A Hunted Man (The Men of Halfway House) (19 page)

He stood, light-headed, half dressed in the room. He clutched the phone to his chest when his knees buckled. He wrapped his arms around his legs and lay on the floor with his eyes screwed shut as he rocked back and forth.

He hoped and prayed he would be granted some mercy and allowed this one little piece of heaven with the piercing silver eyes that made him feel wanted and safe.

* * * *

Hunter finally arrived at the coordinates Karyna provided. The place would be damn near impossible to find without the map and GPS. He couldn't recall how many turns he made at non-existent streets. Just behind the brush of trees, Hunter saw a tiny house with a dirt driveway. He drove up the narrow path and parked his car next to the dark, nondescript compact. Before he had a chance to exit his vehicle, Peter stood in the doorway of the small shack with a smile.

"Took you long enough," he announced as Hunter walked the path and closed the remaining distance between them.

Hunter greeted him with a hug and pat on the back. "What the hell happened to you?"

"C'mon in. I'll tell you what I know." He guided Hunter inside.

"Thanks." Hunter took the offered glass of lemonade.

Peter sat in the chair opposite Hunter and leaned forward. "What did they tell you guys?"

"That you were dismissed for tampering with evidence. They're investigating all your cases."

"Assholes," Peter scoffed.

"I know it's bullshit, but what the hell happened?"

"They tried to buy me off, when I refused, I started getting phone calls and messages."

"What kind of phone calls and messages?"

"The typical 'stay away', 'back off or else' bullshit. It was entirely too dramatic for me so I didn't pay it much attention."

"What changed?"

"I got a folder via courier. Nothing fancy about it at first glance, just a red file with a note on it."

"Red?"

Peter nodded. "In it were photos of me…like surveillance shots, and my schedule, hell, there were even pictures of me having dinner at the restaurant with a friend. I felt so damn uncomfortable. I'm usually aware of being watched because there's always some guy out there who's pissed off I put them away. But this was different. It was too personal. Then I found some documents in the folder.
Fake
documents, stuff I hadn't signed or written, with my name and forged signature on them."

Hunter stood from his seat and walked over to his briefcase. He pulled out one of the red files. "Did it look like this?" he handed over the red folder.

Peter took the file and thumbed through the endless mix of images, reports, details, and more. He glanced up with a questioning expression. "Exactly like this. Where did you get this?"

"They mysteriously appear at the office. Some for me, some for Mel, but they always seem to be related to the cases we are working at the time. The guys fit perfectly with each case and arrest at just the right time."

"I can tell you, I didn't do shit wrong, and if that's what these files mean, then something's going on."

"What did the note say…the one with the folder."

"One word.
Run
."

"No shit," Hunter said, sitting back in the chair again. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. His mind raced, trying to recall all the cases and convictions since the red files started several months before. Hunter shot upright. "Wait a minute."

"What?"

"What if the folders aren't for the guilty ones but the scapegoats?"

"Scapegoats?"

"Yeah," he said, grabbing another red file from his case. "This guy, for example, is the perfect target for a case we're working on now. I mean fucking perfect. No question. When I got this file a few days ago, it was almost too easy. That's why I didn't push it. Then I get a text from my assistant today, letting me know the guy was arrested last night—with the drugs
on
him. He says they're not his but no one's buying his story. Easy case, slam dunk, he's going back in for violating his parole."

"Is it the same drug case that was scheduled for our hearing?"

"No, the drugs that were found on him didn't have the emblem logo thing on it. In fact, most of the slam dunk cases are those that don't relate to the new guy on the streets."

"It's too easy."

"Exactly," Hunter said. "And to be honest with you, seeing that you were the subject of a red file tells me they aren't the guilty people."

Peter sighed. "You know I didn't do any of that tampering with evidence thing they're accusing me of, right?"

Hunter looked over at Peter with a glare. "I know you well enough to know it's all bullshit. Your morals border on those of a priest."

"Thanks. It's nice to know someone's not questioning me. They ruined me, you know, and right before I could retire." Peter sounded defeated.

"Not if we can figure out this shit and who's sending these files. They've got too much info in them. Confidential stuff no one should be able to easily access, surveillance logs, data not included in the original case reports. So it's got to be a higher up. The question is, who's trying to give us the heads up about the scapegoats and why?"

"Maybe someone who wants to help put this guy away or help break down whatever the hell is going on that is causing all this to happen. I don't know." Peter straightened in his seat and leaned forward. "I just know that when I got that red file, I bailed. There was no way in hell I was going to hang around and wait with a bull's-eye on my head for these bastards to come get me. I smelled the bullshit a mile away and knew that once I saw one of the doctored documents in the file, I was done. So I had to leave."

"Running makes you look guilty."

"Well. Them not being able to find me makes it look like I disappeared, right? Not as if I'm avoiding some arrest."

Hunter laughed. "Good point. I know you've got everyone wondering what the hell happened to you. The only thing people are saying is that you've gone MIA. That's it. It's as if you've disappeared off the face of the earth. I think people are more concerned about your disappearance than your guilt right now."

"Exactly what I needed to happen. If it looked like I was running or hiding, then it would be a simple case closed situation of evasion. This way, people are wondering what happened and where the hell I am. Maybe that'll lead them to look into things a bit more and question what's going on."

Hunter laughed. "You're so dramatic."

"Fuck you."

"Can I have your autograph? I think you're going to win an Oscar here."

