Authors: R. E. Bradshaw
RAINEY DAYS (2 page)
Rainey’s office was on the backside of the building and faced the water. All along the waterfront wall were large screened in windows, with wooden shutters propped open to reveal a boat dock and canal that led out to Jordan Lake. Along the facing wall were wooden shelves, painted an antique pale green, and a short, stainless steel topped, counter. The counter had been a hold over, from when the building was a bait shop and small grocery. On the shelves, Rainey had placed pictures of her father; some in combat uniforms from his war days, but mostly pictures of Rainey and her father throughout the years, fishing or visiting some far off place.
Her father’s combat medals and burial flag hung prominently in the center of the wall, over a stained wooden box containing his ashes. Rainey liked to shake the box, to hear the small pieces of shrapnel that still remained in his body from a long ago war. When she did, she heard his voice telling her the old war stories of how each scar made its mark. On the wall, to the left of the door they entered, hung two dry erase boards with pictures of fugitives taped above their information, hand-written underneath in various colors.
JW looked around the office, stopping to stare at the boards containing the fugitives’ pictures. He turned to Rainey after a few minutes and she offered him one of the old leather chairs.
“Have a seat,” she said, rounding the counter and digging into the old cooler that remained from the bait shop. “Can I offer you a coke or coffee?”
“Coke’s fine,” JW said, perching on the edge of the seat, in the old leather chair. “I was sorry to hear about your father’s murder. Billy Bell was a great man.”
“Yes, he was,” Rainey, answered quietly.
“I’m glad they caught the guy. I understand you had a hand in that.”
“No, really that was all Mackie. He’s very good at hunting people down and he was extra motivated, because he loved my father,” Rainey said, finally retrieving the cokes and wiping the cans off with a towel.
“So you’ve taken over your father’s bail bondsman business. I guess bounty hunting isn’t too far from what you did at the FBI.”
“The training has been useful, I must admit.” Rainey sat in the other chair and handed him his coke. “When dad died, I was already thinking about leaving the bureau, so opportunity knocked and now I am the proprietor of Billy Bell’s Bail and Bait. We don’t sell much bait, but dad was a great fisherman and always kept the bait box full, so the name stuck.”
“It looks like business is booming,” JW said, indicating the fugitive pictures.
“I thought life would slow down after leaving the Bureau, but I must say we keep pretty busy,” Rainey answered, then took another swig of coke. Her brain was starting to make a comeback from hung-over land. She began to wonder what would bring JW to her door after all these years.
“Now, what can I do for you?” Rainey asked. “I know you didn’t come all the way out here for a social call.”
JW shifted uncomfortably in his seat before he answered, “I’m in a delicate situation and I need someone I can trust to handle it.”
Rainey laughed, “I guess if you can trust me not to go to the papers about some of the crazy, and might I add illegal, things we did in high school, you can trust me with just about anything.”
“That’s why I came to you,” JW said, laughing along with her. “You’ve kept my secrets all these years, you and a few others, I might add.”
They laughed for a moment then JW turned serious, “I have been trying to deal with this on my own, but when your mother told me you were here and what you were doing, I thought it was a God send.”
Rainey was intrigued, “I hope I can help.”
“I do to,” JW said, looking away at the water before he spoke again. “It’s my wife. Someone is stalking her.”
“Have you been to the police?” Rainey sat up taller in the chair, becoming more attentive.
“Yes, we went to the police when it first started. You know they can’t do anything, until we know who it is, and catch him doing something illegal. So far, he has only sent pictures and notes. I have copies with me, if you’d like to see them.”
“Yes, I would,” Rainey, said reaching for the envelope JW took out of his breast pocket. She began looking through the envelope, while JW continued his story.
“This all started six months ago, right after we had the accident and lost the baby.”
Rainey looked up from the pictures, “I’m sorry for your loss.” She had said that so many times in the past fifteen years, it had become automatic.
