Page 14

Chapter Fourteen

Drake

We were all a little bleary-eyed when we met at the office the next day. Tammy had woken up crying almost every two hours through the night, and we’d struggled to decide whether it would be better to bring her bed in with us or not. I knew we needed some advice and thankfully Carol had messaged Shae with the name of the therapist she recommended. Because of Tammy’s age and the trauma she’d endured, we’d managed to get an appointment on Tuesday.

Maxie had refused to leave her, or rather Tammy had refused to let go of him, which meant he’d eventually peed on the new princess rug around three a.m. Leaving either of them was an impossibility, so we rolled into the apartments a little after eleven in the morning looking like we’d been on a six-day bender.

Pink was a huge comfort. She took charge of every single dog and a certain human that we’d realized wasn’t actually three for another three weeks when we checked the paperwork, and she took them into the living room area. I glanced at Danny, who looked amused in a resigned kind of way that Sadie had deserted him.

He wasn’t fooling anyone, though, as I’d seen the non-verbal command Danny had given her to stand down.

Tammy still hadn’t spoken a word, even though Maxie seemed to understand her and stuck to her like glue. And of course there were three other dogs, each one seeming to think protecting Tammy was their new mission in life. Pink squeezed the life out of Shae and promised him Tammy would be fine while we were in our meeting.

Shae sat down and banged his head on the table. “How do people do this every day?”

Rawlings chuckled. “I was lucky that Pink was already there.”

We all sat at the conference table and Danny once again showed his screen on the wall. “Aisha Greene apparently OD’d four days ago.”

“Apparently?” Shae was quicker than me to question his inference.

Danny nodded. “She was a qualified health care assistant. Good grades. Grew up in a group foster home but was lucky enough to stay in the same one since she was eleven with her twin sister. All her school reports say she worked hard and was well-liked, but then her twin was diagnosed with acute leukemia and died when she was seventeen. Aisha understandably took it badly and went off the rails for a few months. Alcohol and weed, but no hard-core drugs. There’s a witness statement from her work colleague, Zoe Carter, who says Aisha met Tammy’s dad in a bar when she was drunk. They saw each other a few times over the course of four weeks, but when Aisha found out she was pregnant, she sobered up and got her act together and moved to Jacksonville.”

“Did my dad know?” Shae asked.

“According to Zoe, Aisha called your dad, told him she was pregnant, and that was the last time she heard from him.”

Shae glanced at me. “I’m not surprised.”

“The report says the apartment had drug paraphernalia scattered about, but one cop said it was still very clean, so he didn’t believe a word of it, and personally thought it was staged. Tammy was clean and well cared for. Nothing to indicate there were any long-term drug problems. Unfortunately, there's no leads, no current boyfriends. There also doesn’t seem to have been any recent interaction between her and your dad at all, other than three unanswered calls she placed to him over the last month. Family services only knew who he was because his name is on the birth certificate, and he’s still in her phone as Tammy’s dad.”

“I’m surprised she kept his number,” Shae said.

Danny took a breath, glanced at Shae, and I knew what was coming. “According to Zoe, Aisha wanted to go to school to study medicine. Single parent, med school and a full-time job because of Tammy wouldn’t work. Aisha tried to call your dad a few times, but he didn’t respond. She’d already seen a lawyer about suing him for child support payments, but I have no idea how far she got with that. He also has an airtight alibi for her death as he turned up at the ER with symptoms of possible appendicitis. He was cleared and discharged the next morning. Gave an accurate if temporary address on admission.” Everyone was silent, and I reached over and squeezed Shae’s hand under the table.

“A little convenient,” Rawlings drawled.

“Are there any sightings of him in Jacksonville at all?” Shae asked. “Or if he wasn’t answering the phone, is it likely she drove here?”

I glanced at Danny, hoping he could answer Shae’s question. Finding Shae’s dad wasn’t something we’d cared about, but Tammy put a new spin on everything. “I haven’t had time to do a deep dive, but I have a lot of facial recognition programs running and if I get a hit, I’ll let you know right away.” Danny clicked another couple of buttons.

Kane sent Shae an apologetic look. “But isn’t murder a little extreme to get out of child support payments?”

