by John Foxjohn
That night, with time running out on his team, David lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling and picturing Morgan’s body convulsing on the sidewalk.
To get his mind off the dead agent, he ran everything about the case he knew through his mind. The prominent part, the new information given to him and Morgan by the bank president, wouldn’t go away.
He still couldn’t come up with the piece he had tried to think about for a week, but now, he thought it had something to do with Tanton Whistlam, who they knew had opened the account in Justin’s name, and the license. One question would not leave him. How did Whistlam get Justin’s license and then return it to him. Justin’s personal effects recovered from his body listed his driver’s license. David had checked the expiration date of the license and he had two years of four remaining before he had to renew. Justin hadn’t lost it or had it stolen and replaced it.
Sometime late, David fell asleep, but woke early. After a shower, he dressed and met with the agents, giving them things to go back over, look at again.
He took the paperwork left by Beeker to a restaurant. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate. He wasn’t in the mood for food, but figured if he didn’t he’d drop. Caffeine kept him going.
While eating, he took the paperwork out and began. An hour passed before he worked his way to the last page—the insurance benefit page.
With his pen poised, what he had tried to think of for so long blasted through his mind. It hit him hard enough to make him jerk and knock over his coffee.
He snatched the papers out of the way before they got wet, and then sat back as the waitress talked to him and wiped up the coffee. He didn’t hear one word she said. He threw a twenty down to pay for breakfast and almost ran to his car.
He had one stop to make and he thought he could confirm his suspicion. After he made the stop, he jerked his car door open, jumped in, and banged his head against the steering wheel. The ringing phone saved either the steering wheel or his head.
He jerked it up. “Mason.”
“David,” Beeker said, and a silence ensued until David answered.
“Listen. I need to tell Director Baylor something. We need answers.”
David rolled his eyes. “Sir—you can tell Director Baylor that I know for a fact who is behind all this and why. All I need to do is prove it and if you and he would get off my ass, I’ll do just that.”
He hung up on the assistant director of the FBI.
CHAPTER 34
When David hung up, he jerked a plastic filing box from the back seat. He kept important documents filed there. He flipped through them and found the one he wanted. Finally, he had done something right. When he visited the federal judge in Houston, he’d tried to foresee potential problems down the line.
He took out the federal court order and headed toward a bank. He didn’t figure he had much time. As he sped to the bank his car phone rang, but he didn’t bother answering it. He swerved into the bank parking lot and a couple walking out of the bank stopped and looked at him as if he planned to rob it or something.
When he jumped out, the phone rang again, but he ignored it and hurried to the entrance. Boiling mad at himself, he had missed the obvious. Just because he’d joined the bureau, didn’t mean killers changed.
A scared clerk rushed him into the president’s office after he identified himself. He slapped the federal court order on the desk. “I want this person’s accounts frozen this second.”
The president, short and rotund with one caterpillar eyebrow, picked the document up and his mouth hardened. “S—ir, are you sure you want to do this?”
“I wouldn’t be here unless I was.”
“You want all accounts frozen?”
David rolled his eyes. He had said that. “Yes. All of them and now.”
The president bobbed his head and his chins at the same time. He left the office, returning five minutes later. “Is there anything else?”
“Yeah.” David reached into his pocket, jerked his spiral out, and wrote several numbers on the paper. He ripped the page out and thrust it at the man. “If this person comes into the bank, attempts in any way to withdraw funds, I want to know.”
David marched out to his car and a ringing phone, but the phone stopped before he could answer. He threw an irritated wave at the thing and headed for the motel room.
When he opened his door, he found the agents in his room. Melissa leaped up. “We’ve tried and tried to call you. John called from Houston. Hensley came around and they can’t get him to shut up. We know who is running all this.”
David pinched his nose. “Melanie Milam.”
“It’s Melanie—” If David had punched her, she wouldn’t’ve been any more surprised. “Ho—w did you know?”
“Not important now. Melissa, I want you to get on the phone with John and the Houston office. I want a sworn affidavit and around-the-clock guards on Hensley. I don’t want to hear that the Houston field office doesn’t have enough people. They better get some in a hurry.”
Without waiting for Melissa to respond, he spun to face Andy. “I want a search and arrest warrant for everything this woman owns or has come into contact with. That includes her parents, brothers or sisters, anything. We need it in a hurry. Call the judge and have him prepared for it. I need you all to do this from your rooms because I need to call Chief Spears. Any questions?”
“What about me?” Melvin asked.
“I need you to get a picture of Melanie Milam somewhere—somehow and put it in your computer thing the way you did Whistlam and Hensley.”
“Do you think she was the third one?”
Melvin’s question irritated him. At times like this, he needed his people to do—not ask stupid questions. Of course, he thought that or he wouldn’t have asked him to do it. It dawned on him that they didn’t know him well and he hadn’t told them anything about how he operated. All he told them was, if they didn’t know, ask. He took several breaths and cautioned himself to slow down—not make another mistake. “Melvin, I think you will find she is the one who put Justin’s gun on his forehead and pulled the trigger.”
