Poor Boy Road (Jake Caldwell #1) (20 page)

Jake drove on to Maggie’s drive and found Bear waiting for him. On the way, Maggie took the news about Willie, Shane and the death of Howie Skaggs better than he expected, considering known drug dealers and murderers had their daughter. Maybe the fact that Jake and Bear had a lead through Bennett helped her maintain her composure.

“Let’s take your truck,” Bear said. “They’ll spot mine a mile away.”

Bear slung a rifle case in the back along with a large, blue duffel bag. He hoisted his large frame into the passenger seat while Jake said goodbye to Maggie. He cupped her face in his hands, bending down so their foreheads touched.

She rose on her toes to kiss him. “Find her. Find her and bring her home.”

Jake climbed into the truck and peered over Bear’s shoulder, studying his partner’s smartphone. A map of the area displayed on the screen along with a blue dot moving along the marked red line of the road in jerky spurts.

“How much does one of those GPS trackers cost?” Jake asked.

“Couple hundred bucks for a good one. Software is free. I can run it on my laptop or on my phone.”

“Got many of them deployed amongst your shithead clientele?”

“A few.” Bear grinned. “But it ain’t exactly what you’d call legal. But, I’m fightin’ a war down here, and all’s fair in love and war.” He pointed to the dot on the screen. “Bennett left the Turn It Loose. He’s headed this way.”

They rolled down the driveway and stopped fifty feet back from Poor Boy Road. As Bear continued tracking the smartphone, Jake reached under the seat and pulled out the Glock. Bear raised his bushy eyebrows, but said nothing. Some serious shit could erupt before the night was through and he needed to come clean with Bear. He checked his loaded gun and set it on the seat.

“A few things you probably oughtta know,” Jake said. “Keats put me on a contract to take down Shane Langston.”

Bear’s neck should have snapped given the speed he whipped his head around. “What?”

“Yeah, I told him I wanted out of the life. He knew I was coming here to see to the end of Stony and he came up with this brilliant idea to have me take out a potential rival. Shane’s angling to step into the trade in Kansas City. Keats doesn’t want that to happen.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“Because you’re a cop for one, and I didn’t think you’d take well to my mission of killing the drug lord you’ve been looking to take down for the last several years. And two…I don’t think I can do it. I may be a miserable leg breaker, but I’m not a murderer.”

Bennett’s Mazda sped past them along Poor Boy Road. Bear watched the smartphone for a few seconds before waving his hand forward for Jake to follow. Jake let off the brake.

“Stay back out of his rearview mirror,” he said. “Damn, Jake. You can’t whack this guy.”

“I know. Taking Shane out is the only way Keats is going to let me go. Said if I don’t, I’m the one who’s going down for the dirt nap.”

“How long did he give you?”

Jake checked the clock on the dash. “I’ve gotta call him in about four hours or he sends in a band of his merry goons.”

“That ain’t good.”

Jake followed Bennett’s car through the rises and falls of Poor Boy Road, past the Turkey Creek Cemetery. At Highway M, Bennett swerved north and Jake trailed behind, catching glimpses of his dusty tail lights.

“But I had another idea,” Jake said. “Maybe I don’t have to kill him. Maybe I have to help you take him out. Whether he’s six feet under or in prison, it counts the same.”

“That’s true,” Bear said. “I like the idea a hell of a lot better than trying to clear you of a murder rap. I wouldn’t cry any tears over Langston eating a bullet, but I’d rather see the shitbird rot in jail for a while.”

“Second thing, I’m the one who made the anonymous call about the warehouse.” Might as well come clean.

Bear blew out. “And how did that come about?”

Jake told him about tracking Langston through the car dealership which gave him the address of the warehouse and the call to his hacker friend which tied it to Langston.

“Marion Holdings?” Bear said. “We heard whispers of that but could never track down anything definitive. Not sure how the hell you got what we couldn’t with one phone call.”

“It’s all about knowing the right people.”

