Distortion: Moonlighters Series: Book Two

  “Cathy, I’ll go. You stay here.”

  “No,” she said. “I know what I’m doing. I’ll go through one of those passages between the apartments and get to the back. I’ll just get close enough to take a few pictures of the back of his apartment so we’ll know if he has a back door or back windows. You wait here in case he comes out.”

  She was out the door before he could stop her. What was this? Cathy acting like the boss, telling him what to do?

  She was a piece of work, and she clearly thought he’d kill the guy with his bare hands if he got the chance.

  He watched her walk across the parking lot. There were three two-story buildings, each one made up of four units—two up and two down. According to Juliet, Miller was on the first floor of Building C, his door facing the stairs between the two bottom apartments.

  Cathy walked through the passage in Building A and disappeared out the back of the building. He had gotten the lay of the land as he’d come in. Behind Building A was a small plot of grass and another building. He wasn’t sure what was behind Buildings B and C. Probably woods, from what he could tell.

  He checked out the windows on the upper floors. Some of the blinds were closed, some open. He prayed no one would spot Cathy sneaking around back.

  Cathy pulled out her phone and pretended to be texting. She walked purposefully through one of the apartment buildings, came out on grass, and checked out the upper windows on the back of the buildings. The first-floor apartments had privacy fences around patios that were about twelve feet square. The upstairs units had balconies.

  Since Miller was in a downstairs apartment, Cathy took a picture of the privacy fence closest to her, still pretending to be texting. Though it wasn’t his unit, it would give them an idea of what his looked like, if she couldn’t get close enough.

  She crossed the grass to Building B, glanced up. All the blinds were closed, and no one seemed to be looking out. From here she could see behind Building C. She saw Miller’s privacy fence but couldn’t see inside it without going closer.

  She angled her phone and took a quick picture inside the opening of the privacy fence in Building B. It had a waist-high iron gate. This tenant had a grill, a small table and chairs, and a sliding glass door. Leonard Miller would have the same square footage on his patio.

  She backed away, looking through her dark lenses at Miller’s windows. One on the back of the house, one on the side, and one on the front. His blinds were closed, too. She stepped back beside one of the privacy fences, where he wouldn’t be able to see her if he did happen to look out, and took a picture of the wooded area behind his building. If the feds ever found a reason to make an arrest, they’d have to guard the back door or he’d be able to escape this way.

  She hurried back the way she had come and cut across the parking lot to Michael’s Caprice. She got in and pulled the pictures up on her phone. “Here’s the back. There’s woods there, a sliding glass door, privacy fence.”

  Michael studied the pictures. “Good work. We may be here awhile.”

  “That’s okay,” Cathy said. “I have nowhere to be. Can’t think of a single thing that’s more important.”

  Michael looked over at Cathy as she leaned back in the seat, her bandana still covering her hair. She was beautiful, even when she tried to hide it. Even with the scarf on, she would turn heads.

  A look of deep reflection darkened her eyes. Was she remembering the pain of the trial, with Miller sitting smugly as the defendant? Was she remembering how he’d high-fived his attorneys after he was acquitted?

  Or had her memory taken her further back, to that day when she’d gotten word that Joe was dead? That the man in that apartment had murdered him?

  Suddenly the door opened, and Michael snapped to attention. “He’s coming out. Be ready to write his tag down when we see which car is his.”

  Yes, it was Miller . . . about twenty pounds heavier, with longer hair than the last time Michael had seen him when Miller’s mother died. He looked less threatening, not like someone you would automatically assume to be a thug. He stepped out of his building and crossed the grass to a white cargo van. Cathy brought the binoculars to her eyes. “Got it,” she said, then wrote the tag number down.

  Miller pulled out of his space and passed them without glancing their way as he left the complex. Michael gave him a few seconds, then followed. As he did, Cathy opened her laptop, signed onto one of their databases, and typed in the tag number.

  A couple of minutes later, she had what she was looking for. “The car is registered to a Miller Arden.”

  “See what else that name brings up,” Michael said as he drove.

  She typed on the laptop and waited. “Okay, the apartment lease is in that name. I have a landline phone number. And a cell phone. Utility bills.”

  “Driver’s license?”

  She typed again. “Yep, he has a Florida driver’s license in that name. That’s his picture, all right.”

  “Okay,” Michael said as he watched Miller up ahead. “This is it. His luck is about to run out.”

  CHAPTER 42

  Where are we going? I want to go home.”

  Juliet wasn’t sure how to answer Zach. She was headed to King’s Point to see the house Michael had told her about, but she didn’t want to tell him that his dad owned it. He’d had all the revelations he could take today.

  “Mom?”

  She sighed. “I have to pick up Abe in forty-five minutes, so I’m going to use that time to run by an address that Michael wanted me to check.”

  “No!” he said. “Please, Mom. Take me to Uncle Jay’s.”

  “I don’t want you staying by yourself.”

  “I’m twelve years old!”

  “I know, but these are not normal times for us. Uncle Jay isn’t working at home today, so you’re going to stay with me until we pick up Abe. Then Aunt Holly is going to stay with you.”

