LAN AND DANNY were in the study sitting in front of the computer when Don knocked on the door. Alan waved him in. “I was hoping you’d still be up,” Don said. “I have a few disks I need Danny’s help with.”
“Go ahead. He was just showing me how I can fix my security problems at work. He broke into my system—again!”
Don shrugged. “I’m not sure you want him to look at these. They’re out of Melvin’s house.”
“Wow! Did you see his computer? It—”
“What computer’s that?” Alan asked.
“Ummm...the one I heard that’s in Melvin’s house.”
“Who told you about it?” his father persisted.
Don understood Danny’s hesitation. “Just a minute. I’ll call her in.” He stepped out the door and called Christina, who didn’t really want to drag herself away from the movie she was watching with the other children. Hearing the insistence in his voice, however, she came on the run. After directing her to a chair, he looked her in the eye and said, “I’ve heard from a very reliable source that you were in Melvin’s house.”
Christina turned to Danny with a piercing glare.
“He wasn’t the one, either,” added Don.
Christina was puzzled, “If Danny didn’t tell, then who did?”
Don wasn’t about to play games. “It doesn’t matter. Now tell me what you were doing there.”
Christina answered with a sigh, “I was looking for evidence. Officer Barker said that’s why Melvin’s not in jail—not enough evidence. I thought maybe I could find some.”
“Christina! How foolish is that? The man tried to kill you, for crying-out-loud!”
She fought to defend her motives. “And I don’t want him to hurt anyone else.”
Alan turned to Danny. “Were you with her?”
“I was alone,” Christina mumbled.
Don resumed his lecture. “The man’s dangerous. So dangerous that I’m not going to stay there myself.”
Christina’s mind sought out an excuse to change the subject. Pointing to the chain and medallion hanging around her father’s neck, she asked, “What’s that?”
Don saw right through her little ploy. “I want you to understand,” he growled, determined to make his point, “That house is off limits. Is that clear!”
“Yes, I understand—completely. I won’t go back in the house....Now, what is that?”
Don was still riled up. “It’s some half-assed song-and-dance number Melvin gave me,” he grumped. Then, embarrassed by the language he’d used, he bit his tongue. “Said the other half of his purple heart is on a chain around his daughter’s neck. Said he wouldn’t take it off until he finds her. I made him give it to me until we get our deposit back.”
“Did he say what her name was?” Christina said anxiously.
“Leann....Linda. I can’t remember.”
“Oh, well.”
Danny shot a glance at Christina. Knowing exactly what she was thinking, he discreetly wagged his head side to side. I’m not going back there, he said to himself, no matter what she says.
“Now that that’s out of the way, let’s see if I can help Don.” Alan motioned the children toward the door.
“I can help!” Danny protested.
“I’m guessing what’s on these disks isn’t suitable even for a grownup to see.” Alan ushered his son out the door and closed it behind him. Then, turning to Don, he mumbled, “I’m not the genius he is but I can open a file or two.”
Don handed the disks to Alan, who realized they weren’t normal floppies. “Good thing I had a zip put on this new machine.” He inserted one in the drive and changed screens. A few key strokes later he shook his head. “Empty.”
He tried a second disk. Again, nothing. All four disks were empty!
Danny came and poked his head through the doorway. “So what’s on them?”
“Nothing. They’re all empty,” his father told him.
“No way!”
“Look for yourself,” Alan offered, moving from behind the desk. Danny sat down and tried to browse the disk. He opened the recycle bin and asked to restore the information. The answer flashed on the screen: unknown format. He opened a file in “Danny’s stuff” and tried again. Still no go.
“I think you dumped the menu just loading them without a password,” he said accusingly. “I wish you would’ve let me help.”
“You think something’s on these?”
His tone was one of impatience. “Something was on them—before you tried to open them.” He continued to type in commands, using resources he had tucked away in his files. “I might be able to save bits and pieces—if I’m lucky.”
“Alan, can I talk to you in private?” Don asked.
They stepped into the hallway. “Melvin’s become a real threat. I was wondering if I could stay here ’til I can find another place for us. Oh, and also, could I borrow your bike to get to work?”
