The Secrets on Forest Bend

by Susan C. Muller

  “May I have your name, sir?”

  “You have to find this lab. Before it blows up and kills people. The guy cooking the drugs is an idiot, a crack-head that’s used too much of his own product. He got one year of chemistry at community college and he flunked that. Everything’s open at once, and he’s too dumb to even use Pyrex. He’s using regular metal pots and pans. He thinks ‘cause the first batch turned out okay that he knows what he’s doing.”

  “Where is this lab, sir?”

  “On Forest Bend. North side of the city, off the I-45 feeder. It’s the last house on a dead-end street, and it’s kind of blue-looking. Nobody lives there, and my bro...some people moved in and started cooking meth.” He let his voice raise to near hysteria.

  “Please stay on the line, sir, while I contact the police and fire department.”

  “If you send them SWAT guys, tell ‘em to stay way back. I don’t want nobody getting hurt. And that thing could blow any minute. You can already smell it from the street. Don’t you hurt nobody inside. They’ll come out if they know they’re surrounded and don’t have no choice. Better the slammer than the cemetery.” He didn’t need to fake the concern in his voice at sending anyone into that house.

  Adam turned off the phone and took out the battery, but drove until he was out of the area before breaking the plastic into small pieces and dropping them out the window one at a time. He wanted the call to register as coming from a cell tower near the house, but he didn’t want the pieces found anywhere close.

  He took out his personal cell phone to signal Jillian, but cut it off before he finished dialing. He should have planned better. If the 911 call could be traced to a specific cell tower, so could his warning call to Jillian. Why hadn’t he thought about that? Several miles passed while he contemplated the problem. It had been a couple of years at least since he’d seen a pay phone outside, or inside for that matter. Finally he called Ruben.

  “I hate to ask, but I need one last favor. Would you call Jillian on her cell, let the phone ring two or three times, then hang up?”

  “What the hell are you up to? Don’t tell me you’ve involved her in whatever mess you have going. Have you got any idea what a dangerous game you’re playing?”

  “I can’t talk about it now. When this is over, I’ll tell you all about it, but for the moment I need you to trust me and make the fucking call. Can I count on you for that? It shouldn’t get you in any trouble. She’s had dinner at your house for Christsake. You could call her to see how she’s doing.” His voice rose with each word.

  “I’m not worried about me, you fuck-head. I’m worried about you. I know you’re up to something bad, and I don’t want to see you go down. You’re my partner, and I’m the one that should be watching your back. I know you like her, but she’s a civilian, and she’s not trained for this type of thing. She might not be able to hold up when they start questioning her.”

  “Of course, you’re my partner, that’s why you couldn’t do it. Anyway, it had to be her. I’ll explain it later, but if you’ll do this for me, you will be watching my back. But it has to be done now. Can I count on you?”

  “Mierda. Hang up the damn phone so I can make the call. Next time, include me from the beginning. It takes more than one mind to think of every possible disaster, and you aren’t devious enough. At least, I never thought you were.”

  Jillian let Heather pick the radio station and they sang together until she reached the store.

  They were standing at the back of the store reading humorous birthday cards and laughing when she felt her phone vibrate. She had a six-pack of beer in her cart, along with a package of glittery hair clips she was never going to use and a rose-colored blusher Heather had picked out for her. She had to admit it was a more flattering shade than the one sitting discarded in her dresser.

  Except for the hair clips, she hadn’t actually minded the time with Heather. Now that she wasn’t carrying around so much guilt over Heather’s death, she saw what it could have been like to have a sister.

  The first time Heather died had been an accident and not her fault. She knew that now. How was she going to handle the remorse when it was her responsibility? What right did she have to take Heather’s life, such as it was? But could she ever trust Heather to stop endangering other people?

  “Once we get rid of that pathetic loser boyfriend of yours, we can start to have some real fun.” A female shopper passed through Heather without noticing, and Heather swatted at the gallon of milk she was carrying. The carton split open when it hit the floor, soaking the woman’s pants and filling one shoe with cold milk. Heather’s laugh sent chills down Jillian’s spine.

