Revenge (A Travis Mays Novel)

by Mark Young

  Her grandmother’s face looked puzzled. “Who was this person you trusted?”

  Jessie clutched the glass of tea. “Travis Mays.” She almost spit the words out. “A man I met on the river who teaches at WSU. He used to be a cop, and I got him to help us find out what happened to Tommy.”

  “Well, maybe he thinks this will help?”

  Jessie leaned back and took a deep breath. “Maybe. But he promised to keep my father out of it.”

  Clara smiled gently, lightly rubbing Jessie’s arm. “You’ve never disappointed my Frank, honey. Never!”

  Jessie slowly pulled back. “You just don’t know, Grandma. I’ve never measured up to what he wanted.”

  “Did you ever stop and think maybe it’s the other way around?”

  Jessie looked at her, confused.

  “Your father has loved you since the day you entered this world. He’d do anything for you. Maybe he already knows about this thing and he’s angry with himself that he couldn’t protect you?”

  “I don’t understand, Grandma. He always seems to —”

  “Don’t guess about these things, Jessie. Talk to him. Find out what he’s thinking. The two of you are so much alike, always keeping things to yourselves.” Clara smiled, patting Jessie’s hand.

  “He won’t understand —”

  “Hush, child. Give him a chance.”

  Clara took Jessie’s hand in hers. The soft touch of those calloused hands, fingers gnarled with arthritis, brought back memories of Jessie’s childhood. A time when these hands comforted a frightened little girl. Only seven years old, Jessie watched her mother slowly wasting away from cancer. She remembered the shock of her mother’s death and how her father withdrew into his own world. He became withdrawn, quiet, and angry, leaving Jessie and Tommy to fend for themselves. Like a comforting breeze, Grandma Clara became their place of refuge, a shelter from a motherless world.

  After Tommy’s body turned up, she fled to the comfort of Clara’s arms. Her grandmother — with tears of grief streaming down her cheeks — held Jessie in those arms, comforting once again.

  Clara’s voice brought her back to the present, hands still gently grasping Jessie. “Now, tell me about this fellow. Travis Mays. I want to know all about him.”

  Jessie looked into the other woman’s eyes. “I’ll tell you all about him, Grandma. But I don’t know how long he’ll be alive. This man is going to be in a world of hurt when I get my hands on him.”

  Clara laughed. “I can tell he got to you, child. So I must know everything.”

  Jessie folded both hands around her grandmother’s. As she opened up, the feelings that poured out surprised her. She watched the gentle face of her grandmother, a woman who never judged, who always forgave, always looked at her with those eyes of love.

  Chapter 20

  Lewiston, Idaho

  As Frank drove into the parking lot, Travis spotted Lafata leaning against one of the patrol cars. The agent’s crossed arms and square jaw gave him a chiseled stubborn look, and his frown warned Travis of trouble ahead.

  Frank approached Lafata first. “What did Baptiste tell you?”

  Lafata straightened, eying Frank with unease. “He’s not your man.”

  “How would you know, Lafata? You didn’t keep him long enough to warm a chair.”

  “We kept him long enough to verify his alibi. He was at the Whitewater Casino at the time of Tommy’s death. We have him on security tapes.”

  “Did you ask him about a conversation he had with Tommy just before the murder?”

  “Yeah. We did our due diligence, Frank. Tommy accused him a year ago of stalking Jessie, showing up unexpectedly. He warned Baptiste to stay clear of his sister.”

  “And what did Baptiste say?”

  “He said he didn’t need that kind of trouble. That he’d stay clear.”

  “What about the meeting just before Tommy disappeared?”

  “Denied it. Said they never met.”

  Frank glowered at the agent. “And you believed him?”

  “Can’t disprove it right now. You got something?”

  Travis leaned forward. “Did he ask why you singled him out?”

  Lafata shot a glance at Travis and sneered. “Yeah, professor. He asked. And I told him. You know the drill, being an ex-cop.”