“Of course. You and Christina are welcome to stay here as long as you need to. Actually, I’ve wanted to tell you something: I misjudged you before, and I apologize.”
“Thanks.” Don then turned away. Lately he’d had a few too many heart-to-heart chats.
Stacey walked the perimeter of the orchard behind the Jensen home. He had no idea it was so big. He stopped less than a third of the way around. It would take all night. He turned west, cutting back through the orchard, hoping to take a shortcut. Almost halfway through, near the northern end, he came across an old farmhouse. It could have been the original pioneer home, built when the orchard was planted. Rusty farm equipment and broken crates cluttered the yard. Inside was a small living area, probably where, in later years, migrant workers stayed. Obviously abandoned, he decided it would make a good place to stay for a few days. He’d even be able to bring Sig there. He missed his friend and companion. And it was time to drag the Taurus out of Dianne’s garage. He could park it in the trees. Checking his watch, he realized he would need to hurry to meet Don.
Moving briskly through the orchard, he noticed the last of the cherry blossoms were falling. They smelled fresh in the warm night air. Cloud cover hung low on the foothills, a sign that a spring storm was looming. The place was one of a kind. Not that many orchards were left in the area, what with families selling off the ground when their parents passed on. All around the area new homes had sprung up on huge tracts where only cherry and peach trees once stood.
Stacey’s thoughts were halted by the hissing of some creature in the grass. A flurry of flapping wings and rushing wind caught him off guard. Practically tripping over himself, Stacey raced headlong into the night to avoid being bit by several angry geese. He’d nearly trampled the nesting mothers. His grandfather used to keep a few geese on his farm. They were fearless, especially when protecting their young or a nest. And suddenly, like finding a long-missing piece of a complex puzzle, Stacey saw how they would be a perfect addition to his plan—still in its early stages—to settle his feud with Bingham.
Stacey began counting the rows of trees he crossed. Fifteen minutes—and 82 rows later— he was standing on the gravel lane at the edge of the orchard. Using a tall electric pole as a marker, he plodded down the lane to the connecting street. Four or five blocks later, he arrived at his and Don’s meeting place.
A dark sedan pulled around the corner and crept down the street. Backing off the sidewalk and behind the cover of an old willow, Stacey spied Don coming his way. The driver pulled over and stopped, exhibiting unmistakable interest in Don. Stacey ducked down and ran to the backyard of the home. The curve of the hill took him out of visual range of the parked sedan. In a few minutes he was running uphill through the trees. His side burned with each jarring. Crawling around the house, which backed up against the orchard, he adjusted the hood of his headgear to zoom in on the sedan.
The driver looked like a kid. He was sipping a drink and occasionally raising to his eyes what appeared to be binoculars. Stacey could see Don patiently waiting at the designated spot. The young man in the car sat quietly, his window rolled down. Stacey needed a distraction—something to throw him off guard. Seeing the young man bend over as if to pick something up, Stacey made a dash for the vehicle. Across the front lawn he came, drawing his weapon as he ran. The man’s head reappeared in the window, and he began to pour himself another cup from his thermos. The onrushing figure made him drop his drink and reach for his weapon. The sensation of hot coffee in his lap forced him up off the seat.
“I wouldn’t try that,” Stacey warned as he pushed the barrel of his gun against the young man’s neck. Stacey reached through the open window and unholstered the gun from the man’s side. Unlocking the back door, he then climbed into the back seat, simultaneously reaching up with the barrel of his gun and shattering the dome light.
“Put your hands at ten and two on the wheel so I can see them,” he barked.
The man obliged. “I’m a federal agent,” he started to explain, his voice thick. “Don’t think about harming me or you’ll be hunted down by every federal agent in the country.”
“Do you know who I am?” Stacey asked.
“Richard Michael Stacey.”
Stacey felt a little sorry for him. The guy was scared half to death, had dumped a cup of scalding hot coffee in his lap, and now a “cop killer” had a gun aimed at the back of his head.
“Why are you watching me?”