JW took a deep breath and continued, “Thank you, we had been trying so long, we thought we were finally going to succeed. Anyway, a week after Katie came home from the hospital, that’s my wife’s name, Katie, we received the first picture. The dates are on the back,” he indicated the pictures in Rainey’s hands.
Rainey flipped the pictures over, examining the dates, then studying the pictures again. “Your wife is very beautiful,” she said, still looking at the woman in the photos. The pictures showed a blonde woman involved in daily activities. Some were close ups, obviously taken with a telephoto lens, showing her big blue eyes and stunning smile. She was a natural beauty, thin and tanned, the perfect wife for a good-looking politician, Rainey surmised.
Rainey looked up from the pictures, “I agree, you do have a problem, one that usually doesn’t go away on its own.”
JW stood up and began to pace while he spoke, “That’s what worries me. I tried to take steps to keep Katie safe. I hired a bodyguard to pick her up and take her wherever she needed to go. She hated it and refused to cooperate.”
“Sounds like she doesn’t want to let this guy interrupt her everyday life. Can she take care of herself?” Rainey asked.
“She thinks she can, but I’m not so sure. There’s no telling what this guy will do,” JW said, pacing even faster.
Rainey put the photos back in the envelope, as she said, “Well, as long as she’s careful, she should be safe until the stalker makes his move and you can identify him. Then it’s just a matter of follow through with the courts.”
JW stopped pacing and stared down at her, “I want this guy caught, before he makes his move. I can’t take the chance that he gets to her.”
Rainey could see he was desperate, “I understand your anxiety, but I’m not sure what it is you want me to do.”
JW sat down again, “Follow her, stalk her yourself. See who else is following her. Whatever it takes to find this guy.”
Rainey stood up and crossed behind her desk. “JW, I’m not really set up to handle a full time surveillance job and my plate is a little full right now, but I can recommend a good...”
JW cut her off, “No, it has to be someone I can trust. This can’t get out to the media.”
Rainey was surprised, “Why? You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“I’m a public figure. I am about to run for Senator. If the media gets wind of this, it will be front-page news. It could send the guy over the edge,” JW gushed out.
“If you went to the police, there’s already a public record,” Rainey said. “Any good reporter could dig this up.”
JW looked sheepish. “I didn’t exactly go to the police. I had one of the State Troopers, at the capital, run the photos and envelopes for prints, but no prints were found. I can’t go to the local police, because I don’t want strangers poking around in our private lives, not during a Senate campaign.”
Rainey sat down behind the desk, “So, no one is working this case?”
“No.” JW paused before pleading, “I really need your help Rainey.”
“I’m a bounty hunter. You need a private investigator,” Rainey explained.
JW countered, “Then I’ll pay you a bounty for catching this guy. How about twenty thousand dollars plus expenses?”
She looked across the desk at her old friend. They had been best buddies long ago and kept each other’s childhood secrets. She really wanted to help him, but something told her he was not being completely honest with her. Maybe it was the fact he was a politician that made her not trust him. Whatever it was, he did need help and his wife could be in danger. The money did not hurt either. Rainey sighed and picked up a pad and pencil, handing it across the desk to JW.
“Okay, I’ll help you. I need you to write down some information.”
JW visibly relaxed. He took the pad, prepared to write. “What do you need to know?”
Rainey went immediately into agent mode, “I need Katie’s full name and your home address. Does she work?”
JW shook his head, yes.
Rainey continued, leaning back in her chair, “Work address and any other places she goes frequently. Also a description of her vehicle and tag number, names of her closest friends and associates, anything you think could be relevant to the investigation.”
JW began to write vigorously, as Rainey went on, “I’ll need to see the original photos and the envelopes they came in. Didn’t you say there were notes? I didn’t see them in the envelope.”
JW answered without looking up, “They’re at my office. I’ll get them to you this afternoon.”
“Will your wife be aware that I’m following her?” Rainey asked.