  Travis edged forward. “I’m not concerned about myself, Lafata, I’m concerned about Jessie. He knows she talked. If he is the killer, you just put her in the crosshairs. I also know that smart interrogators gather information. They don’t dish it out to people of interest. That’s police work 101 where I come from.”

  Frank stepped between them. “This won’t get us anywhere, guys. So where does this leave us?”

  Lafata glowered at Travis, before focusing on Frank. “Baptiste returned to work. And, by the way, he wanted to talk to you as soon as you get back from your little trip.”

  Frank looked surprised. “He told you about our trip?”

  “Yeah. As soon as we left your station. Something about San Diego, finding one of your missing persons. Anything you want to tell me about, Frank?”

  Travis saw the agent look from one man to the other, waiting for a reply.

  Frank glanced at Travis before speaking. “We received information on a missing person case my office is investigating. We thought it might have a connection to my son, since my son was his friend.”

  “So, who is this missing person and what did you find out?”

  “The guy’s name is Pete Axtell. But someone beat us down there. Looks like they killed and torched him before we could question him. Waiting for positive ID.”

  “Murdered?” Lafata seemed very interested. “You think this is connected to Tommy’s death?”

  Shifting his feet, Frank took a moment to reply. He glanced again at Travis. “We’re not sure. We found a thumb drive the guy hid in his trailer before fleeing. Someone must have scared him off before Pete could retrieve it.”

  Lafata’s face darkened. “What was on the drive?”

  “Files on customers from Whitewater Casino, personal and financial information. And a video recording of a man threatening Pete. We can’t identify the guy, but he sounds like he might be connected to organized crime. Talked about his people taking Axtell out if he didn’t cooperate. They must have got to him.”

  “And when were you going to share this with me, Frank? This is clearly out of your jurisdiction. Murder of a tribal member falls under FBI purview. You know that.” The agent’s face was livid.

  “Like I said, we still don’t know how all this ties in. But if Axtell is dead, then we’ve got two murders with both victims connected to each other and the casino. That is what I call a strong connection.”

  “You think, Frank.” Blood vessels pulsated on Lafata’s temple. Travis thought the agent might stroke out on the spot.

  Lafata lowered his voice. “I want that thumb drive. Now.”

  Frank shook his head. “Can’t do that, Clay. The drive is evidence seized in our missing person case that has now turned into a murder investigation. I’ll have my people make a copy for you.”

  “I don’t want your people to even touch that thing. We’ll accept custody of the drive and have our forensics people duplicate it.”

  “Okay,” Frank said. “And while you’re at it, make a copy of the unknown man in the video and see if your face recognition programs can put a name to it. He may be Axtell’s killer.”

  Travis heard a cell phone chirp. Frank reached into his pocket and withdrew his phone. “Yeah, honey. What is it?”

  Frank nodded and glanced toward Travis. “I’ll pass it along.” He smiled as he hung up.

  “Follow us back to my office, Lafata, and I’ll turn that drive over to you. And Travis …” He paused, a smile deepening. “Jessie wants to see you at my office. She’d like a word with you … in private.”

  Travis felt a hurricane heading his way.

  Chapter 21

  Clarkston, Washingto
n

  The Roosters Waterfront Restaurant bustled as Creasy approached the waiter and slipped him a hundred dollar bill. “Something nice and quiet out by the water.”

  The man nodded, sliding the bill into his pocket while leading Creasy through the bar. “Would you like a menu now, sir?”

  Creasy slipped into the chair where he had a good look of the Snake River and those coming and going inside the restaurant. “Two menus. One more guy will be coming.”

  He watched a fishing boat chugging upstream, then scanned the restaurant one more time. He saw a familiar figure cutting around a table and walking toward him.

  “Shane Foster. Right on time.” Creasy handed the second menu to his visitor. “Lunch is on me.”

  “It better be with all the money I’ve sent your way.” Foster appeared nervous. “You think it is wise to meet here in public?”