  He let out an exaggerated sigh, slumped in his seat, and pulled his DS out of his backpack. Good. Maybe he’d get engrossed in his video game and not demand to know why she was driving by that particular house.

  King’s Point was a ritzy neighborhood across town, where millionaires lived. When they were shopping for a house a few years ago, Bob had wanted to live there. But it wasn’t in Zach and Abe’s school district, so Juliet had insisted they avoid that area. Secretly, she’d worried about the money they’d be spending. At the time, Bob hadn’t been earning enough to comfortably afford that. But appearances were everything to him.

  She drove down Beach Drive, turned to get to King’s Point, and crossed Pretty Bayou. As she reached Court Street, an eerie feeling came over her. The layers of deception in Bob’s life were astonishing. Now to learn that he owned one of these homes? Did he spend time here? Did he have another girlfriend and more children?

  She counted down the houses, a knot in her throat, and slowed as she came to a wall blocking the view of the house. She passed the gate, peering through the iron bars, trying to see the house through the opening.

  Zach looked up. “Who lives here?”

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “Then why are we here?”

  “Michael thinks this address might have something to do with people involved in your dad’s case. But I don’t know what yet.”

  Now she had Zach’s attention. He strained to look back.

  “Maybe it’s the wrong address,” she said.

  “Well, he must have told you who lives there.”

  “He didn’t. He’s working on finding out.”

  Zach slumped back in his seat. “I hate this,” he muttered.

  “Yeah, me too. You have no idea.”

  By the time she got to the pick-up line at Abe’s school, she had almost convinced herself to tell Michael, Cathy, and Holly that she was done. Zach sat in the seat next to her, his thumbs moving across his DS, a look of grim determination on his face as he tried to lose himself in the video game.

  But without he
r help, they might never break up this drugtrafficking ring. Amber, Miller, and the others would get away with it.

  But that wasn’t her problem, was it? She could just get those codes from the security company, give them to the FBI, and be done with it.

  She would busy herself cleaning and repairing her house, getting it ready to sell. She didn’t think she wanted to live there anymore. Besides, how would she be able to afford it?

  She could work full-time for Michael. He needed someone. The pay wouldn’t be stellar, but after being a stay-at-home mom for years, her resume wouldn’t be impressive, and working for Michael might be the best she could do. Besides, it would be flexible enough that she could be there for the kids.

  She heard the bell ring, and children began spilling out of the school. As she watched for Abe, she noticed a teenager standing across the grass near the portable buildings. He had a T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, and tattoos adorned his biceps. Was he someone’s older brother?

  She watched as three boys who looked to be about Abe’s age went over to him and handed him something. He glanced from side to side, then pulled something out of his pocket that he handed to each of the boys.

  Juliet sat up straighter. Was she witnessing a drug deal at her fourth-grade son’s school?

  She nudged Zach. “Zach, see that guy over there?”

  He followed her stare. “Yeah.”

  “Do you know him?”

  “No, but I see him sometimes. He comes to my school too.”

  “Do you know why?”

  Zach didn’t answer for a minute. He went back to playing his game.

  “Zach, answer me. Why does he come?”

  “He’s selling stuff.”

  “What kind of stuff?”

  Zach looked up at the boy. “Crack or weed, probably.”

  Her jaw fell open. So this was what they had come to? Drug dealers at her son’s elementary school? Stalking Zach’s middle school? And could his supplier be someone in the chain whose links went back to Bob?

  Would the person who’d called Amber today be bringing more drugs for this boy to sell? Would his “fish” go into the hands of children?

  Her heart pounded and her mouth went dry. She grabbed her camera from the floor behind her seat, zoomed in, and waited until the guy turned toward her.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m taking his picture,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “So I can give it to the police.”

  Zach pushed the camera down. “Mom, don’t let him see you!”

  Juliet lifted the camera and snapped more pictures. Satisfied that she’d gotten the shots she needed, she lowered the camera. Then she made a quick call to the police station, told them about the boy at the school, and e-mailed them his picture.

  When she hung up, Zach stared at her. “Mom, if he finds out you reported him, Abe and I will be toast.”

  “Then don’t tell anybody. Zach, there are times when you have to do the right thing even when it costs you something.” She looked out at the boy again. “I can’t imagine why he hasn’t been reported before. I couldn’t be the only one who realizes what he’s doing.”

  “Mom, he’s at my school almost every day. You probably only noticed today because of all this stuff with dad. Most of the parents just think he’s picking up his kid brother or something.”

  “Well, why haven’t you told me?”

  “Because I don’t want to get my face smashed in, okay?”

  She saw Abe coming out of the school, grim and pale. He headed for her van, saw his brother in the front, and opened the sliding door. “Why are you here?” he asked Zach. “Your school’s not out yet.”

  Zach looked down at his game. “Came home early.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I wanted to, okay?”

  “Zach was having a bad day,” Juliet said. “What about you?”

  He shrugged. “It was like I was famous. Everybody felt sorry for me. Everybody was real nice.”

  “Yeah, well, wait till tomorrow,” Zach muttered.