JW stopped writing and looked up. “I think it’s best if she doesn’t. She might act differently and tip him off.”
“Okay, that’s fine. She won’t know I’m there,” Rainey assured him. “Of course, you know I have to tell Ernie and Mackie what’s going on, but since I trust them both with my life, you’ll have to trust them too.”
“Yes, of course. I’m sure you’ll need help anyway. Katie is a very busy person,” JW said, before going back to his writing.
Rainey stopped asking questions and busied herself behind the desk. She checked her calendar and made notes to give to Mackie later. They had a full board of skippers this week, which was going to mean hiring extra help. Over the years, her father and Mackie had put together a small posse of part-time bondsmen they used when the job called for more work forces. Mackie would definitely need to contact them, because Rainey was not going to be around to help. She knew from experience surveillance jobs can eat up many hours.
Although she still had her doubts about JW’s full disclosure of the facts, Rainey was glad to have an investigation to occupy her thoughts. Maybe this would keep the dreams away. It had to be better than drinking herself into a stupor every night. That plan was not working out so well. She was brought out of her thoughts by JW’s voice.
“I put down everything I could think of,” he said, standing and placing the pencil and pad back on the desk.
Rainey stood up, crossing to stand in front of JW. She handed him one of her business cards, “If you think of anything else, just email it.”
“Rainey, I can’t tell you how much this means to me. I feel better already,” JW, sighed in relief. “There’s one more thing, though. I want you to call me, not the police, if you identify the person. I’ll know if he’s dangerous or not.”
“What if you don’t know him?” Rainey asked, a little hesitantly.
“Then I’ll leave it up to you as to what to do with the information,” JW answered.
“Okay, I’ll call you first,” Rainey agreed then shook his hand and began leading him to the door.
“I’ll get started this afternoon. Do you know where your wife will be around three o’clock?”
“Katie is an elementary school teacher. She leaves school around four every day. I wrote the address down for you,” JW was saying, as they entered the main office.
Once through the threshold, Rainey noticed an immediate difference in JW’s persona. He visibly changed into the smiling politician, turning to her and shaking her hand again.
“Thank you again for visiting with me. We have to stay in touch more often,” JW said, more as a cover for their real conversation than an actual invitation to strike up their old friendship. Before he left, he made sure to speak to Ernie and Mackie, leaving cards with them, should they ever need to discuss legislation.
Rainey marveled at the transformation he made into Representative Wilson, from the anxious husband to whom she was just speaking. She had to wonder if that was all an act as well. After all, she knew a teenage boy all those years ago, not the grown man who just walked out the door. Something began to nag at her, but she set it aside. Twenty thousand dollars plus expenses was a lot of money. Hopefully, it would be easy money. As soon as that thought crossed her mind, she heard her father’s words echo in her head, “Rainey, nothing worthwhile ever comes easy.”
Chapter Two
Rainey was still standing in the doorway to her office, staring after JW, when she noticed both Mackie and Ernie glaring at her with anticipation. She knew they were dying to know what JW wanted to talk to her about. Instead of telling them, she prolonged their agony by slowly walking across the room, where she adjusted the Venetian blinds with the smoke stained cords hanging beside the windows. She was unable to get the bottom even, making it worse with every adjustment, until Ernie could take it no longer.
Ernie strode over and took the cords from Rainey’s hands. “For Lord’s sake, leave that alone,” she said, quickly making the blinds even, with a practiced hand, “and tell us what JW Wilson wanted to talk to you about, in private no less.”
Mackie scratched the top of his salt and pepper gray head with his paw of a hand. “He probably just wants a donation. I heard he was running for Senator. I hope you told him we’re Democrats around here,” he said.
Ernie finished with the blinds and headed back to her desk. Interrupting Rainey, before could speak, she said, “Well, if money is what he wants then he’ll have to come back another month. Too many skips out right now. You two need to produce some cash flow, or I’ll have to park those fancy rides of yours and get you mopeds.”
