“I did. He’s fine. Just wants me to keep him informed. He told me that you are on a boat out on Lake Michigan. Seems like a pretty safe place to be.”
“Didn’t think you wanted to know where I was,” Thomas said through a soft chuckle. “And I have two of his goons around me at all times. My father tends to go overboard, pardon the boating pun.”
“He seems like a smart man. You just make sure you don’t fall overboard. That lake can get rough, and it sounds like it’s raining out your way.”
“Little summertime storm. We pulled in close to the marina, so were not a sitting target out in the middle of the lake. Listen, I called you because I was just given some more information that you probably need to know.”
“Shoot,” Derek said.
“My father’s goons are pretty well connected, as you might imagine. They have friends working in police departments all over the country. This isn’t confirmed yet, but there was a doctor murdered in the same hospital that Brian Lucietta works. Happened a few hours ago. Middle of the day. And before you ask, they don’t have anyone in custody.”
The likelihood that Alexander had at least one accomplice was now a certainty for Derek. The fact that six murders had occurred in three different parts of the country, each separated by at least six hours of driving, made the possibility of one person acting alone virtually impossible.
“Thanks for the update,” he said to Thomas.
“I don’t know what my father wants you to focus your efforts on, but I figured you’d be interested.”
“The more I know about all the players, the better.”
“That’s all I have. I’ll be heading back out beyond cell coverage as soon as this storm passes, so I will be out of range for a while,” Thomas said.
“Stay dry,” Derek said as he ended the call.
Derek slowed his car down to the reduced thirty-five speed limit as he approached the small Adirondack town of Speculator, New York. Feeling hungry, he started looking for a quiet place to eat, think, and to process the events of the day. Off to his right, he spotted a small pizzeria and deli that only had two cars parked in the lot in front.
Before he could shut off his car, his cell phone rang again.
“Derek Cole,” he said, amazed at how many times his normally quiet cell had rung in the last twenty minutes.
“Alexandria Bay. River’s Edge Resort,” the voice of Ken O’Connell said. “My resources tracked the Mixes down. They made reservations under the name ‘McClury,’ and checked in last night.”
The excitement was abundant in Ken’s voice.
“I’ll head up there now,” Derek said. “I found out that my cell phone location is being traced, so I will turn it off as soon as this call is done.”
“Fine. If you can’t contact me by 8:00, call me whenever you can, no matter the time. I just want you to identify Stanley and Michelle and confirm that they are in the resort. Understood?”
“Understood. I’m going to grab some lunch, pull up the directions, and head up to find them.”
“Don’t engage them. Just identify them, and contact me right away. If they leave, I need you to follow them. I’ll email you their pictures so that you can mark them.”
“Sounds good.” Derek pulled into the parking lot of the pizzeria, turned his car off and sighed deeply. While his suspicions about Ken O’Connell remained, he felt like he, Ken, and Thomas were all working together towards the same goal. Derek never wanted to become friends with his clients. He intentionally made decisions to prevent learning too much about his clients as well as letting them know too much about him. As he sat in the parking lot, listening to Ken’s altered instructions, he wondered, if things were different, if he and the O’Connells may have enough in common to become friends.
“I hear that the Chicago area is getting some storms. Hope your weather clears out soon,” Derek said, cutting off his thoughts and giving the conversation a logical ending.
“Weather? There’s not a cloud in the sky around the whole area.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
His head was swimming. Each time he reached a conclusion, another thought changed the course of his thinking and suggested an alternative. As he drove the three hours the trip to Alexandria Bay would take, Derek rode in absolute silence.
His phone was turned off and stuffed inside of a lead- and aluminum-lined bag that prevented any signals from getting out or into his phone. Though he usually would spend his windshield time listening to music at the highest volume a car’s system could pump out, the radio in his rental car was silent.
“Not raining in the Chicago area,” he thought to himself. He had confirmed the weather report using his MyRadar app on his iPhone before shutting it down. The only place of interest that was experiencing a “summertime storm” was the greater New York City area. Chicago and almost the entirety of Lake Michigan were enjoying a beautiful summer day.
“How could he be in New York if he has his father’s ex-military people watching him? Is it possible that the whole family is involved in these murders and that there are no ‘goons’ protecting Thomas since he doesn’t need protection?”
The miles passed. Each mile marker bringing Derek further away from clarity.
Derek had grown comfortable with silence, though he still would prefer to have someone to be with in most situations. Someone to talk with. Someone to enjoy the silence with. Lucy made him comfortable with silence. When they first met, Derek felt compelled to always keep a conversation going. Failing that, Derek would either whistle, sing softly to himself, or have either the radio or television on in the background to break up the absent silence.
“We don’t always have to be talking, you know,” Lucy stated. “You don’t have to worry about keeping a conversation going all the time. Sometimes I just like to sit with you and not have to say anything.”
“But everyone always says that communication is the key to a lasting marriage,” he rebutted.
“Sometimes, the best way to communicate is just to be with me in silence.”