  Juliet shot Zach a withering look. There was no reason to upset Abe.

  “Can we go home now?” Abe asked. “I’m tired of being at Uncle Jay’s. I want my room.”

  “No, honey. Not yet.”

  He let out a long sigh and turned on the DVD player in the backseat. He shoved his ear buds into his ears.

  As Juliet pulled away, she saw a police car turning into the school’s circular driveway. She prayed they’d catch the dealer.

  Driving back to Jay’s, Juliet thought about that drug dealer at the school. The local police weren’t naive. They probably already knew about him. He might even have a criminal record already.

  They pulled one off the street, and more popped up. It was like a game of Whac-A-Mole. But the children were the losers. In fact, everyone lost, except those who made money on them.

  Those like Bob.

  Rage rose in her chest. Would Bob have been involved in this if he’d known it would trickle down to their sons’ schools? Or would he have cared?

  She really knew nothing about the man she had lived with for fifteen years. She would have to recalibrate every emotion she had for him. Reset every memory in light of what she now knew.

  Was he really the greedy coward that he seemed to be? Had drug money paid for their house? Her car?

  Her heart ached for her children, who would have to learn the hard way that their father wasn’t a man of integrity. He wasn’t brave. He wasn’t noble.

  But she could still be.

  Resolve rose within her, filling her with the courage her husband had lacked. And suddenly she knew that she had to stay the course. She couldn’t back out of helping the FBI with the case, no matter what Zach wanted. She had to make sure they were all caught, from Leonard Miller and anyone above him, right down to that kid in the schoolyard.

  She would not shrink back or give up. Lives depended on her following through.

  CHAPTER 43

  The baby had vomited again, and now the smell was getting to Amber. She pulled into a parking lot. She’d have to change Robbie’s clothes before she went in. Furious, she got into the backseat and pulled him out of his car seat. Setting him on her lap, she wiped his face again.

  “I know you don’t realize this, but you’re putting us in serious danger today. I so don’t need for you to be sick.”

  She pulled off his onesie and stuffed it into a garbage bag she carried for dirty diapers. She’d just throw the thing away so she wouldn’t have to smell it all the way home.

  She wiped off his chest, making sure she got all the vomit, then laid him down on the seat and quickly changed his diaper. As she stuffed the dirty diaper into the garbage bag, something caught her eye.

  She looked closer. On the floorboard in front of the car seat lay the phone battery.

  What was it doing there?

  She closed the diaper and pulled a T-shirt over Robbie’s head. She reached for the battery. If it was here, maybe the phone . . .

  She looked under the seat. Yes! There it was—her phone!

  Had she dropped it hard enough to knock the battery out? She wasn’t sure how that could have happened without her realizing it, but apparently it had. She’d looked on the floorboard of the front seat, not the back—and it had been here all along.

  Thankful, she snapped the battery back in and pressed the power button. The phone came to life.

  She’d had thirteen missed calls, most from Lenny Miller earlier today. But the transporters had also called. She hoped their failure to get ahold of her hadn’t changed their plans about making the delivery tomorrow night.

  Taking Robbie with her, she got back into the driver’s seat and called them.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, this is Amber.”

  There was a pause. “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry I missed your call.” She didn’t want to tell him she’d misplaced her phone, so she said, “
My battery died. I just saw that you tried me.”

  Again, silence.

  “Can you hear me? Hello?”

  “I talked to somebody. They said they were you.”

  “What?” She’d startled the baby and he began to cry. “No! What number did you call?”

  “The number you’re calling from. I talked to a woman and she said to make the delivery, that the delivery point was the same and was still secure. Is that a baby crying?”

  “Yes, it’s my baby.” She tried to grasp what he’d said, but she didn’t understand. She sat there staring out the windshield, trying to think over Robbie’s screaming. “That’s impossible. No one’s had my phone.”

  “Have you been drinking?”

  She breathed a frustrated laugh. “No! This woman. Did she sound like me?”

  “How would I know? I’ve never talked to you in person.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “Nothing that she didn’t already know. What’s going on?”

  Amber closed her eyes. “Tell me you didn’t give her an address.”

  “No, I didn’t say where it was. She sounded like she knew.”

  Amber groaned, bouncing her son. “This can’t be true!”

  “Amber, that could have been the feds or the police. They could be setting us up. If it’s not safe to deliver there, we need to set up another place or call this off right now.”

  She shook her head, trying to figure it out. Had her phone really been in her backseat all along? Or had someone taken it and then put it back there? “I don’t know. Let me talk to my contact. I’ll get back to you. But we need that load!”

  “I’m not dropping it anywhere until I hear from you, and if I’m not absolutely sure that things are secure, I’ll contact another broker. We’ll have to abort this delivery.”

  “No, that won’t be necessary. It’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t think it will. I’m going to talk to my contacts and decide. You can contact me later and if I don’t answer, then it’s off. If you do get me, we need a code word so I’ll know it’s really you.”

  All she could think about was her crying baby. “How about babysitter? I’ll say, ‘I got a babysitter,’ and you’ll know it’s me.”