"Shut up." Peter laughed and shoved Hunter. They chatted for a bit and caught up on family and some of the latest court and case issues they'd encountered.

"I've got to go. I've got a long drive back, and I'm going to need daylight to get out of this area." Truth be told, he was anxious to get back and find out what Cameron wanted to talk about.

"Be careful out there. You don't know who's involved or who you can trust."

"Yeah. Speaking of which—if I do need to go to someone, which judge do you think would be the go-to guy."

Peter responded without hesitation. "Dylan Stanford. He's a no nonsense ass, but he's not one to be bought."

Hunter laughed. "Yeah, he's an ass."

"Watch your back, Hunter, and trust your instincts."

"Take care of yourself. I'll get a message to you somehow when it's safe to come back."

"You got it."

Hunter left Peter's hideaway. He tried to think of any prior interactions with others that may have been questionable, but nothing stood out.

"Shit," Hunter muttered in frustration. He wanted to finish these cases, catch this kingpin who was ruining the streets, review all the red files again with a new perspective, and finally talk to Cameron about his mysterious in-person conversation. He didn't have answers for any of this, and he just wanted to get back home.

Hunter fished his phone from his pocket after driving through several towns only to notice his phone was still searching for a signal.

"Dammit." He wanted to talk to Cam before it got too late but his phone just wasn't cooperating. He set his phone to charge and continued to drive. After reaching a rest stop, he checked again and hoped that one bar of service was enough to make a call. After two failed attempts at connecting, the call finally went through.

"Hi there," Cam answered.

"Hey. How are you?" Hunter asked, closing his eyes as Cam's voice filtered through his system.

"Good."

"You sound off, you okay?" Hunter asked.

"Yeah."

Hunter knew Cam well enough to know he wasn't
okay
regardless of what he said. "Is this about that talk you want to have when I'm back?"

Cam grumbled. "How was your day?"

"Long. Too much driving and headaches. But I'm heading back already."

"Yeah?"

"I'm hoping to be there probably tomorrow if all goes as planned."

Silence.

"Cam?"

"Yeah?"

"It doesn't matter, whatever it is you want to talk about, I already told you, I'm not going anywhere, so stop stressing okay?"

More annoying silence.

"Besides…you owe me a date," Hunter added with a smile.

"If you still want me after our talk, then I'll go on as many dates with you as you want."

Hunter held the phone closer to his ear, wishing it was Cam instead. He hated the worry he heard in Cam's voice. "Promise?"

"I swear."

"You do realize you're driving me nuts not telling me what you want to talk about."

"Then fucking stop pushing!"

Hunter closed his eyes. He shouldn't have forced it.

"I'm sorry," Cam quickly added then exhaled deeply. "I figured if I told you I wanted to talk, then you'd push me until we spoke…but I thought you'd at least wait until you got back. Not telling you is like lying and I don't want to lie to you. Fuck man, I suck at this."

Cam might be getting worked up over something that wasn't so bad. Whatever it was, it was important to Cam to get this off his chest. "Thank you."

"For driving you nuts or for biting your head off?" Cam laughed nervously.

"For not wanting to lie to me," Hunter said earnestly. "Lets me know you care."

"Don't get sappy on me."

"I'll call you when I get back in town."

"Okay."

"See you soon," Hunter finished before disconnecting the call.

Whatever Cam had to tell him was obviously wearing away at him. Hunter needed to get his ass back and get rid of this wedge that had worked itself between them. He wished Cam would realize that whatever he had to say just didn't matter. If there was a problem, they'd talk through it, work on it, whatever. He wasn't the type to give up so easily on something, or someone, he wanted so much. He just wished Cam would believe him.

Hunter finally checked into a hotel in the middle of the night at some point between Peter's hideaway and home. After taking a quick shower, he sat on the edge of the bed and stared at his briefcase. Grumbling, he decided to bite the bullet and scan a few of the files before he passed out.

He walked over to his bag, took out the folders and sorted them as he usually did. He realized he'd forgotten about the last minute envelope that arrived during his meeting. He placed it on the table away from the others and stared at it for entirely too long, waiting for something to spring free of the seal.

"Fuck it," he said out loud. He undid the metal clasp and pulled out a single, thin, red folder.

"Fuuuck," he groaned and rubbed his face. Even though most of the face in the mug shot was covered with tousled hair, the piercing blue eyes were unmistakably those of the man who had stolen his heart.

Hunter ran his finger along the image. Those blue eyes held anger and unmistakable pain. His face showed the beginnings of some serious bruising.

What happened to you?

He closed the file again and read the name label, "Pierce, C." A few simple letters on a label, yet they held a wealth of emotion for him. He debated reading the file, wondered if this was what Cam wanted to talk to him about when he returned. He tapped the closed file with his fingers.
Is this considered an invasion of privacy?
His desire to protect Cam overruled. He opened the folder and began to read.

He re-read it, repeatedly. He couldn't find the congruency between the man on paper and the man he had come to know.

"This doesn't make any sense," Hunter mumbled to himself. The charges read like a hodgepodge of items, nothing logical based on the report of what had happened and the evidence in the photos.

Cameron had responded to his sister's call for help. The end result was the death of the sister's boyfriend by a single gunshot to the chest. Cameron was charged with voluntary manslaughter and sentenced to ten years.

Hunter pulled out some of the other documents in the folder and found one of the court transcripts. There had been an attempt to charge Cam with possession of the firearm used, even though it belonged to the family of the sister's boyfriend. Luckily the judge found that illogical and threw out the charge.