Blood Lines (25 page)

“Will's a good judge of character. You brought your good luck on yourself.”

Philip smiled.

Estrella logged on to her e-mail, brought up the messages Philip had sent her, added the files she'd been working on, and started sending.

If this didn't give Will the leverage he needed, Estrella didn't know what would.

>> Denny's Restaurant

>> 4541 Sunset Road

>> Charlotte, North Carolina

>> 0311 Hours

“Having Gerald willing to testify that he sold that pistol to Victor Gant isn't going to give us anything,” Tarlton said.

Will nodded. They all knew that, but someone had to say it. They sat at one of the restaurant's back booths. None of them was operating at prime. Tarlton looked burned, and Will knew he and Remy were operating on even less sleep than the police chief.

“There's nothing in any of these files we can hope to use against Victor Gant.” Tarlton waved at the copious piles of paper he'd dug out of the police department records. They sat in cardboard boxes in the booth beside him.

“If there'd been anything there,” Will said, “you'd have taken him down before now. We were just hoping to find something that you hadn't.”

“Last best shot,” Tarlton agreed. “The only thing I could possibly get Gant for is carrying concealed. With his prison record, I could get an arrest warrant for that.”

“But you weren't there when the FBI took him into custody,” Will said.

“No. I could get some witnesses from the bar who saw them take weapons off Gant, but then I'm sure I could get other witnesses who say that only Fat Mike Wiley had a weapon.”

“Gant's also got a deal in place with the FBI,” Will said. “They're going to protect him as much as they can.”

“Kind of makes you wonder whose team they're on.”

“Theirs,” Remy said. “First, last, and always. That's how they operate when they got their own fish to clean. Then when they're helping you clean yours, they just want to hang back and tell you how to get it done.”

“Why, Special Agent Gautreau, I suspicion that's a cynical attitude you have.” Tarlton smiled.

“This guy Urlacher is a political climber,” Remy said. “You find his type everywhere. Gant's moving enough heroin through the area that finding his source is going to be a big deal.”

“You can't blame a guy for having ambition.” Tarlton grinned. “I say that with all the false sincerity I can muster.”

“We can still shadow Gant for a few days,” Remy said. “Keep him in a full-court press till Shel gets out of here and we can take him home.” He cut his gaze to Will. “Unless Director Larkin says different.”

“He won't,” Will said. “At least not yet.” Larkin knew how badly Frank Billings's death had affected all of them. “But the time will come.” Will looked at the notes he'd scribbled on his iPAQ and didn't see anything there that looked the least bit promising. “My problem is that I don't feel good leaving this for Chief Tarlton now that we stirred up the hornet's nest.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Tarlton said, “but I've been making my way around here for a long time before you guys showed up. I expect I'll be doing the same after you leave.”

“I know.” Will sighed. “I just like cleaning up any messes I've made before I pull up stakes.”

“You didn't make this one. Victor Gant has been here for a while.”

The waitress came by and took away the last remnants of their dinner. When she left the check, Will reached for it.

“Nope.” Tarlton picked up the check. “Your money's no good here. My town, my treat.”

“It seems like the least we could do after keeping you up half the night,” Will said.

“You offered me a shot at taking Victor Gant off the streets, and you had enough clout to make the FBI dry up and blow away if it came to that,” Tarlton said as he dropped a credit card over the check. “And who knows? Maybe I'll need some help farther down the line.”

Will's iPAQ vibrated for attention. He glanced at the screen and saw Estrella's icon float to the top. He tapped the icon and held the iPAQ to his ear.

“Estrella? You should have been home hours ago.”

“Nita and Joe are keeping Nicky tonight,” Estrella said. “Nicky told me that was okay and that he didn't miss me.”

Even though she tried to disguise it, Will heard the slight pain in Estrella's voice. She took motherhood seriously.

“Take tomorrow off,” Will suggested. “Catch a movie.”

“I can't. Too much work has piled up here. Everything will be fine. One of the reasons Nicky's so excited about staying with Nita and Joe is because Joe has promised to take him and Celia sailing in the morning.”

“I'd be excited too.” Will sailed with his own kids every chance he got. Since he'd gotten divorced, it seemed there were more opportunities to take Wren and Steven out on the boat.

“I can make you more excited,” Estrella offered.

“Okay.”

“Philip finished the analysis of the heroin you couriered to us. We've got a match. If you want to bring your computer up, I'll walk you through it.”

Will reached into the messenger bag he used to carry his computer. Remy and Tarlton leaned in closer.

“Something?” Tarlton asked.

Will nodded. He opened the computer and powered it on, then waited for it to connect to the mini satellite that provided the encrypted Internet connection to the NCIS transmissions.

