“None.”
“The investigation’s over,” Fortner said.
He had been standing in the parking lot waiting for me, and had quickly walked over to my truck as soon as I pulled in.
“What?” I asked in shock as I got out of my truck and closed the door.
“At least for us,” he said, and we began walking toward the admin building. “Tom Daniels showed up this morning and took over. Didn’t you take his daughter out last night?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Isn’t he your ex-father-in-law or something?”
“Or something, as it turns out,” I said. “We’re still married.”
He shook his head in disbelief and smiled. “I’m not even assisting him this time,” he said, his face growing angry. “He’s got a team from FDLE. Evidently, Bobby Earl called the governor.”
I shook my head wearily.
Across the street, near the employees’ softball field and next to the training building, several news trucks were setting up, as reporters, mics in hand, were checking makeup and hair as camera men were making final adjustments to tripods and video cameras.
Following my gaze, Pete said, “Oh, I saw you on
“We were in different states,” I said.
“Oh,” he said. “Hey,” he added, stopping suddenly, “what the hell happened to your truck?”
I told him.
“Van was from Louisiana?” he asked. “You sure?”
I nodded.
“But it couldn’t’ve been Bobby Earl,” he said. “He was with Larry King at the time.”
“Which was very smart,” I said.
Further down the road, past the training building and obstacle course, members of the pistol team were practicing on the firing range, preparing for a tournament this coming weekend. From this distance, the.38 rounds sounded like the small pops of firecrackers.
“Did you see who it was?”
“Who was what?”
“In the van?”
“Just a glimpse,” I said, “but it looked like DeAndré Stone.”
“Oh shit,” he said. “He came into the institution last night.”
“For what?”
“Evidently his uncle has given him a volunteer badge and made it clear to the control room sergeant that he can come and go as he likes as a representative of Bobby Earl Caldwell Ministries.”
“But what did he do?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” he said. “I just saw his name on the control room log. But guess who’s back in the infirmary?”
“Cedric Porter?”
He nodded.
“Is he okay?”
“No, but he’s gonna live.”
“We need to-”
“Assign security to him? Already done.”
“Great,” I said. “Good work.”
“Thanks.”
Correctional officers, most of them in mud-covered trucks with tall CB antennas bobbing up and down in the wind, and employees began to trickle down the long road that leads to the prison, each of them straining to look at the news vans and reporters. Soon the empty parking lot was filling up, doors slamming, alarms twerping, the last bites of breakfast being eaten, and Pete and I, suddenly in a crowd, had to lower our voices.
“This has got to stop,” I said. “Dad’s still working with NOPD on the Caldwells, but I’m gonna try to work it out so I can interview them in the next day or so.”
“Speaking of which,” he said, “your dad’s off the case, too.”
I nodded.
“Stone wants to see us in his office,” he said. “Says if we continue to investigate, he’s going to send us home and file criminal charges.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Are you going to stop?”
“Of course,” I said. “I always do what I’m told.”
Tom Daniels was waiting for me in Stone’s outer office with his best glare. I tried not to quake. The door to Stone’s office was ajar, and I could hear that he was on the phone.
I walked over to Daniels, and in a low voice that Stone’s secretary couldn’t hear, said, “Dad.”
“Son…” he whispered back, “… of a bitch.”
Tom Daniels’ puffy face was lined with tiny broken blood vessels and looked far older than its fifty-seven years. His gin-soaked eyes were bloodshot and gray like his hair, which was in disarray.
“You’ve always had a way with words,” I said. “And always been way too sentimental when it comes to family.”
“We’re not family,” he said.
“Oh, but we are,” I said. “My wife, your daughter, never filed our divorce papers. We discussed the whole thing over dinner last night. We’re thinking of getting back together and moving in with you and Mom.”
He was speechless, his anger seething beneath the fiery surface of his skin.
“I’m overcome, too,” I said. “Let me see if I can find us a tissue.”
CHAPTER 39
When we were all seated inside Stone’s office, he said, “I’ll make this brief. Inspector, Chaplain, you are no longer to investigate the murder of Nicole Caldwell.”
“We can’t just stop,” Fortner said. “We’re too far in. Getting too close to finding the killer.”
“That’s my job,” Daniels said. “I appreciate what you’ve done, Pete, and I’ll use it, but you can’t work on this one anymore.”
Fortner started to continue his protest, but Stone stopped him by raising his hand. “I didn’t call you in here to discuss it,” he said. “Merely to inform you. Do you understand?”
I nodded, but Fortner shook his head. “Do y’all want the killer to get away for some reason? Is he a family member, something like that?”
The sudden rage from Stone was palpable, but he spoke very calmly. “If it matters,” he said, “this was not my decision. I’m confident in your abilities. Both of you.”
“But-” Fortner began again.
“The media attention changes everything. This is coming from the top,” Daniels said. “And not just of the department. Your warden’s dangerously close to losing his job. If you want to join him, then persist in your insubordination. If not, back off and stay the hell out of my way. Both of you.”
Fortner nodded and Daniels looked over at me. “Understand?” he asked.
I nodded.
“I’m not playing here,” he said. “Don’t nod your head in here and then go out there and fuck up my investigation. I’ve been empowered to fire and or file criminal charges against anybody who gets in my way on this thing. So don’t fuck with me.”
