James Born - Shock Wave

“No. Absolutely not. It’s just that this is really important. I mean life-and-death important, and it’s basically my fault that we’re in it.”

A tear built up in her eye, then ran down her cheek.

He went to brush it away, but she caught his hand. “Is the redhead working with you?”

“Camy Parks? Yeah, her and half a dozen other cops.”

Donna stood quickly and turned to the front door. “I understand.”

“Donna, wait.”

She paused at the door.

“Please stay.”

“So we can spend the day together?”

“An hour, anyway.”

She opened the door and stepped out without a word.

Sutter sat at an FDLE conference table with Bill Tasker and his squad analyst, Jerry Ristin. Sutter had never been so impressed with a non-sworn member of a police agency as he was with this heavyset, raspy-voiced man. The guy treated them almost like they were students in a class, as he laid out his theories on what had happened on the case and what he’d found through his computer searches.

Clearly, the FBI had a tie to Daniel Wells and had not been completely truthful with the other law enforcement agencies involved in this case. Jerry couldn’t be specific, his job was to discover trends. Now he told the cops, whose job it was to get very specific.

The older man summed it up, saying, “Well, boys, it looks like you were hosed by the Bureau again. This is getting to be a habit. I woulda figured you’d catch on to their shenanigans by now.”

Sutter and Tasker just looked at each other.

Ristin shrugged. “Maybe next time.”

Tasker asked, “You got anything else?”

“Nope, not really.” He smiled and chuckled like a senior Christmas elf. “Don’t look so down, boys. The FBI has been fucking cops since before you were born. Don’t be embarrassed that you fell for it.” He paused. “Twice.” He paused again. “In two months.”

Sutter felt his blood pressure rise. “Wait a second. I wouldn’t call that shit with the money typical FBI bullshit. They don’t usually frame cops.”

Ristin smiled again. “Ah, the innocence of youth.”

Tasker said, “At least with Dooley and the money, I knew what was going on and why. This one has me more confused.”

Ristin said, “You mean the KKK surveillance?”

They both nodded.

“I don’t know why you were on that. But the fact that Wells had an FBI number in his phone book and was probably a snitch in the case against Al-Soud tells me that the Bureau has used him.”

Tasker said, “So he’s no threat now?”

“I didn’t say that. If he really wasn’t a threat, he’d go to the Bureau and lay low. If he had no reason to stay here, he’d be gone quicker than a doughnut at a Weight Watchers meeting.”

Tasker said, “We need one or two more pieces of the puzzle.”

Sutter said, “I know where we can find those pieces.”

“Where?”

“Jimmy Lail. He’s not as stupid as he acts.”

“How?”

Before he could answer, an intercom buzzed and a female voice said: “Bill, you have a visitor in the lobby.”

Tasker reached over and hit the button on the intercom. “Who is it?”

“She wouldn’t say.”

“Thanks, be right there.” Tasker looked at Sutter and said, “Had an issue with my ex-wife this morning. She may have come to her senses.”

“I gotta head over to the PD for a few minutes. I’ll follow you down and take care of my shit, then meet you at one at ATF.” He turned to Ristin. “Sir, you have done a great job. I appreciate it.”

Ristin smiled. “It’s a team effort to keep Billy out of trouble.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

Heading down the stairs, Tasker said, “I like how you two bonded over my misfortune.”

“I say always find the bright side of a situation.”

Tasker smiled. “Let me introduce you to Donna real quick, then I’m gonna take an hour with her to make sure she’s okay.”

Sutter nodded as they reached the ground floor and headed through the double security doors. He looked into the lobby, curious as to what this ex-wife Tasker was always talking about looked like.

They stopped at the door and both cops froze. Alicia Wells stood up when she saw them. Her eyes were red and she held a tissue.

Sutter said, “Now, this is gonna be interesting.”

Camy Parks sat at her desk, gazing out a window that looked over a fenced parking lot where they held seized vehicles. The file from the cruise-ship bombing sat on her cluttered desk. She had to admit that after two years without any progress at all, the case had lost a lot of its original interest for her. At first, when there’d been media activity and people were asking her about it, she had attacked the case like a pit bull, but over time, as leads washed out-and with them the inquiries-she felt like she had been placed on some kind of inactive squad. That was what she had liked about the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms-they were never inactive. She loved the feeling of having too much work and being the underdog agency. Now, with her duties restricted to the one case, she had lost some enthusiasm. That is, until recently. Now people were interested in the case again. She had the two good-looking cops working with her, Tasker the quiet and introspective one, and Sutter the too-sharp-for-his-own-good one. She even had been able to bring Jimmy Lail along on the case. That had been a thrill at first, but now he was wearing on her nerves.

Something about the case had never seemed right and she couldn’t put her finger on it, but lately it had just gone plain spooky. This guy Wells moved like a ghost. He was in the area, but no one could put their hands on him. Then there was that business with the Klan house. Where had the FBI gotten that info?

Her cell phone rang. She looked at the face of it and saw: “Incoming Call.” That meant that it was a number that was blocked. Had to be Jimmy calling from his office.

“Hello,” she said into the tiny phone.

“Hey, baby.”

She let out a small sigh. “Hello, Jimmy.”

“What’s my girl up to?”

“Work. It’s ten-thirty. You should be working, too.”

“What’s with my lady this morning?”

“Jimmy, did you call for a reason other than to annoy me?”

“Whoa, girl, I was gonna ask you if you wanted to have dinner and some lovin’ tonight.”

“Can’t tonight.”

“Even for Joe’s Stone Crab?”

“That’d be nice, but it’s September. Joe’s is closed.”

“I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go.”

“Not tonight.”

“Why not, baby?”

“I’ve got to wash my hair.” She cracked a smile at that old one.

“C’mon, baby, that’s a bunch of-”

She didn’t hear the rest as she mashed the “end” button on her phone. She smiled, thinking that between Sutter and Tasker, one of them had to be free tonight.

Tasker focused on east Palm Drive as it turned into Southwest 344th Street, the empty Homestead speedway a few miles behind them. Sutter sat in the backseat of the Cherokee, talking-more like reasoning-with Alicia Wells. She had come in from the cold, like a spy from the sixties. And she had problems. Alicia told the investigators some of her story, but obviously held back quite a bit. What she did say was that Wells might have a secret box near the Turkey Point power plant and she thought she could find it. Knowing that the discovery of physical evidence might help them find the elusive repairman from Naranja, Tasker decided Alicia could talk in the car and headed out to this quietly modern part of the county.

Alicia sat, half-turned toward Sutter in a sundress and, clearly, no bra. She had garnered a few stares back at the office, which was another reason Tasker thought it best to hustle her out of the FDLE building. She had cried on and off during the brief interview, and now Sutter was waiting for her to regain her composure. He handed her a tissue. She held it to her nose and cut loose with a deafening honk as she blew her nose. Tasker thought a semi had rolled up behind him.