David washed his face with both hands. “Before you leave, I want to tell all of you something. This woman masterminded this entire thing. She personally blew her own husband’s brains out. She ordered the death of the bank clerk in Nacogdoches, James, and the ten-year-old witness. She is the one who shot Hensley, and she is the one who killed Morgan. She is more dangerous than Whistlam. Don’t take any chances with her—don’t give her a break—don’t give her the benefit of doubt. That could cost you your life.”
After the agents rushed out, he sat on the edge of the bed for several long moments to catch his breath and compose himself before picking up the phone. He’d made a mistake rushing to the bank and freezing those accounts—a mistake he didn’t usually make. He had no evidence or anything to back up that move. John’s report and Hensley’s statement had saved his butt on that one.
The problem they had now was, all they had to go on was Hensley’s statement. Milam had planned this well so far. She’d made sure people were in front of her to take the blame.
He picked up the phone and called Chief Spears, asking him to put out a BOLO on Milam and her car, and then he called every law enforcement agency in the area.
* * * *
Melanie Milam’s world started to unravel like an old sweater. Needing milk and other things, she drove to Brookshire Brothers. While pushing the cart inside the grocery store, she ran into Russell Cosby and his wife. Russell worked for Lufkin PD, but he’d been good friends with Justin. While they talked, he mentioned Hensley and when he told her they expected Hensley to live, it took every ounce of her will power not to show her shock.
She said good-bye and pushed the cart to the next aisle, her heart beating like a drum. She had to think and forgot about the milk and everything else. She moved to the pharmacy and found the beauty products section. Selecting hair dye products and other items she th
ought would help hide her identity, she left the cart and rushed to the express checkout, paying in cash because that lane didn’t take checks.
When the clerk gave her the change back, it dawned on her that she didn’t have much cash. She needed to go to the bank and clean out her accounts and fast.
She rushed to her car and sped to the bank. When she began this, she had two major advantages. The bugs she’d placed in Mason’s room allowed her to know what they were up to, but even more than that, she knew every single person in law enforcement in the county. Everyone liked and respected Justin and she had gone to countless parties and functions. As the widow of a slain officer—it was natural that she would want to know about finding her husband’s killers. Cops, no matter what department they worked for, all had one thing in common—they liked to talk. She had their ear because they felt sorry for her. If they knew something, or if a rumor circulated, they told her. She could keep abreast of everything.
Now, that advantage had turned against her. She knew them, but they all knew her, too. She was no longer the widow of a slain officer. She had killed one of their brothers.
She pulled into the bank’s parking lot and put the car in park. Before she could open the door, David Mason rushed out. She melted into the seat, head well below the dash, trembling. Why would he rush out of her bank? Not for one minute did she believe that was a coincidence. She would bet her life he had come there because of her. If she went into that bank, that was what she would do—bet her life. He probably had agents inside waiting on her to show up. They may have cameras set up watching the parking lot. Could be closing in on her this moment.
She wanted to get out of there but was too afraid to move.
She had to run, but to where? She didn’t have any money, couldn’t go to relatives or friends because that’d be the first place they’d look.
She had the car, but they would have the license plate number and if she stayed in it, it wouldn’t take them long to catch her.
She had planned this to perfection—waited until the perfect time. Peterson and his bunch would have never caught her, never even got a sniff of her. They had the crime stopper tip she sent in. That nigger should be rotting in jail. If not, the sheriff should have found the fake bank account in Justin’s name. She knew the sheriff and his cronies were dirty and they would assume Justin was, too. They would have assumed he had crossed the wrong drug dealer.
Her entire plan called for the sheriff’s department to investigate Justin’s death. She had never thought the FBI would come in. But it wasn’t just the FBI—Mason came.
She should have run the moment Mason set foot in Lufkin.
Now, she had to hide but had no place to go. If the bureau hadn’t killed Tanton, she could get fake ID’s and stuff like that. He had had all the contacts for that and she didn’t know them.
An idea occurred to her. She peeked over the dash, but Mason had left.
She swerved her car out of the parking lot and raced home. When she pulled into the driveway, she didn’t bother killing the engine.
Five minutes later, she had thrown clothes and toiletries into her suitcase and ran out, slamming the door closed. Out of breath, she whipped the car into reverse, but slammed it into park. She’d forgotten what she needed the most. Running back into the house, her lungs burning, she dashed into the garage. After a frantic search, she found the roll of electrical tape, grabbed it, and two minutes later, she headed out of town.
Melanie pulled into a roadside park between Nacogdoches and Lufkin and found an isolated picnic area. She backed the car up so no one could see the rear license plate. After breathing a sigh of relief that no one else had parked here at that time of day, she got her pocketknife and the roll of electrical tape out, looked around, strode to the back, and sat on the ground.
After inspecting the plate that read, FLT-813, she cut a small piece of the black tape and put it on the plate at the bottom of the F—and cut a couple more and added them. When she finished, the plate said EET-873.