Mackie brought his considerable frame to its height and stated emphatically, “I will not be a party to giving money to that redneck, tea bagging, Republican Party!”
Ernie countered, “Nobody is getting paid, if you two don’t catch some crooks.”
Rainey put her hands up and stepped between them. The two combatants gave way and quieted. Rainey cleared her throat and said, “JW did not want money. In fact, he has a job for us with a payday of twenty thousand, plus expenses.”
“I hear a big ‘but’ in there somewhere,” Mackie said, retaking his seat on the couch.
Rainey nodded her head, “The ‘but’ is, I have to do a surveillance job for him, a private matter.”
“We’re a skip trace business. Why would he come to you?” Ernie said. Then without taking a breath, added, “Oh, I bet he wants his wife followed to see if she’s messing around, before he starts his Senate campaign.”
Rainey laughed at her saying, “Ernie, that’s exactly how rumors get started.”
Ernie was offended, “Well, what is it then?”
Rainey smiled at the older woman, and then started toward her office, waving her hand for them to follow. “Come in to the office and I’ll fill you in.”
When they were comfortably seated, in the office, Rainey went over the details she knew about JW’s wife’s stalker, and what Rainey had been asked to do. All parties agreed the money was good and it should not take too long for Rainey to spot the guy if he was following Katie Wilson’s every move. After an hour of rearranging schedules and contacting the extra bondsmen, Mackie was sure he could handle a week or two without Rainey.
Rainey could work the skips during school hours, when Mrs. Wilson would be safely locked away in the elementary school where she worked. Then Rainey would stay on her tail until school the next morning. It would be a rough job with fast food and little sleep. The little sleep she could live with. No dreams if she was awake. However, she would definitely have to pack some healthy foods in a cooler, so she would not be tempted to live off coffee and cheeseburgers. She was not looking forward to the extra workouts if she did eat that crap.
“Alright then, I guess that’s it,” Rainey said, standing and stretching until her hip bones showed, just above her button fly jeans. She yawned and shook her head.
Mackie stood up with her, putting his fedora back on his head. “I’m going to run down a lead on that Johnson boy before meeting up with the boys tonight. I’ll be on my cell, so call if you need anything.”
Ernie hung back as Mackie left. Rainey could tell she wanted to say something and was searching for the right words. Finally, she spoke, “Rainey isn’t JW the boy you got in trouble with in high school, the one your mother and stepfather wanted you away from when you were sent here to live with your father?”
“Yes, he is,” Rainey said, chuckling at the memory. “My mother found pot in my room and assumed it was JW who put me up to it, but that wasn’t the reason I came to live with dad.”
Ernie’s brow curved up in a questioning look, before she said, “I distinctly remember your mother marching you in here, at age fourteen, demanding that your father take responsibility for you.”
Rainey smiled at the memory of her audaciousness. “My mother brought me here, because I said, ‘If she could get pregnant in high school, then run off and get married after graduation, my smoking pot was a minor offense in the scheme of things.’ She didn’t think it was very funny.”
Ernie was flabbergasted. “Were you high when you spoke to Constance Herndon that way? I’m surprised you lived.”
“It was touch and go for awhile there, but she finally decided to punish me by removing me from the grasp of my dope smoking friends. And that’s how I wound up living here full time,” Rainey finished.
“I never could picture prim and proper Constance and your father together. Billy was too free for a tight ass like your mother. No offense,” Ernie added.
“None taken,” Rainey said. “Dad always said she was different back then, before my grandmother sunk the hooks in so deep she couldn’t get away.”
Ernie waved a hand over her head, “Don’t get me started on that…” she paused, then whispered, “bitch,” as if someone might overhear her use a dirty word.
