Shallow Creek (16 page)

Chapter 38

After reminiscing about the good ol’ days, water just wasn’t going to cut it.  Brendan headed back inside to the fridge and grabbed a beer out of the twelve-pack that had survived a surprisingly long time.  He cracked it open and took a seat at the small table next to the kitchen.

Had losing out on some meaningless high school football game pushed his brother into the drug business? 
It wasn’t like Grant was ever going to be a pro, or even a college star.  Even Grant couldn’t be that delusional.  Even if the dumbass thought that was his reason for indulging in meth, there was no way that was all there was to it.  There had to be more.

And Brendan was the one to work out what that “more” was.
             

He sat and finished his beer in silence.  When he started to wonder what had happened to his parents, his mother appeared through the front door with bags of groceries.  Brendan dropped his empty bottle in the trashcan on his way to help her bring the stuffed paper bags in.

“Michelle and Grant bringing the family over again?” he asked as the last of the bags went onto the kitchen island.

“No, hun,” his mom replied.  “I talked to Michelle earlier and she said she was taking Grant out on a hot date since he came back into town early.”

“That sounds nice.” Brendan unpacked some boxes from the bags.  He had no idea where to put any of this stuff, but he needed a reason to hang around and ask a few more questions.  “Did she say where they were going?”

His mom opened the fridge and started filling it up with the cold items.

“She said she’d booked a reservation at De Luca’s.”

“That old, nasty Italian place?  People actually need reservations for that dump?”

“Oh, they remodeled about five years ago,” his mom explained.  “It’s one of the nicest restaurants in town now.”

“It’s not that far from Trish’s Place, right?” he asked, still idly fumbling with the dry goods on the counter.

His mother wrestled a can of beans from his hand and carefully balanced it on top of two other cans in the pantry.  “Not far at all, but then again, nothing’s really that far away in this town.”

And that made things a lot easier when surveillance was involved, especially on a solo op.  It looked like Brendan’s next step had landed nicely in his lap, all thanks to dear old Mom.  He wasn’t exactly sure what good following his brother around would do, but he could at least watch for third-parties involved.

He yawned long and hard.

“Where did you stay last night?” his mom asked, pausing in front of the open fridge, a jug of milk hovering in her hand.

“Uh, I met up with some of Grant’s old friends,” he said, blurring the truth ever so slightly.  “Things got a little out of hand, so I didn’t want to risk driving home.”

“
That was a good decision,” he mother said sternly.  “But next time you need to call me and let me know where you are.  I know you’re all grown these days, but I still worry when you don’t come home.”

“You’re right, Mom.  I screwed up.  It won’t happen again.”

His mom placed the milk in the fridge and closed the door.  She walked up and gave him a brief hug before taking his hands and moving back a step, her round face looking up at his with moist eyes brimming with tears.

“It’s good to have you home.”

“It’s good to be home.”

“Be careful,” she said, releasing his hands.

Abruptly she returned to the task of organizing the groceries.  Brendan stood stunned, his mother’s words penetrating far deeper than she’d intended.

Or maybe not.

“Okay, Mom.  I will.”

She turned just enough to catch his eye.

“You look terrible, hun.  Go take a nap before dinner.”

He yawned on cue and nodded as he left the kitchen.

Chapter 39

“Need anything else, hun?”

Brendan looked
up from his phone.

“Sure.  I’ll switch to water for this round, though.”

The bartender smiled, grabbed the two empty beer bottles from the table, and moseyed back inside the bar.  Brendan zipped up his fleece a little higher and pulled his Texas Rangers’ baseball cap a little lower.  A cold front had moved in during the afternoon and the temperature had plummeted with the sunset.  Not too many patrons inhabited the fenced-off patio outside Gruff’s Bar & Grill, but enough sat around him that Brendan didn’t stand out.

Across the street, seated at a small table by the window, Grant and Michelle enjoyed a nice dinner for two at the new and improved De Luca’s. 
Judging by the expressions on their faces, the conversation had taken all the twists and turns that a married couple could jet through in a little over an hour.  Laughter, anger, the threat of tears, and then more laughter.  Brendan had selected a table next to the short fence, and had chosen a chair that didn’t directly face the restaurant, but did make it easy to peer over and around his phone to keep a close eye on his brother and sister-in-law.  The poor lighting on the patio, and the generally high levels of drunkenness assured no one watching him casually would notice where he cast most of his attention.

A couple of times Brendan had thought he’d been made, but quickly realized that his paranoia was ramping up after some downtime.  A guy strolling by with the gait of a police officer had stared him down, getting Brendan’s hackles up, but had only pulled
in close to comment on his hat.  The fellow Rangers fan wanted to shoot the shit about the recent failed playoff run and offered speculation on offseason trades.  Not seeking any negative attention, Brendan had agreed with everything the guy said and sent him on his merry way.

