“All that stuff about you two being raised by gypsies true?” Hack asked.
“It is. The family wasn’t exactly gypsies. Not real ones. Not a drop of Roma blood to be found. But we did wander around and do odd jobs, live off the land.” He glanced at Hack. “And a few other things.”
Hack grunted. “I can imagine.”
“You probably can.”
“And the military stuff? Harper ran covert operations and you did whatever you did?”
“Also true.”
“That mission you mentioned…the one where you and Harper reunited. Was it successful? Did you take out the bad guy?”
“Can’t say.”
“Which means you did. Were there others?”
Cain gave him a glance. “Can’t say that either.”
Hack nodded. “Thought so.”
“What about Cassie?” Cain asked. “She seems to be on the ball.”
“Oh, yeah. She is.”
“What she did up there along the highway was ballsy stuff.”
Hack nodded. “It was.” He eyed Cain. “Tell her that. She would appreciate the vote of confidence.”
Cain turned onto the street where Jason’s apartment was located. An eight unit, one-story complex on the right. Cain pulled to the curb, shut off the engine. They sat, looking the place over. Dark. No activity.
“You were the chief, and now she is,” Cain said. “How’d that happen?”
“Her father ran the show for many years. He was born for the job, as they say. Ran a solid department until he died. That’s when I took over. Cassie worked for me but I got old. Funny how that happens.” He shrugged. “She was young and this job too often needs more energy.” He gave Cain a look. “And Cassie, like her father, was born and bred to do this.”
“She grew up in the station, right?”
“She was there almost every day. Literally from the time she could walk. By the time she was, I don’t remember, sixth, seventh grade, she started working there after school each day. Filing and that sort of thing. Later she did some ride-alongs. Once she got out of high school, she became a cop. No official training but she took to it like a duck to water. It came natural to her. Then her father got killed.” Hack gave a sigh. “She blames herself for that. Always has. In spite of everything I’ve ever said to convince her otherwise.”
“What happened?”
Hack spun out the tale. The thumbnail, anyway. Cain could envision it going down. Mainly because Hack was a master storyteller.
A drizzly night. A farmhouse, rural area, acreage, long dirt road, open fields, a few clumps of trees. Not easy to approach. Three biker-types cooking meth. Chief Carl Crowe, Cassie’s father, formulated the plan. Park a half-mile away, approach from two sides. Cassie and another officer would hug the tree line and flank the house. Carl and Hack from the far side, after creepy-crawling across an open field. Wet grass, cold after their clothing soaked through. They would work around to the barn, where the lab was churning out its poison. Cassie was to hold her position in case the bad guys attempted to escape that way.
When the first shots erupted, she abandoned her position, ran toward the barn, gun in hand. But, as she rounded the corner toward the rear, toward the pop-pop-pop of gunfire, she ran straight into one of the bikers. He held a shotgun, swung it her way. Carl yelled, exposed himself, attracted the guy’s attention, got off a single shot that hit its mark, but not before the shotgun cut him down. Hack ended the tale with, “Ever since then she’s kicked herself around for not holding her position. Not following orders.”
“What she did makes sense to me,” Cain said. “Go help. Not sit and hope all was going as planned.”
“One thing you can say for that girl is that she ain’t no coward. Believe me, I’ve told her so more times than I can remember.”
“Thanks for telling me,” Cain said.
“Just don’t tell her I did. She don’t care for folks nosing into her business.” Hack smiled. “Don’t want to face her ire.”
“Got it.” Cain nodded. “Let’s do this.”
Jason answered Hack’s knock. Behind him, against the living room wall, Cain saw a desk with a computer. The screen revealing a video game.
“What do you want?”
“Mind if we come in?” Hack asked.
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
Cain flattened a palm against Jason’s chest, pushed him back, entered. “Don’t be so unfriendly.”
“You can’t come in here.”
“Look, Jason, we aren’t here for our health,” Cain said. “Rather for yours.”
That confused him.
Hack ran through the story. Dr. Buckner safe, Dennie in the hospital, Jessie in jail, one of Dalton’s crew now the property of the coroner. The house they holed-up in found, empty, and his feeling, Cain’s too, that Dalton and a couple of his guys were still around. Probably cleaning up loose ends. Which just might include Jason.
“Why would they, whoever they are, do anything to me?” Jason said. “I don’t know them. They don’t know me.”
“Cut the bullshit,” Cain said. “You know them. They know you. That puts you on the table.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Jason,” Hack said, “we’re trying to help you. Keep you safe. What we’d like is for you to come down to the station and hang out. Where we can better protect you until we get a handle on this.”
Jason smirked. “Tell you what, if I need you, I’ll dial nine-one-one.” He walked to the door, held it open. “How about that?”
Hack sighed. “We can’t make you do anything, but you just might be making a big mistake.”
“Wouldn’t be the first one.” He smiled. “Have a nice evening.”
“One more thing,” Cain said. “Dalton has another contact here. Any idea who that might be?”
“No. Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you nothing about it.”
As they walked back toward The Rig, Cain said, “He’s not the sharpest kid on the block.”
“Worse. He’s an asshole.” Hack stopped, looking back toward Jason’s place. “But I’d hate for anything to happen to him just because he’s stupid.”
“Want to