“I always wondered what my life would have been like, if my grandmother hadn’t swooped down on my parents with threats to take me, and my mother had not left with her. My dad might not have gone to Vietnam. They may never have divorced. Dad said he would love her until the day he died. I guess he did,” Rainey said, looking at a faded, wrinkled picture, on the shelf, of her mom and dad holding her at age three months.
“I know that’s true. He carried that picture with him for nearly forty years,” Ernie said.
With both of them fighting back tears, the two women stood silently until the moment passed. Then Ernie started in again, “I’m worried about you, Rainey. The dreams are back aren’t they?”
Rainey looked past Ernie, to the water and beyond, not answering at first, and then quietly she said, “Yes, they are back…, but they will be gone again soon. This job should help take my mind off of it, anyway.”
Ernie would not be put off that easily. “Don’t you worry that it could be the opposite? I mean, this could bring it all back, too.”
Rainey did not want to talk about it. She dismissed Ernie with, “Yes, it could, but, this is far from a serial killer case, believe me.”
Rainey began to move toward the door. She was not going to be trapped into talking about him by Ernie. Ernie stepped closer and gently grabbed Rainey’s arm.
“I’m sorry. I just worry, that’s all,” Ernie said, and then added, “You know how much I love you, don’t you?”
Rainey turned and hugged the little woman, “Yes, and I love you, too. I’ll be alright and I’ll lay off the booze, if that makes you feel better.”
Ernie smiled up at her. “That would help,” she said, slapping Rainey’s butt as she turned to go, “and eat something good for you, and wash your hair. You look like something sent for that didn’t come, as my momma used to say.”
Rainey called back over her shoulder, “Yes, mother.”
Rainey left the old building and made her way over to the cottage, built on stilts, by her father, many years ago. It was styled after the gray-shingled beach cottages that line the shores in Nags Head, where her parents had gone when they ran away, and where she had been born. She and her father took many trips to the beaches of the Outer Banks over the years. It was one of his favorite things to do. He told her tales of when he was a crewmember on a fishing boat out of Wanchese, before he went to war. He loved to tell how she laughed and giggled at the waves, the first time he put her toes in the ocean. He was gone now and the once warm, inviting cottage seemed less welcoming these days. She hated sleeping here alone, after all those years of his comforting snore from the other room.
Now, she unlocked the door into silence and darkness, followed immediately by the alarm warning her to press in the code, within twenty seconds, before the police would be dispatched. Due to her circumstances, the alarm company had been instructed to start the police to the residence before making a call to verify who had entered the property. A coded question was to be asked and depending on her answer, the proper procedures would be followed. She even had a code she could punch in, if she was being forced to do it, which would alert the alarm company that she was in immediate danger. Rainey had to be careful, at least until he was identified and caught. Preferably, dead, as far as Rainey was concerned. She punched in the code and the beeping stopped.
She dead bolted the door behind her and reset the alarm. Rainey was fanatical about locking up when she left home, but even more so when she was home alone. Rainey kept the blinds pulled tightly down, which kept the sunlight from reaching into the corners of the rooms. She hated the thought of someone watching her from outside her home. She had to turn on the lights, even in daytime, to maneuver around the small cottage, so full of knickknacks and military memorabilia. Her father said it was in memory of those we left behind, so people would always remember. In some ways, he never left Vietnam. His fallen comrades were like pieces of him he left scattered across the jungle floor. She had to do something with all this stuff, but she could never throw it out. She needed to find a museum to take it.
She was thinking, she should ask Mackie where to take her father’s treasures, as she undressed in the master bathroom. Still unable to make the larger bedroom her own, she had started using the bathroom, because it was so much bigger than hers and it had a clubbed foot, extra deep tub to soak out sore muscles, after a run or hard bike ride. Today, she would only shower, because she needed to get going on the research for the new case. She had locations to plot out and she would have to make sure her camera equipment was ready. Her mind raced with all she needed to accomplish this afternoon. She felt refreshed by the water and steam and exhilarated by the new challenge. Find this guy, make some quick cash, and maybe get some juice on the hill, if JW got elected.