  Heather was still chuckling as she marched toward the front counter. “Come on, let’s check out. I’ll mess with the clerk’s head so much he’ll bag your things with a smile and never charge you for them.”

  “No, Heather, they have a camera. When the register doesn’t add up, he might lose his job.”

  “So? I didn’t like the way he looked at you anyhow, and he never even noticed me. It’ll teach him a lesson.”

  Her heart sank. What had she been thinking? Heather wasn’t ever going to change. This was the only way. “I better go now. I’ll see you in a little while. Don’t forget to light up the house for me.”

  Jillian started for her car, but turned back. “Goodbye, Heather, I’ll see you soon.”

  Jillian was pacing by the back door when Adam pulled up. Her relief at seeing him unharmed was like a breath of fresh air.

  “Come on in,” she said. “We’ll wait together.” The thought of waiting in her apartment alone made her stomach cramp.

  “No, I can’t be here when the shit hits the fan. I won’t involve you any further. How did things go on your end?”

  “Fine, I guess.” Jillian leaned in the open window. “She promised to light the candles for me.”

  “Good. Go upstairs immediately and call Cara. Talk about the schedule for next week or anything, but make some phone call to prove you were home.”

  “I did that the minute I hit the door. Then I logged on to the computer and paid some bills.”

  “You can call me if you hear anything. That won’t seem strange because we already have a pattern of talking to each other. But you might not hear anything until tomorrow. Who knows how long it’ll take them to find the owner? Or how aggressive they’ll be once they locate you.”

  Great, another thing to worry about. Up till now, she’d only been concerned about Heather.

  Jillian leaned in to kiss him and wrinkled her nose. “You better take a bath as soon as you get home.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be bathed and these clothes washed five minutes after I walk in.”

  In the shower, he soaped and shampooed twice. He even used the fingernail brush. He gathered his clothes for the washer, but stopped abruptly. Tomorrow was garbage day. He could see his neighbor’s can sitting at the curb. He filled a garbage bag with everything, even his belt and shoes. Stepping silently out the back door, he slipped the bag in his neighbor’s can.

  Damn, he hated to lose that belt. It was expensive, but he’d seen too many crooks convicted because they hung onto something with their vic’s blood on it.

  So was he now in the same category as the low-life’s he took off the street? Had he lost his moral compass? Was letting Snake-Eye leave the scene of a crime and dealing with Marshall on his own the first steps down a road he’d sworn never to travel?

  It was something he’d have to think about. And for some reason, his thoughts seemed to be clearer than they’d been since the day he found Manny’s body and first smelled that overpowering perfume.

  On Monday afternoon, three plainclothes officers came into Jillian’s store. Their cheap suits and city issue cars gave them away immediately. She steeled herself, unsure what would happen next.

  The tall one with a receding hairline and old acne scars spoke first. “I’m Detective Hightower, and this is my partner, Detective
Beavens.” He pointed toward a slightly younger man with a severe overbite. Jillian immediately named him Bucky Beavens. “We’re with the Narcotics Division.”

  He pointed to the third man who stood back somewhat and seemed more interested in looking around the store. “This is Agent Collinsworth. He’s with the ATF. We’re looking for J. R. Whitmeyer.”

  “That’s me.” She forced herself to smile. “What can I do for you gentlemen? Are you thinking about upgrading your department-issued weapons? If so, you’ve come to the right place. We carry a full line and give a substantial discount to peace officers.”

  Cara was standing in the door of the storage room, holding Megan and listening.

  “No, ma’am. We’re here about some property you own on Forest Bend.”

  “That old house? Don’t tell me those hop-heads broke in again. Listen, I nailed the door shut, and I have a service cut the grass once a month in the summer. Some neighbors promised to watch the place and if they see activity, they contact me, and I call you to run them out. I don’t know what else I can do. It’s not a nuisance or an eyesore.”