About ten minutes after that encounter, a few rough-looking individuals had sauntered into Gruff’s and occupied a table on the opposite side of the patio from Brendan.  One man in particular had kept tabs on Brendan, but they’d left without incident after chugging a couple of beers each. 
Nothing had happened, but Brendan was damn sure going to be on the lookout for those gentlemen when he made his next move.

Still tapping away intensely on his phone, Brendan caught sight of Grant closing out his bill.  Now Michelle was standing and putting on a long coat.  A few seconds later Grant was on his feet and leading Michelle to the door.

The bartender returned with Brendan’s water.  Figuring he had a few seconds to burn before his brother hit the front door of the restaurant, he thanked the young woman, gave her fifteen dollars for the beers, and told her to keep the change.  She smiled briefly and turned away quickly in the way that terrible waitresses often do moments after receiving payment.  Customer service sucked these days.

Grant and Michelle
headed down the street in the general direction of Trish’s Place, which was around the corner and down the block.  Brendan waited until they took the turn, and then casually let himself out through a small gate in the patio’s fence.  He jogged across the street before the light turned green that would allow the light traffic to cut him off.

As he rounded the corner slowly, Brendan wondered why he hadn’t noticed any DEA surveillance units around.  If they cared so much about his brother, surely they were keeping close tabs on him, even on date night.

It took all of Brendan’s self-control not to stop, or even hesitate, when he noticed the unmarked cruiser parked on the other side of the street.  Even if the make and model had not been so obvious, there was nothing discrete about the shadowy figure inside pointing a telephoto lens towards the only other people on the street: Grant and Michelle.

Brendan’s heart skipped a beat when a second figure in the car tapped the first on the shoulder and pointed at Brendan.  The windows featured dark tint,
so the movement was just barely discernible.  The camera swinging in his direction illustrated that he’d been burned.  Grant and Michelle turned up ahead, still aiming for Trish’s, so Brendan continued undeterred, marching past the police car on the other side of the street, wondering what his new friends would do.

He didn’t have long to wait.  With a slight squeal of the tires, the black car darted from the curb and lurched to a halt next to Brendan.  The driver si
de window slid down, revealing a guy Brendan recognized but couldn’t put a name to.

“Get in.”

“My mom taught me not to get into stranger’s cars unless they’ve got candy.”

Special Agent Casey Spee’s face leaned across the unknown driver from the passenger seat.

“Get in the fucking car, Mr. Rhodes.”

“
Yes, ma’am,” Brendan muttered as he honored the request.

As soon as he closed the rear door, the driver edged the big car into the street.  Spee grabbed the radio once they were underway.

“All units, Tumbleweed is moving to the rendezvous early,” she said into the handset.  “Maintain positions and report new movements.  Tumbleweed, out.”

“
Cute codename, Casey,” Brendan remarked from the backseat, but Spee didn’t bite.

The rendezvous point turned out to be the
rear lot of an abandoned grocery store.  One giant floodlight provided the only illumination for the deteriorating building and the aging dumpsters.  The unknown agent driving the car steered in close behind a crooked fence, blocking the view from the street, and put the vehicle in park, leaving the engine running.

Brendan decided to break the ice.

“Agent Spee—”

“What did I tell you?”
She twisted furiously in the front seat to confront him.  “What the hell did I tell you this morning?”

“You said I was free to go.”

“Don’t be a smartass.  I told you to leave this to us.  Do you want an obstruction of justice charge leveled against you?”

“No, ma’am,” Brendan said sullenly.  Getting chewed out by
an angry DEA agent hadn’t been in his plan for the night.

Spee closed her eyes and
consciously inhaled a few deep breaths.  When she opened her eyes, the seething fury had subsided, but only slightly.

“You seem to be on our team, Mr.
Rhodes, but you’re really pissing me off here.  We’ve got a target under surveillance, and I can’t have you screwing any of this up by hanging around your brother.”  Brendan simply nodded, not wanting to commit to anything, especially not without a direct request.  Spee sighed before continuing.  “We’ve got inside information—”

“Casey, what are you doing?” the suit next to her demanded.

“What does it look like?”

“
That you’re showing our hand to a person of interest.  The SAC won’t like this.”

Spee pointed at Brendan.
  “You think he’s going to back down if I don’t explain we’ve got this under control?  If he wanted to help the other team, we wouldn’t have found him trapped in their basement.”

“We don’t know that,” the other guy snapped out in a harsh whisper.

“I can hear you, buddy,” Brendan said.  “I’m right here.”

“Shut up, kid.
” The agent turned back to Spee.  “This is not a good idea.”

Spee dismissed him.
  “Despite Special Agent Tyson’s disapproval, I know I can trust you, Mr. Rhodes.  And in return for not locking you up, I want you to go home and stay there for a few days.  Now might even be a good time to take a trip to the hill country or something.  I don’t know, and I don’t care.  I just don’t want to see your face again close to this investigation.”