Her thoughts came to a screeching halt when she caught a glimpse of her torso while toweling off. Her eyes followed the scar from her navel up to her breast where it split into a Y, mimicking the incision she had seen so often in autopsy rooms. It had been a year since the attack and the scar had finally turned white and begun to fade, but it would always be clearly visible no matter how much cream she applied. Most of the time she avoided mirrors, if her shirt was off, but preoccupied, she had let her eyes wander after the shower.
“Don’t give him the satisfaction,” she said aloud, moving her eyes away from the scar and quickly putting on a white tee shirt to cover it.
Rainey dressed in jeans and added another tee shirt over the thin white one she always wore, this one emblazoned with Carolina Tar Heels across the front. She did not need to wear a bra and only did when the outfit dictated it, because the bra rubbed and irritated the scar. She pulled her thick wavy hair back into a ponytail and chose a blue pair of Chuck Taylors from her rainbow collection of canvas tennis shoes. Putting on her shoulder holster, Rainey checked her nine-millimeter Glock, before snapping it safely into place. She added a lightweight running jacket to hide the gun from view.
She fed Freddy Krueger, her cat, and checked that his electronic collar, to his miniature dog door, was securely on his neck, so he could terrorize the wildlife and retreat inside when he grew too tired or hot. “No dead birds in my bed, Fred,” she said, as the large black cat with the stubby tail rubbed against her legs and followed her onto the porch. She reached back inside the door and turned the timer on for the outside lights, set the alarm and locked the door behind her. Freddie meowed once and headed out to hunt while Rainey went down the steps after him, clutching a bottle of water and her laptop case.
She stopped at the bottom of the steps, killed the bottle of water and threw it into the trashcan. Rainey stepped over to her pride and joy, a 2010 solid black Dodge Charger, custom outfitted with dark, bullet resistant glass and run flat tires. She opened the door and the hot air rushed out. Even parked in the shade, under the cottage, the Carolina summer heat and humidity could not be escaped. She sat down, cranked the car and rolled down the windows, turning the air conditioning on full blast. She removed the laptop from its case, set it in the station that made it easily accessible to the driver, and plugged it into the twenty-amp power supply she had installed.
Once the air began to cool, she rolled up the windows, popped the trunk and got out, closing the door behind her. She stepped around to the back of the car. In the trunk, she grabbed her camera bag, checked its contents, and sat the bag on the ground. She then pulled up the rug and checked the custom, foam lined, gun case she had Mackie weld into the bottom of the car. Taking out the Mossberg 590DA, nine shot, slide action shotgun, she checked the load and replaced it in the case. She checked the nine-millimeter Berretta and Sig Sauer pistols, considered adding the other holster, so she could carry two guns, and decided it was not necessary. Returning the pistols to their places, she took out the taser instead, shut the lid on the case, pulled the rug back over it and closed the trunk. Rainey picked up the camera case and set it on the passenger seat as she climbed in behind the wheel. She opened the case and plugged the charger for the camera into the power supply. The taser went in the center console.
The cool air from the vents felt amazing as she drove the few feet from her cottage to the front door of the old building that housed the business. It still had the look of an old grocery store from the outside, including a faded Mountain Dew hillbilly advertisement painted on the side facing the road. They had painted the building several times over the years, but only put a clear protective coat over the Dew sign, because her dad thought it was cool. Over the main door, the aluminum sign read Billy’s Bail and Bait, painted in the same green as appeared in the Dew sign around the corner. The sign was not responsible for much business, being so far off the beaten path as they were. Located off highway sixty-four, about twenty miles west of Raleigh, North Carolina, you had to know where you were going to find it. Most of their business in the Research Triangle Park area, which included Raleigh, Chapel Hill, and Durham, came from the reputation her father and Mackie had garnered for being fair and efficient.
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