Standoff, page 29
She followed Emma as she checked the restored living quarters in the front of the inn, and then walked through the dogtrot to the room that held shovels and hoes along with pots and pans, even pottery from the 1800s. “Have there been any new developments on your dad’s death?” Emma asked.
She almost blurted out about the knife Luke had seen. “Nothing concrete.”
“We both know he didn’t kill himself. So that means someone else did, and no one’s looking for his murderer.”
“I think the FBI is at least looking at the crime scene.” Again she wanted to share what she knew but instead hugged her friend. “Thanks. I better get to Port Gibson—I haven’t made it there today.”
Emma turned toward the path to her office.
“I have to find a little black dress before Saturday,” Brooke said. “Want to help me shop?”
Emma wheeled back around, her eyes lit up. “What! Where are you going that you’ll need to dress up?”
Brooke quickly filled her in on the date with Jeremy.
“You go, girl!”
“But I don’t have a thing to wear.”
“I get off early Friday. We’ll check the stores here, and if we don’t find anything, we’ll hit Jackson Saturday morning.”
She’d known Emma would come through for her. “See you Friday, then.”
When she turned out of the drive toward Port Gibson, Brooke dialed Luke’s number, but he didn’t answer. Soon there wouldn’t be any reception and she would have to wait until she got to the ranger station to call again.
Twenty minutes later, she parked next to two white Ford Interceptors and got out. Water from the air-conditioner pooled under the SUV nearest her. Evidently Clayton just got here.
As she approached the low white building, Brooke felt like there should be a drumroll or something to mark her first day. With a contented sigh, she opened the door and stepped inside.
Clayton looked up from his computer. “So how does it feel, being a patrol ranger?” he asked and tapped his watch. “One who’s late her first day.”
“I called and left a voice mail when you didn’t answer. The police chief and FBI agent investigating the murders wanted to talk to me,” she said. “And it doesn’t feel much different than being an interpretive ranger. Did you just get here?”
“That will change, and I’ve been here at least twenty minutes.”
The oak desk where Clayton sat had seen better days. Butted against it was another desk with a stack of papers sitting on it. Together they made one big surface for them to work on. “That my desk?” she asked, indicating the empty one.
Clayton nodded. “Gary already cleaned out his stuff, and those papers are yours to fill out.”
She picked up the papers, flipping through them. So much work for a simple transfer. “I didn’t think Gary was leaving for a few days.”
“He had enough personal time to go ahead and retire.”
“When do we get started on my training?”
The corners of his mouth turned down. “I have no idea. Dale called this morning to inform me there’d been a change. The new guy will decide who will train you. I’m surprised Dale bothered to tell me at all.”
She’d wondered how he felt about not getting her dad’s job. Now she knew. “I suppose until he arrives, you’re in charge?”
“Nope. Dale is. If you have any questions, call or shoot him an email,” he said, pointing at the computer on the other desk. “Or wait half an hour and ask him in person.”
“He’s coming here?”
Clayton nodded. “He was in Natchez when he called earlier, said he’d drop by around noon.”
“I thought he was taking Mary to the doctor today.”
“I don’t know anything about that.”
Brooke turned her attention back to the problem at hand. If Dale didn’t give the assignment to Clayton, and she had to wait for the new district ranger, she’d be little more than a glorified desk clerk until he arrived. “The SUVs outside. Is one of them mine?”
He nodded. “After your training when they turn you loose on your own. But then again, I imagine the new guy will use yours until his comes in. They ordered a brand spankin’ new one for him.”
The phone rang and Clayton nodded for her to do the honors.
“Port Gibson Ranger Station,” she said.
“Hey,” Luke said. “I tried to call your cell, about fifteen minutes ago, but it went straight to voice mail, and then I called the ranger station and no one answered. You by yourself?”
“Nope, Clayton’s filling me in,” Brooke said. He’d fudged about how long he’d been here. “But it’s odd that you didn’t reach me. There’s always been cell service here.”
She checked her phone. No service? “Hold on a second while I ask what’s going on.” Brooke put her hand over the mouthpiece. “I thought we had cell service here.”
“It’s been spotty lately. We only have one cell tower, and one of their servicemen stopped by Friday and said they’re replacing it. Must have started on it today,” Clayton said. “Take ’em a week probably.”
“Sorry about that,” she said into the phone.
“Did you find out anything?”
“Dinner tonight? Sounds good.”
There was a hesitation on the line and then he said, “See you then.”
After she hung up, she said, “Sorry about the personal call, but he couldn’t get me on my cell phone.”
“That had to be Luke Fereday or Jeremy Steele.” Clayton put his feet on his desk and leaned back in his chair until she thought it would topple over. “Of the two, Jeremy would be the better catch.”
Heat rose in her face. “What makes you think it was either of them?”
“You’ve had a couple of dates with our state senator, and everyone knew you had a thing for Luke back in the day, and now that he’s back in town . . .” He raised his eyebrows. “Besides, he came to your swearing in yesterday—along with Steele.”
She couldn’t argue with his logic. “Why do you think Jeremy is a better catch? You don’t like Luke?”
