Beautiful Storm (Lightning Strikes Book 1) (28 page)

He put up a hand to stop her ramble. "I know you're trying to help, Alicia, but I need to think for a minute."

"I'm sorry. I'm trying to make this better. I blew it back there. I shouldn't have persuaded you to leave Sandbury's classroom. If we'd stayed, he couldn't have gotten away from us. We wouldn't be in this position."

"You don't have anything to apologize for. You didn't know he was going to run; I didn't know that, either."

"You knew he was hiding something. You knew that we shouldn't leave."

"Well, there's no point in rehashing it. We can't change it."

She was happy he wasn't blaming her, but she was just as discouraged as he was by the recent turn of events. "We should at least go and do our thinking elsewhere, Michael. We don't want the neighbors to see us inside the house. With the way Detective Kellerman thinks about you, if he finds out you were here, he'll probably spin it in a really bad way."

"Good point. We don't know if someone is following us."

It bothered her to think that someone might have followed them to the university— maybe to Sandbury's classroom—possibly even here.

They walked quickly out of the house, pulling the front door closed behind them.

Michael wiped off the doorknob with the hem of his shirt, which made her think the house was a crime scene, but it wasn't. Paul Sandbury had just left. Hadn't he?

Twenty

Michael's stomach was churning as he drove away from Sandbury's house. He'd come so close to an answer only to be stymied again.

When they got a few blocks away, he glanced over at Alicia. "Okay, let's get back to your ideas on what to do next."

"I think we should wait on the police. The more I think about it, the more I don't believe they'll help, at least not yet. Lieutenant Hodges is probably our best bet."

"Agreed. Let's give her a call." He handed her his phone. "Do you want to find her number?"

"Sure. Do you want to talk?"

"You can do it."

A moment later, she said, "It's going to voicemail." Pausing, she added, "This is Alicia Monroe. Michael Cordero and I have some information we'd like to discuss with you. Can you call us back at this number? Thanks." She set his phone down on the console. "It is after five. She's probably gone home for the day. I doubt we'll hear from her until tomorrow." She glanced over at him. "I think we should go to the Flight Deck. It's after work now. There should be a lot of people from MDT there."

"Good idea."

Fifteen minutes later, they walked into the restaurant. The inside of the bar paid homage to aviation, particularly naval aviation. There were black and white framed photographs taken during WWII as well as color shots of more recent military airplanes. There were also wings and propellers hanging from the ceiling, as well as an entire display case of model aircraft.

"It's crowded for a Tuesday afternoon," Alicia muttered, as they made their way into the large restaurant.

"I see a table in the corner. Let's grab it."

"You don’t want to just go to the bar?"

"It's packed up there, and the smell of food is making me hungry. I think we should eat, and then decide who we want to talk to."

"I'm down for that. Breakfast was a long time ago."

He smiled at her easygoing attitude. He was continually surprised by how low maintenance Alicia was. She didn't complain or whine, she just kept on going, no matter how many obstacles got in her way, and she inspired him to do the same.

A waitress dropped off menus and two glasses of water and said she'd be back shortly.

Alicia looked down at the menu. "What looks good to you, Michael? They seem to have a really large selection of pizzas. Want to share one?"

"Perfect," he said, happy to have one less decision to make. "You pick the toppings."

"You don't have any favorites?"

"I love everything. Surprise me."

She smiled. "Okay, pineapple and ham it is."

He smiled back at her. "One of my favorite combinations."

"I was just joking. I can't stand pineapple on pizza. I think I'll just get the combination."

"Perfect. What do you want to drink?"

"Beer and pizza works for me," she said.

"Let's do it."

After the waitress took their order, Alicia said, "I'll be right. I'm going to wash my hands."

She'd no sooner left the table when his phone rang. It was his grandfather's number. "Hello?"

"Michael. How are you? How's the job going?"

"The project is on schedule," he said.

"Good. I like to hear that."

"I actually called you earlier about a different matter."

