Ristin started slowly. “I have a couple of odd numbers in the personal phone books taken in the search warrant at Wells’ house.” He cut his eyes hard to Jimmy Lail. “I want to get the subpoena information back before I make any comment on the numbers. Right now I only have a hunch I don’t want to throw on the table yet.”
Jimmy spoke up, virtually ignoring Ristin. “Camy’s right. We need to drop a five-O cover on the Klan house. That’s better than wasting our time on all these useless leads.”
Tasker asked, “What’s a ‘five-O cover’? Surveillance? You need to cut that shit out.”
Sutter stepped in to ask Jimmy directly, “Who says the leads are useless? I’ve found that in police work you don’t know what’s important until all the pieces are in place.” Sutter couldn’t believe he’d gotten two shots in on the witless FBI man in one conversation.
Jimmy fired back. “Okay, what do we do, then?”
At once everyone looked to Tasker. He shrugged and said, “If that’s what we have, that’s what we have. All we need is one eye on the house, and it doesn’t have to be round-the-clock. That way we save a little manpower.”
Camy agreed. “Three six-hour shifts shouldn’t tax us too much.”
Tasker nodded. “Seven to one, one to seven, and the last guy goes till midnight or so unless the place is dark before that. But no one try and grab him alone. He gave us the slip too many times and proved he’s smart enough to be dangerous.”
Everyone nodded. That was all there was to do. Sutter liked the way Tasker could articulate a decision and jump right in.
Camy said, “I’ll take this afternoon.”
Sutter said, “I’ll take tonight. It’s all OT for me.”
Tasker turned to Jimmy and added, “If you take tomorrow morning, I’ll take both shifts in the afternoon. My daughters are here today, but I’m free tomorrow.”
Jimmy Lail nodded, obviously not happy to be giving up a Saturday. None of the federal agents got extra pay to work weekends.
Camy looked at Tasker. “I’ll get ahold of you when I’m done today. Let you know what it looks like.”
Sutter wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw something in Camy’s eyes that had nothing to do with being a lesbian or being hooked up with Jimmy Lail.
Daniel Wells slowly cruised past Emerson-Picolo Transportation in Miami, near the Miami International Airport. He’d welded some of their perimeter fence a few years back and knew the layout of the big yard. Most nights they stored three or four big tanker-trailers. Some even held aviation gas. That was some of the most flammable material an artist like him could work with. He picked up speed so he wouldn’t be obvious as he passed the main office that faced Thirty-sixth Street. He still had a key to the gate. He doubted they had changed it in the past year or so, and they liked that he worked at night and didn’t interfere with business. They trusted him with the key, and they were right. He had never stolen anything from an employer and never overcharged on a job. His dad had always insisted that he give a fair day’s work for a fair day’s wage. Even as a kid, when he was a bag boy at Winn-Dixie in Ocala, he’d never taken long breaks or left early. He’d bag groceries and be polite to the customers because that was his job. He would flirt with the cashiers occasionally. That was something he couldn’t help. A pretty girl was a pretty girl. But he didn’t mind working.
Today he could see three long trailers and three shorter ones. He couldn’t risk going in to say hello because he had already heard that the cops had been talking to his former employers. The woman from the ATF, the cute one with big boobies, had gone by several of his old jobs. He had friends everywhere. That was one of the reasons he could stay ahead of the cops. Friends in key places.
twenty-two
Tasker had raced home from the office to do something with the girls. He didn’t want to know what Donna did with a free Thursday night. She had seemed in a good mood and had even said she’d pick the girls up right from his town house. If Emily hadn’t had gymnastics and practice for some play, they could’ve stayed another night. He’d made use of the afternoon. He had learned the intricacies of the board game Cranium and learned about the interesting lives of a pair of young black twins separated at birth and now living on Nickelodeon.
By late afternoon, he stood in his small front yard, throwing a junior-size football to Kelly, who would toss it a few feet to her little sister, who could wing it back to Tasker like an NFL quarterback. At least like a Baltimore Ravens quarterback.
He stopped one pass in front of his face, just before it took his head off, as Emily said, “Let’s run some patterns.”
Tasker smiled as she hustled over to him to line up. Kelly, avoiding the discomfort of sweat, casually strolled up to Tasker. “I’ll hike the ball. She can run any pattern she wants.”
Tasker smiled at his ten-year-old’s attitude, obviously borrowed from his ex-wife. She had her mother’s looks and mannerisms. Tasker wasn’t sure if some young man would be lucky to meet her in twelve years, or doomed. To him it didn’t matter, because she was perfect.
Emily said, “Hit me past your car by the tree.” She took off like a small blond rocket.
Tasker let a high floater sail and watched as his youngest daughter plucked it right out of the air, never breaking stride. She tucked the ball under her arm and darted across the yard, dodging imaginary tacklers all the way back to him.
“What do ya think, Daddy? Can I play in the league at home?” Her high, doll-like voice made her seem younger than eight years old.
“Sweetheart, you can do anything you put your mind to.” He leaned down to kiss her, when he saw a Ford Crown Vic rolling down the residential street. As it crept along slower, he realized it was Camy Parks. The fading sunlight reflected off her light-orange hair. He said to his daughters, “You guys go in and play on the PlayStation for a few minutes. I’ll be right in.”
The girls didn’t need coaxing. They raced into the house from the front door. Tasker stood near the patio courtyard as Camy parked in his driveway. She smiled, strolling up to the surprised Tasker.
“Didn’t mean to chase off your girls.”
“No problem. What’s wrong?”
“Nothin’. Just thought I’d give you a rundown on the surveillance. Sutter relieved me a little early and I wasn’t up to his efforts to get in my pants, so I decided to drop by and fill you in.” She smiled, obviously pausing to see what he’d say about getting in her pants.
He avoided the whole issue. “I appreciate it, but a call would’ve been fine.”
“You’re on my way home, and I was curious what your house looked like. I knew it wouldn’t be a bachelor pad.” She looked the house over. “This is very nice. Cozy.”
Tasker smiled. “You should see my other house. It’s beautiful.”
“The one your ex-wife has?”
“Exactly.”
“Your girls are cute as can be. Their mother must be a knockout.”
“She is,” he said as a casual statement of fact. Tasker couldn’t take his eyes off her. In simple jeans and a T-shirt after a full day of work, she looked like a miniature model from Victoria’s Secret.
After a few seconds of awkward silence, Camy said, “You wanna talk out here or can we go inside?”
“It’s nice out. Let’s sit on the patio.” He led her through the wooden gate that stood in front of the open patio. “Wanna beer?”
“Sounds good,” she said, sprawling into a lounge chair.
Tasker hustled inside, checking on the girls, who were playing one of the Super Mario Brothers games, and then grabbed a couple of Icehouse beers from the fridge. He had already decided that he didn’t want to introduce Camy to them. She was just a coworker and he didn’t want to confuse them. Besides, if they saw Camy, they might slip up and tell their mother about the sleek, beautiful red-haired woman Daddy was talking to. He didn’t need that.