“It’s not that I don’t like him, but he doesn’t seem to have a job. Neither does he seem to be hurting for money,” he said. “Saw him at the casino the other night.”
She laughed. “Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? After all, you had to be there to see him.”
He laughed with her. “You’re right, but I’m not trying to impress you,” he said. “Believe me, if I was trying to get a date with a churchgoing sweetie like you, I wouldn’t go near the casino.”
“You probably need to stay away from . . . that place, anyway.” She’d almost said the blackjack tables.
“It’s a harmless hobby. Helps me wind down.”
“How can losing help you wind down?”
“That I can’t answer—I never lose.”
She stared at him. That wasn’t what Luke told her. Was Clayton just plain lying or fooling himself?
68
A little before noon, Luke crossed the lobby of the Grand to the elevator. While it rose to the second floor, he slipped into his drug dealer role. This time he’d left his Glock locked in his glove compartment but had kept the smaller pistol and wore it strapped to his ankle. He didn’t intend to be around Boudreaux and his men ever again without a weapon.
At room 212, he hesitated before knocking. Luke didn’t like that there was a delay in the heroin arriving. It gave time for something to go wrong. Wilson opened the door, and Luke sauntered past him.
“Carrying?”
“Ankle holster,” he replied. Better to tell the truth than to be found out.
“Let him keep it,” Boudreaux said from the sofa. He was working on his laptop.
“What’s going on?” Luke asked. “Is the shipment on the way?”
“Not exactly. Músculos is not coming—”
“No deal then.”
“Let me finish.” Boudreaux closed his computer and stood up. “He won’t be here until the weekend.”
“I thought it was happening sooner. What happened?”
Boudreaux shrugged. “I don’t know. Does it matter?”
“I suppose not. I’ll pass the word on so they won’t be expecting to transfer the money just yet.”
“That’s what I want to talk about. Half the money will go to an account in the Caymans, the other half to a Swiss account.”
“We’re looking at two account numbers?”
“Which I will provide when we make the transaction.”
Luke nodded. “Are we done?”
“Maybe. What’s going on with the Marlar investigation?”
“Nothing as far as I can tell.”
“What were you doing at the murder site Saturday?”
Luke held Boudreaux’s gaze, noticing once again how flat and dead-looking his eyes were. “Looking for my girlfriend’s earring.”
So Boudreaux had him followed.
“The one you were in the coffee shop with earlier today?”
“Yeah.”
The Cajun slapped him on the back. “Romero says you have good taste. Did you find the earring?”
What was with his questions? “No. Ran into the chief of police and an FBI agent and got sidetracked when a shoe print was found at the murder scene.”
“What kind of shoe?”
Luke glanced at Boudreaux’s feet. “Not the kind you’re wearing.” Then he focused on Wilson’s chukka boots. “More like his, with a pattern.”
“Did you find anything else, like, say, blood?”
Ah. That’s what he was getting at. Boudreaux was checking to see if Luke was withholding information. “If you already knew, why ask me?” Who told him what they’d discovered? Only two men other than Luke were there, and he didn’t believe Cortland divulged the information. That left Pete. Or possibly one of his two deputies? Maybe one of them was in Boudreaux’s back pocket.
“I’ll notify you by Friday when the heroin will be here,” Boudreaux said.
“I’ll need a two-hour lead time,” Luke said. “The head of our organization is in Jackson, and it’ll take him that long to get here.”
Boudreaux tapped his chest. “I won’t get two hours. If your man wants to meet with Músculos, you better get him set up in a hotel here.”
“He’s busy—”
“You think I’m not? Músculos is the one calling the shots, and he didn’t get where he is playing by a rule book or a schedule.”
Luke hesitated. If he pushed, Boudreaux might get suspicious. “He’s not going to like it.”
“Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll have to call him.” Luke took out his phone and punched in his own number, then pretended to talk with his boss. “Okay,” he said, ending the call then turning to Boudreaux. “He can’t leave Jackson right now—he has another deal going down, but we have a plane and he can be here in an hour. Otherwise, he said to forget it.”
The Cajun frowned. “He would call the deal off?”
Luke adopted an air of indifference. “It wouldn’t be the first time when things didn’t go his way.”
“Is he crazy? He won’t get a better deal than this one.” Boudreaux’s eyes widened. “Has he made a deal with someone else?”
Luke shrugged. “He didn’t tell me, but he always has a backup plan. He’s superstitious—once problems crop up, he’s been known to drop a deal.”
Boudreaux locked eyes with him. “I’ll arrange it so that you have an hour. Make sure you’re not late.”
“We won’t be.” He relished playing this role.
Once Luke was in his car, he dialed Mark Delaney. “The arrival time for the shipment has been moved to the weekend. Will that be a problem for the team?” The DEA agent had a SWAT team on standby.
“No, but did Boudreaux say why?”
“I don’t think he knows.” Luke told him the change in the payment.
“They’re both getting a million and a half.”
“Sounds like it.”
“Keep me updated,” Delaney said.
Luke assured him he would and disconnected, then called Cortland. “Can you talk?”