  Hightower shook his head. “There was a problem last night. Someone tried to set up a meth lab and it caught fire.”

  The blood drained from her face. She didn’t have to pretend she wasn’t worried any longer. “Oh no, please tell me no one was hurt. I couldn’t stand it if anyone got hurt.”

  “That’s probably the only thing they did right. It looks like they all ran out the back door seconds before the place blew up. We’ve been checking the hospitals, but so far we haven’t found any burn victims.”

  “Blew up? You said caught fire. What do you mean blew up? Did it catch the neighbor’s houses on fire?” She held her breath, and fear clutched at her heart.

  Beavens spoke for the first time. “Someone called it in moments before it blew, so the fire truck was already on its way. There wasn’t any damage to other property. You wouldn’t have any idea who called it in, would you?”

  “Probably the Del La Garza’s. They’re the closest house and would have seen cars going in and out.”

  “They’ve been on vacation for a week.” Hightower stared at Jillian, but she didn’t blink. He shrugged and flipped his pocket spiral closed.

  “Then I don’t have a clue, unless it was a rival drug gang.”

  “We suspect it was a relative of the chemist, worried about his brother’s safety,” Collingsworth said. “There is another matter we’re concerned about. The house was full of weapons.” Collingsworth stepped closer to the counter.

  “Aren’t drug dealers known for keeping a cache of weapons nearby?”

  “This looked more like a business.”

  “Hey,” Jillian put her hands out. “I run a legitimate business here. You’re welcome to look at my records. I can account for every piece. The back room has plenty of space to hold anything I can afford to buy. There’s no reason for me to store things off premises.”

  “These seemed to be older weapons. Used pieces.” Collingsworth had definitely taken over the questioning.

  She straightened her back and tightened her lips. “I never deal in used equipment. New stuff only. I have no idea why there were weapons in that house. I haven’t been there in over a year. It’s the house I grew up in as a kid. I inherited it when my father died. I suppose I’m sentimental enough that I don’t want to sell it, but practical enough that I don’t want to live there.”

  Trying to project anger, not fear, she looked each officer in the eyes. “Mostly, I try not to think about it and hope one morning I’ll wake up knowing what to do. I couldn’t afford insurance premiums at the time, but now it’ll probably cost me more to clean up than the premiums would have cost. What do they call that, risking a dime to save a penny?”

  Cara stepped forward, holding Megan. “I’ve only been here a few weeks, but I’ve never seen any used merchandise come through the store. We don’t take trade-ins, and J. R. doesn’t deal out the back door. Everything’s on the up-and-up, or I wouldn’t be working here. Not with my baby on the premises.”

  The officers obviously didn’t know what to make of a new mother and a baby vouching for Jillian’s honesty.

  “We were able to recover one weapon with a readable serial number. We traced it back to a man who says he turned it in for destruction several months ago.”

  Her stomach clenched. Exactly what Adam had tried to avoid.

  Hightower pulled out a small notebook and began reading from it. “He claimed to have given it to a tall, skinny, bald-headed guy. Of course, he didn’t keep any records of the transaction. We called both Headquarters and Central Division, and neither had anyone by that description working there.”

  That was true, technically. Marshall had retired. If they kept prodding, they would figure it out, but if they accepted that answer, they would move in another direction. Adam worked out of Headquarters and they were connected so she didn’t want them continuing that line of questioning.

  “Who knows what he might have done with it? It’s probably changed hands ten times since then.”

  “True. He’s an upstanding citizen, but pretty old and a bit confused. He claims he took it someplace downtown, but he can’t remember exactly where. Then he got lost driving home so his kids decided to put him in a retirement home. He’s a dead end.” Bucky Beavens obviously didn’t have much faith in the mental abilities of older citizens.

  Jillian tried not to show her relief. Finally, they promised to keep her up on the investigation and let her know when she could begin cleaning the lot.

