top of his and Aleta’s joined ones. “But there is no price on a human life. Yours is as important as everyone else’s, and we’re sworn to protect it. And make him behave,” Morgan said, pointing back at Jack. “He’s a handful.”

  “Don’t I know it! Thanks again, sir,” Aleta said, her cheeks pinking.

  Goodbyes said, Jack and Aleta let Braxton and Collins lead them to the Escalade and they rolled back toward Jack’s house. A million things flashed through Jack’s mind, but one in particular repeated itself loudly.

  We’re going to be okay.

  Chapter 8

  Jack rustled through the bags. “I thought I asked for barbecue potato chips.”

  “They didn’t have any,” Amos snapped. “I got you what they had.”

  “And where’s my French onion dip? And my reduced-fat chips?”

  “The dip’s in there.” Amos reached into a bag and pulled it out.

  Jack shook his head. “Wrong brand.”

  “You wanted French onion dip? You got French onion dip.”

  Continuing to prowl through the bags, Jack nodded. “I see you managed to find the right cottage cheese. One outta three, Amos. Your odds aren’t too good right now.”

  “Why don’t you shut the fuck up?”

  Jack chuckled. “Why don’t you resign yourself to this detail until it’s over and make the best of it?”

  Amos shook his head. “Nope. Can’t. I can’t believe they assigned me to buy your groceries. I can’t believe this. Potato chips and diet soda.”