“Okay
.”

Spee shook her head.
  “Please promise me I don’t have to worry about you anymore.”

“I’ve got some personal reasons for wanting to take this guy down
.”

“Your sister?”  Spee asked.  Brendan nodded
, more than a little surprised.  “Okay, let me tell you about
my
sister.”

Before she could say another word, Tyson huffed gruffly and stormed out of the car.  The man took a few steps and then leaned against the fence while fumbling with a cigarette and lighter.

“Just ignore him.  He’s had a bad day,” Spee said, watching him go.

“I thought you said the story about your sister was just part of your cover?”

“It was part of my cover with you, but not with everyone else,” she explained.  “It’s a long story.”

“A true story?”

“Yes, a true story. Natalie, my sister, was in fact shot dead during a mugging at the big Exxon on the edge of town.”  Her eyes adopted that faraway look that Brendan often saw in Marines recounting tragic tales from combat.  “She was only passing through.  Wrong place at the wrong time, and all that crap.  One witness said the shooter had extensive burn scars on their neck, chest, and arms, poking out from under a ski-mask and wife-beater.”

Silence stuffed the inside of the car, which still vibrated softly to the beat of the idling engine.  After a few moments of obvious introspection, Spee addressed Brendan again, her eyes on fire.

“That was six months ago.  A month ago, I realized the cops weren’t getting anywhere, so I used some vacation time to go see my parents in Indianapolis.”

“But you came here instead?”

“Yes.”

“Now the whole posse is here, so I’m guessing you found something out.”

Spee grit her teeth, flexing the gentle curve of her jaw.  “I found out who the shooter was.”

“Was?  Did you kill him?”

“No, Scott Fisher and one of his goons did that for me when they found out I was onto him.  His name was Josh Matthews.  You know him?”

“The name is familiar,” Brendan said
, not really sure.  “But why kill him?”

“Because he led back to them.”

“He was part of the gang?”

Spee nodded.

“So what did you do that the police couldn’t?  To find this guy, I mean,” Brendan asked.

The agent turned around in her seat, now looking out through the windshield.  Her voice sounded lost in a distant place.  “I had to
do some things I’m not proud of.” She idly rubbed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.  “Maybe once this is all over, if you still care to know, I’ll tell you over a beer or six.”

Brendan had nothing to say to that.  Spee put her elbow on the window ledge and rested her head against her hand.
  “I shot a video of Fisher killing Matthews and used that to convince him to become my CI.”

“CI?”

“Criminal informant,” Spee specified.  “I played the part of his girlfriend to get close enough to work a deal out.  A deal where he gave up your brother as the real boss.”

“That’s why I saw you at the bar.”

“That’s why you saw me at the bar.”  She suddenly twisted back around to face him.  “My sister’s killer is dead, but the shitheads he worked for stole my vengeance.  His death has unlocked this drug investigation, and I’ll be damned if your brother walks away from all of this.  My sister deserves more than that.  Grant’s gang killed her, so he’s going down,” she spat.  “So, Mr. Rhodes, this is personal for me, too.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Not too many people do.” Spee heaved a loaded sigh.  “She wasn’t a local, so I’m sure nobody around here remembers her.”

Brendan thought about that for a minute.  “Is it weird that the DEA would let you work on a case involving your own sister?” he asked.

Spee didn’t immediately answer.  Brendan could hear the gears grinding between her ears before she spoke.  “They don’t know about the video, or the direct connection to Natalie.”

“Wow, that’s impressive.  You just told your boss a guy randomly
signed up to be your CI?”

Spee’s laugh had little humor behind it.  “All he knows is that I had a one-night stand with a guy, and that guy saw my badge and freaked, spilling his guts.”

“Hopefully you didn’t really sleep with that asshole.”

Spee’s face darkened, ending that particular conversation. 
Brendan sat quietly and watched Agent Tyson smoke next to the car.  What made all these women share their innermost turmoil with him?  First Michelle bared her soul, and her body, to him, and then Kim dropped a bomb about almost getting raped, and now this chick from the DEA had told him all about the dead sister she blames Grant for.  Life would be less complicated if everyone kept their own crap to themselves.  Did they think he didn’t have problems, too?

“Mr.
Rhodes, Brendan,” Spee said, reaching out to him with her eyes.  “Please just walk away from this.  This is serious shit.  There was a bloodbath outside town about nine months ago that we’re sure is linked to all of this.  We found a bunch of dead guys we suspect were part of the Torres Cartel, and those gentlemen aren’t exactly pushovers, and they were massacred.

“This isn’t some game, so i
f not for your own safety, then at least give us room to operate and investigate.  We can’t afford to let this case fall apart because you keep intervening.”