  They left, but Jillian didn’t think it would be a good idea to call Adam right away.

  “If you want to drive out and look at it, I’ll keep an eye on the store,” Cara said.

  Seeing the house in that state was the last thing Jillian wanted. If Heather was hanging around, it would be bad news. Still, it would look suspicious if she didn’t go. She grabbed her purse and started for the door.

  When she reached the lot, a fire truck blocked the road and investigators were sifting through the rubble. The fireplace was still standing along with one wall, but the rest was a smoldering mess. Debris was scattered in all directions.

  A heavy weight settled on her shoulders. Why hadn’t she come to see it one more time before it was gone?

  Not all her memories of that house were unhappy. She’d known some good times, too. She approached one of the firemen.

  “If you find any pictures intact, would you save them for me?”

  “It’s not very likely, ma’am. What the fire didn’t get, the water did. But if there’s anything left, it’ll be put to the side.”

  Jillian stood and watched for a few more minutes, but Heather didn’t approach her. Of course, that didn’t mean anything. With the police and firemen around, she would have gone someplace else.

  It took all Jillian’s courage to drive to the park. She sat on the table and waited, but didn’t call Heather’s name. After half an hour, she went home.

  After work, Adam called Jillian from his home phone. He tried to sound casual. “Hi, Jillian. Are you okay?”

  “Mostly. It looks like my old house was being used for a meth lab and it blew up last night. Three guys came to tell me about it this morning. I’m pretty upset.”

  They were careful not to say much over the phone.

  “That’s terrible. Why don’t I come over? I’ll bring something to eat, and you can tell me about it.”

  Adam picked up a double meat pizza and went straight to Jillian’s.

  “Don’t worry about talking here,” he said, squeezing both her hands. “They couldn’t have bugged this place. Now, tell me about it. Did they act suspicious?”

  “Maybe a little, but I think it was more for show than anything. You should have heard Cara stick up for me. One gun still had a serial number, and they traced it to a guy who claimed to have turned it in. I think they asked questions at Central Division and at Headquarters but didn’t get anywhere
. The guy had dementia, and there wasn’t any receipt, so I don’t think they’ll follow up on that.”

  A chill shot down his spine. “Shit. The main thing we didn’t want to happen. Is the house completely gone?”

  “To the ground. You have a future as a demolition expert if you want to change careers.”

  He held his breath as he asked the next question, but he had to know. “What about Heather? Have you heard from her?”

  “I didn’t see her at the house or in the park, but she could be waiting. Only time will tell for sure, but I didn’t feel her.”

  “I don’t feel her, either.”

  Jillian started crying. “She was my sister, and I killed her——twice.”

  He tried to put his arms around her, but she pulled away. “It wasn’t your fault, honey. Not either time. It was a direct result of her own actions.”

  “I know that, but somehow it doesn’t make me feel any better. I was too young to understand what happened when we were kids, so I didn’t grieve. Now I’ve got to grieve for both times.”

  “We’ll grieve together. I’ll be right with you.”

  “I don’t think so. There’s no way you can grieve for somebody you never loved in the first place and who tried to kill you. Anyway, the police are looking for a connection to Headquarters and I don’t think we should be seen together for a while. I never called you at your office, only on your cell phone or at home. Did you call me from your office phone?”

  “No, always from my cell, or at home. Larry and Mike know about us, but this is one time I’m thankful the county and the city don’t like to talk to each other. But if they do ask, you can’t lie.” The chill he felt earlier now encircled his heart. She was pulling away from him, and there was nothing he could do to stop her.

  “Okay then, we should be safe. I don’t think they’ll check that hard.”

  “I’ll step back and let you have the time you need, if that’s what you really want.” His voice caught, but he kept going. “I won’t like it, but I’ll do it for you. Don’t wait too long. It would be a shame to let this slip through our fingers when the way is finally clear for us. I care about you. Don’t forget that.”