She stood and backed up a few feet. It wouldn’t work for an up-close inspection, but from a few feet away, she couldn’t tell she had altered it.
Satisfied with the back, she rose, looked around, and turned the car around and did the front plate. At least there was one good thing that came out of all those stories Justin told. This wouldn’t last long, but long enough for her to make it through with the rest of her plan.
* * * *
David kicked in the door, crouched, gun extended, and leaped into the house. His gun swept the room as others entered behind him. He straightened in the vacant room as the entry team cleared the rest of the house.
When they hit, he didn’t think she was home, and he had argued with Chief Spears about going in. Spears advised they wait and watch. David didn’t want to wait. He needed to get her off the street as quick as possible. Too many had died and the longer she stayed out, the chances increased that one or more would die.
Besides, with people watching the streets, they could block her in before she ran. He had every intention of taking his own advice. Melanie Milam would kill anyone in her way.
When the officers of the police department cleared the house, he signaled his agents and police investigators in to begin the search.
Several minutes later, Melissa, who had searched the master bedroom, stomped out. “David, come take a look at this.”
When David entered, the closet stood open, clothes lay strewn on the closet and bedroom floor. Dresser drawers stood open and someone had yanked stuff out, but not all. He closed his eyes a moment, tapping on his lips. Taking a disgusted breath, he checked the bathroom connected to the bedroom.
Inside, toiletries lay on the floor and scattered on the counter beside the sink. He shook his head. “Damn. We missed her. I bet she’s running.”
Melissa nodded. “No doubt about it. The question is, where to?”
David turned to face her. “You find anything in here?”
“I haven’t touched anything, yet. Wanted to show you the rooms the way I found them.”
“Okay, I’ll leave you to it. I’m getting on the horn to the chief. Get this on the air. I want to contact the media in this area, and see if I can get it out on TV.”
When he walked into the living room, an investigator stood by an open closet and held a .357 up with a pen in the trigger guard. “This looks like Justin’s gun.”
David nodded, lips thinned. She didn’t have time to get rid of evidence. How did she know they were on to her? He’d better check for more bugs when he got the chance. She hadn’t made many mistakes, but she shouldn’t’ve kept the gun. He hoped they found other stuff, too.
He told the investigator to bag it and he started to go outside to call the chief, but something occurred to him. Marching to the bedroom, he told Melissa to have one of the detectives finish the bedroom.
She looked confused. “What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to go through all of Milam’s files, mail, and receipts, any kind of record you can find. Listen, anyone can search the bedroom. I need someone good to check those files.”
After talking to Spears, David took a call from Beeker, filling him in on what the team had and would do. He also told him he thought Milam had taken off. Of course, Beeker had to ask him to where and he had no answer.
They spent four hours rummaging the house while the buzzards who lived in the neighborhood gawked from doorways and windows—others stood in their yards with visitors who found this the perfect time to come calling.
It didn’t take the news cameras long to show up and interview David. Giving them what he had, they filmed and wrote, then went door-to-door interviewing the neighbors. David didn’t care what kind of neighbors the Milams were or if anyone believed she could or couldn’t do what they accused her of, so he went back inside.
When he entered, most of the people searching now sat, waiting on him. Melissa handed him a list of evidence they’d found. It surprised him
at the amount. She obviously hadn’t expected them to catch her and search the house, because they found a lot.
He glanced up from the list. “Did you get this tagged and stored?”
Melissa nodded.
David looked around the living room without speaking. Justin had lived here, and from all he knew, his friend was happy. When they’d visited Melanie Milam before, the living room appeared as it probably did when Justin lived. Before, the room had pictures, plaques, diplomas, and the United States Law Enforcement of the year award. Now, all presence of him had vanished, making it appear almost sterile. Did she wait until they came by to get rid of the stuff—play the grieving widow?
How long did it take her to get rid of Justin’s presence after they left? As long as it took her to kill him?
He looked back to his agents with tears in his eyes. “I hope you got some sleep last night. We may not get any tonight.”
CHAPTER 35
Melanie Milam drove to Nacogdoches on Highway 59 and continued through the town on North Street. After passing Stephen F. Austin State University, she turned into the Party Center parking lot. The nightclub sat in front of North Park apartments. She had come to the club several times before she got married, but none after.
Now, it and the apartments were perfect for the rest of her plan. She parked in the club parking lot and stuffed the hair dye and other things in her purse. The Buck pocketknife went into the front pocket of her jeans.
Walking to the back of the apartments, she climbed the stairs to the second floor. At this time, most people who lived in the apartments were either at work or in school. She went from door to door hoping someone had left in a hurry and forgot to lock the door. She had a friend who had lived here while going to college. She’d told Melanie she forgot all the time to lock the door.
She had no luck in the first wing. In the second, she found one open, but someone was in the room. She apologized and told them she had the wrong room. Down the hall, she found another one, but realized by the appearance that a guy lived there. She didn’t want a man’s apartment. If someone walked in on her she would rather it be a woman.