His grandfather's sigh was pronounced. "It's not about that woman again, is it? I think you should come back to New York, Michael. They're going to railroad you into prison if you're not careful."

"I can't come back yet—for several reasons. I need to find Liliana and I also want to finish the job I started, which is something you taught me well."

"Very true," William agreed. "But if getting you out of Miami is better for you, I'll find someone else to take over the project. In fact, to be honest, I'm a little concerned about the job you're doing there. You're very distracted."

"I'm handling everything that needs to be handled."

"I hope so. This is too big of a project to be derailed by your personal problems. I have other people in the company who will give the building project their undivided attention."

"I told you. Everything is good, and we can talk details another time," he said. "Right now I want to talk to you about something in Liliana's notes that was very strange. She'd written your name down next to a company called MDT and some initials that I think belong to Reid Packer. Do you know him? Are you connected to the company in any way?"

"Reid's father, Kent Packer, is one of my friends. I've played golf with him for years. I've met Reid and Alan on several occasions." He paused. "Why would your friend have written my name down?"

"My guess is that she wanted me to ask you about them. Do you know anything about the company?"

"It's extremely profitable. The technology is world class. They get a lot of government contracts. Does that help?"

"I'd like to get more specific. Liliana was investigating the murder of an MDT engineer and a university professor. It looks like there's a connection between that case and her disappearance."

"How so?"

"Liliana was looking into an appeal of the murder conviction. The guilty person may not be in jail."

"This does not sound good," Will grumbled.

"If I needed to ask Reid Packer some questions, do you think you could get me an appointment with him?"

"I think you should drop this immediately and come back to New York."

"That's not an option. Can you help me or not?" He had a feeling that even if his grandfather could help him, he might choose not to. "This isn't just about Liliana's life but also about mine," he added. "I want to prove that I'm innocent. And I want to get justice for one of the best friends I ever had."

"I suppose I can understand that. Rumors can dog a man for years. I will speak to Kent first. You may want to speak to Alan Packer first. That's Reid's older brother, and I believe he has more power at the company than Reid. Those boys have been competing for their father's attention and his money for as long as I've known them."

"I'll take either Packer. I just need someone high enough in the company to give me access to whoever I need to speak to."

"All right. But I have to say one thing first. Defense contractors like MDT play by a different set of rules. When national security is on the line, laws aren't always followed, information isn't necessarily dispersed, not even to the police. Kent used to tell me that in the end it's always about the good of the country, not necessarily one person. I don't know if that's patriotism or an excuse for doing whatever the hell they want, but I don't want you to get your hopes up. I'm not sure the Packers will honor a request from me if it involves exposing their dirty laundry."

"I'm not going after them; I just want to ask a few questions."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you."

"Keep your nose clean, Michael. I bailed you out of Miami once. I don't want to have to do it again."

He wasn't about to tell his grandfather that he wasn't in Miami at the moment. "I'll talk to you soon."

Alicia returned to the table, giving him a questioning look. "Was that Lieutenant Hodges on the phone?"

"No, it was my grandfather. It turns out he does have a remote connection to MDT. He plays golf with Reid Packer's father. He's going to make some inquiries, see if anyone will talk to me. Apparently, Reid is second in command. His brother Alan is at the head of the company."

"I'm so glad your grandfather is going to help. That's the first piece of good news we've had in a while."

"We'll see. I'm not sure my grandfather's influence will get Reid Packer to talk about the murder of one of his employees."

"Did your grandfather say anything else?"

"Beyond threatening to replace me if I continue to allow myself to be distracted by Liliana's disappearance? No, he didn't have much else to say." He picked up his glass of water and drank half of it. "Sometimes, I'd like to work for myself."

"I'm sure you could, Michael. But you feel like you owe your grandfather, don't you?"

"He did give me a life I wouldn't have had if he hadn't gotten me out of Miami."

"You're giving him too much credit. He might have gotten you out of a bad teenage situation, but you did the rest yourself."