“I was kidding before about hiring you. Maybe I should reconsider. You’re Sherlock Holmes.”

Open farm land on either side gave way to large clumps of towering trees as they neared the water. The road bent to the east and single family homes popped up. Bear kept his eye on the tracker.

“Stop,” Bear said.

Jake hit the brakes past a gray farmhouse. A pit bull the size of a small horse eyed them suspiciously. The dog’s ripped muscles tensed and he looked like he could snap the rope tying him to a nearby tree.

“What’s Bennett doing?” Jake asked.

“Beats me. Stopped a hundred yards ahead. You’ve been a busy beaver, my friend. You got any other giant atom bombs you need to drop?”

“Yeah. Halle’s my daughter.”

Bear’s jaw hung open. “Are you shittin’ me?”

“Nope. Maggie told me last night.”

“How in the hell did that happen?”

Jake narrowed his eyes. “You really need to have the birds and the bees talk? I know you aren’t the sharpest crayon in the box, Bear, but I shouldn’t have to explain it to you. Guess our last night together before I bailed town did the trick.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. I guess it makes sense, though.”

“How so?”

“Kid’s stubborn as a mule. If that ain’t you, I don’t know what is. Good thing she got her mother’s looks.”

Jake grinned, but the spinning calendar of all the time he’d missed forced the smile to fade. “I wish I’d known. I’d have been there for her.”

“Let’s get her out of this mess and you can do that.” Bear pulled up his smartphone again. Bennett was on the move. He motioned for Jake to move forward.

Jake glanced to a paved drive twenty yards from the pavement marked by a fence post with a blue ribbon. A large security gate with a stand-alone keypad box in front closed in an arc, blocking the path. A man climbed back inside a black SUV hidden away behind a tree on the opposite side of the gate.

“Keep going, don’t stop,” Bear said, attempting to slide low in the truck seat to avoid being seen. His immense size made it an exercise in futility.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jake asked, resisting the urge to laugh.

“People know me around here. Trying to make my fat ass a little inconspicuous,” Bear said, giving up when they passed the driveway. He checked his phone. “That’s where Bennett went.”

“What’s up with the security?”

“Big property company came in years ago and bought up a ton of land to develop lakefront homes. You drive around Benton County and you’ll see their signs all over the place along with these gated communities. Worked in some places but not as well in others.”

“So that’s the only way in?”

“Naw, we can slide in anywhere. It’s not like the whole property is fenced off. The gate is just a deterrent. They have security trucks patrolling their properties, though. You can’t wander in and cruise around for very long.” Bear pointed across the cab. “Pull in this driveway.”

Jake wheeled down a long, asphalt driveway. A well-maintained white rancher sprawled in front of them. There were no cars on the drive or lights on in the house. Bear directed him toward the back of the house and told him to park. A line of maples stood like sentries along the property line. A narrow footpath darted between them leading to the water.

“Nice place,” Jake said.

“Belongs to my dipshit brother-in-law. Roy made a nice living selling insurance in St. Louis, and they retired here last year. My wife makes me drag his ass out on the lake fishing once a week. See that ramp by the door? Built it for him on one of my rare days off so he can wheel down to his dock. Smashed the crap outta my thumb with a hammer. Bitter old fart didn’t say thank you or fuck you very much. Just handed me a warm can of Pabst Blue Ribbon and wheeled his crippled ass back inside.”

“At least you got a beer,” Jake offered.

“I’d rather drink your luke-warm piss than a PBR. We can park here without raising any suspicion. Come on.”

Bear dropped out of the truck and Jake followed. Bear reached into the back and unzipped the rifle case. Out came a Savage 30.06 rifle with a scope attached to the stock; Bear slung it over his shoulder. He unzipped the duffel bag and pulled out a pair of binoculars, ammo for the rifle and a couple of magazines for the Beretta on his hip.

“You going to war?” Jake asked.

“Always be prepared. All hail the fucking Boy Scouts of America. You got extra ammo for the Glock?”

