James Born - Shock Wave

Tatum took Tasker’s hand and smiled, revealing two gold teeth on either side of his front teeth. “You’re a folk hero around here.”

Tasker blushed. “Why’s that?”

“Sticking it to those FBI pricks. I swear those guys have tried to make more cases on cops here than on crime lords.”

Tasker just nodded.

Sutter said, “Billy is working on the guy I talked to you about. The one you ran last week.”

Tatum nodded. “I was north of here about eight blocks. I remember ’cause I’d just walked from here. Been trying to find these creeps been hassling the homeless people. You know, smacking them around and taking their change they beg off the corners.”

Tasker asked, “Wells bother you?”

“No, but he said something funny. That’s why I remember him.”

“What’s that?”

“When I held up my begging cup, to see if he might try and take it, he said, ‘No, thanks, I’m not thirsty.’ ”

They all chuckled at that. Then Tasker asked if Tatum had seen anything unusual about him.

Tatum shook his head. “Nope, he was in a little old Toyota and just looking around. At first I thought he was just looking for pussy, but there was enough around he woulda stopped for it. He just drove up and down the block.”

“Would you mind taking me down to where you saw him?”

“Sure, but you gotta put me in the back of a car so it looks like you and Sutter just arrested me.”

Sutter liked his style and dedication to stay in character. That’s why he said, “Johnny, would you mind walking down there? You smell like you got a dead cat in your shirt.”

Tatum gave a good hoot at that. “Close, my slim, well-dressed friend. A possum.”

“A what?”

“I found a dead possum this morning and had to carry him a few blocks till I found a dumpster.”

“You carried a dead possum to a dumpster?”

“I didn’t want it scaring any kids that saw it. It was right near that little day care.”

Ten minutes later, Tatum was in the back of Tasker’s car, since Sutter refused to transport him, showing them how and where Wells was driving when he saw him.

Tasker stopped the car a couple of times and looked around. This was a little business district. Narrow streets, windowless buildings.

Tasker asked, “What am I missing? Why would he come down here?” He stopped the car and stood as Sutter joined him from the passenger side of the car.

Sutter shook his head. “I don’t see it either. Ninety-five is close. So is Biscayne Boulevard, but that’s it.”

Sutter watched Tasker scan the area, and for the first time realized just how hard and personally Tasker was taking this whole thing.

Donna Tasker looked at the computer screen in the main office. She had checked the entire district, trying to see if any of the names that Billy had given her were registered. There were a lot of Wellses, but when she looked deeper, none came close to the ones he was looking for. It was six in the evening. Between phone calls to her friend in Broward County, and then to another friend in Martin County, she had blown three hours on this.

It really didn’t bother her; in fact, quite the opposite. Billy had never asked her for help before. She had to admit she felt a little thrill helping him put together a case, even though she had no idea what the case was about. But if he thought it was important enough to ask for help, it was important enough for her to do. She hadn’t done that when they were married, and she regretted it. She’d got so wrapped up in her own problems and worried about so many little things that she’d missed his attempts to get help.

After he’d shot his friend, the corrupt West Palm Beach cop, things had just unraveled. Billy had done what he had to do, but it had still haunted her ex-husband. He’d drift off sometimes, and she just knew what he was thinking about. Maybe someday she could make it up to him. Set things right. He was such a good guy, she hated to see him unhappy.

She made one last check of the system, then grabbed her cell phone and hit the first speed dial.

“Hello.”

She recognized his voice and smiled.

“Billy, it’s me.”

“Hey, everything all right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You don’t usually call out of the blue like this.”

She smiled to herself, feeling like a teenager with a crush. “I wanted to see if you’d recognize my voice if I just said, ‘It’s me.’ ”

“Promise I’ll never forget. How’s that?”

“Great.” She paused for a second. “I wanted to tell you that I couldn’t find Wells’ kids listed anywhere in Palm Beach County.”

“Damn.”

“And I checked Broward and Martin, too.”

“You did all that for me?”

“Of course.”

“I’m touched.”

“Don’t be a dork.” She smiled again and said, “I gotta go.”

“Thanks, Donna. You saved me a lot of time.”

After she hung up, she found herself thinking about her ex-husband for another five minutes.

Wells was exhausted. The late-night planning and work he’d done around his trailer were catching up with him. It was only noon but he needed some sleep.

He almost crawled up the low, shaky steps and then pushed his flimsy front door open. He immediately turned back to the door and looped the small wire that activated his front-door security system. He ran his fingers along the wires to the pulleys, making sure everything lined up and would work if someone tried to surprise him.

Satisfied he was secure from the front, and not real worried about the back, Wells stretched out on the soft couch left in the trailer by some previous tenant. The stained flower design and slight smell of urine didn’t really bother him as he quickly drifted off to sleep.

Tasker had swung by Sutter’s apartment on South Beach to speed up his partner. This was the break he’d been waiting for. The Homestead cop he’d spoken to, Mike Driscoll, had apparently stumbled across Wells living in the western part of the town. Now Tasker intended to use the information immediately.

Sutter came out of the historic old apartment building still buttoning his shirt, his Glock with silver-painted handles exposed on his hip, and opened the car door. “Yo, what the hell, man? What’s goin’ on? You tell me on the phone to be ready in fifteen minutes and that’s it? No explanation? Can’t I take a day off once in a while?”

“We found Wells.”

Sutter froze, then in a more subdued tone said, “Where? How?”

“Homestead. The cop that I talked to down there, the one that wrote him the ticket, was at a firehouse mooching food and saw a report about a minor fire at a trailer. The firefighter was sharp enough to write down the vehicle tags. Just for his report-he didn’t run them. Anyway, this cop, Driscoll, is pretty sharp himself, and he asks a few questions. He’d been on the lookout since our talk.”

“So your patrolman put this all together?”

“Sure did.” Tasker accelerated west over the Julia Tuttle Causeway, swerving through traffic like a grand prix racer.

Sutter calmly strapped on his seat belt. “Does Wells have any idea we know?”

“No way.”

“Then slow this vehicle down before I have to write you .”

Homestead patrolman Mike Driscoll didn’t want anyone else coming on the arrest. He made his point that three cops should be able to grab a guy from a trailer.

Tasker hesitated. “I can call for some agents from Miami.”

Driscoll leaned in from the edge of his chair. “I’m tellin’ you that the place isn’t that big. We slip in quiet and snatch his ass up before he knows we’re there.”

Sutter added, “He’s got a point. More men, more noise.”