  “Don’t worry, my friend. Nobody’ll notice us in this crowd.” He waited for Foster to sit. “And after today, we’ll never see each other again.”

  The other man’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about? You still got a job to do.”

  Creasy chuckled, but the sound came out strained. “Job’s done. Sign. Sealed. Delivered.”

  “You mean the guy’s coming back here to finish the job?”

  “Nope. He’s gone for good. Sniffing dirt.”

  Alarm deepened Foster’s features. “You … You killed him?”

  Creasy leaned over and grasped the other man’s wrist in a tight squeeze. “Shut up and listen.” He glanced around before continuing. “What was I supposed to do? Two cops on their way to interview your guy in San Diego. Face it, I did you a favor.”

  Foster leaned back, grimacing.

  Creasy released his hold. “That’s the least of your worries.”

  “What?”

  “The cops found a thumb drive with everything you wanted stored on it, including one thing you didn’t want. A video of you threatening the dead guy.”

  “You’re kidding.” Foster looked sick.

  “You fool. That schmuck taped your threats. And the cops have that recording.” Creasy waited, watching the other man’s face whiten. “Only a matter of time before they identify you. If you’ve got a place to hide, now is the time to start running.”

  Foster started to rise. Creasy grabbed his arm once more. “Wire me the rest of the money and I’ll never bother you again. Fail to do that, the cops will never be able to find what’s left of you when I’m through. Understood?”

  The other man sank back in his chair.

  Creasy leaned back. “Now, shall we order?”

  Foster slowly rose. “I’ve lost my appetite.” He stood, unsteady, shaken.

  Creasy chuckled as he watched Foster slowly stagger through the restaurant. He knew where Foster would go. As with all clients he mistrusted, Creasy wired everything they touched — home, office, and girlfriend’s apartment. There was nowhere to run if he decided to go hunting.

  Creasy turned his attention to the menu as the waiter approached. He leaned over the table. “Ready to order, sir?”

  “Yes. I am suddenly ravenous.” Thoughts of hunting made him hungry like a lion on the prowl. First he’d eat. Then he’d start stalking his next kill.

  Chapter 22

  Lapwai, Idaho

  Travis saw Jessie — arms rigid — waiting in the parking lot of the tribal police station as they drove up. Her body language made it clear trouble lie ahead.

  “Frank. How much money would it take for you to keep on driving?”

  “You haven’t got enough, my friend.” Frank chuckled as he slid the car into a reserved parking spot near Jessie. “See you inside.”

  Lafata pulled up alongside Frank’s car.

  Travis opened the car door. “I’ll catch up with you two later.”

  “You mean if you survive?” Frank locked the car, laughing.

  Travis walked toward her. As he neared, he watched Jessie cross her arms, one finger tapping a cadence on her bare arm. Not a good sign.

  She started in right away. “I trusted you, Travis. I thought you’d keep what I told you confidential. Not blab it all over the county.” She stood straight and jabbed a finger at his chest. “I heard the FBI yanked him from his desk and hauled him back to their offices for interrogation. Is that how you keep things quiet?”

  “I didn’t tell anyone but the FBI. Kept you father out of it until the feds walked in and marched Baptiste out to their car. Besides, Jessie, your dad already knew.”

  Her eyes widened. “No way! Only Tommy knew.”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Frank knew even before you told Tommy. He pulled Baptiste aside and read him the riot act. Your dad was prepared to yank his badge and haul him off to jail if Baptiste ever laid another hand on you.”

  Two officers drove into the parking lot and climbed out of their cars. They nodded at Jessie as they walked toward the station. She nodded back, lips clamped tight with anger. “I can’t believe Dad never said anything. Messing around in my life and never mentioning it?”

  “He just wanted to protect you. What any father would do.”

  “Yeah. Any other father would have spoken to their children about it. But not my dad.”

  “He wanted you to come to him. To trust him with your problem. It hurt when he found out you went to Tommy instead.”