Jake went back to the driver’s side and took the two extra mags he kept under the seat, shoving them into his back pocket. Without thinking, he reached into his front pocket and slid the gold ring on his finger. Bear leaned over the truck rail and retrieved a bulletproof vest. He tossed it over to Jake. Jake peeled off his shirt and donned the vest.

Bear rubbed his ample belly. “You coulda put it over your shirt. Show off.”

“How the hell do I know? Haven’t worn one of these things before.”

“I think you just wanted to show off your six-pack.”

“Get your eyes checked, old man,” Jake said. “That’s an eight-pack. Maybe we can rekindle our workout routine. I’ll get you back into shape.”

Bear huffed while Jake slid his T-shirt over the top of the vest. “Dragging my fat ass outta bed every day is my workout.” He pointed back to the trees. “There’s a big-ass house on the other side of these trees, a couple hundred yards through the woods.”

“Whose house is it?”

“Don’t know. Maybe your little buddy in Kansas City can tell us.”

“Smart ass.”

“I’ve just seen it from the other side of the river when I’ve cruised through Lakeview Heights on a few calls. We’ll do a little reconnaissance through the trees here. See if there’s anything interesting going on.”

“And if there is?” Jake asked.

“We call in the dogs. I put some of my DEA task force guys on alert before you got back from Sedalia. Guys I can trust. If Halle’s in there and Shane’s got her, I don’t want to spook him.”

They entered the tree line, making their own path over brush and twigs. They moved at a quick pace before slowing as they caught glimpses of the house up ahead through the woodland. Bear moved like a cat. Just like their deer hunting days in the backwoods by the old house when they were teenagers.

Twenty minutes later, the day’s dying sun made it nearly impossible to spot the path in front of them. Every twig they snapped sounded like a shotgun blast. Thankfully, rumbles of boat motors roaring by on the nearby water helped mask the sound of their approach. Thirty yards ahead, the house lit up like a Christmas tree. A spotlight blasted from the front door on to a driveway where a beat-up truck, a couple of black Lincoln Navigators and Bennett’s Mazda were parked.

“Hail, hail, the gang’s all here,” Bear whispered. “That’s Willie’s truck and I’ll bet dollars to donuts that’s one of Shane’s Navigators.”

Jake took the binoculars from Bear and scanned the front of the house and the yard. A red ember flared on the far side of the house and faded, tendrils of smoke coiled across the floodlights. He scanned across the front of the house seeing nothing in the windows. Another dark figure hid in the shadows of the front porch, a rifle leaning against the house.

“Got two scumbags out front,” Jake said, voice low. “One smoking on the far side and another sitting on the porch.”

“Don’t forget about the guy at the gate.”

“So, that’s three on the outside we can see.”

A figure moved to the front window. Jake raised the binoculars. Long, dark hair, ratty jeans, your general scumbag appearance. He handed the glasses to Bear.

“There’s Willie,” Bear said. “And there’s Antonio coming up behind him. Shane’s bodyguard. Big, black sumbitch. I’d rather shoot him than fight him. Where Antonio goes, Shane goes.”

They waited. Jake’s knee ached from squatting, so he dropped to a sitting position. Though their eyes adjusted to the dark, it was still a shade short of pitch black in the woods, the only light now coming from the full moon. A snake slithered across his boot and Jake nearly gave away their location with a yelp.

“City boy,” Bear said in the darkness. Jake hated snakes.

They alternated turns with the binoculars, quietly shifting up and down the tree line trying to get a different angle. On Jake’s turn, a lean, but muscular guy with jet-black hair and a widow’s peak spoke to the guy Bear identified as Antonio. Was that Shane? He looked like he could scrap and, if he was the one who took Halle, Jake hoped he had the chance to find out. Jake nudged Bear and handed him the glasses.

“Hell yes,” Bear said. “Will the real Shane Langston please stand up?”

A minute later, Willie marched out to his truck. He rummaged around for a few seconds then came out carrying a couple of large, clear plastic bags. He said something to the guy on the porch and walked inside.