"True." He let out a breath. "He's going to talk to his friend and see if they'll open the door for me."

"Hopefully, they will."

As they waited for their pizza, his gaze swept the room. He wondered if any of the patrons were employees at MDT. There seemed to be two distinct groups of people: the ripped jeans, T-shirted crowd from the nearby university and the slacks, button-down shirts and casual dresses from the after-work group.

A young blonde bartender worked one end of the bar while a bearded guy covered the other end. He wondered if the female was Kayla Robbins, the woman who had testified at the trial.

An older man came out of a hallway and stepped behind the bar to help with the growing crowd. There was something very familiar about his sandy brown hair, square face, linebacker body and friendly grin. "Alicia," Michael said.

"What?"

"Am I crazy, or is that man behind the bar one of the men in the photograph you showed me the other day—the one with your father and three of his pals?"

She followed his gaze, her eyes widening. "Oh, my God! Yes, that's Jerry Caldwell. I can't believe it. I didn't know he was here in Corpus Christi."

"He appears to work here. Looks like we might have caught a break."

"You're right." She paused as the waitress set down their beers. "Excuse me," she said. "Is the man behind the bar Jerry Caldwell?"

"Yes, he owns this place."

"Could you ask him to come over here when he gets a chance? I'm Alicia Monroe. I'm the daughter of one of his friends."

"Sure."

"I thought it would be better to try to get him away from the bar," Alicia told Michael.

"I agree." The waitress stepped up to the bar to relay the message. Jerry's gaze immediately flew in their direction. He nodded and gave them a wave.

The server came back a moment later to say, "Jerry will be over shortly. He said to tell you dinner is on him."

"Thanks," Alicia said. "I can't believe Jerry works here."

"And he owns the place. Didn't TJ say that the owner of this bar used to work at MDT?"

"Yes. Jerry must have gone to work for MDT after he got out of the Navy."

"I wonder what he did for them."

"It probably had something to do with aviation. Jerry was a fighter pilot. My dad told me that Jerry was good, but sometimes he took too many chances, that there's a fine line between courage and stupidity." She smiled at the end of her sentence. "I think I might have crossed that line a few times myself, especially recently."

He smiled. "Well, for the record, when I look at you I don't see stupidity; I only see a courageous, beautiful woman whose generosity to help others knows no bounds."

"That’s…I don't know what to say. You've left me speechless."

He laughed. "That might be a first."

"Now you know how to shut me up. Just give me a compliment."

"It might have been a compliment, but it was also the truth."

As Michael finished speaking, Jerry came over to the table. His light brown eyes were warm and friendly and he had a charming smile that grew even brighter as he gave Alicia a hug.

"Is it really you?" Jerry asked, shaking his head in amazement as he and Alicia sat down. "My God, you're all grown up. When did that happen?"

"A while ago."

"I ran into your mom a few years back. I thought she'd said you moved away."

"I did. I'm just back for a visit. I had no idea you were here in Texas."

"I settled in about eight years ago."

"That long? My mom has never mentioned running into you. Have you ever gone by the house to see her?"

"No. Your mom was never one of my fans," he said with a careless shrug. "I took your father out for one too many drinks on a couple of occasions. She thought I was a bad influence. At your father's funeral, she pulled me aside and said she didn't want me around the family, especially Jake. She didn't want me encouraging him to be a pilot, even though everyone could see that's all the boy wanted to do."

"I had no idea my mom had a problem with you, although it doesn't totally surprise me. I think she grew to hate the Navy and everyone attached to it. But just so you know Jake did become a pilot."

"Good for him."

She glanced over at Michael. "Sorry. I haven't introduced you. This is Jerry Caldwell, otherwise known as Uncle Jerry, and this is Michael Cordero. I told Michael that you were great friends with my dad."

"Wyatt was one of the best pilots I ever flew with," Jerry said. "He was a brilliant flyer and an even better man. I still miss him."