  “It wasn’t his concern. I didn’t —”

  “You didn’t want him to know you dated Baptiste? That you lied to him?”

  “That’s not what I meant, Travis. I just wanted my private life to be … private.”

  “Then you should have picked someone else. What did you expect? He wouldn’t find out?” Travis saw a young woman emerge from the station. He watched as she walked across the street toward the Indian health center.

  “The FBI still has Baptiste?”

  “Nope. They released him an hour after they picked him up.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Baptiste has an alibi. He was throwing money away at the Whitewater Casino when someone killed Tommy. They have him on security tape.”

  “And now he is out? He probably thinks I’m the reason the FBI picked him up.”

  Travis leaned against her car. “He knows I’m the one that dropped a dime on him. He gave me a look you wouldn’t believe when they snatched him up. Lafata gave me up right away.”

  “Why’d he do that?”

  “I dunno. For some reason I seem to tick him off.”

  Jessie rolled her eyes. “Well, you do have that effect on people. Is it something you learned or did you just come by it naturally? Oh, wait, that’s how you described me.”

  Travis ignored the barb. “By the way, remember when Baptiste just happened to drop by my place when you were visiting. He told us your dad sent him to take you back. Remember?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Frank says that’s a lie. Your dad asked dispatch to have them check for any patrol units that might be close to Three Rivers. Baptiste came on the air and said he was in the area.”

  Her eyes widened. “Following me?”

  “That’s my guess. Your dad must not have scared him enough. I’m still not clear why Tommy referenced your problem on his computer just before he disappeared. Any ideas?”

  Jessie shook her head. “I thought Tommy frightened Baptiste away. That it was all handled a long time ago. By the way, did Pete Axtell give you any information?”

  “You didn’t hear?”

  She shook her head.

  “I’m sorry. I should have told you. Someone beat us to him. Killed him and then torched the apartment. At least we think the body they found is Pete. We’ll have to wait to be certain.”

  Jessie hugged herself as if cold, although it was warm enough for an afternoon sun to toast the asphalt they stood on. “You think the two murders are related? Pete and Tommy?”

  “I think we need to consider that possibility.”

  The car window between them exploded in a h
ail of glass.

  A sniper. He heard a rippling shot from the hill above them.

  Travis grabbed Jessie by the arm and dragged her to the other side of a parked car, keeping the vehicle between them and the shooter. “Stay down.”

  He knew by the sound of the rifle the shooter fired some distance away. The bullet must have passed between them. He low-crawled to the bumper, peering around the car as he tried to place where the shot came from.

  Nothing seemed to be moving. Cars slowly passed by the police station. People milled around the street seemingly oblivious to danger.

  The shooter might be ready to take another shot.

  “Stay right here, Jessie. I’m going for help. Keep your head down and stay on this side of the car. Understand?”

  Jessie nodded, her jaw tight.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  He sprang from the protection of the car and zigzagged to the front door of the police station. No more shots. He burst through the door. Francis stood guard at the counter, surprise on her face.

  “Tell Frank there’s a sniper outside. Jessie is pinned down behind one of the cars.” He gave out the direction of the shooter, then whirled around and retraced his steps, reaching the car without hearing another shot.

  The sniper must be gone.

  He waited several minutes, then saw Frank running from the station, a rifle in one hand and several vests in the other. The chief ran toward them, flinging himself on the ground next to Jessie.

  “Are you all right?” His eyes searched for injuries.

  “Yeah, I’m okay. Who would want to shoot at us?”

  Frank glanced at Travis. “Not a clue, honey.”

  Travis watched father and daughter huddle against the car. First, Tommy gets killed. Then someone takes a shot at Jessie. He thought of where they had been standing. The shot struck between them. From that distance, the shooter might have been aiming at either one of them. Or he deliberately missed.

  Two burly officers, each grasping ballistic shields, emerged from the station and crouched their way toward Jessie’s car. Frank pointed toward his daughter. “Take her first. Travis and I will bring up the rear.”