“Just following orders.”
“How did you find me?”
“I was given instructions where to locate you.”
“You followed me last night?”
“That was a different agent.”
“What’s going on?” Stacey demanded.
“I’m not privileged to that information. I’m assigned to keep tabs on you, that’s all.”
“So where’ve I been today?”
“We lost you after the funeral. We followed you from the Rodriguez residence, I lost you for the last two hours, now you’re pointing a gun at my head and I’d feel a lot better if you’d put it down,” he said, his voice still anxious.
Stacey lowered the weapon. “Why don’t you give me a ride back to the Rodriguez residence so I can get my things.” He reared back and smashed out the window of his door with his gun. Glass flew everywhere. The agent ducked as if he’d been shot.
“Why’d you do that?” the agent asked.
“There aren’t any door handles back here. I can’t afford to be locked in,” Stacey explained. “I don’t have a clue who I can trust. Before we leave, let me see your badge.”
The young agent reached over to the passenger seat and lifted a small black case, raised it up and folded back the cover. “Agent Tovar, special federal agent. Yes, let’s do take a drive.”
Tovar started the car and pulled away. A half a block down, from the safety of a tree, Don, having heard the breaking glass, watched them pass.
“How long have you been in the field?” Stacey asked.
“Two years—and this is the first time anyone’s ever pulled a gun on me.” His voice now carried a curious blend of apprehension and excitement.
“Sorry, I know how you feel....Do you have a phone?”
“Yes.” Stacey put his hand up over the seat as Tovar took it from his hip and handed it back.
“When we’re done with our ride, you can tell your boss to call me.” They drove in silence until they reached the apartment. “Park in front,” Stacey demanded. “Get out and come in with me.”
Agent Tovar looked back as Stacey got out of the back seat. “You’re serious?”
“Very.” They walked down the steps to the door, Tovar in front. “Unlock it.” Stacey handed him the key.
Melvin, light sleeper that he was, heard the downstairs door open. Easing himself off the bed, he peered out the side window. The dark sedan parked at the curb out front commanded his attention. He snatched up a weapon and tiptoed to the front room for a better view. Minutes later, Stacey and Tovar emerged from the apartment and drove away.
Melvin picked up the phone. “We’ve got another problem.”
Pulling up in front of Dianne’s house, Stacey cuffed Tovar to the frame of the broken door, then went to Dianne’s window. She seemed to be expecting him. “I hope this is the last time I need to wake you up,” he apologized. “I’ve come to get Sig—if he’s strong enough to leave.”
“I’ll meet you at the back door.”“Paul came to see me.”
“Does he know you’ve been helping me?”
Dianne nodded. “But he didn’t cross you. The captain got the call
from your contact in Virginia. Barker was worried about keeping you alive.”
Stacey sighed with relief. “Maybe he can help.”
“That’s exactly what he has in mind. Only one problem, he thinks someone on the force is still helping Bingham.”
“Who?”
“Doesn’t know. He wants you to call him on his mobile.”
“I’ll do that. Will you give this to him for me? I need him to see if he can run a match on the prints.” Stacey brought out the cup he’d taken from Melvin’s apartment and handed it to Dianne.
“I’ll be glad to.”
“I also have someone here to take this car away.”
Her face registered confusion. “Who?”
“There’s a federal agent cuffed to his car in the front yard who’ll be more than willing to drive it away. I’m sorry to do this to you, but they’ll probably be back to question you. Just tell them everything you can.”
“It’ll do me good to get it off my chest.”
Stacey picked up a bag of dog food. “Can I take this?”
“Of course.”
Stacey pulled the vehicle out to the street. Returning to Tovar, he undid the cuffs and handed him the key to the Taurus. “I’ll leave your weapon in the trunk of your car and the keys up the tail-pipe. When your boss calls me, I’ll tell him where you can find your car.” Stacey offered his hand as a gesture of goodwill. “Hey, Tovar, sorry about the coffee.”
Tovar hesitated before extending his hand in return. Each man gave a stout grip, as they parted ways. Tovar was confident the man he’d just met was a good cop.