“Yeah, go ahead.”
“There’s a North Miami number that according to Bell South is an un-assigned number. The problem with it is that it rings. Unassigned numbers have a phone-company recording. This unassigned number rings, but no one answers when I call.”
“You think it’s a police UC line?”
“Not even a UC line. When I call another number close to it with the same exchange, guess who answers?”
“No idea.”
“The FBI.”
Tasker was silent while he thought about what that might mean.
It took Alicia Wells five minutes to calm down after being surprised at her front door. She sat on her couch, looking at the source of her surprise next to her.
“How’d you find me?”
Daniel Wells smiled. “Your mama told me where you were. Why would you hide from me?”
“I knew you didn’t like me dancing, and I needed a break from the boys.”
“They doin’ okay?”
“If starting fires all over your uncle’s neighborhood and blowing up a little bridge across the canal is okay, then they’re fine.”
“I miss those boys. But I had to see you to let you know what was gonna happen.”
“What?”
“You need to go collect the kids and wait at Uncle Tom’s for me to call. End of the week I’ll ride over to Tampa and we’re all heading for Louisiana.”
“New Orleans?” she asked hopefully.
“No, way further west. West of Baton Rouge. Little compound there run by some mighty serious boys. Boys that hate the government and need my help.”
“I don’t want to live in Louisiana.”
“That’s fine. We’ll be moving on to Montana after a couple of weeks.”
She put her hand on Daniel’s arm. “No, Daniel, you don’t understand. I want to stay.”
“Can’t stay.”
“Why not?”
“You’ll see. You won’t wanna stay after Thursday.”
“What happens Thursday?” She was getting frustrated. She hated it when he treated her like she was an idiot.
“Gonna stir some things up. Nothing you should worry your beautiful little mind about. Just gonna cause a little pandemonium.”
She looked at his handsome face with a sideways glance. “You ain’t gonna hurt anyone, are you?”
“That’s not the point. It may happen, but it’s not intentional.” He put his arm around her. “You’re the only person in the world I’ve said anything to about this. I just need you to pack up and go get the kids. Then we’ll go back to bein’ a family.”
Alicia pulled away and stood up. “You know the cops are looking for you.”
“Yeah, I know. How do you know that?”
“That black cop, the one that came with Bill Tasker, tried to question me.”
Now Wells stood. “What’d you tell him?”
“Nothing. I used the pepper spray you gave me. And ran.”
He hugged her, laughing. “That’s my girl.” He held her at arm’s length and said, “Don’t look so worried, baby. I got an ace up my sleeve with the cops. They won’t touch me.”
She smiled at him but felt a wave of uneasiness. He’d changed since she’d last seen him. He had a wild look in his eyes. She didn’t know what he had planned, but she didn’t want to see anyone hurt, and definitely didn’t want to ever see Montana, let alone live there.
twenty-five
“It’s as hot as Pamela Anderson’s ass out here,” said Derrick Sutter to Bill Tasker.
Tasker looked at the empty lot and tall sawgrass along the unkempt edges of Manny’s abandoned market and had to agree. He’d brought his partner lunch at the surveillance post and thought he’d break up Sutter’s day with a visit.
Sutter looked at the FDLE agent and said, “What’s bothering you now? You got everyone to agree with you, Wells is a bad guy. You got the FBI to work on a Saturday. You’ve performed miracles, and you still don’t look happy.”
Tasker smiled at that. “Something’s not right with this.”
“The case?”
“This surveillance. You think Wells would be here?”
“No, not really. He does seem too smart to be mixed up with them. He’s got a job, or at least did have a job, which most of the Klan jerk-offs don’t, and he seemed too normal. But that doesn’t mean shit, because apparently he’s not if he likes blowing things up.”
“This seems like a huge waste of time.”
“Almost everything you investigative agencies do seems like a waste of time. I’m a street cop. Hit fast and hit hard-that’s what I like.”
“But this specific surveillance used all our manpower and brought the rest of the case to a dead halt.”
“Yeah, that’s true. But I’m a black man watching the Klan. I can’t complain. Told my dad and even he was impressed.”
Tasker smiled at Sutter’s positive outlook, then caught sight of a pickup truck coming out of the street. It was the third time in twenty minutes it had come up Krome Avenue and driven past them. He let his eyes follow it. The big F-250 had three men in the bed and two up in the quad cab.
Sutter said, “What is it?”
“Just nervous.”
“About the truck that’s filling up with rednecks?”
Tasker nodded. “Exactly.”
“Now you were about to tell me why you were worried about the case.”
“Jerry Ristin called me yesterday.”
“On a Sunday? Our analysts aren’t quite that dedicated.”
“It was a sensitive matter. He didn’t want to talk in front of the whole group.”
“That include me?”
“I’m tellin’ you, aren’t I?” Tasker looked outside to see the F-250 slowly pass again, headed toward the house, this time with another man in the back. “Jerry said one of the numbers in Wells’ personal phone book comes back to the FBI.”
“No shit! What’d you suppose he was doing with that?”
“We’re gonna find out.” Before he could add to his comment, Tasker saw several men at the corner of the yard looking back toward Manny’s Market. “I got an idea.”
Sutter cut his eyes to Tasker. “This doesn’t sound like a smart idea, but go ahead. What’s your plan?”
“I pull away, maybe down the road, and see if they hassle one guy sitting alone.”
“So I’m bait?”
“Yeah. You could be better bait if you rolled down the window.”
“So they could see I’m a black man?”
“They are supposed to be the KKK.”
“All you want is a pretext to question them and maybe get in the house.”
“And end this fucking surveillance.”
“Go hide like a baby.” Sutter smiled.
Tasker said, “Let me call for reinforcements.”
Camy Parks was uneasy herself. She had just searched all the ATF intelligence files available and found pages and pages on Ed Conners, but not one sentence about the house off Krome being a meeting place. It was true the FBI had different sources, but usually not that different, and with the limited flow of information there was often something that overlapped. She couldn’t figure out why there was no overlap, unless Jimmy Lail was lying about the connection. Then she couldn’t figure out why he would lie. She looked over at Jimmy, who was sitting at her desk, bobbing his head to some beat only he could hear. Because he had such a good body and acted so goofy, she always thought of him as kind of stupid. Was he smart enough to mislead a group of veteran cops? Why?
Before she could ask him, her Nextel chirped and she heard Bill Tasker’s voice. “Camy, you out there?”
She keyed the radio button. “Go ahead.”
“We’re at Manny’s and need some help right now.”
“On the way.” She jumped up and hustled past Lail, tapping him on the shoulder. “We gotta go.”
“Whazz up?” asked Jimmy.
“Billy and Sutter need help at the house.”