“After mom died the only thing keeping me alive was Gran’s will. I don’t know how he found out she’d left everything to charity if I was dead, but then he expected to get the house but that was already sold, so he just got seven thousand. Then within days I got my scar and I guessed he hoped I would be able to do something he could use. I’m sure he had both my mom and Gran killed. Mom for revenge because he was convinced she sicced the cops on him, and Gran because he wanted me. Like I said he thought she’d left me the house and could use it, but he didn’t know it was one of those schemes where they bought the house but let you live in it. He was really angry when he found out she’d sold it to one of those companies that give you money and they get the house when you die. She did it when Grandad got sick.” Shae glanced at Kane. “So no, murdering someone to get out of child support payments is exactly something he would do.”

Danny stopped typing and an image of Shae’s father appeared on the screen. Then at its side came an image of Albert Davis. Then a picture of Lee Dodson, our dead fire starter, and his accomplice, Jethro Dunne. And finally a picture of Ryan Connaught, who didn’t look as put together as when he’d arrived at our place last night. I quickly filled everyone in about Ryan’s visit, even though Danny and Rawlings would already know because of Jay.

Kane chuckled. “I’d have loved to see the velvet escape.”

Danny grinned but carried on posting pics. A picture of Gary Bruin, who we thought had poisoned the dogs. And lastly, a picture of a young woman in scrubs holding a smiling baby: Aisha and Tammy.

“Not forgetting…” Shae said, turning to me. “Ryan just about admitted to poisoning the dogs to you. I mean, we thought this was just a fucked-up revenge thing for Gary losing his job, but what if it wasn’t?”

I stared at the screen. “Are you thinking Ryan broke in looking for something and got Gary to poison the dogs to keep us all busy?”

“Didn’t you say Jim and Ellie knew who Albert is?” Shae asked. “Is it possible he knows about all the land, heard his mom or dad say something to each other and he thinks it might be leverage? That in some screwed up way this is all connected?”

“I thought the same,” Danny said slowly. “And it was something Kane said to me last night.” He shot a loving look at his boyfriend. “He said, and I quote, ‘How much random bad shit can happen to one couple in the space of a couple of weeks?’”

I glanced at Shae and honestly wondered how he was holding it together.

“I started wondering myself,” Danny said with an understanding look at Shae, “if it could be connected. Maybe it wasn’t all random?”

“But how can Tammy have anything to do with the fire at my place?” I nearly scoffed, and maybe I would have if I didn’t have the greatest respect for Danny’s mad computer skills.

“I had a teacher once who used to argue the validity of mathematical coincidence,” Danny said thoughtfully. “And a sergeant who used to put everything in the ‘shit happens’ category.”

“But how can it?” Shae said. “What is it that connects Tammy to the whole thing with the dogs and Ryan? Tammy’s mom only died two days ago.”

Danny shrugged. “Maybe leverage on you. Maybe like you said he wanted to avoid child support, or maybe where you live.”

I shook my head. “What?”

Danny clicked a key, and we looked at the eighth picture that now graced the screen. I gazed at the picture of a grinning fiftyish Latino-American man holding what looked to be an assault rifle and surrounded by two others in a similar position.

“Who’s that?” Shae asked.

“Carlos Garcia. Leader of the Los Reyes del Silencio Cartel, and released from prison six months ago after forty nine years even though he was in for life.”

“Wait,” I said. “Is that why Albert’s picture is up there?”

Danny nodded. “Garcia isn’t your typical cartel leader. He isn’t all about business, or should I say, his business is more about revenge since his younger brother took over. Five DEA agents that were involved in the bust on Albert’s place all died in the first five years after the conviction.” Danny sighed. “And not just them. Their families had been completely taken out, so much so that the last two families had had to go into witness protection.”

“But why now?” Shae said. “After all these years?”

“Unless they seem to think Albert has the gun,” Rawlings spoke up. “Because if they find the gun, Garcia will be back inside and facing the needle.”

“And Texas has executed more people than any other state since 1976,” Danny added randomly, but I wasn’t surprised.

“Which is all understandable,” I said, “but still nothing to do with me. Moira and Albert haven’t been targeted. I can understand revenge,” I continued. “Taking someone out with a bullet maybe, but this seems like a lot of work. I don’t have any sway over Albert.” I glanced at Danny. “Are you thinking somehow he has the gun? I mean, that makes no sense.”

Danny huffed. “I get it, except did you know that your place was originally part of the spread next door?”

“Albert mentioned it years ago.” But it made the whole access thing make much more sense.