The Web page Estrella had set up for her presentation appeared on the screen. Will put the phone on speaker. No one in the restaurant was close enough to overhear.

“Let me walk you through the time line as I've constructed it,” Estrella said. “Thirty-one hours ago, Bobby Lee Gant used his pistol to murder one man and threaten Shel and a young woman.”

Will rubbed his eyes tiredly. It was hard to believe so little time had passed. But the first forty-eight hours of any investigation were always the most important. If something didn't break during that time, things generally went badly.

“Nine months ago, Fat Mike Wiley bought the pistol from Gerald Otis,” Estrella continued. “So somewhere in there, the pistol went from Fat Mike's hands to Bobby Lee's.”

Will studied the time line and saw those two incidents marked.

“Four months ago, a man named Walter Simpson went missing,” Estrella said.

“I worked that case with the sheriff,” Tarlton said. “Simpson lived in Charlotte, but everybody knew he was a meth cook. The sheriff and I suspected he worked for Victor Gant.”

“As a matter of fact,” Estrella said, cycling the Web presentation forward so that another page opened up on the computer monitor, “I did some digging. Five men who've been tentatively identified as Purple Royals were busted in Mecklenburg County, Robeson County, and Guilford County. At the time of their arrests, all of them had meth on them that came from the same batch.”

“You said
tentatively
,” Tarlton said.

“I think a little digging could improve the standing on that point,” Estrella acknowledged. “The important thing is that these men were carrying meth that could be tied to Simpson.”

“How was it tied?” Remy asked. “Recipe or product?”

Will knew that meth cooks almost always created the drug the same way every time and that the individual products tended to be unique enough to identify. Further chemical breakdowns could verify that beyond doubt. Recipes were filed with law enforcement departments, and drug samples were kept in federal clearinghouses.

“Both,” Estrella answered.

“That indicates there was a tie between Victor Gant and Simpson,” Will said, “but how does that help us?”

“Because a month ago hunters found Simpson's body, and it had a bullet from Bobby Lee's gun in it.”

And that, Will knew, was the beginning of something they could work with.

25

>> Rafter M Ranch

>> Outside Fort Davis, Texas

>> 0231 Hours (Central Time Zone)

Restless, Tyrel flicked through channels. He knew he had insomnia bad when he couldn't even focus on baseball. In fact, not even cold corn bread soaked in buttermilk had taken the edge off, and generally that would guarantee he'd sleep like a baby.

He flicked through the channels and ended up on FOX News, thinking the news would surely put him out of his misery. Thoughts of Shel kept banging around in his head, though, and he couldn't seem to get them nailed down in any manner that would let him know why he was thinking about him so much.

After a few minutes of watching the international news, Tyrel almost changed channels. Then he saw Shel's picture on the screen behind the anchorman.

The picture was a twin of one Tyrel had stuck in his wife's family Bible. It was where she'd kept all her important papers and memories. The Bible still held pressed flowers from the first time Tyrel had courted her, along with baby pictures and report cards.

Tyrel sat up a little straighter and turned up the television's volume. He wasn't worried about waking Ramon. The boy had sacked out in Don and Shel's room. That was how Tyrel still thought of the bedroom at the back of the house.

Don and Shel's room.

Like they were going to be coming right back at some point.

At least their mama hadn't had to watch them move out, especially the angry way Shel had left. Tyrel knew that would have hurt her. And maybe it would have damaged their relationship. She'd always put a lot of store in her boys.

That was what she'd always called them. The boys, like they were the only two boys in the world.

Tyrel forced himself to focus on the news story. The anchor related how a young man named Bobby Lee Gant had killed one man and was about to kill a woman and maybe Shel when Shel had shot him.

The fact that his son had killed somebody didn't bother Tyrel. That was what soldiers did. He'd killed men himself. War was war, and killing enemy soldiers was what he'd been over there to do.

But one didn't deserve it at all.

Tyrel blinked back the pain of that stray memory and listened to the dead young man's name again. Something about it sounded familiar. Then again, in Texas there were a lot of Robert Lees and Johnny Lees. Bobby Lee couldn't have been so unique that he'd notice it.

Then the anchor started talking about another man, the boy's father. Evidently he was a criminal too. His picture appeared on the wall behind the anchor desk.

And Tyrel was slammed right out of Texas and back into Vietnam.

>> Mecklenburg County Medical Examiner

>> 618 North College Street

>> Charlotte, North Carolina

>> 0357 Hours

“I'm too drunk for this,” Fat Mike said as he leaned against the wall near the building's back door. He belched, then cursed.

“Keep quiet.” Victor spoke softly.

“We get caught, this could go really bad,” Fat Mike said.

“You're worrying too much. We won't get caught.” Victor stood. “You about got that lock?”