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Blake parked in the drive at the front of his trailer, which ran north and south, with the back side facing the water. He always entered the trailer by way of the kitchen. There weren’t even any steps leading to the front door. Getting out of the car, Tony remarked, “I see you never got around to building that house you and Beth talked so much about.”
“After her death, I never saw the need.” Blake got out of the car and unlocked the door to the kitchen. “There’s beer in the icebox. I’m getting out of these clothes and into some jeans.”
Tony pulled out two beers. “Do you want me to set out the steaks?”
Blake walked back in wearing only jeans and barefooted. “You’d never find them – they’re back behind all this other shit.” Blake dug around and found the steaks and handed them to Tony, and then picked up one of the beers and walked back to finish dressing.
He came out seconds later wearing a long-sleeve shirt and boots. “Grab those fishing poles in the corner.” Blake pulled out the 6-pack that had two beers missing, picked up the tackle box, and followed Tony out the door.
Blake had two Adirondack chairs he built after he first moved down to the lake and repaired yearly. The chairs sat on a slab of concrete a few feet from the water’s edge, with a small table between them. The two brothers baited their hooks and cast their lines into the lake. Beside each chair, driven into the ground in front of the slab, was a metal tube to slide the handle of the fishing pole into. With the fishing taken care of, Blake drank some of his beer and said, “You never did tell me why the CIA cut you loose.”
Tony put his bottle on the table and leaned back in his chair. “It was the same reason I was loaned out to the DEA in the first place. My cover was blown. The bikers were selling guns to a terrorist, and I took a shipment of guns to Iraq, where, along with CIA agents stationed there, we busted the group receiving it – well, in fact, we killed them. I guess the gang figured out it was me and alerted the terrorist. There were reward posters with my picture all over the Middle East. The CIA offered me a desk job or medical retirement. I took retirement. It pays me enough to keep me in beer, and no one is trying to kill me – that is, unless there’s a poster somewhere I don’t know about. That was my life until you hired me for this gig.”
Blake opened two more beers and handed one to Tony. “You heard anything from Liz or your kid? Jack must be grown by now.”
Tony set his beer on the table. “No, I haven’t heard anything from Jack or Liz. I didn’t expect to hear from Liz. She remarried and had a couple more kids. I had hoped Jack would contact me once he got out of college, but all I know is he’s working somewhere in L.A.”
Blake was reeling in his line. “I can have Peter, our computer guy, find him if you want.”
Tony started to reel his line in also. “Thanks, but I’m not going to force myself on him. When the CIA sent me back to the Middle East for the fourth time in a year, it was just too much for Liz. There’s no telling what she has told Jack about me.”
Blake reached over and grabbed Tony’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re with me – it has been far too long.”
Tony’s line suddenly went tight and began to run out. “I’ve got a damn fish on!”
Wayne walked into Operations, where Peter and Mary were having coffee at the big table. “I’m glad you’re both here. I’ve placed the cameras and I’ll set up feedback to you from my computer, Peter. Mary, is there any more you can tell me about our killer? Is he more likely to run or fight when I corner him, things like that?”
Mary thought for a moment. “He’ll run if he can, but if he can’t, he’ll not come in easy. You’ll more than likely have to kill him. Don’t let him get his hands on you. If he can, he’ll try to kill you. There is one other thing – I know you think you know where he’s going to strike next, but remember, you’re seeing what makes sense to you, and while you think you know why he picks the places he does, it may not actually be his reason.”
Wayne stood up from the table. “I appreciate your advice, Mary. But he’ll hit the park tonight – or maybe next week – but it’s the place.”
As he walked toward the door, Mary called after him, “I hope you’re right, Wayne.”
Wayne went to his car and took off to his apartment, which was in the Riverwalk Center close to Riverside Drive. He had moved into the apartment when he was on the police force, and because the owners liked having cops on their property, he was given a special rate. He hadn’t bothered to tell anybody he was no longer a cop. He walked in and flopped on the couch. There wasn’t much to the apartment – a living room, a kitchen, and a bedroom with bath. The view out his window was the apartments across the square. The special rate didn’t get him the river view.
He dozed on and off on the couch until 7:00 that night. He checked his gun, got a lightweight jacket from his closet, and walked down to his car. Fifteen minutes later he was parked on the dark side of the shopping center. He turned on his computer and clicked the icon for the cameras. The squares popped up showing his three views.
He clicked on the link that would send the pictures over the internet to Peter. At the bottom, he typed in: “Do you see the pictures?”
Peter’s voice came through the computer: “You know you can talk to me?”
Hearing Peter startled Wayne. “No, I didn’t know. How are the pictures?”
Peter looked up at Taylor, who was standing by the table watching the big screen. “We see it just fine. We’re all here taking in the show. Good luck!”
Eight o’clock came and went, then 9 o’clock. The only person Wayne saw was a security guard drive pass, and he ducked in order not to get involved with him. Wayne was getting discouraged. “There’s no walking traffic anywhere. The entire shopping center is deserted.”
Taylor came over the air: “Give it until 10:00 and then call it a night. The killer has never struck after 10:00.”
Ten o’clock came and at 10:30 Wayne announced he was shutting down. He didn’t wait for a reply, he just clicked off the link. He sat watching the screen, but nothing had moved except a few cars driving down Florida Street. At 11:00 he went home.
Blake’s cell phone rang. “Hello, Taylor, how’d things go tonight?”
Taylor paused. “It was a bust. I really feel sorry for Wayne. He was so sure.”
Blake held up a finger at Tony, who was offering him a beer. “Disappointment is part of the game. If you speak to him before I do, tell him he is still lead on the case and I expect him to keep trying until he gets it right.”
Taylor laughed. “I’ll do that, boss. Have a good night.”
Blake put his cell phone on the kitchen table, which was covered with dirty plates and empty beer bottles – they had finished off all the 6-packs. “That was Taylor. We had a stakeout tonight, which turned out to be nothing. I think I’m going to team you up with Wayne Roberts. He’s lead on this case, but maybe some fresh eyes, or someone to bounce ideas off of, will help.”
Tony put down his beer. “I’m at your disposal, but now I think I need to go to bed before I pass out.”
| Copyright © 2019, 2020 by Ed Rogers |
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