“And your house was the original farmhouse, before Albert built a bigger one. From what I can gather, Moira was Ellie’s childhood best friend. I suppose it would suit them all to live close.”

Rawlings leaned forward. “Okay, but at the risk of sounding ridiculous, are you saying this whole thing is because Carlos Garcia is convinced Albert Davis somehow took a gun from a crime scene he was arrested at and instead of handing it over to ensure Garcia got the needle, as he was a witness for the prosecution, he kept it and hid it somewhere on their property for forty years? Apart from the fact he would be searched on arrest.”

Rawlings shook his head in disbelief, and I didn’t blame him. It made absolutely no sense at all.

“Plus, why would Garcia think he’s at risk now?” Kane asked. “If he was capable of ordering the hits from inside, he’s capable of sending someone to get the gun.”

“What did you mean about Garcia being all about revenge?” Shae asked without waiting for Danny to answer Kane’s question.

Danny inclined his head as if he was expecting someone to ask that. “The DEA agent wasn’t the only one that died in the raid. Two of Garcia’s men were also shot and killed. I’m…” Danny fell silent as he scanned something on his screen, then clicked some more buttons and leaned back. He glanced up at the screen on the wall and they all looked at a picture of a teenager.

“That’s Enrique Garcia, sixteen years old, and Carlos’s only son. He died of a gunshot wound in the raid. Now, what you have to remember is that forensic advancements like 3-D scanning of bullet and casing markings has only become possible in the last twenty years. The bullet that killed Enrique passed right through his left ventricle and embedded itself into the stone wall, meaning it was too damaged and impossible to identify.” He looked up. “But it might be possible now.”

“But you said the DEA agents were dead, so what would be the point?” Gray asked.

“Because all the agents in the raid were carrying Glock 17s. The bullets were standard. The one in the wall wasn’t.”

I processed that. “Are you saying that someone other than the DEA agents shot and killed Garcia’s son?”

“I’m saying it’s quite possible,” Danny said. “I’m also saying that the gun might have nothing to do with Garcia supposedly killing the DEA agent, and it might have everything to do with him finding out who killed his son.”

“Fuck,” I breathed out and gazed at Shae, then back to Danny. “Just to be clear.” I swallowed. I didn’t like the assumptions I was making, but at the moment, if Danny was right, we were running out of other explanations. “You’re thinking that somehow it was Albert that pulled the trigger, and that’s why he’s hidden the gun? And there’s even a possibility that he not only killed Enrique, but maybe even the DEA agent as well?”

“We’ve heard a lot about developers wanting both yours and Albert’s property,” Danny said, “but where’s the evidence? I can’t find so much as one single email or one approach to anyone regarding the protected farmland which would require zoning changes. There may be physical mail which obviously I can’t access online.”

“And why now?” Shae said. “I know Garcia got released this year, but there has to be some reason he’s found him, and it doesn’t make sense that you’re the target with the fire and the shooting. If he knew who Albert really was, surely he’d just go after him? Threaten Moira to get him to tell him the truth. Like where the gun is?”

“And since when did drug cartels poison dogs?” Kane asked. I nodded. It was a good point and a bit too far-fetched for me.

“If Garcia is responsible, we need to know how he found out where Albert is.”

“I don’t think Garcia has any idea where Albert is,” Danny said. “If he did, he’d do exactly as Shae says, but then if he didn’t none of what we’re speculating makes sense. He wouldn’t even bother with you two. Albert would be strung up by his toenails, or worse, Moira would be taken.” I shot up because what if Danny was wrong, but Rawlings beat me to it, pulling out his phone. “I got this,” he said, and I knew he was calling Jay to add a shit-ton of extra protection.

Gray leaned forward. “Do you think Albert would talk to you?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But this has gone from a stupid man who wants the farm for cash to the head of a drug cartel wanting revenge on his son’s killer.”

“And we still have no idea where my dad fits in or if he even does,” Shae said.

“As escalations go, that’s quite impressive,” Gray said.

Shae looked at me and we both heard the echo of what we’d said before.

A small indicator started flashing at the bottom of Danny’s screen, which we could all still see on the wall, and he clicked, muttered, and the screen changed.

“Shit,” I breathed out, looking at the picture. It was a car, a black Mercedes. Ryan was driving and sitting next to him was John Turner, Shae’s dad.

“When was this taken?” Rawlings asked.

Danny pointed to the screen, showing the time stamp. “Forty minutes ago.”