The Perfect Scream

One of the first things Stallings learned in the police academy was never give up your gun. No matter what. He looked up the barrel of a shotgun and tried to assess the young man behind it. This was no stoner. This was a businessman protecting his merchandise.

Stallings did his best to keep calm and said, “Don’t get worked up, son. I’m not here to cause any trouble.”

“You’re on private property, which is completely surrounded by a six-foot-high fence, and you just walked through a million bucks of marijuana. I think you are here to cause trouble and I can’t let that happen.”

“I guess this is the wrong time to mention I’m a cop, huh?”

This caught the man by surprise and he took a second to swivel his head in each direction to make sure Stallings was alone. “You got a warrant, cop?”

“I don’t need a warrant. I’m not here to arrest you or disrupt your business in any way. I just want to ask you about a young man who’s missing in Jacksonville.”

“Bullshit.”

“Come on, you’re not an idiot. Why would I make something like that up? Of everything I’ve just said, what sounds like a lie? I just want to talk.”

“Who’s the boy you’re looking for?” Stallings could see the young man’s finger slip off the trigger slightly.

“Zach Halston.” The effect on the man was immediate. He knew Zach.

“What made you come here to ask about Zach?”

“His cell phone records showed he made a call here not long before he disappeared. I figured out the number he called belonged to J. L. Winter. Can I assume you’re J.L.?”

The man stepped away from Stallings and motioned with the shotgun for him to step out into the open driveway. “Raise both of your hands and if I see either drop to your waist, I pull this trigger and all the buckshot rounds will pass right through you. Understand?”

“Like God himself were explaining it to me.” He stepped out of the corn and into the driveway.

The man said, “Over towards the F-150.”

Stallings wasn’t in the mood to push the surly man with a shotgun. He started to walk quickly toward the new pickup truck with his hands up and out so there would be no mistake he was listening to commands.

He paused at the pickup truck and the man barked, “Walk up to the trailer.”

Stallings complied and paused at the foot of the stairs leading to the clean double-wide, professionally set up on four-foot-high supports.

The young man shouted, “J.L., I found someone trespassing. He wants to talk to you.”

Stallings watched as a curtain moved at the front window. A few moments later the door to the trailer opened and a woman about thirty, in jeans that accentuated her perfect curves and a low top that showed off her other assets, stepped onto the wooden stairs. She had a beautiful face with long, straight black hair. Her dark eyes looked from Stallings to the man with the shotgun.

The woman said, “Who are you?”

Stallings was so stunned all he could say was, “Are you J. L. Winter?”

“I am. And if you don’t tell me your name I’m going to have Junior here blow your motherfucking balls off.”

He couldn’t say it fast enough. “John Stallings. Nice to meet you.”

TWELVE

It was early afternoon when Lynn sat down to Thanksgiving dinner with her entire family, including her father’s two brothers, who were in business with him, and their five children. It was quite a crowd, but her mother’s silent toil over two gigantic turkeys kept her from feeling too festive.

Before dinner she noticed her father calling her cousins by the wrong names and forgetting where he had placed his scotch and water. Considering the high-pressure business he had spent a lifetime building, it was hard to imagine that he had become absentminded. Lynn had been so concerned that she and her older brother had taken him to a neurologist. The diagnosis was simply stress and exhaustion. There wasn’t even a hint of Alzheimer’s or some other neurological disease. As soon as she heard the young doctor explain it was stress and exhaustion, Lynn understood exactly how it could happen.

Her mother had taken another track. She was not nearly as expressive and vivacious as she had been Lynn’s whole life. Her mom had been the den mother for Cub Scouts, the team mom for soccer, and the organizer for Lynn’s twirling team, as well as being involved in the Chamber of Commerce and City Council. Now she seemed to read a lot and cook extravagant meals that she and Lynn’s father just picked at.

Her father’s lack of drive had caused the business to suffer greatly. She suspected that was one of the reasons her uncles had come to Thanksgiving dinner. Neither of them had her father’s international vision or genius for transportation, but they had supported two families riding on his coattails.

Of her own siblings only her younger brother Josh had shown any interest at all in her father’s business. And he didn’t have the contacts to complete the transportation needs if her father could no longer do it. Josh was a salesman. He didn’t think globally, he only thought locally. He liked being close to Mom. He’d even gone to the University of North Florida so that he could still be within arm’s reach of Mom.

Even thinking about Josh focused her attention on the task ahead of her. Tomorrow afternoon she’d leave for Orlando.

Stallings sat on the nice leather couch next to the beautiful J. L. Winter in the double-wide trailer that felt more like a luxury suite at the Four Seasons on the inside. A big-screen TV with a dozen speakers placed around the room sat at one end and a wet bar stocked with every imaginable high-end alcohol sat at the other. He noticed two safes bolted to the floor next to the wet bar. He wondered why someone would go to the trouble of securing expensive, heavy safes to the floor of a building that could be driven away. A loveseat was tipped backwards and designed to sit over the safes, hiding them from view. Stallings wondered if J.L. had tried to stash something in the safes when he walked up. It didn’t matter now. The moron with the shotgun had been sent away and he still had his gun and badge. If they were going to pull any shit, they would’ve pulled it by now.

Junior popped his head in the door and asked in his heavy, North Florida twang, “This old man behaving himself, J.L.?”

J.L. let a sly smile slide across her face. Her teeth, jawline, and cheekbones were flawless. She had a twinkle in her brown eyes as she slowly turned her head to her associate and said, “No man who looks like this would harm a woman who looks like me.”

It wasn’t a boast. Not the way she said it. Or the way she looked. It was a fact. The only word Stallings could come up with was stunning. He had a million questions about how she’d ended up running a marijuana farm in the middle of fucking nowhere. They were obviously turning a profit and she wasn’t ashamed of her occupation.

J.L. turned and looked him directly in the eye, leaned in close, placed a hand on his knee, and said, “Your eyes tell me you really are looking for someone. I can see the truth in people’s eyes. That’s my gift. It’s one of the reasons I’m successful in a business like this.” She let her hand linger. Finally she said, “How can I help you, John?”

Stallings tried to act casual as he reached into the breast pocket of his flannel shirt and pulled out one of the photographs of Jeanie and Zach Halston. He handed it to J.L., who took her time examining the photo. She looked back at him and said, “Are you looking for Zach or the girl?”

Just the way she said it cut through Stallings like a knife. She was damn near psychic. He cleared his throat and said, “Both.”

J.L. nodded and said, “Of course I know Zach. You know I know Zach. But I’ve never seen this girl. We always met Zach up around Blanding Boulevard and handed off a couple of pounds of product at a time. He was just a small-time distributor for us, but he didn’t argue or steal, so we kept a pleasant arrangement with him for about two years.” Now she leaned back, crossed her legs, and said, “You didn’t think I would be this open and honest, did