“Yeah. What do you have?” Cortland asked.
“Couple of things. Boudreaux knew all about the footprint and blood that we found Saturday afternoon. That means someone told him.”
“That’s a problem because it wasn’t me, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t you.”
Luke pressed his lips in a thin line. “That leaves Pete Nelson or one of his deputies.”
“Be careful what you share with the chief.”
“Don’t worry. Have you checked the body shops to see if an SUV has been brought in for bodywork to the right front fender?”
“Plan on doing that this afternoon. Do you really think that accident has something to do with Marlar’s death?”
“It has to be someone who thought Marlar told Brooke who shot him since Boudreaux said he didn’t do it.”
“And you believe him?”
“I think he would have owned it if he had and just called it a little misunderstanding. Whoever ran us off the road meant to kill us,” Luke said, remembering the way they’d had to hide.
“Why do you think they haven’t tried again?”
He’d been puzzling that question out. “Brooke and I both have made it plain to anyone who would listen that Marlar didn’t tell us who shot him. Killing someone always brings the risk of getting caught. Maybe he believes us and doesn’t see the need to take another chance.”
Or the right opportunity hadn’t come up.
69
The next call that came into the Port Gibson office came from dispatch. Brooke turned to Clayton. “It appears there’s a gator on the road near Turpin Creek, and teenagers are harassing it.”
“Kids,” Clayton muttered and grabbed his hat. “We better get down there before one of them gets hurt—or they do something stupid like shoot the alligator.”
When Brooke signed up to become a law enforcement ranger, she hadn’t considered that rounding up a gator would be part of the job description. But all reptiles were protected on the Trace.
When they arrived at Turpin Creek, two cars and an SUV were parked alongside the road, and two older teens stood near the lassoed gator that Brooke estimated to be at least four feet long.
“Okay, boys,” Clayton said. “Time to turn it loose.”
“Aw, come on, Clay,” one of the boys said. “We wanna take it to the pond at home.”
Brooke took a closer look at him. Clayton’s nephew. She might have known.
“No. Your mama would kill me, and why aren’t you boys in school?” he asked.
“Water main broke.”
“You should have found something to do instead of harassing this gator,” he said, then turned to Brooke. “Grab its tail and let’s get it off the road.”
Once they had the gator in the grass, Clayton secured the alligator with his own rope and a slipknot. “Wish we had a pickup bed we could get in,” he said, then instructed Brooke to get on the other side of the Interceptor while he took out a pocketknife to cut the boys’ ropes around the gator’s body.
Brooke froze. The knife he held in his hand had a bone handle. Could it be the knife in Luke’s photos? She didn’t take her gaze off Clayton while he freed the gator’s body. The way he held the knife kept her from seeing what kind it was. Once he was a safe distance away, he slipped the knife back in his pocket and then tugged the rope loose from the gator’s long mouth.
The gator thrashed about until it realized it was free, and then it backed up a bit and stared balefully at them. “Get on!” Clayton yelled.
After eyeing them a little longer, it slowly eased down the bank to the water. Clayton turned and grinned at her. “Welcome to my world,” he said.
She forced a smile. “Nice knife you had there. Boker?”
“Don’t know what kind it is. It’s just a knife.”
Then he turned to his nephew. “You boys know better than to mess with a gator. You’re lucky it didn’t take your foot off.”
While Clayton lectured the boys, Brooke walked toward the Interceptor, and a streak of white paint on the right fender of the nephew’s dark SUV caught her eye. She crossed the road to get a better look. The vehicle had definitely scraped something. She didn’t know how much damage would be on the vehicle that ran them off the road, but—
“Boy, how’d you get that scratch?” Clayton asked.
She hadn’t known he was that close and jumped.
His nephew scratched his jaw. “That’s a good question. Dad wanted to know the same thing, but I don’t know. First time I noticed it was Saturday. Maybe somebody sideswiped a mailbox.”
“Who’d you let drive it?”
He shrugged. “The key’s hanging on the wall by the kitchen door. Almost anyone at the house could’ve used it.” The boy lifted his chin. “Even you.”
“You sure you’re not the one who hit a mailbox?” he asked.
His nephew’s face turned bright red. “Ain’t nothin’ but a little scratch.”
Clayton shook his head and then turned to Brooke. “You ready?”
As they drove back to Port Gibson, Brooke planned how to get a sample of the paint on the black SUV. Maybe at the high school tomorrow. Dale’s park service SUV sat in the parking lot when they arrived, and as much as she’d like to question him about the marijuana, she couldn’t, not with Clayton hanging around. “Was Mary able to keep her doctor’s appointment?”
He nodded. “Her sister took her since I had business in Natchez. How has your first day gone? I heard about the alligator.”
She smiled. “At least I’ll know how to handle the situation if I run into another one. Is there any reason why Clayton can’t start my training?”
“I was going to bring that up. There’s a delay in when the new district ranger will be here,” Dale said. “So I’m authorizing Clayton to start your training right away.”
“Good.” She hadn’t looked forward to spending her days only doing office work.
“You seem to be handling your first day all right, so I better get back to Jackson and check on Mary.”
